Archive of Our Own

Three steps from the safety of his room, Mingyu bumps his head against the lamp that he specifically hadn’t turned on in order not to alert Minghao to the fact that he is back already.

“Mingyu-yah? Isn’t it a bit early for you to be doing a walk of shame?” Minghao asks from the living room.

So much for Mingyu sneaking back in unnoticed. Instead of going left to hide in his room, he turns right and joins Minghao in the living room.

“How did it go?” Minghao asks without looking up from the crossword he is solving. He says they help him improve his Korean, never mind that he has a more extensive vocabulary than half the native speakers Mingyu knows. He looks serene, sitting cross-legged on the couch in his favorite pale green silk pajamas, the ones that always show off a bit too much of his collar bones for Mingyu’s sanity.

Mingyu joins him on the couch. “Good. Fine. Yeah…”

At that, Minghao puts down his pen and gives Mingyu a quick once-over. “No, it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mingyu agrees.

And, see, technically, Mingyu isn’t going to tell Minghao anything. In fact, his goal is to forget about this particular hook-up as fast as possible.

But then Minghao does his Minghao-thing (namely, he hums and looks at Mingyu expectantly, eyes sharp and dark and steady, the kind of gaze that feels like it’s not just watching him but waiting for him) and suddenly Mingyu finds himself spilling his guts.

“I’m never doing online hook-ups again. It was so bad,” he whines, sprawling over the couch, putting his head on Minghao’s bony thighs.

“Worse than the girl who was obsessed with Spider-Man?” Minghao asks, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Yes,” Mingyu agrees with emphasis. Then, he reconsiders, “Okay, maybe not worse but, like, he was blowing me and then he pulled back to tell me that I could slap him in the face if I wanted to. Like, what?”

Minghao arches an eyebrow and gestures for Mingyu to continue.

“That was the most awkward “no, thanks, I’m good” I ever gave anyone. And then he kept insisting. Something about how his ex would do it all the time and how he loved it. And just… My dick was still right in his face. And I had to tell him three more times that I really didn’t want to slap him.”

Minghao clicks his tongue. “He should not have sprung that on you in the middle of things. Or tried to push you when you said no.”

“Right? And then he was so disappointed about it, too! Not to complain, but after I told him no, it became the most lackluster blowjob ever. One good lay, that’s all I’m asking for. Just one. It’s been so long, Myungho-yah. But no. All I get are people who expect me to do all the work, want me to wear a Spider-Man mask, and now this guy asks me to slap him?”

He throws his arms up. Minghao shifts slightly to avoid getting elbowed, like it’s second nature, a choreography learnt from years living together.

“Like, I don’t get it! Why would I want to slap someone during sex?”

Minghao shrugs a shoulder. “Depends on the person I guess but generally speaking because it’s fun.”

Mingyu must have misheard. “Fun?”

Minghao hums, combing a hand through Mingyu’s hair. “It’s about control. Power.” He tilts his head, considering. “And the way they look at you after.”

Mingyu blinks. Swallows. His brain latches onto the way they look at you after, and for some reason, his stomach tightens.

“You’re speaking from experience,” it’s more statement than question. He doesn’t need to ask, he can read the answer in Minghao’s face, the calm expression belying the sharp focus in his eyes.

Mingyu shifts, suddenly too aware of the way he’s sprawled out on Minghao’s lap. Of the warmth beneath his cheek, the soft drag of fingers in his hair.

It’s not the first time they’ve touched like this.

And it’s not the first time something sharp and reckless has stirred under Mingyu’s skin because of it.

Most days, it’s easy. Being Minghao’s friend feels natural. Simple. Right.

But sometimes, like now, with Minghao’s hand in his hair and his voice low and steady in the dimly lit living room, he can’t help but remember how, when they first met, his crush on Minghao had hit him like a punch to the gut. How he’d spent weeks tied up in knots over every look, every touch.

And how, when they decided to move in together, he made a choice. Friends first. Friends. Anything else, anything messier, got shoved down and buried deep.

Most of the time, it stays buried. But sometimes, it claws its way back up before he can stop it.

His throat is dry. “So… you like slapping people?”

As Minghao’s fingers move absently through Mingyu’s hair, his lips curve, slow and deliberate. “Yeah.”

Mingyu should move. Should sit up, laugh it off, bury the flare of heat low where it belongs. But he doesn’t. He stays, heavy and wanting in a way he pretends he doesn’t know how to name.

“Oh,” he says, voice a little too quiet.

Minghao hums, still combing his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. “Oh?”

Mingyu frowns at the ceiling, shifting like he can physically shake off the way his stomach is twisting. “I don’t get it,” he mutters.

“What’s there to get?” Minghao’s tone is light, teasing.

Mingyu huffs. “I don’t know. I just…” He hesitates. His mouth feels dry. “I don’t think I’d want to slap anyone. I wouldn’t want to, like… hurt them.”

Minghao considers this for a second before nodding. “Fair.” A pause. “But what about the other way around?”

Mingyu barely has a second to process that before his stomach drops. His throat bobs as he swallows. “What?”

Minghao’s fingers pause in his hair. When Mingyu chances a glance up at him, Minghao’s expression is unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something assessing.

“I said,” Minghao murmurs, tone bordering on amused, “what if someone slapped you?”

Mingyu’s breath catches.

He should laugh. Or make a face. Or do something to play it off. But he doesn’t. Instead, his mind, treacherous and very much not on his side, stays there.

Stays with the image of Minghao, calm and cool like always, reaching out without a hint of hesitation, his palm connecting with Mingyu’s cheek in one smooth, practiced motion. Not hard. Not cruel. But controlled. Precise.

He thinks of Minghao’s hands. Long fingers. Unfairly elegant. The kind of hands that would look just as good slapping someone as they do solving crosswords or holding a cup of tea. Hands that look pretty even when they’re doing something rough.

It’s a stupid thing to think, probably. But the thought lodges somewhere low in his spine and refuses to leave, heat curling low in his gut.

He swallows thickly and shifts, acutely aware of how warm his face has become. How hot his skin feels beneath Minghao’s fingers still tangled loosely in his hair.

“You’re thinking about it,” Minghao says softly, with the certainty of someone who already knows the answer.

Mingyu doesn’t respond. He can’t.

“I can tell.”

Mingyu closes his eyes, trying to will the heat away, but it only spreads, down his neck, to his chest, curling low in his stomach like something dangerous.

“You’re not saying no,” Minghao adds, and there’s something almost pleased in his voice. “Which is interesting.”

Mingyu opens his eyes again, barely managing to meet his gaze. “Is it?”

Minghao hums, thumb brushing lightly behind Mingyu’s ear, comforting and patronizing all at once. “Did you ever notice that all the people you hook up with expect you to take the lead? They all see you that way. Big guy, strong, in charge.”

Mingyu swallows hard. He hadn’t… thought of it like that. But it’s true. Every single one of them had handed him the reins the moment clothes started coming off. Some had even looked confused when he didn’t take charge right away. Frustrated.

“And every time you come back here, disappointed. So maybe that’s not what you need, have you ever considered that?” Minghao leans down, just a little, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you need someone else to take over. To decide for you. To tell you what to do. What you’re for.”

Mingyu shivers. “I…”

Minghao’s fingers tighten slightly in his hair just enough to remind Mingyu that he’s right here. That he’s not letting this go. That he’s serious.

“I could do that for you,” Minghao says, low and unflinching. “If you want.”

The words drop like a weight in the silence between them. Clean. Simple. Completely devastating.

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

He’s not supposed to want this.

He’s spent years making sure he didn’t want this, didn’t think about it, didn’t hope for it, didn’t even let himself look at Minghao that way if he could help it.

He was supposed to be safe here. Minghao was supposed to be safe.

But now, Minghao is looking at him like this is simple. Like it's nothing. Like it's something they could just... have.

And Mingyu… God. Mingyu wants it so badly he feels like he's going to come apart.

“Yes,” he hears himself say.

The moment it’s out, he startles, like the word slipped past every wall he’s built, every rule he made for himself.

“I…” he stammers. “I didn’t think I’d… say that.”

Minghao watches him, steady as ever, voice soft. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sure right now. The offer stands. You can take your time.”

Mingyu swallows. This is such a bad idea. Hooking up with his best friend, his roommate, can only end badly, right? That’s the rule. That’s what everyone says. That’s why he has done his best to quash the attraction he feels to Minghao at every turn.

But he wants it.

And more than that, Minghao is offering. And Minghao doesn’t offer things lightly. Minghao doesn’t risk things he isn’t sure of.

So maybe… maybe this is okay.

“The thing is…” His voice is quiet. “I already feel more…” Not horny, not horny, do not say horny. “Present,” he lands on, even though that’s a lie and his body is very much elsewhere. “Just from talking about it. Just thinking about this. More than I did tonight when the guy already had his hands down my pants. That probably says something, right?”

Minghao lets out a soft, amused breath. “Yeah,” he says, thumb brushing lightly behind Mingyu’s ear again. “Says your standards are finally improving.”

Mingyu huffs out a laugh, caught off guard. Of course, Minghao would say something like that: deadpan, gently mocking, just enough to take the edge off without dismissing anything real.

It steadies him more than anything else.

Minghao’s thumb stills behind his ear. “Mingyu-yah,” he says, voice quiet. “Are you sure?”

Mingyu meets his gaze. No flinching this time. Just the thud of his heart and a strange, clear steadiness in his chest.

“Yes,” he says again. “I’m sure.” And maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just never wanted something this badly.

Minghao’s smile at that is soft, softer than it should be. There’s pride in it, maybe. Or something quieter. Something like affection held gently between cupped hands, like he's touched by the fact that Mingyu is letting himself want something.

The silence stretches, warm and full. And maybe Mingyu should let it rest there. But instead…

“Can we…” he starts, voice thin. He swallows, forcing himself to meet Minghao’s eyes. “Tonight? Please?”

That’s what does it.

The softness in Minghao’s expression doesn’t disappear so much as it shifts, curves into something sharper, hungrier. His gaze drops, deliberate and slow, to Mingyu’s mouth. Lingers.

And when he looks back up, it’s not affection anymore. It’s want. Undeniable. Undiluted. Dangerous in its focus.

It hits Mingyu like gravity. Like something inside him lurching forward without permission.

And then…

It’s gone.

Minghao exhales, steadying himself with visible effort, and pulls back just enough for the air to cool between them. His hand leaves Mingyu’s cheek like he’s closing a door.

“Okay,” he says, calm. “Then let’s sit properly. We’re going to talk first.”

Mingyu nods. A beat too late. Tries to sit up and fails spectacularly at pretending he’s normal about this.

Because yeah. He has thought about kissing Minghao before, fleeting, dangerous thoughts he never let himself linger on.

But now it’s all he can think about. Minghao’s mouth on his. Minghao's weight, his heat, the sharp steady way he’d look at him, want him.

He’s trying not to stare at Minghao’s mouth now. Not doing a great job.

“You’ve never done this before,” Minghao says. Not a question.

Mingyu shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I mean…” He rubs the back of his neck, hyper-aware of the space between them. “Not in a way that was about this. Not with someone who knew what they were doing.”

Minghao’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture settles, like he’s made a decision and is fully committed to it. “Then we go slow.”

Mingyu nods. “Okay.”

