Archive of Our Own

Changmin stares at his drink. And then at the person who’d served it to him. And then back at the drink.

“Something wrong, hyung?”

Well, yes. Plenty of things wrong with today.

For starters, Changmin is stuck here with his laptop, rushing an assignment before the clock hits midnight. Sure, it’s still barely eleven in the morning, and it’s more of his fault for leaving it to the last moment, but he’d gotten the dates mixed up amidst the rest of his workload. He just never thought his professor would set the deadline to the night of February the 14th—what kind of asshole does that?

To worsen matters, his neighbours have been drilling all week, and it seems like they aren’t taking a break for Valentine’s Day. He’s pissed off as it is, but to write up this paper with the constant noise would have made him commit a crime. The library was under maintenance for a ceiling leak. The café was his next best option, until he stepped in and got overexposed to heart decor in pinks and reds, and more couples than he’s ever witnessed on their campus grounds. There are too many orders for the ‘Sweetheart’s Special’ being called out, and it all serves as a terrible reminder.

Changmin should be on a date or something. And if not a date, he should still be out, hunting for someone else just as desperate to forget they’re single, if just for tonight.

“Are you mad nobody’s ordering the special for you? Don’t worry, I can get you one if you really want. You can share it with your laptop.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbles, but he sees the server’s mouth twitch. Changmin tears his eyes away.

He should be calling up one of his past flings to see if they’re free. Jaehyun is always down, unless he’d found an actual date this time. Changmin almost mourns the thought. He’d thrown his vibrator into his backpack this morning, just in case. Maybe Jaehyun will call him if Changmin sends him a photo of it—he’d liked it just as much Changmin did, last time.

“Your feathers seem a little ruffled, is all,” comes the reply. And like an afterthought, “Hyung.”

It would be sweet, but Changmin knows the twisted humour behind the innocent smile. The graceless design in his cup is proof.

“The latte art—”

“You don’t like the heart?”

The ‘heart’ in question is the biggest issue yet—or maybe Changmin is just about to reach his breaking point, and this is the unfortunate catalyst. There’s no way his barista doesn’t realise the problem.

“Sunwoo-yah,” he sighs, finally meeting his gaze, and immediately regretting it.

“Changmin-ah,” he says, echoing his tone, puppy eyes and all. It’s so unfair.

But then again, Changmin always gives Sunwoo the benefit of doubt. He’s one of their more annoying friends, but the soft-spot in Changmin’s heart is perfectly Sunwoo-shaped. He denies it, of course, but he’ll let Sunwoo test his patience with his jokes. And laugh sometimes, very quietly, when nobody’s watching.

Changmin eyes the latte once more. No laughter today.

“Stop bothering me when you’re on the clock,” he scolds, eyes shifting back to his screen. Still, he can’t be that cold, not with Sunwoo. He doesn’t look the other’s way when he mumbles, “Thanks for the heart.”

“Made it just for you,” Sunwoo croons, fingertips light as they brush his arm—ah, there it is. Changmin nearly kicks out a foot to trip him, but he’s already gone.

Probably for the best, considering just the tiny touch has raised the hairs on his arm. What level of touch starved is this? He brings his drink closer and witnesses the monstrosity again. The heart starts out fine, just a little unpracticed—two circular blobs, touching ever so slightly. It’s the bottom half that Sunwoo has messed up. Where the two shapes are meant to join into something pointy, he’s elongated it far too much, the entire thing too thick, too rounded. Not only is it ugly, but it looks far too much like—

Maybe it’s the delirious state of his mind, frazzled under all this pressure, and lamenting the lack of sex in his life right now.

And honestly, their group chat makes dick jokes on any day ending with the letter ‘Y’, and it certainly isn’t Sunwoo’s first time being a culprit. Changmin swirls his spoon in his cup until the image has dissolved enough, and then takes a sip, but not even the warmth of it comforts him today.

The topics ‘Sunwoo’ and ‘dick’ used to be funny—and more importantly, unrelated to each other. But for a while now, Changmin has been avoiding thinking about either in the same sentence, because they eventually merge into a singular phrase that he’s been trying to forget. Which would unfortunately be: Sunwoo’s dick.

What’s even more pathetic is that his mental control was broken today by something two-dimentional and made of milk-foam.

 - 🍆 -

It started out like this.

A group of friends gathered after weeks of trying to align schedules. A few horrendous tries at Jenga, an uncoordinated round of Twister, and a singular attempt at Spin the Bottle later, life started catching up before anyone could get in more than a peck.

“Work tomorrow morning,” Juyeon had sighed.

“I was meant to send my supervisor a draft by midnight,” Eric had remembered, with forty-five minutes to spare.

“I need sleep,” Chanhee had yawned. He’d had dark circles when he arrived too.

But one by one, everyone else had also left till it was just two of them, alone and illuminated by the television. Even Sunwoo’s flatmate had retired for the night. Changmin wasn’t sure what compelled him to stay—he and Sunwoo weren’t by any means the closest pair in their circle.

“Woah,” Sunwoo had laughed, pointing at the bottle, which had landed on Changmin. Right before everyone decided it was time to go. The warmth of his thigh had pressed against Changmin’s. “You were totally just saved by the universe.”

Changmin had hummed, the balmy night air making him sluggish. He remembers leaning his head on Sunwoo’s shoulder. “And I totally would’ve done it, too.”

Raised brows and playful glint in his eye, Sunwoo had smiled. It was a nice smile—pretty, even. Changmin had thought so when they’d first met, too. “Really, now?”

“Mhm.”

“Pffft. Liar.”

It’d been a spur of the moment thing. The two of them, sleep-deprived and maybe not entirely sober. An instance of weakness, as Changmin likes to call it. But to say he’d never thought about Sunwoo like that before would be a lie.

They should’ve known better; they were too old for childish games like these. But Changmin vaguely remembers lifting his head to slot his lips against Sunwoo’s to prove him wrong. He remembers a pinprick of clarity, and pulling away to apologise, and then the words being forgotten as Sunwoo pulled him back in. He kissed lazily, like it wasn't a big deal. But Changmin remembers fingertips pressing into the back of his neck, the clammy palm cradling his jaw, the little puff of air he'd exhaled when they parted.

“Hyung,” he’d asked, breathy and so tempting, “d’you wanna keep going?”

It was such a dangerous question. He’d always thought getting involved with a friend was too weighty of a risk. Not that it hadn’t happened. There had definitely been moments when some of the others had kissed, or even hooked up; Jaehyun and Eric both have a not-so-secret proclivity for something casual. But when light fun had turned into something weightier, and Younghoon and Chanhee had broken up, their group had been split for a solid year until they could look each other in the eye again. He’d hate to be the liability that messed up their circle again—all because he couldn’t keep it in his pants too. How embarrassing.

But Sunwoo had the prettiest flush on his face, and his eyes were starry. Hopeful, even.

Throwing caution to the wind, Changmin had tilted his head. “Do you?”

They’d stumbled to Sunwoo’s room, not wanting poor Giuk to walk out for a midnight glass of water, and instead walk in on them. He'd knocked over something by the door and apologised profusely, answered by a giddy laugh and kiss to his nose, Sunwoo smiling at him much too fondly for him to bear. He remembers the rest in a dazed montage.

Kisses on kisses on kisses. Teeth and moaning and rocking against one another. Sunwoo’s skin, warm under his fingers and soon enough, against his lips. The scent of something woody, the quietest hint of florals beneath. Sunwoo’s t-shirt, discarded easily, and then his pants too. Maybe Changmin’s mouth had watered at the sight, or maybe it hadn’t—who knows—but he remembers an amused laugh claiming so. Sunwoo’s taste, hot on his tongue as Changmin had greedily taken him into his mouth. Sunwoo’s hand catching Changmin’s later, stopping him from palming himself.

“Changminie, you’re so hard right now—” Sunwoo had mumbled, and Changmin had expected him to make a stupid joke of it. But instead, eyes lidded and voice velvet, he’d asked, “Can I help?”

He’d caught glimpses of a sweeter, more careful Sunwoo before. Most often when texting someone he was seeing, or meeting up with the rest of them after a successful date, and occasionally when he’d drop his class clown act to bestow them with some profound wisdom. Changmin had been intrigued, but hadn’t tried to pry further. People are multi-dimensional, after all.

Right then, that particular light of Sunwoo’s had outshone everything else, honey-like and warm. 

“You sure you can do it?” he’d challenged, not sure how to deal with feeling powerless in the presence of a pretty boy. A pretty boy that was his friend. Shit, shit, shit, what was he doing, shitshitshit—

Oblivious to his internal panic, Sunwoo had grinned. “Only one way to find out, right?”

It was an opening Changmin wasn’t strong enough to ignore. Cue the next half of that glittery dream, blurred and hot.

Wet mouths, heated skin pressed against each other. Lubing up his fingers and working himself open. Sunwoo’s mesmerised stare when Changmin got on all fours and glanced over his shoulder—just to provoke him, a little. The delicious feeling of them finally joining into one, the grip on his hips getting stronger with each second; the building pleasure as Sunwoo had tried to prove himself, and the toe-curling feeling when he’d succeeded. The sloppy way he’d fucked into Changmin near the end, only to be followed by the softest whisper of,

“Is this good?”

Genuine concern, and a warmth underneath it that made his insides flutter with something a little bit beyond an orgasm. Changmin had nodded, and gotten a kiss to the spot right between his shoulder blades; lingering, static on his bones. Oh—so that was the kind of lover Sunwoo was. And then Sunwoo was… pulling out? And then he was making the prettiest sound, spilling all over Changmin’s back.

