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Mingi lifts. He's proud to say it. It made his biceps look good and besides, the doctor had highly recommended doing at least light exercise two months after getting top surgery. Something about nerves reconnecting and having pecs. Probably physical therapy related. Mingi hadn’t been paying much attention. In that moment, he was fixated on the fact that they were gone and all that was left was a crazy ass line of blood, the pokey edges of stitches, and an oozing set of nipples covered in gauze. Maybe it was all the painkillers in his system but as soon as the doctor said pec definition Mingi had sort of just blacked out while looking down at his chest, set to be bandaged up for the next couple weeks, imaging himself with tiddies… but not the soft kind that he had tried for years, and finally, finally , rid himself of. He would make a tiddy trade, if you will, for rock hard pecs. Maybe he’d get to the point where he’d have rock hard abs as well.
Mingi came to in the waiting room, his mouth thanking the receptionist while in his head he was determined to become an absolute stud now that he didn't have to worry about binder safety or men staring at the straps the neck of his shirt couldn't cover or just the horror of the locker rooms in general. It was like the shiny gates to heaven had opened and here was Mingi, just waiting to step through them on his journey to becoming sexy.
But, Mingi hadn’t been a sports kid. He didn’t have the definition of the soccer players he hung out with in high school or the physique of his best friend, who still swam competitively (even though he had graduated college and Mingi thought that swim meets were made for tweens only). Mingi had grown up scrawny, too tall, all sharp elbows and jutting rib bones. He was too anxious to join any teams in fear of getting hurt and his parents hadn't done much else aside from encouraging that notion.
After transitioning, Mingi had been far too scared to hit the gym, but he had a dream. Top surgery was like the hinge on the pearly gates. He had promised himself he’d go work out just as long as he didn’t have to worry about boobs.
But, still, anxiety flooded Mingi’s system his very first day in the gym without warning. It was like a tsunami, overwhelming as Mingi eyed the expanse of machines in the 24 Hour Fitness Center by his apartment. There weren’t very many people, but there were still people and that freaked Mingi out more than he would've liked to admit. Most of the gym goers were in their mid to older years, somewhere between 35 and 75, but there was a man around Mingi’s age working the chest press with vigor. Mingi locked eyes with him entirely on accident as he strode past. It definitely wasn't because the man had a pair of tits the size of Mingi’s damn head.
The tits were the first reason Mingi looked at San. Then he just kept looking.
It had taken a few weeks of consistent lifting for Mingi to realize the absolute stud who did his gym rounds most the days Mingi worked out was familiar. There was something about the curve of his cheeks and the slope of his nose, but mostly in his eyes. It took another week for Mingi to place him. But when he did, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other man. It was like he was diseased.
Mingi had always been an awkward looking kid. He attributed it to not being in the right body for most of his life. He grew up as too much of a tomboy, no dresses, skinned knees, shitty haircuts from incidents with gum and safety scissors. No boys in class liked him… except for San Choi, and San Choi really liked him. They met in second grade on the puzzle mat. Mingi didn’t remember the details, but what he could recall is that San had proposed they hold hands right off the bat and Mingi was disgusted. He had made San cry after hitting him over the head with a toy spatula. Mingi had wanted to be left alone all that year, content to play pretend with his friends, but San spent just about every recess at Mingi’s side, trying to pretend he was a wolf or a dragon too, even when Mingi ignored him.
Mingi had agreed to be San’s girlfriend on the second day of third grade, when they had spent a summer apart and been split into different classes. It had taken poking at ants all summer for Mingi to find he actually missed San’s desperate nature and pathetic 8 year old yearning. Their dating stint had lasted a week before Mingi had gotten upset at San for telling his mother they were dating. It had been a whole thing. A dramatic breakup like no other. The teacher on duty that day was forced to separate the two of them and Mingi had been chided for pushing San into a puddle—his father called into the office when Mingi refused to apologize to San for the incident.
From that moment on, San was far more reserved around Mingi. He formed his own friend group as they ventured into the fourth grade together, once again sharing a classroom, but he still tried to engage with Mingi. Still chased him around the playground on dares and tried to make Mingi gifts. However, Mingi never gave San the time of day after their breakup. Soon enough, San was dating his way through the fifth grade, though he always made time for Mingi when one of his girlfriends weren’t begging him to play tetherball with them. The way Mingi remembers it, he was nasty to the other boy up until the fifth grade, but finally San left him alone after moving to a new state for middle school.
Mingi had missed San in a weird way, especially as middle school shook him to his core with every new discovery about himself and the cruelty of others.