Kissing is slow, right? Kissing has to be slow. Because God, Mingyu wants it. He wants Minghao’s hand in his hair again, but for a different reason. Wants to feel the shape of Minghao’s mouth against his own. Wonders what he’d taste like. Wonders if kissing him would feel steadying and safe, or if it would undo him completely.

But the moment he thinks that’s slow, right?, his brain flickers, unhelpfully, disastrously, to the other thing.

To Minghao’s hand not in his hair but against his cheek. The idea of it, sharp and precise and controlled.

That’s… probably not slow. But the want hits Mingyu anyway. Curling hot and low, like it’s been waiting for him to notice it.

And now he can’t stop thinking about it. About both. About all of it.

“I need to know what you want,” Minghao says, voice dipping into something low and steady. “And what you don’t.” He holds Mingyu’s gaze, quiet and unflinching. “And if you don’t know yet, that’s okay too.”

Mingyu exhales, but it doesn’t settle him. Because he doesn’t know. Not really.

He knows he wants. That’s the only thing he’s sure of.

He knows he wants Minghao’s mouth. Wants his hands. Wants to know what it would feel like to be kissed with that same intent he saw flash in Minghao’s eyes. Wants things he doesn’t even have names for yet.

The words are out before he can stop them.

"Anything," he says, voice low and wrecked. The words are out before he can stop them.

It’s the truth. And completely useless. He knows it the second he says it but he still can’t find better words.

"I just…" he stumbles. Breathes out hard. "I just want. That's it." A beat. “Sorry. That probably doesn’t help.”

“We don’t need to have all the answers right now,” Minghao says, without missing a beat. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Mingyu huffs a quiet laugh, more nerves than humor. “You make it sound easy.”

Minghao’s lips twitch, almost a smile. “It is easy. When you trust someone.”

Mingyu goes quiet at that, the words echoing somewhere in his chest.

“I do,” he says eventually. “Trust you.” More than anyone.

Minghao doesn’t react right away, but something in his expression changes.

Whatever it is, it makes Mingyu’s chest feel full. Like he’s handed over something important. Like it was received.

Minghao nods once, deliberate. “That’s why I believe this will work.”

He gives Mingyu a moment, just long enough for the air between them to settle. Then, he adds, “Can I ask you a few things? Just to get a sense?”

Mingyu nods, a little too fast. “Yeah. Please.”

Minghao’s voice stays soft. “No pressure. Just answer if anything stirs something in you. It’s fine if it doesn’t.”

“Okay.”

Minghao tilts his head slightly. “How do you feel when someone praises you?”

Mingyu hesitates. “Can you give me an example?”

Only the smallest pause. And then Minghao, perfectly composed, says, “I could tell you you’re doing a good job. That you’re making me proud. That you’re listening so well. Taking what I give you like you were made for it.”

Mingyu nearly chokes. “Oh.”

Minghao giggles. “These were such mild ones, Gyu-yah.”

Mingyu groans, dragging both hands over his face. His ears are burning. “Okay. Got it. Loud and clear.”

But Minghao just raises a brow, tilting his head. “So… that’s a yes?”

Mingyu grumbles into his palms.

“What was that?”

Mingyu exhales hard. “Yes. Okay? Yes. I liked it. A lot.”

There’s a beat. Minghao’s smile curves, warm and proud and just a little too pleased. “Good job telling me what you want.”

He knows Minghao is teasing. Still, the praise lands low in Mingyu’s stomach. Warm. Steady. Like something unfolding there, safe and sure.

Mingyu freezes, blinking into his hands. “You can’t just… say that.”

“You literally asked me to,” Minghao says, amused. Then, with zero mercy, “And you’re very cute when you get flustered.”

Mingyu lets out a high-pitched noise of protest. “Stop.”

Minghao’s smile softens a little. “You know, if we’re doing this seriously, we should talk about what ‘stop’ means.”

Mingyu peeks between his fingers. “Oh.”

“Not now,” Minghao says gently. “You’re clearly still emotionally recovering from being called cute.”

“I am not…” Mingyu starts, then aborts with another groan.

Minghao laughs. “We’ll come back to it.” He gives it a beat before continuing. “How would it feel to be told exactly what to do?”

That pulls a different kind of tension through Mingyu. He shifts slightly where he sits.

“I think that’d feel good,” he says quietly. “Like… freeing? Like I don’t have to guess all the time.”

Minghao smiles. “Good answer.”

Another pause. Then, still gentle: “What about me being a little mean to you? In a teasing way. Not cruel, just… playful. Sharp. Maybe a little embarrassing.”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Weren’t you already doing that just now?”

Minghao grins, unrepentant. “I was easing you in.”

Mingyu huffs, but it doesn’t hold much heat. Especially not when Minghao adds, more thoughtfully now: “It could go further. If you wanted it to. That kind of dynamic can include a little more… brattiness, maybe. Some humiliation. Light degradation, depending on how it’s framed. But it doesn’t have to. It can stay teasing. Just enough to fluster you.”

Mingyu shifts again, pulse loud in his ears. “Like what?”

Minghao gives him a look. Measured. Warm. Just a little wicked around the edges.

“Like making you say please when you’re already desperate,” he says, voice low and even. “Like calling you needy when you squirm. Like telling you to sit still and be good for me, and watching what that does to you.”

Holy shit.

The words knock the air out of him.

Mingyu blinks. Swallows. His mouth is dry. His thoughts are not safe for work.

And Minghao, completely composed, just tips his head. “Of course, that’s only if you want it.”

Mingyu nods before he can think. “I… yeah. I want… maybe. Yeah.”

Minghao smiles. “Good.”

Minghao lets the quiet stretch for a moment, warm and steady. Then, voice low and even: “Is there something you want from me?”

And Mingyu, who has been biting it back, blurts out:

“I want to kiss you.”

It startles them both, the honesty of it.

Minghao blinks. “That’s on the table,” he says after a beat. “If you want it.”

“I do.” It comes out too fast. “I… can I? Now?”

There’s a flicker in Minghao’s eyes. Something pleased. Something hungry. But his voice stays calm. “Later,” he says. “When we’re done talking.”

Mingyu groans like it’s actual torture. “But…”

“I said later, Gyu-yah.”

And fuck.

That tone. Low. Controlled. Just a touch of warning.

Mingyu feels it hit low in his gut, hot and grounding. He swallows hard.

“Yes,” he says, breathless. “Okay.”

Minghao studies him for a beat longer. Then, softer: “Was that okay?”

Mingyu blinks. Feels himself blush harder. “That was… yeah. That was really okay.” A pause. Then, more sheepishly: “Kind of insanely hot, actually.”

And Minghao smiles, slow and knowing. “Good.”

He tilts his head, watching Mingyu. “Anything else you want to ask?”

Mingyu opens his mouth. Closes it again. He’s still flustered, warm all over from the last round of teasing, but he wants, needs, to feel like he has a little footing again.

So, he settles back a bit, tries for casual. “Would you actually want to slap me?” he asks, like it’s just a question. Like it doesn’t make his stomach flip.

Minghao lifts an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Just that. Simple. Unapologetic. It hits Mingyu harder than it should.

“Oh,” he says, then coughs. “Okay. Cool. Um. What… what would that look like?”

Minghao regards him for a moment, unreadable. “That’s not something I want to try with you right away. Definitely not the first time.”

Mingyu frowns. “Why not?”

“Because it’s intense,” Minghao says. “It’s intimate. I wouldn’t want to do it until we’ve built more trust in this. Until you’re used to being in that space with me. It’s not just about the act, it’s about the frame of mind. It’s something we’d build toward. If you still want it.”

Mingyu hesitates for all of a second. “But... if we did, what would it be like?”

Minghao huffs out a laugh. “You’re really not going to let that go, huh?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

There’s a moment of consideration.

“I’d do it with care,” Minghao says slowly. “Measured. Controlled. Not to hurt you, but to center you. Bring your focus back. Make you feel it.” A beat. “I’d want you on your knees for it.”

Mingyu’s breath stutters.

“But that’s not for tonight,” Minghao continues, gentler now. “We’re not rushing. We build up to it. When you’re ready.”

Mingyu swallows. His skin feels too warm, like something inside him has been lit and is just sitting there, burning. “Okay,” he says again, trying for neutral. Casual. Totally normal. “Not tonight. Sure.”

A beat.

Then: “But what if…”

“No,” Minghao says, gentle but firm.

Mingyu deflates just a bit. But not enough to stop. “Come on,” he whines. “Just a little? We don’t have to go full slap or anything. Just a tap. A baby slap. A…”

“Mingyu-yah.”

The way Minghao says his name makes something in his chest stutter. Not sharp. Not scolding. But there’s steel beneath the softness.

Still, Mingyu pushes. “What if I promise to be good?”

Minghao doesn’t even blink. “Yellow.”

Mingyu pauses. “What?”

“Yellow,” Minghao says again, calmly. “That means slow down. That what you’re doing is getting close to a boundary.”

“Like a safeword?” Mingyu asks, frowning a little.

“Kind of,” Minghao says. “But more flexible.”

He shifts slightly on the couch, eyes still on Mingyu. Calm, open, unshaken. “A traditional safeword usually just means stop. Full stop, no questions asked. Yellow is part of the traffic light system: green, yellow, red. It gives you more nuance. More ways to communicate in the middle of something.”

Mingyu blinks. “So… yellow doesn’t mean stop?”

“It means pause,” Minghao says. “It means, ‘Something’s getting close to being too much, I need you to ease up or slow down or check in.’ It gives space to adjust without pulling the plug entirely.”

Mingyu nods slowly. “Okay. And red is…?”

“Stop,” Minghao says, firm and steady. “Immediately. Doesn’t matter what’s happening, everything stops. And then we check in. Always.”

Mingyu takes a breath. “So green is…”

“Green means you’re good,” Minghao says. “Keep going, I like this, I feel safe.”

Mingyu nods again.

“I like it because it lets me take care of people even when they’re not sure what they need,” Minghao says simply. “If they say yellow, I know to ask questions. If they say red, I know to stop. And if they say green, I know they’re okay.”

Mingyu’s quiet for a second longer, then says, almost under his breath, “Sorry. I messed up.”

Minghao’s head tilts, just slightly. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Mingyu insists, sitting up straighter, brows drawn. “You had to use yellow, and we haven’t even started anything yet.”

Minghao’s voice doesn’t waver. “And I’d use it again, if I needed to.”

Mingyu blinks at him, startled.

“It’s good to use the colors when you need to, that’s what they’re for. To keep things safe and fun for both of us. The only way you could mess up,” Minghao says gently, “is if I told you something was too much, and you ignored me. Or if you didn’t listen when I needed to stop. Okay?”

Mingyu’s shoulders inch down, just a little. “Okay.”

Minghao nods once, like that’s what he needed to hear.

“Are you okay with using the traffic light system tonight?” he asks, voice still gentle, still sure.

Mingyu nods automatically. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Good,” Minghao says. Then, a little firmer: “Tell me what each color means.”

Mingyu blinks. “What, like a quiz?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Mingyu huffs, half a laugh, half a groan, but straightens a little. “Green means I’m good. Everything’s okay. I want to keep going.”

Minghao nods. “And yellow?”

“Yellow is… slow down,” Mingyu says, more carefully now. “Something’s off. I need to pause or check in.”

“And red?”

“Stop,” Mingyu says. “Everything stops.”

Minghao holds his gaze for a beat longer, then nods.

Minghao’s expression shifts again, still calm, but more focused now. Like they’ve crossed a threshold. “Okay,” he says. “Then let’s talk about what tonight could look like.”