It was sensual. But it was also tender in a way that had unlocked something in him. And Changmin, in a surge of panic, realized he couldn’t see an escape sign in his mind anymore. Just sleepy brown eyes and a lovely smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted me to—” Sunwoo had been babbling breathlessly, but Changmin missed most of it. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this I might just die.”

It inflated his ego, sure, and he wished it’d stopped there. The way Sunwoo had said it was doing something so terrible to him.

“Rate that outta ten, hyung,” he’d said later, but even the joke couldn’t snap him out of whatever spell he’d been put under. He’d felt so boneless that he didn’t even realise Sunwoo was cleaning him up until halfway into it. He’d watched Sunwoo’s expression, and present was a type of care he’d never seen on him before and—

It looked too good. The greed from before had bloomed open intensely, desperately wanting to see this side of him more often.

What’s wrong with you, he would’ve normally scoffed.

“Eight,” Changmin had whispered instead, turning onto his side. He zeroes in on the micro-patterns of Sunwoo’s duvet. “One point off for not cuddling me right afterwards.”

“Ah, but I was just getting to that,” Sunwoo had complained, latching onto Changmin from behind. Arms and legs wrapping around him, nuzzling his neck. How… cute. “That’s a nine now. How do I bump up the score?”

Never bed anyone else but Changmin after this? Never so much as kiss anyone else? Consider going on a date with Changmin? He couldn’t say any of those things.

“If you shut up and I sleep well,” he’d decided on, biting back a sigh when Sunwoo kissed right behind his ear.

“I guess we’ll have to see when we wake up, then.”

They never got around to it. Changmin hadn’t slept at all, with all the hammering in his heart. He’d hurriedly dressed himself and dashed home at the first sign of daylight, shaking with a terrible realisation.

 - 🍆 -

A second time is a coincidence, right?

Changmin doubts it, frowning at his second coffee of the day. Sunwoo stands politely with his arms behind his back, like he didn’t place this eyesore on the table. The art piece in his cup is very undoubtedly phallic. This isn’t what Changmin had meant when he asked Sunwoo to surprise him with the next order.

“Another heart for me?” Changmin dryly asks, and the mirth in Sunwoo’s smile is a hazard to his sanity.

“Yep. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Not funny.”

“But you find me hilarious, so who’s winning here?”

It shouldn’t be legal to irritate someone and simultaneously cause their heartbeat to skip.

The hour’s bustle prevents him from sticking around and teasing him any further, so Changmin is spared. Truth be told, he’d noticed a couple of other patrons eyeing their lattes and then smiling awkwardly when Sunwoo blinked at them with his big boba-pearl eyes. It’s sort of comforting to know that he may not be the only one getting pranked. Sunwoo’s coworker doesn’t seem to be phased. This makes him consider possibility two: maybe Sunwoo just sucks at latte art.

Changmin feels a speck of pity for him. But when their eyes meet from across the room, Sunwoo winks at him. Asshole. What the hell is Changmin supposed to do with all the butterflies in his stomach? He takes a swig of his coffee, hoping to drown them.

The moment it hits his tastebuds, Changmin sits up in surprise. He holds the cup out and stares at it, penis latte art and all. He brings it back to his lips, taking a bigger sip. Either he’s going nuts, or Sunwoo’s added something else to his latte. There’s a cosyness to it.

“Vanilla.”

“Huh?”

Sunwoo pauses by his table on the way back to the counter.

“Kevin’s been teaching me to flavour the milk before I froth it,” he explains. He points at Changmin’s face. “Oh, you’ve got a little…”

Ah. Of course he does. Changmin pokes his tongue out to lick the corner of his mouth. Sunwoo laughs, reaching over and swiping the other corner with his finger.

“Got it,” he announces, and before Changmin can thank him, he brings the finger to his own lips. It’s clean of any vanilla foam in less than a second. “Hm, not bad.”

At Changmin’s silence, he smiles. And then he’s off on his merry way. Changmin should really have more control than this, but the interaction propels more feelings within him than he can help.

- 🍆 -

Sunwoo would normally jump at any chance to poke fun at the rest of them, which was the consequence Changmin had been expecting after their night together. Except, for whatever fucking reason, he’d gained some respect for Changmin and not brought it up at all. Sure, maybe it was Changmin’s fault for not bringing it up either, but when a week turning into a month turns into two months, and you’re still dreaming about your friend making love to you better than anyone ever has—

“Changmin?” Jaehyun had asked, palm on the curve of his butt. “You good?”

—a night with anyone else simply isn’t enough. Changmin had sworn he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else in their friend group, but Jaehyun had looked so inviting that night, and he was in dire need of a distraction.

“Yeah,” Changmin had whispered, a quiet sound leaving him when Jaehyun gave him a squeeze. If he shut his eyes, he could almost imagine those hands were a little daintier than this, calloused in some spots from years of practicing guitar. Wait, why did he remember these details about Sunwoo? “Yeah, I’m fine. This is good.”

He hadn’t stopped trying to divert his thoughts, despite how they’d stray. It’d been three months by then. And then he thought he’d found the perfect getaway, after practice one day. When a pretty sunbae in his dance team had run her fingers along his elbow and invited him over to her place, the tension between them climbing high.

“Baby,” Chungha had whispered later, slowing the pace. If Changmin closed his eyes, he could imagine it was Sunwoo again, and not her strap-on. “Is this too much?”

Her nails were pointy, and the hands on his hips were so soft. The pillow he’d buried his face into smelled saccharine in a way that was too sharp. And Chungha was so, so sexy. But god, she wasn’t Kim Sunwoo.

And maybe that meant something, but Changmin wasn’t about to face it. So come month four, and he was hooking up with someone he’d met on a night out.

“Oh—!” the girl had gasped, as they were crowded into a tiny stall of the club’s bathroom. Lips on lips, she’d guided his touch under her skirt, and closer to where she was aching. She helped him pull lace underwear out of the way, soaked; she’d been slick and messy against his hand. Sliding one digit into her was smooth. “Wow, your hands are so much—ah—bigger than mine.”

It was a harsh reality check, interrupting his drifting throughts of how Sunwoo might look, at his mercy like this, taking in his fingers. Changmin’s hands were around the same size as Sunwoo’s, nothing like the stark difference with his companion for that night. This girl was tiny and fairy-like, and Changmin had to lean down to kiss her. It didn’t feel… right. She was beautiful, but her contacts were grey, as opposed to the brown eyes in his dreams.

“Sorry, what was your name?” Changmin had murmured against a glitter-dusted cheek bone.

“Ah, you forgot already?” she’d giggled, arms around his neck as she rolled her hips impatiently. Would Sunwoo be just as hasty? Would Sunwoo even want to do this in public? “It’s Chaewon.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll remember after this,” he’d lied, just for the night, pumping his fingers at a faster pace. She’d let out a breathy sound, clutching onto his shoulders. What sort of speed would Sunwoo like? “Chaewon-ah, you smell nice.”

And she did smell nice. Fresh and sweet, like pears and freesias. It wasn’t right.

He thought he could tough it out, endure a couple more months and perhaps eventually move on, even if he couldn’t forget. It was just a night in a pretty boy’s bed, right? Surely, there was someone else out there who could match up. The reality of it had hit him at the worst of times.

“Fuck, Sunw—” Changmin’s eyes had snapped open, horror washing over him just as the heat in his belly was about to overflow. The mouth stretched around his cock was pretty; pouty and reddened, fuller on the bottom lip.

But he hadn’t been thinking of them when he’d called out a name. His mind was on lips of a rounder shape, plush and soft.

“What’s that, hyung?”

The mouth from before had pulled away to ask him a question. It didn’t even matter that Soobin’s partner was still balls deep in him from the other side.

“Everything okay?” Yeonjun had asked, ceasing their movements. Between them, Soobin had whined, but Changmin couldn’t find it hot right then if he tried. “Changmin-oppa?”

When Soobin stared up at Changmin through his lashes, his brain had conjured up images of someone else. The slip-up was like a freezing bucket of water poured over him.

“I’m really sorry guys,” Changmin had sighed, edging away from the bed and their increasingly confused faces. “I gotta go. I don’t think this is for me.”

“But Changm—” Soobin had begun.

“It’s okay,” Yeonjun had assured, but their perfect brows were still in a frown. They both watched him hurriedly shimmy back into his pants. “Really, it can happen to anyone. Need a ride home?”

Changmin had worn his shirt inside out, but he could not bring himself to care. “I think there’s a bus I can catch in fifteen minutes.”

“Alright. Text Soobinnie when you get home.”

“Yep. Sorry again.”

“It’s fine. Bye, oppa.”

He could hear them arguing as he shut the door on his way out. Something about ‘I told you he wasn’t the type for threesomes!’ and ‘sorry noona, I really didn’t think this one would run off!’ and for a moment he had to laugh. Soobin and Yeonjun were both incredibly good-looking, even moreso together, and it’d been flattering to receive their proposition earlier in the week.

But it’d dawned on him just shy of the best part, that it didn’t fucking matter how hot these people were, nor that it’d been six months since the night he keeps going back to. Once he’d come down from the high, he would be disappointed again for the same stupid reason: they weren’t Kim Sunwoo.

- 🍆 -

Third time’s usually the charm. For Changmin, it’s a confirmation that his leg is indeed being pulled.

He’s only halfway through his paper, and on his third latte of the day. The foam decor is consistent with the last two, and Changmin is pretty sure it’s not a heart. Sunwoo places it in front of him before heading to the outdoor seating, presumably for his break. Changmin can see him scrolling through his phone, nibbling on a donut.

He shuts his laptop, picks up his cup, and marches outside.

“Changmin,” Sunwoo greets, nodding his way. “Hey Valentine.”

