Word Count: 2342w
Summary: Key hates Minho. He hates how the other boy is always hanging onto everyone and anyone. He hates how Minho always hangs on him, and it's confusing because Key isn't supposed to become so flustered.
a/n: Filthy porn. I have no excuse. Inspired from this picture and Lykke Li's song. Written while chatting with linnhe on skype ♥
| Another night, another concert. As Key walked around the concert stadium in Osaka, he could see his bandmates running around like hyperactive children. They would spit water onto each other’s faces, playfully wrestle on stage, and frolic around happily – as if they weren’t already dead tired on their feet. The fans loved it, ‘Oppa is so cute! You’re so handsome! I love you!’ they’d laugh and shriek at the gratuitous displays of affection. |
For Key, he preferred to opt out of these silly games and chose to interact with the fans – playing up his keymera abilities and saying thanks to each and every fan for their support. Deep down, he knew that there was another reason why he never participated in the rowdy games. Fans like to say that it’s his diva side, his princess attitude that keeps him away from such behavior, but if only they knew the real reason. From the corner of his eye, Key could see a tall flash of color dart across a platform. Minho.
Minho. Choi Minho. The one with a model’s tall and sculpted build, the one that was liked by all the hyung-deul, the one that lovingly touched and was touched lovingly by everyone and anyone, the Choi Minho. Key inwardly gritted his teeth as he waved into another fanclub noona’s camera. He looked again and wasn’t surprised to find the taller boy nuzzling his face into a laughing Jinki’s neck. Their leader only freed himself from Minho’s clutches by spitting water into his face. As Jinki danced away, he managed to slip, and fall at Key’s feet.
Key briefly glanced at Minho – who now had Jonghyun in a headlock - before helping Jinki up. Jinki mouthed a few words of gratitude (it was lost amongst the roar of the crowd and Jonghyun’s earsplitting shrieks) and smiled toothily before trotting away to join Taemin on the opposite side of the stage. Now Minho had his arms around Jonghyun’s waist, as if in a romantic embrace. Key let himself scowl at the image.
All night Minho was a flaming ball of flirtatious energy; from cutely hugging Taemin to rubbing his face and hands all over Jinki to jokingly making kissy faces at Jonghyun. It was disgusting, as if the tall boy was attaching himself onto a surface, like mold. Key couldn’t stand seeing it. However, Key knew he was being irrational, after all he also loved attention; he basked in it even. But there was just something infuriating about Minho’s way of skinship. Whenever Key saw Minho rub himself on someone (and this was quite often) he felt a prickle of annoyance flicker across his gut. The very few moments where Minho attempted to get in Key’s business were met with graceful sidesteps and cold indifference. But sometimes, sometimes Minho managed to trap Key into a bone-crushing hug or wrap his too-long arms snugly around his waist. During those moments, he would feel a sense of rage flare up in his being.
Key shook himself out of his reverie. ‘Now is not the time to think of this! The fans didn’t pay to watch me scowl over stupid Minho!’ he chided himself. He adjusted his towel and brought up his mic to thank the fans. As Key went through his speech, he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his middle. Minho. Of course.
He wouldn’t let that deter him. Resolutely, he ignored the taller boy and went on with his speech, even as the arms tightened and their bodies were pressed flush against each other. Key was doing a pretty good job ignoring Minho, up until the other moved his hands across a sensitive part of his stomach and briefly breathed on Key’s neck. He shuddered and paused awkwardly before squeaking the rest of his thank yous. As Taemin started speaking in butchered Japanese, Key elbowed Minho in the stomach.
“Just what are you doing. Get off me you leech,” he hissed, face red. Key could feel the fans squeal and snap picture after picture of them – pictures of Key not-so-discreetly squirming out of Minho’s arms. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like how Minho got into his personal space, into his head.
Minho laughed and ever so gently nuzzled Key’s neck. “Do you have a problem with me Kibum?”
“Yes. Yes I do. Now please,” Key snarled, idol smile in place, heart racing (Minho had found another sensitive spot). “Please remove your stupidly buff arms from…from m-me.”