Mingyu nods. Fast. Too fast.

“I’d want to keep it simple. Praise. Maybe some small rules.”

“Yes,” Mingyu says immediately. “That. All of that.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t even finished.”

Mingyu opens his mouth. Shuts it again. “Right. Sorry. Go on.”

There’s a flicker of amusement in Minghao’s eyes, but he continues. “Touch. Are you okay with me touching you? Hands, mouth, kissing?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says, emphatic. “All of the above. Please.”

“Clothes on or off?”

“Whatever gets me your hand on my dick tonight. Or your mouth. Or my mouth on you. I’m not picky.”

Minghao chokes on a laugh, full and delighted. “Clearly.”

Mingyu leans back with a dramatic groan. “It’s been over a year since I got a halfway satisfying lay, Myungho-yah. And this talk alone? Has me more riled up than anything I’ve done in the last six months. Combined. Please. Just… I need…”

But then he catches the look on Minghao’s face, focused, composed, steady in that way that makes Mingyu feel both safe and absolutely undone.

There’s a quiet beat before Minghao says, “I could start by sitting back and giving you a few rules. Maybe I tell you where to put your hands. What you’re allowed to say. Maybe I let you undress for me, if I say so.”

Mingyu lets out a slow breath, heat coiling in his chest.

“You’d follow my voice. My timing. My words,” Minghao continues, calmly. “And when I touch you, it’ll be because I chose to. Not because you begged.”

Mingyu blinks, overwhelmed. “Fuck.”

Minghao only smiles, small, knowing. “And you’d say thank you for it.”

“That’s… a very specific idea,” Mingyu says, trying for teasing, but his voice cracks a little at the end.

Minghao meets his eyes, unbothered. “I’ve thought about it before.”

Mingyu makes a noise like a short-circuited appliance. “You… what?”

Minghao tilts his head slightly, like he’s puzzled by the surprise.

“Mingyu-yah,” he says calmly, “I think you’re beautiful.”

He doesn’t rush to explain, lets it settle. Then, gently: “Not just to look at. Though, yeah, obviously. But it’s more than that. The way you care. The way you try. The way you lean into people without even realizing you’re doing it.”

It doesn’t sound like he’s teasing or flirting. There is nothing there but the quiet certainty of someone who has been holding this truth close for a long, long time.

Mingyu feels like he’s just been cracked open.

There’s something about hearing it out loud, so simple, so certain, that knocks the air from his lungs.

“I… what?” he says, blinking hard. He shakes his head a little, like it might clear whatever just happened to his chest. “I mean. You never said anything.”

“I was waiting for you to catch up,” Minghao says with a small smile.

Mingyu feels wrecked.

Then, after a beat, Minghao adds: “You’d come home, sometimes, still smelling like sex and frustration. You’d throw yourself onto the couch or into my lap and start complaining before I could even say hi.”

His voice softens, fond. “You were always frustrated. Not just with them, but with yourself. Like you knew something was missing, but you couldn’t figure out what. You’d lean against me like you were hoping I’d tell you.”

Mingyu’s throat tightens. His voice comes out small. “Then why didn’t you?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “What, like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry your hookup sucked again. You know what would make you feel better? Getting on your knees for me, drooling around my fingers while I tell you how pretty you look with tears running down your face, gagging for something in your mouth?’”

Mingyu makes a choked noise, somewhere between a gasp and a full-body malfunction. He drags a hand down his face, voice faint and wrecked.

“God. Can we… could we do that? Tonight?”

There’s a pause. Minghao’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“No,” he says simply. Not unkind. Just firm. “Not tonight.”

And Mingyu feels the burn of it, embarrassment, need, disappointment all tangled together, but he remembers. Remembers the yellow. The rules. The trust.

He nods. Swallows.

“Okay.”

That earns him a soft look. Minghao’s hand finds his again, thumb brushing his knuckles like a silent thank-you.

“Good,” he says, and then, “That was you listening. Trusting me when I said no. That’s exactly what I need from you.”

Mingyu’s stomach turns over, warm and steady in a way that startles him a little. He wants more of that. God, he wants more.

Minghao shifts a little closer. His voice stays low, calm, sure. “I’m going to give you your first rule for tonight.”

Mingyu straightens, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

“If you listen well,” Minghao says, “you get a reward.”

The air leaves Mingyu in a rush. “Okay,” he says again, smaller now. Hungrier.

“You listened when I said ‘no’ just now. What do you want your reward to be?” Minghao asks, already knowing.

Mingyu doesn’t even hesitate. “A kiss.”

Minghao’s gaze dips, slow, deliberate, to his mouth. “Yeah,” he says softly. “You can have that.”

Mingyu surges forward immediately, practically unfolding himself from where he’s cross-legged on the couch. It’s not graceful, he stumbles over a cushion, almost topples off the couch, and still somehow ends up halfway in Minghao’s space, eyes locked on his lips like a man possessed.

And just before he gets there, Minghao lifts a hand and presses it firmly to his chest.

“Wait.”

Mingyu blinks at him, wide-eyed and desperate. “Wait… what? Why?”

Minghao gives him the driest look imaginable. “You just came home from a hookup, Mingyu-yah. I don’t want to know where your mouth has been.”

Oh. Right. That. Mingyu splutters. “He wore a condom when I blew him!”

“That’s not the winning argument you think it is.”

“I chewed gum on the way home?” he tries, gaze still flicking shamelessly down to Minghao’s mouth. He knows he’s losing. He knows the kiss is slipping out of reach. But God, he’s wanted this for so long, he has to at least try.

Minghao doesn’t even blink. “Go brush your teeth, Gyu-yah.”

Mingyu lets out a wounded, dramatic groan, forehead thunking lightly onto Minghao’s shoulder. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m protecting both of us,” Minghao says calmly. “From whatever bad hook-up bacteria you might be harboring.”

“You are so mean.”

“You are so gross,” Minghao counters, deadpan.

Another groan, more tragic than the last. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for so long.”

Minghao just pats his cheek like he’s a very pitiful little dog. “Think about it while brushing your teeth.”

Mingyu shoves himself to his feet with all the reluctant energy of a man being sent to war.

“You’re so lucky you’re hot,” he mumbles as he heads for the bathroom.

He can hear the smile in Minghao’s voice when he calls: “Two minutes. And minty.”

The second he's out of sight, Mingyu bolts.

No more dragging his feet, he all but sprints into the bathroom and attacks his toothbrush like it’s a personal vendetta. Minty toothpaste? Check. Mouthwash? Hell yes. He rinses, gargles, spits, checks his breath against his palm. Like it matters, like Minghao hasn’t already held his hair back while he threw up last winter, told him to brush his teeth and go back to bed, that he’d handle the clean-up.

He doesn’t even pretend to walk back with dignity. He books it down the hallway, sliding a little on the floor, and skids to a stop in front of the couch.

“I brushed,” he says, a little breathless. “And used mouthwash. Double mint. Very fresh. Very kissable. Please, can I kiss you now?”

Minghao doesn’t bother hiding his laugh this time. It slips out, warm and helpless. “You are…” He cuts himself off, just shaking his head with a look that’s way too fond for Mingyu’s already-fraying composure.

But then he shifts forward, eyes soft, steady. He reaches up, curls his fingers around the side of Mingyu’s neck.

“Come here,” he says, quiet and sure.

And when Mingyu leans in Minghao meets him halfway.

The kiss isn’t rushed. It isn’t wild. It’s not even particularly deep.

It’s just right.

Intentional. Anchored. A touch of command and all the softness Mingyu hadn’t known he needed until now. Minghao’s hand stays at his neck, thumb pressing gently into his jaw like he’s holding him steady, like he’s keeping him here.

Mingyu’s still catching his breath when they part. Not from the kiss, it hadn’t been that kind of kiss, but from everything underneath it. The anticipation. The want. The way Minghao looked at him like he was the only thing worth focusing on.

“There’s your reward,” Minghao says, voice low and pleased, thumb still brushing his cheek.

And maybe Mingyu should say thank you. Or lean back. Or pretend to be normal about any of this.

Instead, he breathes, “Again?”

Minghao huffs a quiet laugh, thumb pausing like he’s debating. Mingyu doesn't look away. Doesn’t move. Just waits, eyes wide, heart loud, body completely still except for the slight, hopeful tilt of his chin.

Minghao tilts his head. “You want another reward already?”

Mingyu nods. Then, more daring than he probably should be, murmurs, “What do I need to do to get tongue?”

Minghao laughs. Actually laughs, shaking his head, fond and exasperated and maybe a little impressed. “God, you’re easy.”

“Only for you,” Mingyu says, and it’s too honest, too fast, too everything, but he doesn’t take it back.

Minghao doesn’t make him. He just shifts his hand, trailing it down the side of Mingyu’s neck in a slow, deliberate sweep.

Minghao’s fingers linger at the base of his neck. His gaze drops to Mingyu’s mouth, and just when Mingyu thinks he might combust from the anticipation alone, Minghao leans in again.

This kiss, too, is soft. Steady. But deeper this time, just enough to make Mingyu sigh, just enough to make his knees feel a little less reliable. And God, Mingyu wants more.

When they part, Mingyu is already leaning in for another.

Minghao laughs, quiet and warm. “You’re already squirming,” he says, and there’s no judgment in it, just amusement and affection. “Maybe we should take this to the bedroom.”

Mingyu doesn’t even pretend to wait. He presses one last kiss to Minghao’s cheek, then shifts suddenly, one arm sliding around Minghao’s waist, the other hooking under his thighs.

He lifts.

Minghao makes a startled sound, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Mingyu-yah!”

“You said bedroom,” Mingyu says, grinning. “I’m just being efficient.”

“You’re being a show-off.”

“That too.”

Minghao’s weight is nothing in his arms. And now that he has him like this, Mingyu doesn’t want to let go. He starts down the hallway, pulse pounding, and doesn’t miss the way Minghao’s grip stays firm on his shoulders, even as his expression flickers between amused and impressed.

They don’t make it far before Mingyu slows to a stop in the hallway, careful to avoid the lamp he hit his head against earlier, heart racing for an entirely new reason.

“Your room or mine?” he asks, quietly. His voice a little breathless now, but not just from effort.

Minghao tilts his head, considering. “Yours.”

Mingyu nods, adjusting his grip, and somehow manages to open the bedroom door one-handed without dropping Minghao. It’s awkward and completely unnecessary, but he does it anyway.

“You are so showing off,” Minghao mutters.

“Absolutely.” He kicks the door shut behind them with what he hopes is the kind of confident flair worthy of praise.

“Is it working?” he asks, cheeky. “The showing off, I mean.”

Minghao looks at him for a beat. Then, deadpan, and yet entirely sincere, says, “It’s stupidly hot.”

Mingyu nearly drops him.

Minghao smirks. “One day,” he adds, maddeningly calm, “I’m going to make you fuck me against a wall.”

Mingyu stumbles. Again.

“I…” His voice breaks. “Okay… wow… okay…”

He sets Minghao down fast, as if that’ll help. It does not. Not when Minghao’s still watching him like that. Still full of want, yes, but there’s something else there now too. Consideration. “I think,” Minghao says softly, “it’s time I give you your second rule.”

Mingyu straightens up slightly. “Okay.”

Minghao steps in close again, fingertips brushing just beneath Mingyu’s jaw, grounding them both. “From now on,” he murmurs, “you don’t get to take.”