“What the hell are you doing.”

Sunwoo blinks at the deadpan response, mouth dusted with sugar. It’s almost cute, and he has a miniscule thought to kiss it off, but it’s far outweighed by how irritated he is.

“Enjoying my sweet treat…?”

Changmin puts the drink on the table, pointing at the latte art. “Why is there a penis on my coffee again?”

Sunwoo sets his snack down on a paper napkin. He frowns, eyes all shiny and earnest. “Hyung, it’s a heart.”

Perhaps Sunwoo is just a terrible latte artist after all. He’s always done a lousy job during Pictionary nights, but Changmin had always just chalked it up to him putting in no effort. Now he feels like a jerk, berating him on his break. “Oh. I’m sorry, I thought it was—”

“You should be,” Sunwoo cuts in, back to his donut. “I worked really… hard on it.”

No amount of powdered sugar can hide the tiny smirk on his mouth when he says it, even if he goes back to chewing right away.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Changmin accuses, sitting across from him. “You—! You asshole.”

Sunwoo’s head snaps up, brows pinched in confusion. Or mock-confusion, if the glimmer in his eye is anything to go by.

“I just thought college students would find it funny,” he still tries to explain, wiping the sugar away and sitting up. “Since most of us just use Valentine’s Day as one big excuse to hook up.”

He brings Changmin’s cup closer to himself, staring inside.

“I mean, it’s not graphic enough to really be offensive,” he continues, studying his handiwork, “and it’s done badly enough that it’s stupid. Plus, it’s not like I’m harassing strangers! I’ve really only been giving them out to people I know.”

Sunwoo knows everyone, so that would be almost anybody who’d ordered something today. In fact, it might be quicker to list people who don’t know him. Although, he has to admit it’s true that people have been laughing at their coffees, while Sunwoo feigns obliviousness. Right when he’s about to let it go, Sunwoo—as he so often does—decides to poke the beehive again.

“Didn’t think you’d be so affected by this maybe-dick though,” he says, with a completely passive expression, and Changmin could kick him in the head right now. “You’re quite familiar with mine, if I recall.”

And that completely throws Changmin off-kilter, patience vaporising like the stream from his stupid drink.

“Changminie, you’re soooo red right now. Are you craving dick this Valentine’s Day, too? Did it remind you of the real thing or someth—”

“Yes, it did, you fucking idiot!” Changmin blurts out, before he can take safety measures to stop their friendship from completely getting screwed over. “My day is already shitty enough, okay? I should be out with a hot date or something, but instead, I’ve spent at least twenty hours on this stupid paper. ‘Oh, hyung, why aren’t you at home?’ I wish I was, you little dipshit, but my neighbours have been drilling all week long, and this thing is due tonight! And the library ceiling decided to give up on life the one day I needed to be in there, and I’m so tired.”

He’s leaning forward, voice low, trying to remain calm. But he’s in over his head right now, and the thoughts he’d locked up are fighting to be let out of their box.

“And yeah, maybe I don’t want to be alone today, but you don’t even know what I go through every time I try to not be alone in—” Changmin gasps in a breath as Sunwoo sits frozen, silent and wide-eyed. He doesn’t even have time to think about what he’s admitting; a broken tap bursting free under pressure. “You and your ugly lattes and dumb jokes and your stupid dick and—and—I’ve been trying to forget it, really I have, but that night keeps coming back to me—you’re literally haunting me in dreams, this is all your fault and—and I thought maybe it meant nothing to you, but you keep flirting with me—what the hell are you playing at, by the way—and I wonder if sometimes you need me like I need you, but then suddenly I’m hard in a damn café and I—”

It’s only now that his body implements his brain to mouth filter.

“… I don’t know what to do,” Changmin finishes, much quieter. If he stares hard enough at one spot, maybe his head will overheat and cause him to spontaneously combust.

But the damage is done, leaving Sunwoo quite speechless. He’s still clutching Changmin’s coffee.

“You… need me?” Sunwoo asks, and there’s a soft curl to his mouth that makes Changmin panic. Does Sunwoo think this is funny? Of course he would. “Hyung—”

“Forget it,” Changmin hisses, standing up. There’s a strange feeling in his throat, and the heat pricking at his face seems to have spread to his eyes. He can’t let Sunwoo see him like this.

Changmin leaves the latte behind, ignoring how Sunwoo calls out to him. It’s a wonder his voice doesn’t shake when he asks Kevin where the bathroom is, beelining in the direction with a choked ‘thanks’. He just needs to breathe. And then he’ll pack up and tell Sunwoo it was a misunderstanding born of caffeine and madness, and then go back to his apartment. They’d ignored one night for half a year, surely they can ignore this little outburst and put it behind them too, right?

But he might consider never leaving his abode ever again. Drilling noises and all.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and Changmin tries not to curse aloud. He just needs a few minutes. But if he speaks now, he might just wind up in tears before the first word. His internal turmoil is interrupted by buzzing in his pocket.

idiot barista (sunwoo)
hyung are u in there

This time it really does take his all to keep quiet. Of course, Sunwoo would follow him here. He knows this place way better than Changmin does.

idiot barista (sunwoo)
i packed up ur stuff dw
kevin will watch ur bag so nobody steals it
can u pls let me in ㅠㅠ

When Changmin cracks the door open, Sunwoo’s worried eyes peek through the gap. He lets the other in and locks the door, taking a deep breath.

“I didn’t mean to say all th—”

“I’m sorry.”

Their voices overlap, his hesitant statement being cut off by something resolute.

All Changmin can reply with is a very wary, “You’re… sorry?”

“You said it’s my fault,” Sunwoo continues, and if he weren’t so earnest about it, Changmin would assume he’s just doing a bit. Still, Changmin doesn’t miss the glint in his eye—one that he’s seen before. It’s interesting enough to make him forget why he’s hiding in the first place.

“I think about that night too,” Sunwoo admits, and his smile from before resurfaces. Upon closer inspection, he’s not making fun of Changmin. In fact, it looks quite… fond. “I had a good time.”

It’s now that he realises Sunwoo has crowded into his space, backing him up against the wall. Changmin idly tugs at one of his hoodie’s strings, aware of how Sunwoo’s eyes follow the movement. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he reaffirms, and all Changmin can think about is how close they are. “So it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Getting all worked up for me in the café I work at, though…”

“Your fault!” Changmin smacks his arm. But he doesn’t push him away—can’t bring himself to, really. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“That I’m super sorry,” Sunwoo says without a beat. “How can I fix this problem?”

He’s closer now. The problem in question is pressing against Sunwoo’s body. Changmin scoffs, except it’s less of a scoff and more of a shaky breath. Of course Sunwoo isn’t sorry, that little shit. He remembers this look in his eye—heat along its edges, curious to see if Changmin will push him to do something. It’s reminiscent of the night he can’t seem to forget.

“You knew what to do last time,” Changmin says, and Sunwoo’s eyes glance down to his mouth.

Their foreheads knock together. “Yeah?”

Nose to nose; breaths soft and intermingling. His hardness against the other’s thigh. Sunwoo’s tongue darting out to wet Changmin’s lower lip.

“I believe it started out like this, hyung.”

Then the magnetism is unbearable, and he doesn’t know who gives in first. All he knows is that they’re kissing, fast and wet and messy; teeth clashing and lips sweet with lingering sugar. Sunwoo licks into his mouth, and Changmin is pulling him in by the hip, in a weak attempt at friction. The sound he makes has Sunwoo reeling back.

“What?” Changmin whispers, confused when Sunwoo pulls out his phone from his pocket. “Is your break over? Does Kevin need you out there?”

He shakes his head. “Six more minutes. I can help you, but we need to be quiet.”

Does Sunwoo think he can get Changmin off in a measly few minutes? His confidence would almost be laughable, if Changmin weren’t currently bricked up and a second away from grinding against his friend’s leg. In his workplace’s bathroom of all places.

“Okay,” Changmin agrees, and it’s cute that Sunwoo’s eyes go wide in surprise. Was he expecting Changmin to disagree? “You said you’re sorry. Prove it.”

That’s really all the encouragement Sunwoo needs. He unzips Changmin’s jeans, pulling them down with his boxers, just enough to free his dick. Changmin moans at just the feeling of his hand.

“Hyung,” Sunwoo reminds, voice low. “Quietly. Nobody uses the back storage at this time, but it is right next door. If I get fired, who’s going to give you free drinks?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Your dick says otherwise.”

It’s a dry, almost painful drag of hand when Sunwoo gets to work, and even through his pathetically horny state, Changmin’s discomfort must show. Because next thing he knows, Sunwoo is halting. And then spitting in his hand.

“Sunw—don’t you dare—”

He doesn’t get to reprimand him, because the moment Sunwoo’s hand glides over him again, he’s a mess, legs weak and the pit of his belly hot. This time he catches himself just before he’s too loud, but his mouth still trembles.

“What, like it’s gross? You had no issue spitting on my dick last time,” Sunwoo murmurs, close to his ear, and goddammit, he’s right. He noses into the side of Changmin’s cheek, pumping his cock harder. “Unless you actually want some chafing? I wasn’t expecting that from you,  but I guess each to their ow—”

“Can you shut—ah—can you shut the hell up,” Changmin pants, bucking up into his fist. He does have to admit, this does feel infinitely better. Not that he’d let Sunwoo have the win of that knowledge. “We’re running out of time, dumbass.”

The words drip with irritation—faux, though nobody needs to know—but Changmin’s hands undo Sunwoo’s fly with purpose. Because it’s only fair, he reasons. It’d be cruel to let him return after this with a very obvious hard-on. Eye for an eye, or in this case, nut for nut. Or whatever relief he can bring the other in this time limit. 