Minho thankfully did remove himself, but only to run over to drape a friendly arm across Taemin’s shoulders. Key’s face was still flushed and his heartbeat was still faster than normal but he couldn’t help but miss the strong arms around his middle. He quietly cursed as Minho caught his eye and winked.
“Asshole,” he muttered. He adjusted his shirt out of nervous habit.
At the after party, Jonghyun was determined to have a good time. “C’mon Kibummie, live a little. It’s not every day that we get fanshy spancy expensive sake!”
And thus, because Jonghyun was an idiot and Key was an even bigger idiot, Key downed every single shot given to him. After his eighth, maybe ninth shot, Key felt himself half sitting on the lounge couch, half sprawled on another body. He didn’t know where the rest of his bandmates were. The room was spinning too uncontrollably for him to care.
“Are you okay Kibum?” a warm voice said close to his ear. Key looked up to see no other than Choi Minho, as sober as, well, a sober person.
Key was angry. This was the person who he didn’t want to see. He decided to crawl fully into Minho’s lap, intending to give the other a piece of his mind.
“No, I am not okay. I hate you,” Key slurred. He felt the other boy wrap his arms around his waist again. Key pretended that he did not chance a look at Minho’s throat, peek at his Adam’s apple. He continued, angrier than ever.
“I hate you. I hate how you rub on every single fucking male in Korea and make kissy faces at slobbering morons like Jonghyun. I hate how you, you always want to wrap your warm hands around me and make me feel feelings. I’m not that easy y’know.”
Key stared at the other boy, his face impossibly calm, impossibly handsome. He brought his face close, breathing into the Minho’s mouth. “Do you think I’m that stupid to fall under your spell?” By now their mouths were fractions apart; he could practically taste the other boy.
“I don’t know,” Minho said. His hands wandered down from Key’s slim waist to rest against the curve of his bottom. “How stupid are you?”
And just then, Key felt himself snap. His hands, which somehow wound themselves around Minho’s neck, bought the other boy the few fractions closer, allowing Key to kiss him fiercely.
As they familiarized themselves with the other – hips shifting, grinding wonderfully, bodies pressed impossibly close, and hands roaming in pursuit of flesh, Key found himself on the lounge sofa, Minho heavily pressing their hips together as he marked patterns all across Key’s neck. He briefly wondered if perhaps it was a bad idea to grind against his bandmate in the private room, what if a fan sees? What happened to the other three? But then Minho lost his shirt and the sight of the other’s toned torso was reason enough for Key to throw all caution in the wind. He reversed their positions to push the other boy down, straddling him.
Key hurriedly ripped open Minho’s pants and pulled down his shorts to palm at Minho’s cock. His dick was curved up, precum dewed across the tip. Key felt his face flush, the idea of such intimacy with his bandmate halting his ministrations.
“What are you waiting for?” Minho breathed. He sat up to rip the towel off Key’s hair and curled strangely gentle fingers around the other’s face. “The Almighty Key can’t be shy, can he?” he whispered, fingers brushing against a flushed bottom lip. Key stared at Minho, suddenly too aware of everything. The painful constriction of his pants, the fact that he was kneeling in between Minho’s legs, how he was now suckling softly on Minho’s fingers, the heavy sounds of their exhales and inhales of breath filling the room. Everything.
After several moments of staring, Minho removed his spit slicked fingers from Key’s mouth and gently guided the older boy down. Key braced himself on Minho’s thighs and hesitantly brought himself at eye level to the tip of the other’s cock to give it a slight lick. He continued, encouraged by Minho's muffled groan.
It was the most erotic moment of his life; sitting in the empty private room, listening to Minho’s moans, sucking on his bandmate’s cock. As he continued mouthing the other boy, sliding his tongue up from the base to the very tip, he felt rough fingers card through his hair. Key breathed, growing dizzy from lack of oxygen. He gazed up at Minho to see the other with his head thrown back into the plush couch cushions, lost in his own desires. Key liked this. He liked being the one to make the Choi Minho flush.