Mingyu blinks. “What do you mean?”

“No more lifting me up without asking. No more stealing kisses just because you feel like it. No touching unless I’ve said you can.”

His voice stays calm, deliberate.

“From now on, if you want something, you wait for me to offer it,” Minghao says. “You don’t take. You receive.”

Mingyu’s breath catches. His spine goes a little straighter. “Right. Okay. Got it.”

Minghao watches him, something warm flickering in his gaze. “Good,” he says, thumb smoothing gently along Mingyu’s cheek. “That’s the rule. You follow it, I'll make sure you get everything you need.”

Then Minghao steps back to look at him fully. To really take him in.

“Take off your shirt,” he says, calm and easy. “And get on the bed.”

Mingyu swallows hard. His fingers twitch at his sides like they’re not sure where to begin. But his gaze doesn’t leave Minghao as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion.

Minghao’s eyes flicker down in a slow, appreciative sweep. And then they meet Mingyu’s again.

“Bed,” he reminds him, still calm.

Mingyu goes.

He kicks off his slippers and climbs onto the mattress with zero hesitation. But when he settles against the pillows, there’s a slow, restless ache building beneath his skin. Anticipation. Want. Something about the way Minghao looks at him, so measured and focused, makes him feel warm all over.

“Like this?” he asks, a little breathless.

Minghao doesn’t answer right away. He just walks closer, slow and certain. One knee on the bed, then the other, until he’s kneeling beside Mingyu. His hand lifts again, fingertips ghosting down the center of Mingyu’s chest, feather-light.

“You’re doing so well,” he says softly.

Mingyu draws in a breath. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. His whole focus is Minghao: Minghao’s hand, Minghao’s voice, Minghao’s weight on the bed beside him. Everything else falls quiet.

“Stay still for me,” Minghao murmurs, gaze tracing every inch of him now. “Just like that.”

Mingyu swallows. Nods. He wants to ask what’s coming next but he doesn’t. He just waits. He listens.

Minghao’s hand doesn’t wander further. Not yet. But his eyes are everywhere. Slow, intent, deliberate.

“I’ve wanted to see you like this for a long time,” he says, quiet but sure. “Wanted to take my time with you. To look. To touch. To make you feel wanted.”

His thumb moves, just slightly, brushing against the edge of Mingyu’s collarbone.

“You are so beautiful,” Minghao says, quiet and certain and steady.

It lands like a blow, leaving Mingyu reeling, heat flaring sharper now, and he has to shift slightly, adjusting before it becomes too obvious. He laughs. Reflexive. Too quick.

“Right,” he says, already feeling his face grow hot. “People stop me on the street all the time to ask if I’m a model. It’s honestly kind of a problem…”

“Mingyu-yah.” Minghao’s voice cuts in, quiet but pointed.

Mingyu shuts his mouth. His heart is thudding.

“Try again,” Minghao says. “Without hiding behind a joke this time. What did I say?”

Mingyu swallows. Blinks at him. His voice is a whisper when it comes.

“You… said I’m beautiful.”

Minghao nods once, slow and deliberate. “Yes. You really are. Do you believe me?”

Mingyu exhales shakily. “I do.”

Minghao’s gaze lingers on him for a moment longer. Then he says, calm and assured, “I’m going to give you three more compliments now. You’re going to listen. Accept them. Repeat them for me. Do your best to believe them. And if you do well…” A beat. A faint curve of his lips. “You’ll get another kiss. With tongue, as you so eloquently put it before.”

Mingyu swallows. “Okay.”

Minghao’s mouth curves, pleased. And then: “You’re so responsive. I barely touch you and you’re already melting for me.”

Mingyu sucks in a breath. His hands twitch in his lap, but he keeps them still. Barely. “I… okay.” His voice is thin. “I’m so responsive. You barely touch me and I’m already melting for you.”

Minghao hums, pleased. “Good.”

He lets Mingyu breathe for a beat, then leans in a little closer.

“You look so good like this. Shirt off, eyes on me, waiting for what I’ll do next.”

Mingyu wants to hide his face, wants to squirm out of sight under the sheer weight of it. Instead, red and shaking with it, he forces himself to hold Minghao’s gaze. And the look he finds there, focused, and hungrier than before, only feeds the heat curling low in his belly. His cock is stirring in his sweatpants, and it only makes him flush harder. “I… I look so good like this. Shirt off. Eyes on you. Waiting for what you’ll do next.”

“There you go,” Minghao says, warm and approving, eyes glittering with want and something gentler underneath it.

He pauses. Just for a moment. And then he gives the final blow:

“I’ve been thinking about this, about you, every time you came home smelling like someone else and I wanted to be the one who ruined you instead.”

Mingyu makes a sound that isn’t really a sound. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

But Minghao just lifts an eyebrow.

Mingyu breathes in hard. His whole body’s gone warm, unsteady. Minghao hasn’t even touched him yet but he is already half-hard, tenting his sweatpants just from the sharp, devastating truth in Minghao’s words, the way he says it like it was inevitable all along.

“You said… you’ve been thinking about this. About me. Every time I came home smelling like someone else. And you wanted to be the one to ruin me instead.”

It shatters something in him. Saying it. Hearing himself say it. The realization crashes through him, thick and dizzying: this is happening. This is real.

And then, Minghao’s hand is on his jaw again. Gentle. Certain.

He leans in slowly, hand guiding Mingyu’s chin up, just slightly.

“Good boy.”

The words drop like a stone in Mingyu’s chest, weighty and warm and so much more devastating than he’s ready for. His breath stutters. His fingers twitch, like he might reach for Minghao and doesn’t.

But he doesn’t have to ask. Minghao is already closing the distance.

The kiss this time is not soft. It’s full. Certain. Deeper than before, and with purpose. Minghao keeps a hand under Mingyu’s jaw, holding him exactly where he wants him. To show him how he wants to be kissed. To give and take all at once.

Mingyu makes a quiet sound, half whimper, half breath, and tilts into it instinctively. But he doesn’t push forward. He lets himself be kissed, lets the control stay exactly where Minghao placed it.

Minghao finally pulls back, lips barely parted, eyes dark but steady. “There,” he murmurs. A curl of amusement on his kiss-swollen lips. “With tongue.”

“Yah,” Mingyu complains at the teasing.

Minghao, however, is unimpressed. “You specifically asked for it,” he says. “Don’t whine when you get what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t whining,” Mingyu mutters, very much whining.

Minghao’s smile deepens, just a hint of sharpness to it now. “Lie back, Gyu-yah.”

That makes Mingyu go quiet. He lies back, arms obediently at his sides, jaw tight with the effort of keeping still.

Minghao tips his head, gaze steady. “You’ll stay still for me, won’t you?”

Mingyu swallows hard. Nods.

But Minghao doesn’t move right away. Just watches him for another second.

“What’s your color?” he asks softly.

Mingyu blinks up at him. “Green.”

A faint smile curves Minghao’s lips. “Good.”

He leans in, just close enough for his voice to drop a little lower. “Anywhere you don’t want me to touch?”

Mingyu’s eyes flutter, and he shakes his head. “No. You can touch me anywhere.”

Minghao doesn't move right away.

He just looks.

Lets his gaze trace every inch, from the lines of Mingyu’s collarbones to the way his chest rises and falls with each shaky breath. Taking his time, like he’s finally allowed to see what he’s wanted for a long time.

And then, slow, deliberate, his gaze drops.

Lower. Down the broad span of Mingyu’s chest. Over his stomach, where tension winds tight under the skin.

And further still, to where Mingyu is half-hard in his sweats, the outline of it unmistakable.

Minghao lingers there. Blatant. Shameless.

Mingyu squirms under the attention, tiny, helpless shifts against the bed, his whole body prickling with heat. He feels like he’s burning up. Like Minghao can see every desperate thought unraveling behind his ribs, every ounce of want he’s barely holding back.

“When you asked where you could touch me,” he mutters, eyes darting to the side, “I assumed you were gonna actually, you know, touch me.”

Minghao’s mouth twitches, eyes sliding back to his. “What’s your second rule, Gyu-yah?”

Mingyu groans. “Don’t take. Receive.”

“Mm.” Minghao leans in just slightly. Not close enough to touch. “And what did I say about listening?”

“If I do it well, I get a reward,” Mingyu mutters, voice thin with anticipation.

“Exactly.”

Finally, finally, Minghao moves. One hand, steady and warm, lifting to hover just above Mingyu’s chest.

Mingyu isn’t sure what he expected. A teasing stroke of fingertips maybe, barely there, just enough to make him crave more. You know, sexy touching.

Instead, Minghao squeezes his left pec. No hesitation. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea. Every time you walk around shirtless, it’s an exercise in discipline for me,” Minghao tells him, as he watches the muscle bunch under his fingers, fascinated.

Mingyu huffs out a startled laugh. “Why didn’t you? You know Seokminie and Jeonghan-hyung do it all the time. You could have, too. I don’t mind.” It’s true. Ever since Mingyu has started to get buff, many of his friends haven’t been shy about their admiration, complimenting, wolf-whistling, touching. Not Minghao though. Never Minghao.

Minghao slowly lifts his eyes to meet Mingyu’s. “I know. But I doubt they ever think about what it might be like to ask you to push your pecs up for them so that they can fuck them. Come all over them.” Minghao reaches out with his other hand and pushes both of Mingyu’s pecs up. “I do.”

Mingyu lets out a choked sound. “Fuck, Myungho-yah.”

“You would let me, wouldn’t you?”

He sounds so certain when he says it, like he already knows the answer. Still, Mingyu nods.

Minghao smiles, pleased. He gives Mingyu’s pecs one last appreciative squeeze before letting his hands slide up, palms gliding over the warm curve of Mingyu’s shoulders, then down the length of his arms.

“You’re so strong, Gyu-yah,” Minghao murmurs. “You look so big next to me.”

It’s true. Mingyu’s arms, solid and sculpted from years of effort, make Minghao’s look even more delicate by contrast, fragile, almost.

“Do you like it?” Minghao asks, voice low, eyes still on him. “How big you are compared to me? How the arms you work so hard for are twice the size of mine?”

Mingyu draws in a breath, slow and shaky. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, heat prickling across his skin like it’s been lit from the inside out.

“I know I like it,” Minghao continues. One hand drifts back up, resting lightly on Mingyu’s chest now, steady over his heart. “I like how strong you are. That you can lift me like I weigh nothing to you. And how easily you go pliant with just a word from me, regardless.”

Mingyu makes a noise.

Minghao raises a brow, amused. “You disagree?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mingyu mutters, eyes darting anywhere but Minghao’s. “Just… how do you even know words like that in Korean?”

Minghao hums, thoroughly unrepentant. “You think I don’t study?”

“Yeah, but not porn words!”

“It’s not a porn word,” Minghao says calmly. “It’s a perfectly respectable adjective. Very useful. Especially for describing you.”

Mingyu groans, dragging both hands down his face. “Oh my god.”

Minghao leans in slightly, gaze playful now. “Would you prefer obedient? Supplicant? Submissive?”

“I’d prefer you get a less dramatic vocabulary,” Mingyu mutters, just on the edge of sullen.

Without missing a beat, Minghao reaches out and pinches his nipple, sharp enough to make Mingyu jolt, light enough not to actually hurt.

“Hey!” Mingyu yelps.

Minghao just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Watch your tone.”

Mingyu squirms, grinning despite himself. “That was abuse of power, you know.”