“Oh, hyung,” Sunwoo sighs breathily, but there’s an infuriating little smile on his lips before he moves in for a kiss. “You don’t have to, babe.”

Changmin nips at his lip in retaliation, taking him in his hand and wasting no time. Sunwoo exhales, eyes fluttering shut. “If you wanna go back to your shift blue-balled, be my guest.”

“And refuse hyung’s offer when he’s being so kind?” Sunwoo whispers, tightening his hold, and with it, the knots in Changmin’s stomach. “What kind of friend would I be?”

“You’re so shameless,” Changmin laughs in disbelief, but every inch of him is burning.

Sunwoo leans in closer, their cocks pressing against each other, trying to take them both in one hand. They end up doing it together, hands moving in tandem. The sight of it makes Changmin tip his head back against the tiled wall, a stray sound escaping him.

“Changmin-ah,” he hears, again in that tone of warning, but at least Sunwoo doesn’t stop this time. He leans over to give Changmin access to his neck. “Bite.”

And perhaps Sunwoo does have good judgement sometimes, because as his touch spreads pre-come over both of them, Changmin cries out again involuntarily. Unforeseen to him, but apparently not to Sunwoo, whose hoodie muffles the sound while he hurries the pace. They’re a tad desperate as they try to reach their high, rhythm quick and just the tiniest bit uncoordinated.

And then Sunwoo’s free hand cards through his hair.

Gentle.

Changmin is screwed.

This might just be the best damn handjob of his life—supernovas along his eyelids, shaking body pressed against the wall, a name moaned into fabric between his teeth, spurting out white on the front of his own t-shirt. It’s not all that sexy, or even remotely romantic, but still, something about Sunwoo sparkles. Chances of moving on from that night are looking pretty bleak right now. It’s kind of laughable that Sunwoo's release just adds to Changmin’s already soiled clothes. To his chagrin, none of it ends up on Sunwoo’s hoodie.

What a stupid mess Changmin’s gotten himself into, and Sunwoo has no clue.

“Wow, hyung,” he says, a stupid, smug, sexy grin in his voice. “Been building that one up for a while, huh?”

“Shut up,” Changmin scoffs, not having it in himself to shove the other. “Your stupid dick-lattes were zero help, no thank you very much.”

At this, he lets out a sheepish, breathless sort of laugh. To Changmin’s heart, it sounds musical. “And I’ll apologise some more, then. For every single latte—we can do whatever you want. How does that sound?”

What, Changmin wants to ask, as Sunwoo tries to wipe the come out of his shirt with toilet paper. It’s the bad, flimsy kind, and makes it worse.

“You can wait for me at my place, if you like,” he continues, fixing his own pants. “It’ll have to be after work though, sorry. It’s going to get even busier in here, Valentine’s Day orders and all. And Giuk’s out for the week, so you won’t be bothering anyone. You remember the code, right?”

Finally, noting Changmin’s silence, he looks up. “It’s very quiet at my place. No drilling or anything.”

Changmin tries not to dwell on the enormity of this offer, nor how kindly he says this. Nor how caring it feels when he tucks him back in, zipping up his jeans with the smallest smile. Such gestures barely fall into aftercare, so why do they feel so tender?

“If you’ll let me,” he adds afterwards, and curse those beautiful brown eyes that stare at Changmin like he’s something important. “I can take responsibility for all of them.”

“Yeah, you better.” Changmin pulls at his now unmistakably come-laden t-shirt. “Look. Ruined.”

They try to wash the front, and though mostly successful, the wet spot it leaves behind is too large to ignore. Sunwoo laughs and offers his hoodie, reasoning that he’ll remove it when he gets back to work anyway. Changmin accepts, zipping it up to hide all evidence, but he can’t shake off the feeling of being stared at.

“Do I have something on my face?” he mumbles, still calming down from the absurdity of this moment. Sunwoo leans in close.

“Try to get through the day,” he says, soft and serious. “I’ll make it worthwhile.”

From anyone else, such assumptions would sound annoying, but it’s not with arrogance that Sunwoo says these words. It’s almost a promise. Changmin can only nod.

“Good. You can do it, hyung.”

Changmin gets a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before he’s left in the bathroom to himself. It does indescribable things to him, even in the wake of all other sensations he’d felt in here. He’s smoothing down his hair, breathing finally even, when his phone buzzes.

idiot barista (sunwoo)
grab the drink on ur way out, ok? on the house
no more caffeine for today ✋️

Changmin is about to reply with something thankful, but Sunwoo’s next text beats him to it. He rolls his eyes, but he does breathe out the quietest laugh.

idiot barista (sunwoo)
i’ll keep u up tonight instead trust 😏

changmin
can you. just do. your job. for once

When he exits, Sunwoo’s hoodie shields him from any further embarrassment. He slings his packed bag over a shoulder, and takes the paper cup sitting on his table, sending Kevin a grateful nod. Sunwoo is too busy to see him off, but that might be for the better. Any more contact in this hour, and he might do something too brave—like, kiss him in front of everyone. Something tugs at his mouth insistently, on the entire walk to Sunwoo’s apartment.

It’s only once he’s inside, inhaling the lavender-mint steam from the cup, that he lets himself smile.

- 🍆 - 

As it turns out, Changmin was almost done with the assignment anyway, so some peace and quiet boosts his speed exponentially. It doesn’t even matter that he thinks half the paper is bullshit; he’s just so happy to break free of its chains. And sure, maybe the anticipation of something later in the night is a huge motivator, but you didn’t hear that from him.

changmin
finished in three hours!!
thanks for letting me use your place 🥹
and for the tea ☺️❤️

idiot barista (sunwoo)
woah ure being nice to me
we should makeout more often huh

Changmin doesn’t even have it in him to be mad. He considers playing into their usual banter, but his mind flashes with Sunwoo’s smile from earlier today. The press of his lip to the corner of Changmin’s. Nobody is here to see him smile at the joke, but he covers it with his hand anyway, lying back on the couch. The next pattern of buzzes from his phone is frantic.

idiot barista (sunwoo)
but ure always welcome at my place to do whatever
or for no reason at all its up to u i like having u around
raid the fridge or nap or use the shower if u want
brb duty calls see u tonight 😗💕💕💕💕
[image.jpg]

It’s another terribly done latte heart-dick that’ll go to some poor customer, and a barrage of heart emoticons. This time the laughter rings in the air, bright and unashamed.

Changmin follows his suggestion and ends up poking around the apartment. Their fridge is startlingly empty save for a loaf of bread and a bunch of energy drinks; he finds the lucky last pack of ramyeon in their cabinets. He ends up almost emptying Sunwoo’s shampoo during his shower. He ends up in  Sunwoo’s room and is hit with déjà vu when his leg knocks into something wooden—he must’ve knocked over the guitar last time too. Changmin makes himself comfortable in Sunwoo’s bed, only for his nap to be unsuccessful, but in his boredom, he does catch up on some reading. It’s nearing the end of the café’s business hours when Changmin finds himself reaching for his phone again.

- 🍆 - 

changmin
maybe you Should kiss me more often 🤔

idiot barista (sunwoo)
fuckkk what happened to hi hello
as tempting as it sounds
hyung ill be a lil later than expected

changmin
☹️

idiot barista (sunwoo)
stop being cute?+?!?!+?
feel free to use whats in my drawer btw
if u get super desperate

changmin
i’m never desperate 🤨

idiot barista (sunwoo)
lmao sure
but SOON
i’ll be clocking out and cocking IN baby 🫡

- 🍆 - 

Changmin puts his phone aside with a chuckle. He’s mostly joking. The day must have been extremely busy for the café, and he’s not that enthused. Perhaps being on a bed that smells like Sunwoo is just wearing down his patience. He tosses and turns for a bit before sitting up, making his way to the bedside drawer.

There’s not much, but Sunwoo’s humble collection makes his brows raise. Changmin would laugh at the handcuffs or the varieties of lube—one’s strawberry flavoured, how cute—but his attention falls on the black bag stashed at the back. He peeks inside and then zips it closed, cheeks blooming with heat.

“No way,” he tells himself, lying back down on the mattress.

Which lasts for about two minutes, before he’s scrambling to open the drawer again. Once the dildo is in his hands, he can’t help but observe it curiously. It’s not flashy; a simple design, sleek and black—much like most things Sunwoo owns, be it his clothes or his phonecase. He almost smiles, but he’s snapped out of feeling fond when he remembers exactly what’s in his hands.

He thinks of Sunwoo using this on someone, holding their leg with his free hand, watching attentively. His mind wanders to Sunwoo working it into himself instead, flushed and panting against these very sheets. Changmin imagines himself stopping Sunwoo right before the peak of everything, and replacing the dildo with himself. Rolling his hips into him, desperate and whimpering and pinkened, just for Changmin. 

All these thoughts are dizzying.

“No way…” he repeats out loud, but it comes out weak. Perhaps his control had slipped the moment he’d looked into the drawer. “Whatever.”

Sunwoo had said he could borrow whatever was in there, hadn’t he?

Changmin weighs it in his hands. A little heavier than the one he has back home, but the girth is similar. He blinks when he realises, not only is it perfect, it’s also almost exactly the size he remembers Sunwoo to be.

A few seconds of red-cheeked contemplation later, Changmin no longer feels shame. He does feel the weight of the toy on his tongue, though. If he shuts his eyes…

“Hyung.”

It almost feels like that night.

“Changm—ah…”

He can almost feel those hands in his hair, trying to pull him in. Trying to have restraint and failing terribly, the moment Changmin had hollowed his cheeks. Muted melodies falling from the other’s mouth.