Key hummed and waited for Minho to look at him before using both hands to slowly leverage and slide his mouth down, down, down the boy’s cock. He whimpered as Minho suddenly thrust upwards, choking him. The hands that were in his hair were now dragging Key’s face downwards, seeking only to take. Another whimper left his mouth as Minho gave another particularly hard tug. He pushed himself away, mouth puffy and swollen to an obscene shade of red.
“You asshole. What are you trying to do? Kill me?” snarled Key. He wiped at the precum that trailed down the side of his face. Minho sat up and stared at the other boy, eyes wrecked but contemplative.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning to kiss Key, softly this time. The pretty boy closed his eyes, lashes dark against flushed skin. “I am so sorry.” As they kissed, Minho’s hands journeyed all over the elder’s body, gently caressing and removing rumpled clothes.
Pretty soon Key was again sitting in Minho’s lap, panting as Minho lapped trails up and down his chest, as large warm hands dug into his hips. Key cursed as the other gave his nipple a particularly hard bite. Pale thighs spread further apart as the older lowered himself down onto Minho to grind their erections against each other.
As a wet finger teased at his entrance, Key stiffened and raised his head to look at Minho. He saw uncertainty and fear and adoration flutter across those large eyes, seeking permission. Key knew what he had to do, what he wanted to do, and he did.
“What are you waiting for Choi?” Key chuckled into his ear. All too slim arms snaked around broad shoulders. “Flaming Charisma Minho can’t be wimping out, can he?” And with Key’s approval Minho continued.
With each digit, Key felt himself come undone. He hissed as those long fingers delved inside deeply, stretching him for what was to come. Finally, when his head was resting against a sweaty shoulder, spine taut from anticipation, he heard a quiet voice murmur into his ear, “Kibum, do you really want this?”
“You asshole… Are you trying to kill me? Just do it,” said Key as bit down on Minho’s ear. And Minho did.
They fucked dirtily. Key gasped as Minho thrust upwards, pulling their bodies impossibly close. He struggled to roll his hips in tandem but was clearly overwhelmed by the sensations. As they rocked, Minho felt his toes curl as he sealed his cock deeply in the shaking body. Strong arms held the older boy in place, sweaty skin slid smoothly against each other as Key licked at Minho mouth, seeking warmth and a chance to dominate. Half-lidded dark eyes stared defiantly, as if challenging Minho to deny him. And Minho let him have control, because he was a gentleman like that.
Wet kisses were trailed down a jaw and onto a toned neck as Key tongued and bit at the other’s Adam’s apple. Minho felt himself lose control. Pretty soon Key was on his back, legs wound around Minho’s shoulders, chest heaving from lack of breath. As they continued moving together, Minho slyly placed a slick hand on Key’s cock. He smirked and then swore as he watched Key squirm and moan against him, eyes hopelessly lost and glazed over.
“Ah…Kibum, do you know what you do to me?” moaned Minho as he drove himself particularly deep. Key tensed as he felt himself wind tighter and tighter with every pull of Minho’s hand. “The hate and fire in your eyes, do you even know..?”
Fingers pressed harshly onto Key’s thigh, and spread them further apart. The fingers of Minho’s another hand frantically stroked the other’s cock, mouth lapping at the other’s pouty mouth. Key whimpered as he let the tall boy dominate the kiss, fingernails digging into the toned back. Minho cursed as Key tightened around him. He paused as his hands gripped slim hips, holding the older boy in place as he rocked slowly and deeply into Key's warmth. Minho knew he was close, and soon pulled out to slick the smaller boy’s inner thighs in a mess of white, a white mess to mark what was his. Pretty soon, Key came too, back arched, mouth growing slack against Minho's mouth.
As their breathing slowed down, Minho moved to wipe the cum off on the sofa, and sat up, holding Key delicately against his chest.
“I’m not a fucking princess okay,” rasped Key as he pushed Minho away, only to rest his head against a shoulder. His eyes narrowed, “Just so you know. I’m still not easy.”
Minho brushed Key’s sweaty bangs aside and stared into those feverishly bright eyes. He smiled and simply bought their mouths together, shushing a furiously hissing Key.
His back was scratched up and Key was going to be bitchy and sore tomorrow but it was a worthwhile risky gamble.