Minghao leans in even closer, voice low against his ear. “No, Mingyu-yah. That was a warning.”

Mingyu shivers. And doesn’t say another word.

Minghao pulls back just enough to see Mingyu’s face clearly, his hand never leaving his chest. His fingers are still circling his nipple, slow and deliberate now. “You’re not very sensitive here, are you?”

“Not really.” A beat. “Are you?”

Minghao looks at him consideringly. Then, he drops a devastating, “yes.”

Mingyu’s eyes drop to Minghao’s chest. “Can I…?” the words are out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop them. Guiltily, he looks back up at Minghao. “Sorry. Receive, don’t take.” He looks away before he might see disappointment on Minghao’s face.

Minghao hums. “Gyu-yah, look at me?”

Mingyu hesitates but lifts his gaze again. Minghao is watching him, soft and steady. “Good job remembering your rule. It can’t be easy, being expected to take charge all the time, and now just letting yourself be lead.”

Minghao cups his jaw, gentle but firm, making sure Mingyu keeps looking at him. “You’re doing so well, Mingyu-yah. What’s your first rule?”

“If… if I listen well, I get a reward.”

“And you did listen well, didn’t you?” Minghao asks, his thumb brushing over Mingyu’s cheekbone.

“I…” Mingyu hesitates. Minghao seems to think he’s doing well but didn’t Mingyu forget his rule again? Didn’t he…

Minghao clicks his tongue. “None of that. I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to try your best. And you are, baby, you are, I can tell.”

It’s so natural, so offhand, that it takes a second for Mingyu to register it. Baby.

Minghao doesn’t even seem to notice he’s said it, still focused, still steady. But Mingyu feels it hit low and warm and staggering.

Like it’s something Minghao has called him a hundred times before, just never out loud.

His breath catches. His fingers curl in the sheets. He wants to hear it again. Wants to deserve hearing it again.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Minghao continues, unaware. “Say if for me?”

“I’m doing so well for you,” Mingyu whispers.

Minghao smiles and leans in to press a kiss to his temple. “You really are. As a reward, do you want to see how sensitive I am here?” He twists Mingyu’s nipple again, gentle, coaxing, and Mingyu lets out a broken little breath: "Yes."

Minghao reaches out, takes Mingyu’s hand in his own, firm but careful, and guides it beneath the hem of his silk pajama shirt, pressing Mingyu’s palm flat against his chest.

"Here," Minghao says softly, his own hand covering Mingyu’s. "Just like this."

Mingyu breathes out shakily, feeling the heat of Minghao’s skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat under his fingertips.

"You can touch," Minghao says, and Mingyu moves, cautious.

His thumb brushes Minghao’s nipple and beneath his hand, he feels it: A tiny, involuntary shudder.

Minghao doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it slightly, his lashes fluttering.

Mingyu's stomach turns over, wrecked at how real it feels. He’s doing this. He’s the one making Minghao breathe like that.

He barely keeps himself from falling apart.

"Go ahead," Minghao says, his voice rougher now. "You can pinch. Gently."

Mingyu pinches his nipple lightly between his fingers and Minghao lets out a small, breathless gasp, a sound so soft and real it punches the air out of Mingyu’s lungs.

He swallows hard, fingers trembling. He wants to do it again, wants to draw out more of those sounds, but he forces himself to stay still. To receive, not take.

"Good," Minghao murmurs, his thumb stroking over the back of Mingyu’s hand. "You're doing so well for me, Gyu-yah. Let me show you."

He shifts his grip, drawing Mingyu’s hand down, slow and sure, over the warm lines of his body, past the dip of his waist.

Mingyu barely dares to breathe, and then his hand is pressed against the front of Minghao’s shorts. And there, beneath the silky fabric, Mingyu can feel him growing hard.

Mingyu makes a small, wrecked noise, and grips the sheets with his free hand, trying to ground himself.

Minghao’s voice drops low, pleased: “Oh, Gyu-yah. You’re not even the one being touched right now.”

He closes his hand over Mingyu’s again, presses his hips up, slow and deliberate, letting Mingyu feel the full weight of him against his palm.

Mingyu whines, helpless.

Minghao just laughs, soft and wicked, and gently guides Mingyu’s hand back to the sheets.

“Look at you, baby,” he says, voice dipping into something richer. “Already wrecked. And we haven’t even started yet.”

Mingyu flushes deep red, squirming slightly under the attention. His hips shift, just once, helpless, pleading, but he forces himself back to stillness, jaw tight with effort.

Minghao taps two fingers lightly against the waistband of Mingyu’s sweatpants. "You should take these off, Gyu-yah. Wouldn’t want you making a mess of them."

Mingyu scrambles to obey, pushing the sweatpants down his legs and kicking them off the bed.

Minghao lets out a delighted little giggle.

Mingyu stiffens, burning with embarrassment. "What?" he mumbles.

"Of course you’re not wearing any underwear," Minghao says. "God, you’re shameless."

"What’s the point of wearing underwear to a hook-up? It’s going to come off anyways," Mingyu complains.

Minghao lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Nothing sets the mood like ‘hello’ and then straight to ‘cock out.’”

Mingyu flushes hot all over, but before he can even think about answering, Minghao’s fingers drift lazily across his stomach and he shivers, muscles jumping under the touch.

“No patience at all,” Minghao teases, his voice all fond amusement. “Straight to the main event.”

Mingyu bites the inside of his cheek, trying and failing to hold still. Every little brush of Minghao’s hand feels like it’s lighting him up from the inside.

Then Minghao leans down, slow and easy, until his lips brush the corner of Mingyu’s mouth, not a real kiss, just a soft, teasing breath of contact that makes Mingyu’s heart stutter.

“Don’t worry, Gyu-yah,” Minghao murmurs, his voice so close and warm it feels like a brand against Mingyu’s skin. “I’m going to teach you exactly how good it can feel to take your time.”

Minghao’s hand glides upward again, slow and deliberate, tracing across Mingyu’s chest.

A soft noise slips out of Mingyu’s throat, wrecked, desperate, and he squeezes the sheets in his fists to ground himself.

Minghao smiles, Mingyu can feel it more than see it, and his hand drifts lower, fingers grazing lightly over the jut of Mingyu’s hipbone, lingering there just to watch him squirm.

“Maybe next time,” Minghao says, voice almost a purr now, “I’m not even going to let you take your shirt off.” His teeth catch lightly at Mingyu’s jaw in a quick, playful nip that leaves Mingyu gasping. “Not until you’re begging me to strip you bare.”

Mingyu makes a wrecked sound in response, the kind he might be embarrassed about if he still had the ability to think properly.

"Myungho-yah, please. Please touch me."

Minghao’s fingers don't falter, still tracing light, lazy shapes across Mingyu’s chest like he has all the time in the world.

"I am touching you."

It’s not enough. Nowhere near enough. Mingyu fumbles for words, desperation rough in his throat. "Not… your hand… fuck… on my dick. Please. I’m gonna die if you don’t…"

That pulls a laugh from Minghao, quiet and devastatingly fond. He pulls his hand away entirely, leaving Mingyu’s skin buzzing in the sudden absence, and sits back to look at him properly.

"What’s the first rule, Mingyu-yah?"

Mingyu flushes hard. His hands fist in the sheets, helpless to do anything but obey.

"If I do well, I get a reward."

Minghao hums, pleased, his thumb brushing lightly over Mingyu’s cheekbone like silent praise.

"And the second?"

Mingyu swallows against the thickness in his throat.

"I don’t take. I receive."

Minghao’s mouth curves, warm and sure. His fingers comb gently through Mingyu’s hair, tugging lightly just enough to ground him.

"That’s right."

His voice softens, but it doesn’t lose any weight. "You’re so impatient. You couldn't even ask nicely. Still stuck in that hook-up mindset, Gyu-yah. But that’s not how we’re doing this. Not with me." Minghao’s voice stays calm, but it leaves no room for argument. "If you'd been a little more patient, I would have touched you already."

Mingyu’s heart stumbles. He bites his lip hard, feeling the sting of it.

Minghao’s fingers keep tracing idle, almost lazy shapes across his chest, like none of this is urgent to him. But every light pass of his fingertips feels unbearable to Mingyu, carving the ache deeper.

"But since you broke your rule…" Two fingers tap lightly against Mingyu’s sternum. "You’re going to wait a little longer."

Shame rushes through Mingyu, hot and quick. His hands fist into the sheets, helpless, desperate to show he’s still trying, that he can do better.

"I’m sorry," he blurts out, his voice almost cracking on the words.

For a beat, Minghao stills. Then he shifts closer, cupping Mingyu’s cheek with a warmth so steady, so grounding, that it makes Mingyu’s eyes sting unexpectedly.

"Hey," Minghao says, low and firm. "Gyu-yah. Look at me?"

Mingyu forces himself to blink up, heart hammering so hard it almost drowns everything else out.

Minghao smiles at him, impossibly gentle. "It’s okay," he says, his voice warm and sure. "You’re okay."

His thumb brushes slowly across Mingyu’s cheekbone, patient, like he has all the time in the world to make sure Mingyu really hears him.

"Breaking a rule isn’t a bad thing," he continues, softer now. "It’s part of what we’re doing. Part of what makes this fun."

Mingyu blinks at him, confusion flickering underneath the haze of want. "But…" he stammers, "if it's okay to break them, why have rules at all?"

Minghao’s smile only softens further, like he’s proud of the question. His fingers thread gently through Mingyu’s hair again, slow and steady.

"Rules give you something to push against," he says. "Something to break on purpose if you need more. Like…" Minghao's thumb strokes idly across Mingyu’s cheekbone, thoughtful. "… if you want to be teased longer, maybe you'd break a rule, so I’ll slow everything down even more. Draw it out. Make you feel so good you can't even think."

Mingyu shivers, breath catching.

"Or," Minghao adds, his voice dipping lower, almost conspiratorial, "maybe you'd be a little bratty. Push back. Try to see what happens if you don't behave."

He smiles, soft and knowing. "And then I’d have to make you behave again. Make you wait even longer before I touch you the way you want."

Mingyu's whole body feels lit from the inside out, half wrecked just by the possibilities painted in Minghao’s voice.

"Or maybe you’re just so desperate you forget. Like now. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just showed me how much you want this."

Minghao tips his forehead lightly against Mingyu’s again, grounding him. "It’s all part of it, Gyu-yah. Breaking a rule doesn’t mean you failed. It just means we find a new way to play."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look Mingyu in the eye.

"You’re still doing so well," Minghao says. His thumb brushes tenderly over Mingyu’s lower lip, like he’s memorizing the shape of him. His gaze is so steady, so open.

"I like how desperate you get for me, Gyu-yah,” he murmurs.

Mingyu’s breath hitches, his whole body straining toward the words like he needs them to live.

"I love seeing you so needy you forget your rules. It’s fun for me. It’s beautiful," Minghao continues. "But since you forgot your rules, I’d like to give you a consequence. If you're okay with that."

Mingyu blinks up at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering in his chest.

"What kind of consequence?" he asks, voice small, already aching to say yes before he even knows the answer.

"Nothing harsh," Minghao promises. His hand drifts down to rest lightly over Mingyu’s heart, grounding him. "I'd like to have you touch yourself for me. The way you’d want me to touch you. Show me how much you want this."

Mingyu flushes hotter, the words going straight to his gut. "But… how’s that even a consequence?" he blurts out, heat blooming across his cheeks. "That sounds…" He cuts himself off, mortified.