“Hyung.”

Wow, his imagination is impressive. Sunwoo’s voice almost sounded real just now.

“You look like you’re having a blast. I see you’ve found my dildo.”

Changmin’s eyes snap open. Sunwoo’s leaning against the doorframe, watching him. Changmin didn’t even hear him open it. Turns out ‘late’ meant only a couple of minutes, really. Changmin should have waited, and he could’ve totally avoided being caught in this… situation.

“Oh no no,” Sunwoo says seriously, gesturing his way. He’s shrugging off his work shirt and draping it over the chair by his desk, sighing in relief as he stretches his arms. Golden skin and statuesque body—Changmin really stood no chance against all this. “Don’t let me interrupt. Keep going.”

The wet pop of the toy leaving his mouth is a smidge humiliating, but Changmin sets it aside and sits back. To wipe his mouth would signify too much defeat, so he crosses his arms, willing his heart to be still even as he ogles. “You said I could use what’s in your drawer if I wanted.”

Sunwoo laughs, closing the door. The sound settles into an amused curve on his face as he makes his way over.

“Yeah, I meant the lube.” He stops at the edge of the bed, glancing over at the dildo, and the way it gleams, all shiny and wet, makes Changmin want to die. “But great choice—I love that one too, I can’t blame you.” Sunwoo’s gaze drifts to Changmin’s mouth—surely of the same shine as the toy—but he still doesn’t make a move to sit down.

“Hyung, come here?”

It feels odd to comply without putting up a fight, or at least some kind of faux-suspicion, but Changmin’s curiosity gets the better of him. There are no teasing remarks when he moves closer immediately.

“Oh, hey, I—” Sunwoo laughs, when Changmin kisses his stomach, following the little trail of hair just below his belly button. “I would’ve shaved that if we’d planned this earlier, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Changmin assures, stopping right on the button of his jeans. “I like it. It’s fun.”

“Yeah! Like a pirate’s map leading to the treasure. Arrrr!”

It does get a laugh out of him. And then Sunwoo’s thumb is tracing his lip so delicately, and time suspends itself to let him ask, so quietly intimate,

“You wanna use your mouth?”

That is simply adding gasoline to the fire he’s been trying to put out. It's also laughable how Changmin feels it go straight to his dick.

“And what if I do?” he murmurs, leaning into Sunwoo’s touch. When he looks up, he watches the resolve leave those pretty brown eyes. “You’re not getting cold feet now, are you?”

“What—! No, I’m still,” Sunwoo blabbers, hands shakily trying to undo his jeans, “down. Tremendously down.”

The phrasing leaves room for interpretation, in a way that makes the blaze grow. But when the denim hits the ground, boxers and all, Changmin is face to face with what’s been tormenting his thoughts. The treasure at the end of his path, in Sunwoo’s words.

“This is just from watching me?” Changmin teases, wrapping a hand around him. He’s already surprisingly hard. “How long were you there?”

“Long enough to see you try to deepthroat a dildo.” There’s a strangled sound as Changmin experimentally moves his hand. “Your eyes were closed. What were you thinking of?”

He’s not clueless. He just wants to hear Changmin say it.

“Hmm,” Changmin pretends to ponder, leaning in, tongue flat as he licks along the length, all the way up to the slit. “You.”

He doesn’t give Sunwoo time to react to that, lips wrapping around his erection, and taking him in as much as he can. He hears a gasp, and holds back a smile. His mouth is a little preoccupied, after all. Just a few bobs of his head, hands gripping the base, and Sunwoo’s already in disarray.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles when his hips jerk forward, gentle fingers coming up to rest at Changmin’s head in apology.

It’s sweet that he’s determined to be so cautious, but Changmin can handle him being a little rougher than this—might like it, even. He stops moving altogether, dropping his hands from Sunwoo’s dick. He glances up instead, mouth full, jaw slackening. When Sunwoo doesn’t get the signal, Changmin taps his hip bone.

“You want me to—oh, wow.”

Sunwoo thrusts just a little. Testing the waters. Changmin taps him again.

“More?” Sunwoo asks, fingers at his jaw, the shine of his eyes worried. Changmin feels his cheeks heat up for reasons other than the request. Sunwoo is just so… good to him. He hums, blinking up at the other. “Fuck, okay.”

The last time Changmin had given him a blowjob, it hadn’t gone on this long, Sunwoo jumping at the chance to ‘help’. The gesture was hardly even needed—Changmin’s pants had felt ridiculously tight then, just as they do right now, simply the taste of Sunwoo putting his brain into some kind of frenzy. Even moreso when Sunwoo moves with less inhibition. Changmin feels his cock hit the back of his throat, and can’t help the way he gags around it, can’t stop his eyes from watering as Sunwoo keeps fucking into his mouth. He reaches down to find himself rock hard, obvious even through his clothes. The noise he makes is muffled.

But it’s needy, regardless.

“Hyung, I,” Sunwoo moans, and Changmin knows. He feels the sharp tug at his hair. “I think I—”

And it feels so good that he almost lets it happen. But Changmin pulls away a split-second before it can, much to Sunwoo’s surprise.

“Not yet,” Changmin explains hoarsely, blinking away his misty eyes. He doesn’t miss how Sunwoo watches the lone tear that escapes. “How’re you going to make up for all your dumb lattes if you’re done before we’ve even started? I need you to last all night long.”

It’s a half-truth. There are plenty of reasons to fear the moment being cut short. For example, the realisations Sunwoo will have about Changmin, once post-nut clarity catches up. And he’s sure the other will, once he’s out of this horny daze. Once he’s had a good look at Changmin, coupled with that embarrassing spiel from back at the café.

I want to have this before everything goes to shit, is what he would say if his pride allowed him. But it keeps a strict reign on his tongue when it comes to mushier feelings.

Sunwoo seems taken aback, his blush heavy and his mouth open. He snaps out of it and sits down next to Changmin, warm shoulder against his own. Just as Changmin is about to dismiss it as nothing, he gets a quick peck to his mouth.

“That’s a sorry for making you wait.” Another kiss, less chaste. “And this…”

Changmin had wondered if Sunwoo was big on kissing. There had been a lot of it that night, but they also hadn’t been the soberest of two, not to mention the juvenile game of Spin The Bottle that he’d taken as a challenge. But right now, he can conclude that Sunwoo does love having his mouth on skin. Unhurried, he nudges Changmin to lay back, peppering him with kisses all over. A couple of them for every piece of clothing he removes.

It’s electrifying. It’s driving him nuts.

But when he’s down to just his briefs, Sunwoo does something—pressure and teeth and tongue—that spreads a tingle all the way to the tips of Changmin’s ears. Something that feels like it’ll leave a scandalous mark on him. The wildfire that sets ablaze in his belly is too quick.

He won’t last like this.

Sunwoo’s lips inch lower, the trail he leaves messy and wet. He’s sure Sunwoo can feel the shakiness of his fingers when Changmin combs his hair back, the tremble of his leg where it's being held down, the way he struggles to keep still when Sunwoo’s other hand glides over his hardness. Sunwoo kisses his navel with a small laugh, raising his brows when Changmin’s body jerks at that. A smile ghosts his lips when he tries it again, answered with a shaky breath.

“I see,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s scheming. And Changmin thinks he’s just bluffing, heading in for another kiss but—

“Sunwoo—”

—he tongues along his belly-button’s edge, peering up through his lashes. It’s all too much—the sight, the wet warmth, the hand palming him, the eyes staring right into his, the thoughts—and Changmin goes still, mouth parting with a low sound.

It’s only when his body starts melting back against the mattress, does he realise what just happened. Sunwoo stares at the now damp patch on the front of his boxers.

“Oh. I…” he begins, eyes round and sweet. “Hyung…”

Changmin’s thoughts race in a panicked jumble. The only thing he seems to be doing today is embarrassing himself in front of this guy. “I’m not usually this… pathetic.”

Sunwoo blinks. “Never said you were.” He presses a tiny kiss to his stomach, patting his hip in apology when Changmin lets out a shuddering sound and pushes his head away. “I dragged it out too long, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“You said you’d take responsibility,” Changmin says, sitting up. “And I came, so…”

“I said we’d do whatever you wanted,” he reminds, and shoots him a sort of pitiful smile. “That wasn’t satisfying for you at all, was it?”

His heart flip-flops in his stomach like a fish. Whatever. Reluctantly, Changmin has to admit, “It wasn’t.”

He would’ve preferred to not still be in his underwear. Ideally, this would’ve ended with neither of them in underwear at all. Breathless at how Sunwoo holds him, their gasps harmonising.

“Then it doesn’t have to count,” Sunwoo decides, shrugging like Changmin didn’t just go through thirty stages of shame. “I want you to feel good not just here,” he points down, and then up at Changmin’s head, “but also here. So, it’s your call—do you want it to count?”

Perhaps orgasm per latte is kind of a bad metric for measuring apologies, but when Sunwoo suggests it, the idea doesn’t sound absurd. Or maybe Changmin is so in his feelings that he’s lost all common sense.

“Well,” Changmin says, trying to wiggle out of his boxers. The stickiness makes him cringe, but the friction of the fabric makes his face scrunch up with something he hasn’t calmed down from yet. “You still have three horrendous coffees to make up for.”

Sunwoo breaks into a smile that is equal parts excited as he is astonished. He rummages through his bedside drawer, tossing a bottle onto the mattress. “I’d better get started then.”

He doesn’t stare in wonder like last time. Instead, he extends a hand Changmin’s way. Showing someone just how much lube you need isn’t sexy in theory, but when Sunwoo is working a slicked digit into him with whispered promises of pleasure, it makes his dick all the more hard.