Minghao lets out a low, amused breath, his fingers brushing soothingly over Mingyu’s sternum.

"It’s a consequence," he murmurs, "because you were desperate for me to touch you. And now you’ll have to wait a little longer for it."

He leans in, pressing his lips lightly to Mingyu’s hairline, a touch so tender it makes Mingyu’s chest ache.

"And," Minghao adds, voice dipping even lower, "it’s also something I want. Because I want to see you like this. Want to watch you touch yourself while thinking about me."

Mingyu can feel his cock leaking precum onto his stomach, sticky and warm. He can't stop the tiny whimper that escapes him.

Minghao smiles against his skin, pleased, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

"Consequences aren’t meant to hurt you, Gyu-yah," he says, voice patient and sure. "They're meant to make everything feel deeper. More intense. Like... right now. You're aching for it, aren’t you?"

Mingyu nods without even thinking.

"It’s going to make it so much better when I finally touch you," Minghao says, thumb stroking along Mingyu’s jawline in slow, grounding passes. "And I will. I promise."

He waits, giving Mingyu room to breathe. Then, low and careful, he asks: "You still want this?"

"Yes," Mingyu breathes. "Please."

"Good." Minghao’s thumb presses lightly against his jaw, a steadying point of contact. "What’s your color, Gyu-yah?"

"Green," Mingyu answers without hesitation, voice shaking.

Minghao’s smile deepens, soft, devastating.

"And if I tease you while you’re touching yourself?" he asks, voice a warm curl around the words. "Tell you how gorgeous you look for me. How desperate you are."

Mingyu’s whole body trembles, but his answer is sure. "Green," he says again.

"Good," Minghao murmurs. He kisses Mingyu’s forehead before pulling back enough to give him space, his hands still light against Mingyu’s ribs, a silent anchor.

"Now," he says, voice low and steady. "I want to see how you’d want me to touch you. Where do you keep your lube?"

Mingyu lets out a choked sound, halfway between a laugh and a groan, and hides his face in the crook of his arm for a second before mumbling, "I… I don’t need it."

Minghao hums, not quite satisfied. "No?"

Mingyu’s voice is barely audible. "There’s already enough. I’ve been… leaking. A lot."

That earns him a pause. Minghao shifts slightly, his gaze dragging down the length of Mingyu’s body until it settles on his dick, steadily leaking a small pool of precum onto Mingyu’s stomach.

Minghao exhales, slow and measured. "Messy," he murmurs, but there’s a dangerous kind of sweetness in his voice. "You really want it that bad, don’t you?"

Mingyu can’t speak. He just nods. Flushed and trembling and ruined.

“Then go ahead, baby. Touch yourself for me.”

Mingyu shudders, nerves and want sparking under his skin. His hand wraps around himself, shaky at first, and a soft, broken sound slips from his throat. He tries to be slow. He really does.
But his hips jerk up without thinking, desperate for more.

Minghao’s hand settles lightly over Mingyu’s, stilling the frantic movement without force. "Gyu-yah," he murmurs, brushing his thumb along Mingyu’s knuckles, "is that really how you want me to touch you?"

Mingyu whines, frustration and need tangled up in his chest.

"I will touch you like that, if that’s what you want. But if I had my way, I’d go slow," Minghao says, voice a breath against his ear. "I'd take my time with you. Let you feel every second of it. Make you tremble with it."

His hand squeezes Mingyu’s lightly, grounding him, guiding him. "You deserve that, don’t you? To be touched like you’re precious?"

Mingyu chokes out a sound, halfway between a sob and a moan, and forces himself to slow down. Long, shaky strokes that leave him teetering right on the edge of madness.

"That’s it," Minghao breathes, so soft and proud it hurts. His hand never leaves Mingyu’s, steadying him through every trembling movement. "You’re doing so well for me."

Mingyu's breathing stutters as he moves under Minghao’s steady hand. Every slow stroke feels like it leaves him a little more raw, a little more undone.

"So beautiful like this," Minghao murmurs, the words sinking deep into Mingyu's skin. His thumb traces lazy, soothing circles along the back of Mingyu’s hand. "All flushed and trembling. Needing it so much."

Mingyu whimpers, the sound helpless, wrecked. His cock leaks over his fingers, onto his stomach, sticky and hot, and the ache low in his belly sharpens.

"You don’t even know what you do to me, Gyu-yah," Minghao says, voice low and thick with it now. "Every sound you make, every time you shudder for me, it drives me fucking crazy."

The curse startles Mingyu, and it lands somewhere deep in his chest, hot and dizzying.

Minghao presses a kiss to his temple, lingering like he can't help himself. "I could watch you fall apart like this forever," he whispers, reverent. "And you'd let me, wouldn’t you?"

Mingyu nods, frantic, the movement jerky with how close he feels.

Minghao's hand tightens just slightly around Mingyu’s, grounding him again. "Not yet, baby," he says. "Stay with me a little longer. Just like this. You're doing so well."

Mingyu shudders under Minghao’s hand, his body a live wire, every nerve ending tuned so tightly he feels like he might snap. It takes everything he has not to beg, not to plead for Minghao to touch him right this second.

Minghao’s thumb strokes slow, soothing circles over the back of his hand, grounding him.

"You're doing so well for me, Gyu-yah," he murmurs, voice low and warm. "Let’s slow down for a second, yeah?"

Mingyu lets out a small, broken sound, and lets Minghao guide his hand away from himself, placing it flat against the bed.

"Breathe with me,” Minghao mutters.

Mingyu clutches at the sheets, chest heaving, but he tries to match the slow, deliberate pace of Minghao’s breathing when he leans in close, his forehead resting against Mingyu’s temple. It helps. A little.

His heartbeat, wild and ragged, starts to slow.

When Minghao pulls back to look at him properly, Mingyu can still feel the heat buzzing under his skin but it’s steadier now. Manageable.

"I want to touch you now," Minghao says, his soft tone betrayed by the hunger in his eyes. "But I want you to only come when I say you can. Can you do that for me?"

Mingyu nods again, too quickly, too eagerly, and Minghao’s fingers brush along his jaw, gentle but firm.

"Words, Mingyu-yah."

"Yes," Mingyu gasps. "Yes. I'll wait for you."

Minghao’s smile is so soft it makes something hot and helpless twist deep in Mingyu’s chest.

"Good boy."

The words land like something sacred and Mingyu almost whines with how much he wants to deserve them.

But before he can spiral, Minghao’s voice curls low and warm around him again:

"But if you need a little more time before I touch you, that’s okay too. You can tell me. I would want you to tell me."

The offer hits Mingyu so hard it almost leaves him breathless.

Because the truth is if Minghao touches him now, if he so much as slides his hand down and wraps it around him Mingyu knows he’d come in seconds. Wrecked and whining and pathetic. He’s that close. His cock throbs where it rests against his stomach, another pulse of precum leaking from the tip.

He bites his lip, struggling for a second, and then breathes out: "C-Can I have a moment first?"

Minghao smiles at him, proud and fond and a little bit wrecked. "Of course you can," he says, no hesitation at all. "That’s perfect. Thank you for telling me."

Mingyu barely has time to breathe before Minghao is pressing a kiss to his forehead another to his cheekbone, softer, and another at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re doing so well," Minghao murmurs between kisses, his hand stroking slow, calming patterns along Mingyu’s ribs. "So proud of you, baby. So proud."

Mingyu turns his face toward him instinctively, chasing the next kiss like he’s starved for it, and Minghao gives it to him without hesitation, mouth soft and sure against his.

For a long, endless moment, that's all there is: the steady pull of Minghao’s kisses, and the warm weight of his hand grounding Mingyu against the frantic thrum still racing under his skin.

Mingyu clings to every kiss like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing. Minghao’s hand strokes lazy, grounding patterns along his ribs, his weight a reassuring presence against Mingyu’s chest.

Mingyu tries to stay still. Really, he does.

But it’s like his body has a mind of its own, hips shifting up in small, desperate jerks, seeking friction he can’t quite find. The silky drag of Minghao’s pajama shorts against his cock is almost too much, and then Minghao’s erection, solid and unmistakable, presses back just enough to make Mingyu whimper against his mouth.

Minghao swears softly under his breath. He cups Mingyu’s face, thumb stroking just under his cheekbone, and pulls back enough to breathe against his lips.

"Lie back for me, Gyu-yah," he says, voice low and sure. "Let me take care of you."

Mingyu obeys without hesitation, dropping back against the pillows with a shaky exhale, his whole body thrumming with need.

Minghao’s touch trails lower, slow, reverent, until finally, finally, his hand wraps around Mingyu’s cock.

The first touch wrecks him. Mingyu cries out, hips jerking up into the contact before he can stop himself. It’s too good. It’s not enough. It’s everything.

"Slow…" he gasps, fists clutching at the sheets. "Please… don’t… I don’t wanna… not yet, please…"

Minghao immediately eases his grip, his hand moving in long, lazy strokes that make Mingyu tremble with the effort of staying still.

"Shh," Minghao murmurs, his thumb sweeping gently over the leaking tip, spreading precum over hot, flushed skin. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

Mingyu whines, head tipping back against the pillows, overwhelmed by how badly he wants to be good for Minghao.

"You’re doing so well," Minghao breathes, kissing the corner of his mouth, so devastatingly soft that Mingyu feels like he might shatter from it.

"You can come whenever you’re ready, Mingyu-yah," Minghao continues, his voice warm and steady against Mingyu’s ear. "If you want me to go faster… all you have to do is tell me."

The words punch something loose in Mingyu’s chest. He whimpers, desperate, hips canting up into the maddening slow glide of Minghao’s hand.

"Please," he chokes out. "Please, faster, harder… please, Myungho-yah, I…"

The need in his voice is raw and helpless.

Minghao curses again under his breath and then his hand tightens, strokes speeding up with a sure, devastating rhythm that leaves Mingyu gasping.

"That’s it," Minghao rasps, wrecked and proud all at once. "That’s it, Gyu-yah. Let go for me."

It doesn’t take much more. Mingyu’s whole body arches off the bed he comes with a wrecked cry, spilling hot over Minghao’s hand and his own stomach.

Minghao stays right there with him through it all, his hand never leaving him, grounding him with slow, steady touches as Mingyu trembles through the aftershocks.

Mingyu isn’t sure how long he floats there afterward, wrecked, boneless, utterly undone, but Minghao never leaves him.

Warm arms wind around him, Minghao pressing close. He tucks his head against Mingyu’s chest like it’s the only place he belongs, one hand splayed wide over Mingyu’s ribs, thumb stroking steady, grounding circles against his skin. Mingyu buries a shaky breath in Minghao’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and lets himself be held as the trembling slowly works its way out of his limbs.

Minghao presses slow, steady kisses to his chest, to his jaw, murmuring soft things Mingyu can barely catch but the tone is enough: proud, warm, unwavering.

"You did so well, Gyu-yah," he hears at one point, low and sure. "So, so good for me."

Eventually, Minghao shifts, carefully easing himself upright.

"Stay there for me. I’ll be just a second," he says, voice soft.

Mingyu lets out a small, involuntary whine but obeys, boneless and trusting as he watches Minghao move.

Minghao crosses to Mingyu’s desk, grabbing a handful of tissues. He wipes his own hand off first, quick and efficient, then returns to the bed without missing a beat.