“Think you can come just like this? It sure seems like it.”

He’s three fingers in when he finally decides to be a smartass. But Changmin can’t fight back with words, not when Sunwoo is knuckle deep, his touch magic, and his observation too close to truth.

“Want you in me,” Changmin tries to say, but it comes out breathy. He prepares himself for a joke about how Sunwoo technically is in him.

Instead, the fingers gently pull out of him. Changmin thinks he whines at the loss, maybe, he’s not sure. He’s leaking and crazed, and all he wants is to be fucked six ways to Sunday, but his friend is sure taking his time.

“Did you not hear me,” Changmin grumbles, as he’s being rolled over, onto his back. Pillow placed under his hips, he’s getting restless. “I said I want you in—”

“I know, I just—” Sunwoo starts, and the shyness of his tone is unexpected. He doesn’t finish that thought, his tip lining up with Changmin’s entrance. “I wanna see you when we do this, please? I always wish I’d asked you last time. But it was kinda a blur, so…”

Changmin barely gets a second to process this newfound information on ‘last time’, before Sunwoo is pushing in. His thoughts melt away into each other, a broken sound leaving him as he bottoms out. Even his most enticing dreams of Sunwoo can’t compare to the actual feeling of this.

“Fuck,” he groans, and Sunwoo’s immediately leaning over to kiss him between the eyebrows, smoothing out his frown. Arms braced on either side of Changmin’s head, he watches him for a moment. But he must sense the impatience, because he begins moving soon enough.

“Good?” he checks, and Changmin nods, eyes fluttering shut. Sunwoo’s quiet laugh is a terrible thing for his heart; soft in a way that gives him too much hope. Changmin pulls him close by his waist, nosing in between his neck and shoulder. “Sorry, I’m—I dunno, I just finished work and—”

He does smell like he was stuck inside a portafilter. Open mouthed kisses, Changmin’s teeth are sharp with curiosity as they graze Sunwoo. Under it all, there’s that scent that he’s familiar with. Changmin breathes him in, chasing that safety.

“Dude. If I stink, just say so instead of cryptically sniffing me—”

Something so lightly refreshing and cosy; sandalwood and budding flowers. The subtle fragrance that’s been hugging Changmin all day. On the hoodie, under these sheets, in his memories. It feels right, finally.

“Shut up,” Changmin mumbles against his neck, nipping the skin there, and Sunwoo shivers delightfully. “You smell just right. I missed you.” 

Is that odd to say? Oddly romantic, maybe. Nevermind that they’ve seen each other plenty after that night. He doesn’t know exactly what Sunwoo deciphers from this, but is glad he says nothing. He just hums, his motions slow and deep.

“Cute.” A pause just before he thrusts in again.

Changmin thinks he could just float away, head thrown back. The noises he’s making only seem to draw out prettier ones from Sunwoo, too. They ring out in the air the faster he gets, face pressing into Changmin’s throat. When he halts, an embarrassingly impatient sound leaves Changmin, until he notices Sunwoo trying to reach between their bodies. It’s a bit of an awkward position, and it leaves him kind of just rutting against Changmin’s hole rather than fucking into it, but the sentiment sparks a fondness in him.

“I’ll do it,” Changmin laughs, swatting Sunwoo’s hand away from his cock and taking it into his own. Though he doesn’t think it’ll be necessary at this point.

“Hyung, no, I said I’d do the work—”

“I liked what you were doing before,” he assures. “A lot.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Keep on doing—ah!” Changmin’s words are interrupted, an airy sound punched past his lungs when Sunwoo bucks his hips again. “That, yeah. Keep doing that.”

For all his day-to-day poltergeist tendencies, Sunwoo’s very good at following instructions when it counts. That’s what had surprised Changmin the first time, too. Eager to win? Sure. He hadn’t realised Sunwoo was also eager to please.

“Close?” Sunwoo whispers, and Changmin can’t do much but moan. Sloppy kisses along Sunwoo’s shoulder, and all. “Baby?”

And that’s his kryptonite, really. Whether Sunwoo’s figured out that something so simple as his affection can undo Changmin, he’s not sure. But the way Changmin bites down, and the white ribboning between them, should be enough of a clue. There’s a hiss, and Changmin’s teeth let go before he accidentally hurts the other.

(Maybe next time, though, he thinks. If Sunwoo will let him do enough to draw blood. Would there be a next time?)

He wonders if it’s too early into this to see stars, but Sunwoo’s already plucked him off earth and placed him into the night sky. The only place to go from thereon is down, and Changmin would like to float a little longer.

“Shit,” Sunwoo gasps, and his eyes screwed shut. Changmin wonders how much he can prolong this. “I’m gonna—”

“No.”

Sunwoo’s eyes snap open, and his movements slow to a halt. Confusion is cute on him, but less so when he misunderstands entirely, and starts pulling out.

“I just meant—I didn’t say it was time for you to come,” Changmin finishes, trying to keep a level voice. Maybe Sunwoo will find it sexy. But all Changmin feels is stupid when he weakly tacks on, “Yet.”

And what is Changmin’s best move, if not deflection?

“You said you’d last all night, Sunwoo. Don’t tell me you forgot?”

If Sunwoo can see past the bluff, he doesn’t mention it. He just lies next to Changmin, cheeks red and dick still hard. It’s actually quite impressive that he hasn’t lost it yet. Changmin’s limbs are still regaining will to move, but it doesn’t stop him from getting up and crawling over Sunwoo, straddling him before he can move.

“Hyung,” he laughs, all breathy sound and no fight, letting himself be pinned down. “You’re so ambitious.”

“Two more to go, right?” he says, guiding Sunwoo back into him. It’s easier to sink into each other this time, but their reactions are raised in volume.

“You have—mnngh—” Sunwoo’s eyes shut like he’s barely holding on, “—a lot of faith in me. I don’t know if I can last much longer.”

“You can,” Changmin dismisses, starting gentle as he pushes himself down on Sunwoo’s cock. One second in, and he feels pleasure snaking through his veins.

“Changmin-ah…”

He’s whiny, very bothered and a little in disbelief.

“You will.”

He’s pretty sure he feels Sunwoo twitch at that. When Changmin catches sight of his pupils, they’re blown wide as the moon. He traces over Sunwoo’s heart, and the sweetness of his touch isn’t an act. This comes too naturally.

“Won’t you, Sunwoo? For me?”

“Fuck—okay, sure. Yeah, I will.”

Changmin’s got him right where he wants, and it would be kind of mean, but apparently that’s right where Sunwoo wants to be. Eager to please. It makes him smile, almost, but his insides are still sensitive from before and he’s quickly falling into a haze.

“Hey, I’m—”

“Already, Sunwoo?”

It’s hypocritical to taunt him when Changmin thinks he’s going to come in record time, his own dick risen from the dead again. It slaps against Sunwoo’s belly every time Changmin bounces, painting the skin with precome. Ragged exhales, sweat tracing its way from his forehead down the side of his face. His libido remains, but god, his body hasn’t recovered from that last one, and neither has his heart. He has nobody to blame but himself, really—Sunwoo was right to consider him overzealous. And then Sunwoo brushes a spot within that knocks the breath out of him, palms pressing against the other’s ribs as his body momentarily crumbles. He’s almost there.

“Hyung,” Sunwoo says, but it’s more of a sigh, hands sliding up his thighs. Changmin is trembling. “You okay to keep going? You wanna stop?”

“No!” Changmin’s voice is papery, but he circles his hips to prove a point. It’s euphoric, but there’s only so much he can do right now without turning into a rickety mess. To hand over the reins sounds appealing, but Changmin is a prideful creature. “No, I’m completely okay.”

“I believe you.” Sunwoo’s eyes are shiny, so liquid with exhilaration that he looks almost gone. Even so, he pauses to hold Changmin still and suggest, “Just… let me take over for a bit?”

He can’t fathom how Sunwoo keeps doing this thing where he reads him without even trying. How he’s letting himself be teased to his limit, only to disregard the finish line the moment Changmin needs something. There are tentative thumbs looping comfort over his skin.

“Baby, hey? I wanna help.”

“Okay.”

So then he’s on his back once more, Sunwoo between his legs. He looks worn out and frustrated, but the way he smiles as he slides back in—it’s so touched with heat and something a lot like love, that Changmin’s whole world blurs upon movement. Or maybe those are just tears, he’s not sure.

“Where was it?” Sunwoo murmurs to himself, trying to find that spot from before. He pulls Changmin’s leg over his shoulder in his search as he thrusts. It takes a moment, but Changmin’s other leg wraps around him in urgency at one particular angle. “See, I got you. Almost there, baby.”

A sort of half-sob half-exhale leaves Changmin. He should be telling Sunwoo that. He hasn’t even let the other come tonight. But here he is, tables turned, Sunwoo guiding him through it while also trying to hold on as he promised. His heart expands into something so scarily large.

All for this beautiful boy, who might be his only in this moment so fragile.

“Changmin,” he moans, so dire. Hips pistoning, he grips Changmin so hard it might bruise. “Hyung, please, I know there’s two more but I—I can’t, I’m trying but—please—”

“Nngh—”

“Fuck, please don’t say no again, I don’t think I—hyung, I—”

Sunwoo’s a blubbering mess; blushed all the way down to his chest, sweat-damp hair flopping against his forehead as he begs. His brows furrow but his eyes glisten, and Changmin weakens.

“—please can I—”

“Yes,” Changmin rasps, reaching for his own cock. It’s odd, having Sunwoo at his beck and call, while also being blissed out and malleable under him. “You can.”

“F—ah,” Sunwoo whimpers, body jolting right as he slams in again, nails digging into Changmin’s flesh. His eyes screw shut, like that’ll stop the desperate sound falling from his mouth as he finally reaches a long awaited release.

Changmin can feel it, filling him up.

He flicks his wrist faster, tensing around Sunwoo. His next sound is drawn out, until it turns staccato with the shaking of his body. Sunwoo peers down at him like he’s some wondrous sight.

“I knew it,” he says in a frail breath, “You do look pretty when you come.”

Changmin gasps, heat pooling into his cheeks.

He’s messily splattering between them, joining Sunwoo in his high. His vision refocuses, and he catches Sunwoo wiping his face with the back of his hand. On a normal day, Changmin might tease him, but tonight he’s no better, his own tears spilling. He doesn’t even notice the emptiness of Sunwoo pulling out until he feels warmth trickling out of him.

“Wh—hey,” he groans, reaching out like he can grab Sunwoo with his heavy limbs. “There’s still—”

“One more to go,” Sunwoo agrees, eyes darting around in search. He reaches for something, and Changmin recognises the dildo from before. There’s a twinge of embarrassment when he recalls how it ended up there. “Mind if I use this?”

“Why? Your dick can’t handle it?” Changmin can’t help the snark he replies with. But he nods, letting Sunwoo reposition his legs for better access. “Didn’t think you’d come once and be done, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo snorts, uncapping the lube and pouring a plenteous amount into his palm.“You try being edged multiple times back to back, dude.” He pauses his task of making sure the dildo is the slickest thing ever known. “But no, you’ve made as many messes as you want tonight, haven’t you?”

He’s only teasing, but it does make Changmin acutely aware of all the come everywhere—most of it his. Sunwoo’s finger runs along his entrance lazily, spreading the remaining stickiness that’s slowly dripping out, and Changmin grits his teeth to keep his moan in. It doesn’t matter anyway, because his traitorous hole starts clenching around absolutely nothing. Sunwoo chuckles, grazing him with the tip of the toy, glancing at his face in question. Changmin parts his legs wider in response, blinking slowly up at him.

“You’re actually crazy,” Sunwoo laughs, but he obliges, careful as he pushes it in.

He might be right, Changmin thinks, toes curling. It’s not as nice as having Sunwoo in him—he’s already missing the warmth—but it’s definitely nice enough. Even if it already has him in tremors.

“Sunwoo,” Changmin whines, as he pulls it back out, torturously slow. Right as it catches at the rim, he pushes it back in at this stupid snail-pace. It has to be deliberate. “Are you mad about the edg—ah, shit—” The tempo quickens for just one singular thrust before he resumes, and it ticks him off. “Seriously? Do you fuck yourself at this speed too?”

The moment it leaves his mouth, his mind conjures up the image and all his blood rushes south again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sunwoo says, grinning wickedly. Instead of speeding up, he lets go of the dildo, leaving it in. He’s starting to understand what he might’ve put Sunwoo through.

Changmin has half a mind to reach down and take hold of the dildo himself. He grumbles, wiggling his hips. “Are you kidding me—”

“Patience? For me?” the other echoes Changmin’s earlier words, leaning over to rummage through his drawer. When he returns, the sudden innocence on his face is worrying. Changmin had seen it just this morning with that first coffee. He’s dewey-eyed and definitely up to no good. “I think you’re really going to like this.”

Sunwoo holds up something in his hand. Changmin recognises what it might be, fairly quickly. But not quick enough, because Sunwoo’s finger presses down on a button.

“Ah-!”

Changmin claws at the sheets, legs atremble, eyes welling up. And it’s only the lowest setting.

“Y’know, I was kinda surprised when I packed your stuff up today,” Sunwoo begins, tracing the next button. “But now that I know better, let me pitch this product to you via demonstration.”

Changmin huffs out a laugh. He is so going to kill Sunwoo after this. His irritation is short-lived because of the steady buzz inside him—it may be mild, but he’s already overstimulated, on the cusp of heaven.

“There are a couple of different settings,” Sunwoo continues, grabbing the toy’s base again, moving it ever so slightly. Changmin whips his head to the side with a sharp inhale. All his feelings leak out from the corner of his eye, onto the pillow. “But for intensity there’s low, medium, high.”

Sunwoo thrusts it in.

“And highest,” he adds, pressing the last button.

The sound ripped out of Changmin is guttural. Teary eyes screwing shut and his entire being jolting, his dick spurting out whatever come it can at this point.

“You—” he tries to say, but it emerges as a sort of airy wail, mind still in the clouds, and body still quivering. It might be the tears rolling down his face that earns him Sunwoo’s pity, because he turns it off and crawls atop Changmin to find his mouth. He kisses with softness even as Changmin grabs fistfuls of his hair, sternum hovering above Changmin’s heaving chest—a brush of consolation whenever they meet.

He gives the aftershocks a moment to subside, before gently pulling the dildo out. It still makes Changmin whimper. “Fuck you.”

“Aw, you promise?” Sunwoo says with glee, tossing it aside. “Maybe next time? I think you’re done for the night.”

He grabs tissues off the nightstand, clumsy when he tries to clean Changmin up. Something about it is tender all the same.

“I know you look good doing anything,” he says, thumbing at the tear-stained skin of his cheeks. “But you’re such a pretty crier.”

Does he moan at that? Granted, it’s so quietly that maybe it isn’t audible at all, but what the fuck is wrong with him. Sunwoo’s delighted grin means it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Did you know,” he coos, syrupy and aggravating, poking his face, “you’re sooooo pretty when you cry, Changmin-ah?”

“Did you know maybe you’re just a pervert, Sunwoo-yah?”

“Look who’s talking. You were literally seduced by latte art.”

“You know that isn’t what happened—”

But he’s kissing away the salt on Changmin’s face. An extra soft peck to his forehead, and the tip of his nose. Then he’s laying down, pulling Changmin’s exhausted mess of limbs into his embrace.

“Jumping at your chance to be the big spoon?” Changmin mumbles, but he’s curling his body to fit right in.

“Cuddling you,” Sunwoo corrects, nuzzling into the back of his head like it isn’t soggy with sweat. “Someone really wanted this last time, remember?”

Any defenses against that would be false security, and he’d be walking right into a trap. Even if he did have a counterpoint, tonight’s activities are taking a toll on him. He could fall asleep like this, cocooned in this moment. Sunwoo’s frame fits around him too nicely—his knees pressing into the hollow behinds of Changmin’s, the rise and fall of his chest steady against Changmin’s back, Changmin’s elbow settling sweetly in the crook of Sunwoo’s. They’re like puzzle pieces, and it makes something tighten in his gut.

“Hey,” Sunwoo whispers, right behind his ear. Changmin thinks he shivers. He’s soothed with a kiss to the shell. “Sorry. You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Changmin scratches his chest, and scrunches his nose when he finds it tacky. Tissues don’t do much when something is already halfway to drying. “Still kinda sticky.”

Sunwoo blinks, and he feels it against his neck. The tight feeling is moving up to his throat. And then they’re in the shower, rationing the last of the shampoo between them, rinsing off whatever clings to their bodies. But Changmin’s feelings won’t go down the drain, even with all that’s lathered on him by gentle hands.

“—ngminie? Hello?” Sunwoo taps his nose, and Changmin snaps out of his wallowing. “Are you with us?”

“Yeah,” he says, wiping away the suds on his face. He’s starting to feel the ache in his lower half. “Just tired. Maybe we overdid it, a bit.”

He waits for some witty quip about how this was all Changmin’s idea to begin with. Or even for Sunwoo to puff out his chest and grin, or something. Instead, his brows furrow seriously, and then he nods. “I’ll run a bath.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Hyung.” Sunwoo’s voice is hushed, and his eyes have never looked more darling nor rounder than right now. “You’ll be really sore tomorrow.”

He hadn’t even considered that.

“What if—” and now he’s just spewing bullshit, really, “—I fall asleep in there and drown?”

“You think I’ll let you drown?”

“Well, you won’t come in to wake me up. So yeah, I probably will.”

Sunwoo smiles at him like he’s the world’s funniest jester. Changmin is waiting for the universe to crumble down and reveal that he is indeed, the joke.

“You’re right, I won’t wake you up. I’ll just carry you back to bed.”

And this is what keeps getting to him. When Sunwoo acts like Changmin means something more to him. 

Can I help? I can help you. I wanna help—

Like he knows what Changmin feels, and he might return it. Or at least play along, when their brains are clouded with lust.

“Let me help, baby.”

Still, he lets Sunwoo be sweet, lets him play boyfriend, lets him fill up the tub and help Changmin into the water. He doesn’t notice its hue until his legs are submerged under translucent, pale purple.

“Bath salts,” Sunwoo explains, getting into the space behind him. “Giuk’s mum has been really into making her own lately. She sent us a bunch last month.”

“Is this… lavender?”

“Yep. Nice, isn’t it?” He’s pulling Changmin close against him. “See—your lifeguard’s here. No drowning on my watch.”

The bathtub isn’t huge, so it’s a bit of a snug fit, but it isn’t unpleasant. Sunwoo’s ribcage presses against Changmin’s shoulder blade. Against all his strict reasoning, Changmin finds himself melting into this skeletal concord.

“Changmin-hyung.”

“Mmm?”

There’s no response, and he wonders if he’s already dozed off, dreaming of Sunwoo’s voice again. But then a question worms its way into the silence.

“Are you going to leave in the morning this time, too?”

Changmin doesn’t know how to answer that. If he bares himself further, he doubts he can backtrack. On the other hand, it’s impossible that Sunwoo hasn’t seen through his layers anyway.