The mattress dips under his weight, and then Minghao is back, tender and sure, wiping the mess from Mingyu’s stomach and chest with infinite care. He works slowly, murmuring soft, absent little reassurances under his breath. Nothing Mingyu can catch clearly, but the tone is enough to make him ache all over again.

When he’s done, Minghao tosses the tissues aside and curls back in close, looping both arms snugly around Mingyu’s torso and resting his head lightly against Mingyu’s chest, right over his heart.

Mingyu threads a trembling hand into Minghao’s hair without thinking, needing the anchor.

For a long moment, they just breathe like that, the tension slowly bleeding out of Mingyu’s body.

But after a minute, Mingyu shifts a little, wanting to make sure Minghao is comfortable, adjusting the angle of his arm, trying to cradle him better against his chest.

In doing so, his thigh brushes against something firm and hot even through the thin silk of Minghao’s pajama shorts.

Mingyu freezes.

Oh.

Minghao is still hard.

The realization crashes into him all at once, pulling him out of the soft, hazy afterglow like a riptide. He feels the flush start at his cheeks and spread, mortified that he hadn't even thought about it, that he let himself float while Minghao…

"I'm sorry," Mingyu blurts out, voice cracking on the words. "Myungho-yah, I'm so sorry, I…"

Minghao lifts his head, looking up at him, a little startled, but mostly fond. His hand strokes a calming line down Mingyu’s ribs, slow and steady.

"Mingyu-yah," he says, voice impossibly soft. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But you…" Mingyu stammers, guilt and desperation tangling up inside him. "You're still… fuck, you're still hard, and I…"

"Tonight was supposed to be about you," Minghao says gently, cutting through his panic before it can spiral further. His palm rests firm and reassuring over Mingyu’s heart. "I'm okay, Gyu-yah."

Mingyu shakes his head fiercely. "Please. Please let me take care of you. I want to."

Minghao watches him carefully for a moment, like he's reading every flicker of emotion across his face. Then he shifts slightly, just enough to free a hand and cup Mingyu’s jaw, thumb brushing slow circles into his skin.

"Mingyu-yah, are you asking because you want to take care of me," he says quietly, "or because you feel guilty?"

Mingyu opens his mouth to answer immediately but catches himself.

He hesitates. Really thinks about it, like Minghao would want him to.

And when he answers, it’s soft, but honest: "...Both," he whispers.

Minghao’s expression doesn't flicker. He just nods, slow and sure, like he expected nothing less.

"Thank you for being honest," he says, his voice a balm. His thumb strokes a steady rhythm against Mingyu’s jaw, grounding him. "But you don’t have anything to feel guilty about."

Mingyu blinks at him, still shaky, still half-stunned by how easily Minghao says it. Like it’s a fact, not something to argue over.

"You did so well for me," Minghao says, more insistent now, voice warming. "You listened. You trusted me. You let me take care of you. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing you owe me."

He leans in, pressing a kiss to Mingyu’s forehead, a touch so tender it almost undoes him.

"I need you to believe that," Minghao murmurs against his skin.

Mingyu swallows hard, the words sinking into him like stones settling at the bottom of a deep, clear lake.

He nods, feeling the guilt loosen its claws a little in his chest. "I believe you," he says, and he means it.

Minghao pulls back just enough to see him properly. Smiles that beautiful, small smile that makes Mingyu feel like the only person in the world.

"Good," Minghao breathes.

Mingyu hesitates for half a second, then scrapes together the courage to ask again, voice small but certain: "Please, Myungho-yah. I still want to. Please let me take care of you."

Minghao's gaze softens, a tenderness there that feels heavy and sweet all at once.

"If you’re sure," Minghao says, voice warm and steady. "Then I’d like that." He tilts his head, considering for a beat. "How do you want to…"

But he doesn’t even get the full question out before Mingyu blurts, desperate: "Can I…" He cuts himself off, breathless, then rushes on. "Please, Myungho-yah. Please let me suck you off."

For a moment, there’s only the sound of their breathing, heavy and thick between them.

Then Minghao laughs, full of wonder, like he can't quite believe he gets to have this. "God, you're so eager," he murmurs, thumb brushing Mingyu’s lower lip like he can't help himself. "You really want it that bad, huh?"

Mingyu nods frantically, heart pounding so loud he can barely think.

Minghao smiles, a little crooked this time, a little wrecked, and leans in to press a kiss to Mingyu’s temple.

"All right, baby," he says, voice low and firm. "You can. But you’re going to listen to me while you do it, won’t you?"

"Yes," Mingyu breathes. "Yes, I will. I promise."

Minghao’s eyes glitter, pleased, a little dark with want. He sits back against the pillows, shifting them higher against the headboard.

"Come here," he murmurs.

Mingyu scrambles eagerly, heart hammering, settling between Minghao’s spread legs like he belongs there.

Minghao doesn't rush. Of course he doesn’t.

He watches Mingyu with a lazy, heavy-lidded gaze as he pushes his silk pajama shorts down just far enough to free himself, the fabric sliding low on his hips but leaving the rest of him clothed.

It’s devastating, like he couldn't even be bothered to undress properly because he knows Mingyu will worship him just as he is.

Mingyu can’t breathe. He can’t think.

Minghao’s cock is heavy in his hand, flushed dark, glistening at the tip, and he strokes himself lazily, slow and sure, watching Mingyu watch him.

"Fuck," Mingyu whispers, half a prayer, half a whimper.

He tries to look away, tries to be good, but he can’t. His gaze drags helplessly over every inch of Minghao he can see: the silk clinging to his thighs, the soft spill of his shirt over his hips, the bare stretch of his throat.

Minghao is beautiful. More beautiful than anything Mingyu has ever seen.

And the worst part, the best part, is that Minghao knows it.

He smiles, slow and devastating, and keeps stroking himself, making Mingyu wait, making him watch.

"You really want this, don’t you?" he murmurs.

Mingyu nods, dazed, wrecked with it.

"Then be patient, Mingyu-yah," Minghao says, voice low and warm. "You’ll get what you asked for."

Minghao lets him watch the slow, lazy glide of his hand over his cock for a moment longer before his fingers slip into Mingyu’s hair.

Mingyu whines, low and aching, and leans into the touch like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

“Please,” he breathes, already wrecked. “Please let me suck you off.”

Minghao hums, voice steady. “Do you have a condom?”

Mingyu startles. “What? No, please…” He blinks up at him. “Can I do it without?”

“Safety first,” Minghao says firmly.

Mingyu’s breath catches. He doesn't mean to blurt it out, but it slips out before he can think better of it: “Are you clean?”

There’s a beat. Minghao’s fingers pause in his hair.

Then, quiet: “Yes.”

“Then let me. Please. I want to taste you. I want it so bad.”

Minghao doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is steady, unreadable.

Mingyu reaches, fingers curling loosely around Minghao’s thigh, and begs again, softer now. “Please, Myungho-yah. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you. Just… please, let me.”

He doesn’t know what finally tips it but something shifts.

Minghao’s thumb brushes along his jaw. “Okay,” he says.

Mingyu goes still.

"Go on, baby," Minghao murmurs, voice a low rumble that rolls right down Mingyu’s spine.

Mingyu doesn't even try to hold back. He leans in with something close to reverence, heart hammering wildly, and mouths at the head of Minghao’s cock.

The taste of him hits Mingyu’s tongue, and Minghao’s breath catches above him, just the tiniest hitch, but it feels like a reward.

Good. He’s doing good.

Minghao’s fingers stroke along his scalp, light and steady, and Mingyu feels like he could float away on it.

"Good," Minghao whispers, and the word lands heavy and sweet inside Mingyu’s chest. "So good for me."

It gives him the courage to take more, to press lower, deeper, lips stretching around him.

Mingyu forces himself to stay slow at first, but when Minghao’s taste floods his mouth, he whimpers, and he can't help it. His pace quickens, messy, aching for more.

Fingers tighten suddenly in his hair, sharper than before pulling hard enough to make Mingyu’s breath catch, his whole body lurching toward it instinctively.

The sting blooms sweet and hot across his scalp, and to his own shock, Mingyu moans around Minghao, low and desperate, hips jerking up before he can stop himself.

He barely registers the way Minghao curses under his breath. Feels only the way Minghao’s hand eases immediately, stroking apologetically through his hair, grounding him again.

"Easy," Minghao murmurs, voice low and shaking. "Slow down, baby. Let me feel you."

Mingyu lets out a shuddery breath, nodding as best he can with Minghao’s cock still heavy on his tongue. He slows.

Minghao’s hand stays steady at the back of his head, not pushing, just there, a constant, a guide, and Mingyu clings to it like a lifeline.

He wants to be good.

Minghao's breathing roughens, a quiet stutter in the still air between them. His hips twitch, just barely, a tiny, instinctive jerk forward against Mingyu’s mouth, before he catches himself, muscles locking up tight with control.

Mingyu feels it. Feels the tension coil through Minghao’s whole body. Feels the way Minghao’s hand in his hair tightens, like he’s holding himself back.

It makes Mingyu's heart hammer painfully against his ribs. Makes him ache to give more.

He pulls back just enough to pant, breathless, against the slick heat of Minghao's cock. "Myungho-yah," he whispers, wrecked, "you can. You can move if you want. Please. I want it."

A rough sound tears from Minghao’s throat, half groan, half something desperate. His fingers tighten, just slightly, in Mingyu’s hair. "You’re gonna kill me, Gyu-yah," Minghao rasps, voice breaking on the words. "You’re making it so hard not to be greedy, not to take too much."

The words punch straight through Mingyu, heat flooding him, want curling tight and desperate low in his belly.

He wants that. Wants Minghao greedy for him. Wants Minghao to take.

"You can," Mingyu tries to say, rough and breathless. He looks up at Minghao with wide, desperate eyes. "You can be greedy. I want you to."

For a beat, Minghao’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly in his hair. Like he might give in, like he might lose the control he’s been holding onto so tightly all night.

But then he exhales a long, shuddery breath, and his thumb strokes slow and steady through Mingyu’s hair, anchoring him.

"Not tonight," Minghao says, soft but sure. His voice is a tether pulling Mingyu back to himself. "Tonight is about you being taken care of. About learning you’re enough like this."

Mingyu’s throat feels thick, so thick it’s hard to swallow.

But he remembers how Minghao asked him when he wasn’t sure what Mingyu wanted.

So, he scrapes together his courage, forces the words out, trembling but certain.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, voice small but steady. "Tell me."

For a second, Minghao just looks at him like he's seeing something so beautiful he almost can't believe it.

Then his hand moves, slow and reverent, stroking through Mingyu’s hair again, fingers threading carefully through the strands.

"I want to keep my hands right here," he murmurs, almost like a vow. "Just holding you. Letting you set the pace."

He swallows again, visibly struggling to stay grounded, and somehow, still so achingly gentle.

"I want you to make me come, Gyu-yah," Minghao says, voice low and wrecked. "Just like this. However you want."

Mingyu nods, a quick, eager thing. And then he's moving before he can second-guess himself, wrapping his lips back around Minghao’s cock with a soft, desperate sound.

He’s careful this time. Slow. He moves with steady, worshipful strokes of his mouth, savoring every little twitch and gasp he pulls from Minghao. Every slip of breath, every broken sound feels like a reward.

Minghao's hand stays steady in his hair, fingers threading through it again and again. His other hand fumbles for the pillow behind him, gripping it tight like he needs something to anchor himself.