“It’s cool if you are. I can even give you a ride. You might be limping a bit, so I don’t wanna make you walk all the way to the bus stop.”

Changmin’s stomach starts tangling painfully. Sunwoo’s heartbeat against his back feels like a countdown to disappointment.

“But it’s just—I don’t know,” he sighs, and suddenly the quietness sounds the opposite of empty. Changmin isn’t sure what it’s thick with. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to name it, in case he’s wrong. “I was really hoping we could sort out some things before we did this a second time.”

Maybe it’d be better to drown after all. The water is warm and fragrant, and he’s in the arms of a boy his heart bursts open for—perhaps it wouldn’t even be that bad. It’s a happy way to end, minus the fact that it’d be of excruciating shame.

“It’s pretty hard to ask you out on a date if you won’t talk to me about it.”

His breath catches on its way out. He waits for the punchline, but Sunwoo just presses his mouth to the mole on his shoulder. Changmin has felt plenty stupid trying to hide his feelings, but he feels even stupider for not noticing Sunwoo’s, so plainly on display if he just takes a step back to observe.

“I,” he begins, but his throat is dry. Changmin leans forward, meaning to turn around, but he can’t seem to face Sunwoo. He’s the worst human being to ever walk this earth. “I’m not very good at putting it into words. My—uh, feelings.”

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything, and he wonders how bad he’s screwed this up. Then he tackles Changmin’s middle in a slippery hug, and they’re nestled against each other again.

“You don’t have to use words then.” His chin is hooking over Changmin’s shoulder. “You wanna do a late breakfast tomorrow morning? Or lunch, if you wanna sleep in. Kiss me if ‘yes’. If ‘no’ just—”

He doesn’t get to hear the proposed method of rejection, turning his head to press his mouth against Sunwoo’s. Their lips fit together just as nicely as every other part of them does. Their foreheads do, as well, resting against each other when they break away. Changmin has an inkling that their souls might, too.

“Oh,” Sunwoo breathes, like he’s been wanting this for much too long. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Changmin nods, turning away to stifle a yawn into his palm. They’ll probably have to aim for lunch, even if they get sleep. He thinks of waking up to Sunwoo’s half-lidded gaze and roughened morning voice. How dreamlike.

“I’m going to change the sheets,” Sunwoo announces, water sloshing as he clambers to get out of the bathtub. “Do not drown while I’m gone, okay?”

Changmin smiles, leaning over the edge, watching him hurriedly dry himself off, and attempt to redress. “I dunno, Sunwoo. I’m just so… tired.”

Sunwoo hops around, one leg into his pyjama pants. “You just want to be carried to bed, don’t you?”

Changmin scoffs, sitting back and sliding down until the water tickles his earlobes. He was right, the bath is a good idea. “With those pool noodle arms of yours? You dream big.”

“Oh fuck off—come on, get up, I’ll carry you right now—”

- 🍆 - 

“Your latte, sir.”

Changmin’s eyes lift up from the screen as the drink is placed next to his mouse. When Sunwoo had said he would deliver coffee all the way from across campus, he thought thathe meant in like, an hour, presumably a quick drop-off under the big tree in front of the library. Not in the next ten minutes, in the study room Changmin is using.

“Did you fly here?” Changmin jokes. Sunwoo collapses into a seat next to him, arms splaying out on the table. “What are you, the coffee guardian angel or something?”

Windswept hair and cheeky smiles, he peeks up at Changmin. “Just yours.”

He wouldn’t mind believing that Sunwoo’s slouchy posture is a direct result of heavy feathered wings. Changmin ruffles his hair further, and turns back to his work. He reaches for the coffee, but stops when he notices Sunwoo staring, uncharacteristically jittery.

“Did you poison it?” He fixes the other with a look, and then narrows his eyes. “Did you spit in it or something?”

“What—! No!” Sunwoo exclaims, crossing his arms. “First of all, why is my saliva more concerning than literal poison? You were begging to make out just yesterday. 'Oh please, sexy and kind Kim Sunwoo, please shove your dexterous tongue down my throat or I’ll die! You’re just so hot, please kiss me sloppy style right now!' Don’t lie to me.”

Changmin never actually said all that, even if he did perhaps feel it deep in his heart. And he most certainly didn’t beg. He just dragged Sunwoo off to a secluded corner for a couple of kisses, slow and lingering, whining into his mouth a little longer each time. The pressing up against a wall, blooming hickeys along his neck, crystalline strings of spit connecting their lips when they separated to breathe—that was all Sunwoo. But Changmin isn't complaining.

“Second, I can’t believe you think I’d stoop so low. We’ve been on three dates now and you don’t even trust me. After I travelled here on foot through a storm…”

Changmin knows he took his bike, probably. And it was barely a spring drizzle.

“You absolutely would if someone pissed you off,” Changmin points out, placing the cup back on the table.

“Well, yeah,” he admits, “but you haven’t pissed me off. You never do.”

It’s a generous statement. Changmin thinks they annoy each other plenty. Sunwoo thinks riling him up counts as foreplay (it does sometimes, but he doesn’t need to know that), and Changmin is learning that he can bypass Sunwoo’s irritation by batting his eyelashes. Pissing each other off is a daily bonding activity. Still, the paper cup doesn’t look any less suspicious. He wonders if Sunwoo accidentally added in one of those syrups he hates.

“Just—” He gestures to the cup vaguely. “There’s latte art.”

Changmin feels bad now. He wonders what pattern Kevin had taught him this time, that Sunwoo was so compelled to show him. The apology he was readying immediately evaporates when he lifts the lid off.

“Sunwoo, what the hell is this.”

It’s reminiscent of the wonky foamwork he’d taunted him with last month. Except perhaps much more intentionally done. It’s almost three-dimensional. He wonders how Sunwoo will lie his way out of this.

“Not a heart?” Sunwoo offers. Beneath the infuriating grin, Changmin can pinpoint nerves. “Dude, it’s a penis. Clearly.”

He huffs, snapping the lid back on. “Yes, but what’s it doing in my coffee—c’mon, we’ve done this before.”

“Okay, so. This seemed funnier in my head.”

Sunwoo sucks in a breath and sits up straight, facing Changmin. 

“Like I said, we’ve been on three dates.”

They have. Changmin frequently thinks of them all very fondly. Even the time Sunwoo booked a ghost themed escape room in hopes of impressing the horror fanatic in Changmin, and ended up shaking like a leaf, crushing Changmin’s hand in an iron grip as they tried to find clues. It was a success that ended in genuine tears on one side, and a lot of laughing from the other. He’d made out with Sunwoo in his car for an entire half hour later in apology.

“And uh, this is to say,” he stalls, pointing at the cup hiding the offending dick-latte. “I like what you’re packing.”

Changmin almost bursts into a set of giggles. What great lengths to go to, when Sunwoo can just compliment him like a normal person. But the horrible thing is, it is funny, and so is Sunwoo. And while he’s always tried to be inconspicuous, it seems like there’s always been one person who noticed the laugh he hides behind his palm.

“I would hope so,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “You had it in your mouth yesterday, so…”

But Sunwoo is holding up a hand like he knew this would be the response. He’s blushing bright like he’s had too much to drink. But the cadence of his next statement proves that he’s stone cold sober.

“I like what you’re packing, and I like you.”

Changmin’s mouth parts. Since Valentine’s Day, they’ve done more than the next morning’s late brunch; gone on dates, locked lips, intertwined fingers, stayed up late on the phone, and fallen into bed again. But Sunwoo has been careful to leave it unlabeled until Changmin finds his words.

But it seems like it’s also left him teeming with feelings unspoken of.

“A lot,” Sunwoo adds, shy smile on his lips. “It’s killing me. Pleasebemyboyf—” He clears his throat, clasping Changmin’s hand in his. “Please be my boyfriend?”

Changmin’s vocabulary is fleeing him again at the worst of times. Luckily, he manages to lean over and peck Sunwoo’s cheek. “Kiss you if ‘yes’, right?”

Sunwoo beams like a meteor. “Yeah, exactly.”

Changmin reflects his light with a smile of his own, squeezing his hand. The usual twisting of his stomach feels lighter today—like something fluttery, rather.

“Hey, but Sunwoo,” Changmin interrupts, frowning at the coffee cup. “Are you going to make up for that one too?”

He gets an incredulous stare, and then a devious grin.

“You still keep that vibrator in your backpack?” Sunwoo asks, cackling when Changmin sputters to deny. “Chanhee said the others wanted to get drinks tonight when you’re done. Wanna try something new?”

Changmin can’t believe his ears—except he can. Sunwoo’s mind is like a vending machine of horny ideas. The other tilts his head like he’s asked something perfectly harmless. Changmin sighs, and unzips his bag.

“Play nice,” he warns seriously, tossing him the tiny remote. He’ll hand Sunwoo the other half of the toy when they’re cramped into a bathroom stall for a ‘quick kiss’ before they head out.

“What? I’m always nice, babe.”

“A menace is what you are.”

But excitement sparks along his skin when Sunwoo pockets it with a triumphant smile.

Maybe Changmin will be just a little too flushed in a crowded room, leaning against Sunwoo’s shoulder with a weak whisper. Maybe Sunwoo, one hand in his pocket, will be a little too concerned about his rosy glow, because oh shit, do you have a fever or something, hyung, and take it upon himself to get him home. Maybe they’ll just have to leave their friends a little early tonight, everyone scolding Sunwoo for dragging him to the bar when he’s so clearly not doing well. Maybe Changmin's legs will be shaky and weak when he steps off Sunwoo's motorbike, but not from the ride.

Sunwoo will have ample time and privacy to apologise for all these things, in Changmin’s bedroom.