"Fuck, Gyu-yah," Minghao breathes, voice low and shivering. "You're so good. You're making me…"

A ragged, breathless sound slips from him when Mingyu flicks his tongue along the underside of his cock. Mingyu feels it. Feels the way Minghao’s thighs tense under his palms, how his breath stutters unevenly in his chest.

"Just like that," Minghao gasps, voice cracking a little. "Fuck, you're… you're perfect."

Mingyu hums in response, a soft, eager sound that makes Minghao’s hips jerk instinctively upward, only for him to groan low and force himself back down again, hand tightening just a fraction against Mingyu’s scalp.

"You're killing me," he mutters, almost laughing, almost wrecked. "Baby, you…"

Mingyu doesn't let up. He wants to be good. He wants to be better than good. He hollows his cheeks a little more, sliding down until the head of Minghao’s cock presses against the back of his throat. The strangled groan that rips from Minghao’s chest is reward enough.

"Just like that," Minghao gasps, voice cracking, "Fuck, you’re so good, Gyu-yah."

Mingyu can feel the tension building in every line of Minghao’s body, the tremble that wasn’t there before.

And then Minghao’s voice cuts through, hoarse and shaking: "Baby, pull off," he gasps. "You… you need to pull off now."

But Mingyu just moans around him, stubborn, desperate, and stays exactly where he is, pressing closer, holding Minghao steady when his hips threaten to jerk up again.

Minghao swears, sharp and almost frantic, and then he's coming, his whole body locking up as he spills into Mingyu’s mouth. Mingyu takes it, every bit of it, even as his throat works to keep up, even as tears prick at the corners of his eyes from the effort.

He stays there, letting Minghao ride it out, only pulling off once he feels Minghao’s hand loosen in his hair.

When Mingyu blinks up at him, Minghao’s gaze is molten.

Something low and raw spills from Minghao's lips. A string of Mandarin too soft and fast for Mingyu to catch.

He cups Mingyu’s jaw in one shaking hand, thumb brushing tenderly over the slick curve of his bottom lip, as if trying to commit him to memory.

Mingyu leans into the touch without thinking, heart aching with how much he wants this. How much he wants Minghao to keep looking at him like that.

Minghao huffs out a breath, half a laugh, half a groan, and leans his forehead lightly against Mingyu’s.

"You’re unbelievable," he whispers, voice still trembling slightly. "You’re… God, you’re perfect."

He eases Mingyu gently down onto the bed, guiding him back against the pillows with careful hands, like he’s something precious. He tugs the blankets up around them both and immediately pulls Mingyu into his arms, one hand stroking lazy, grounding circles along Mingyu’s spine.

Mingyu melts into it without hesitation, his whole body pliant and loose.

“You’re amazing,” Minghao murmurs against his hair, pressing a kiss just behind Mingyu’s ear. “So proud of you. You did everything so well.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches. He tucks his face in closer, nose pressed to Minghao’s collarbone like he wants to hide there forever.

Minghao keeps talking, soft, easy praise slipping out between kisses to his temple, his hair, his cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “You were incredible. Every second. Let me take care of you.”

And Mingyu lets him. Lies there, tucked in the curve of Minghao’s body, and lets the quiet wrap around him like a second blanket. They stay like that for a while until Minghao’s voice breaks the silence again, this time gentler still.

“Were you all right with everything we did tonight? Touching yourself for me. Me touching you. Was that okay?"”

Mingyu nods. Then, after a moment, he lifts his head just enough to meet Minghao’s eyes.

“It was perfect,” he whispers. “I want to do it again.”

Minghao smiles, soft and brilliant, like it lights him from the inside out. His thumb brushes along Mingyu’s jaw, reverent.

“You were perfect,” he says. “You did so well for me, baby.”

Mingyu makes a small, helpless noise, too wrung out to do anything but soak up the praise. But the word catches in his chest and sticks there, thick and warm and impossible to ignore.

“Mingyu-yah?” Minghao asks after a beat, voice threaded through with real concern.

Mingyu ducks his head, pressing his cheek back against Minghao’s chest before forcing the words out, soft and unsure. “You called me baby.”

He feels the hesitation in Minghao’s body immediately, stilling like he’s choosing his next words with care.

“I did,” Minghao says, voice even quieter now. “It slipped out. A few times.”

Mingyu swallows. “I liked it.” It comes out small. Honest. “Maybe too much.”

There’s a pause, then Minghao’s lips press to his temple again, gentle and steady.

“There’s no such thing,” he murmurs.

Mingyu’s heart trips in his chest. He doesn’t move, just lies there, held and holding on.

“I would give you anything you ask for, Gyu-yah,” Minghao adds. “Anything you want.”

The words are quiet. Simple. But Mingyu feels them land like a stone in his chest, heavy and soft all at once.

He huffs out a breath and buries his face in the curve of Minghao’s neck.

“You say that now,” he mumbles, muffled against warm skin, “but just wait until you hear all the things I want.”

Minghao chuckles low in his chest. He tips Mingyu’s chin up with two fingers, just enough so their eyes meet.

"Baby," Minghao says, voice warm and teasing, "you didn’t even know you might be into being slapped before tonight. You really think you can shock me? Try me."

It’s a challenge. Mingyu can hear it clear as day. So, heart thudding, he tries. He scrambles his brain, rifling through every half-forgotten porno, every wild story Seokmin has ever giggled about after a few drinks.

Handcuffs. Handcuffs are kinky, right?

So, he blurts it out before he can second-guess himself: “Handcuffs?”

Minghao hums. His fingers never stop moving, still drawing lazy shapes along Mingyu’s ribs.

“You’d look gorgeous in them,” he says, easy and calm. “Maybe I’d keep you cuffed to the bed for a while. Watch you squirm. Touch you where I want, when I want. Make you ask so sweetly.”

Mingyu makes a strangled sound and buries his face in Minghao’s chest, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“And, um… a collar? And a leash?” He’s seen it in porn before. It’s extreme, right? That might get a rise out of Minghao.

Minghao laughs, soft and low, and then his voice drops to something that curls hot in Mingyu’s gut. “Would you be my good puppy, Gyu-yah?” he murmurs, warm breath brushing Mingyu’s ear. “Come when I call you? Sit pretty for me?” Then, quieter: “Do you want to belong to me?”

The words slam into him like a freight train, dangerous.

Because he does want that. He wants it so badly it makes his chest ache. Wants to be Minghao’s. Wants Minghao to want him like that, to claim him like that. And now it’s out there, too much, too real.

So Mingyu does the only thing he can: powers forward before he can think too hard.

“Whips,” he says, too fast, too loud. “What about, like… whips?”

Minghao doesn’t even blink. He hums, perfectly unbothered, fingers still drawing idle patterns across Mingyu’s skin.

“I usually prefer a riding crop,” he says, tone maddeningly calm. “More precise.”

Mingyu’s brain promptly short-circuits.

He makes a sound that might be a gasp, might be a groan, might be his soul leaving his body. “Really?” he croaks, horrified at the pitch of his own voice.

Minghao giggles and nuzzles a little closer. “Partly teasing,” he admits, amused. “But yes. I do have one. And if you ever want to try it, I’d be happy to use it on you.”

Mingyu is pretty sure that the sound he makes in response to that qualifies as a squeak.

Minghao giggles. “That’s what you get for trying to shock me, baby.” He brushes his nose against Mingyu’s jaw. “But seriously, Mingyu-yah, I want to know what you want. Doesn’t matter if you think it doesn’t sound kinky enough. I just want to hear about the things that make you curious. The things you might actually want to try.”

Mingyu blinks up at him. He hesitates. Then, almost shyly: “Okay. Um. Maybe… maybe a blindfold?”

Minghao hums, pleased. “Sensory play. I love that.”

“And maybe…” Mingyu chews his lip. “Maybe I want you to, um. Keep talking. Like you did earlier. Telling me what to do. Calling me good.”

Minghao’s thumb brushes across his cheekbone, so tender it makes Mingyu ache.

“I can do that,” he says, soft and sure. “You are so good for me, Gyu-yah.”

Mingyu practically melts on the spot.

He licks his lips, heart still fluttering, but it’s a different kind of nervous now. The kind that comes from being seen, being accepted. Being wanted.

“Okay… maybe also…” He hesitates, then glances at Minghao, who’s watching him with the same calm, steady focus he uses when Mingyu’s had a bad day and needs to vent for thirty uninterrupted minutes.

“…maybe I’d want you to tie my wrists,” Mingyu says, quieter now. “But like… not anything fancy. Just. So, I can’t move for a bit.”

Minghao nods, easy, like it’s nothing at all. “I can do that,” he says. “Would you like feeling held in place?”

Mingyu nods, the words catching a little. “Yeah. I think so. I think… when you’re in control, I don’t have to be.”

Minghao’s fingers slide gently through his hair again, slow and soothing.

“I like that you trust me with that,” he says, and it sounds like he really means it.

Mingyu’s voice is smaller when he offers the next one: “And maybe you don’t have to do anything to me. Just… look at me. Touch me a little. Tell me I’m good.”

Minghao’s breath catches with quiet reverence.

“I’d love that,” he says. “I could do that for hours, Gyu-yah.”

Something trembles in Mingyu’s chest. He looks at Minghao, really looks, and sees every familiar line of his face, every softness that’s always been there. It’s the same Minghao who’s made him soup when he’s hungover, who’s stayed on the phone with him after dumb dates, who’s let him cry about things he never wanted to admit hurt.

And now he looks at Mingyu like he’s something precious. Like none of this is too much.

And suddenly, Mingyu knows what he wants more than anything else.

He draws a shaky breath.

It’s just one more thing. The biggest one. The realest one.

His voice is barely a whisper when he says, “What if I… wanted to take you out sometime?”

Minghao stills.

Mingyu rushes to fill the silence, nerves spilling out fast and messy. “Just, like, a date. I mean, if that’s not weird. I know we’re already kind of doing this, and maybe we should just keep it at this, and if that’s what you want, that’s fine, I promise…”

“Mingyu-yah.”

Minghao’s voice is soft, certain. He cups Mingyu’s jaw, thumb brushing along his cheek.

“You want to go on a date with me?” he asks, gentle but teasing now, like he already knows the answer.

Mingyu nods, his heart thudding loud in his chest. “Yeah,” he breathes. “So bad.”

Minghao smiles, bright, brilliant, the kind that always made something catch in Mingyu’s throat even before any of this.

“Then let’s go on a date,” he says simply. “Please.”

Mingyu lets out a stunned laugh, half-relief, half-overwhelmed joy, and surges up to kiss him. Minghao meets him halfway, all warmth and certainty and smiling into it.

But when they part, Minghao wrinkles his nose.

Mingyu blinks. “What?”

“You taste like come, Gyu-yah.”

Mingyu groans and flops dramatically back into the pillows. “It’s your come!”

“That doesn’t make it taste any less gross.”

“You literally thought it was hot like, two minutes ago.”

“I still do,” Minghao says, deadpan. “I just also think it’s disgusting.”

Mingyu drags a pillow over his face and groans louder. “You’re the worst.”

“You kissed me first!”

“You kissed me back!”

“I’m complicated.”

“You’re impossible.”

Minghao laughs, warm and helpless. He leans in to press another kiss to Mingyu’s mouth, soft and quick and entirely unbothered this time.

Mingyu blinks up at him, a little dazed. “So, you aren’t going to make me go brush my teeth this time?”

“I should,” Minghao says, and kisses him again anyway.