Staring at San now felt like God was somehow punishing Mingi for ever having behaved like that in elementary school, especially when San’s crush on him was innocent at the very worst. Mingi should’ve been flattered by it, but instead it annoyed him to his core. It should’ve annoyed Mingi just as badly to see how hot San had become in their years apart, but Mingi felt his will turn to jello when he watched San pump weights in the mirrors.
How much trouble would reconnecting be?
Mingi did his best to try and stalk San on social media before gaining the courage to approach him in the gym, but his search resulted in nothing. He wasn’t sure any of his friends would know of San either despite feeling like he knew a good chunk of Koreans within the city thanks to his network. Mingi did everything he could to push off having to talk to San, because despite his interest, San terrified him. That was a big man and likely a straight man too. Mingi didn’t feel like pushing his luck.
Transitioning came with a healthy fear of straight cis men. Mingi was sure he didn’t speak for the whole transmasc community when he said this, but he always had a terrible time trying to talk to men in those demographics. They just didn’t “get it” and usually had very little in common with Mingi anyway. San looked about as straight and cis as they got. But dear God was he attractive.
Mingi had been doing his reps on the leg lift peacefully in the back corner, his thighs feeling like jelly as he neared the end of his set, when he felt a set of eyes on him. Mingi didn’t mean to turn his head so quickly, but he nearly got whiplash from the speed, his vertebrae cracking as his eyes landed on San. The man was looking at him, not an ounce of shyness in his gaze. Mingi turned his head right around and started another set, anxiety burbling in his stomach. Why? Mingi wanted to ask.
“Hey,” a smooth tenor said next to Mingi and Mingi slowly gazed up to find San standing over him, a friendly smile on his lips.
“Hi,” Mingi said back, his voice cracking in the middle and sending a shock of embarrassment through his system. “Can I help you?” he asked pathetically and San smiled bigger, his eyes scrunching till they were nearly closed—just like they used to do when he was a kid. Mingi hadn’t appreciated that enough at the time. Now watching San light up made him feel like an idiot for not looking at San and having his heart pound at the expression sooner.
“I was just wondering if you would be done using the press soon,” San asked and Mingi didn’t really know what to tell him. He just sort of opened his mouth awkwardly. “It’s okay if not!” San amended quickly. “My usual machine is just taken so I thought I’d ask.”
“I should be done soon,” Mingi told him, trying not to choke on his own words as the process of talking to San was sped up much quicker than Mingi had anticipated. His hands felt so sweaty, he was grateful that he was using the leg press and not lifting something heavy enough to fall on his neck and kill him. There was a good part of his brain screaming at him, however, that he’d prefer that, all because there was sweat glistening on San’s bare arms and just one drop of it slowly sliding down his forehead, and when he reached up to wipe it away, Mingi could clearly see the pump San has managed to garner. It made him sick. No one man should have that much power over Mingi—much less a man who Mingi used to find the single most annoying person in the entire world.
“Do you mind if I hang out?” asked San, tilting his head the way a curious puppy would and Mingi’s heart clenched in his chest.
“That’s… fine.”
“Cool.”
“Cool…”
Mingi tried to sit with the silence but San must’ve admitted an aura that made Mingi a princess in distress because he lifted his legs against the weight once more, only to get about halfway before having them collapse. San stared at him, the look on his face causing Mingi’s cheeks to go red as he moved his legs out of the machine and went to stand, his hands fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt. “Is there any chance your name is San?” Mingi blurted and San’s eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion before narrowing slightly.
“Um, yes,” he said. “Have we met?”
“You went to my elementary school. We were in second, fourth, and fifth grade together,” Mingi told him and San’s face went blank. Not a thing behind his eyes.
“How are you?” he said politely.
“Good, you?”
“Good! Yeah!” San said cheerily and Mingi knew just by the angle of this conversation that San had no clue who he was. What he didn't expect was for San to so bluntly go, “I’m so sorry, you're going to have to remind me of your name again,” while shyly rubbing the back of his head and letting his gaze wander down Mingi’s form. He lingered a bit too long and the intimacy of it all made Mingi want to squirm like bait on a line. There was no way in hell that San was looking at him like that . Mingi prided himself on a functional gaydar and Gym Bro With the Widest Lats Mingi Had Physically Seen on a Person Other Than in Pornagraphic Videos on Dodgy Websites did not scream homosexual tendencies. Neither did the long lineup of childhood girlfriends—Mingi included for all of a week before he had pushed San in the mud and declared a break up in front of the whole 3rd grade class.
But here was San; eyeing Mingi like he was a meal with the distinct lack of innocent interest he had always treated Mingi with when they were young.
Mingi didn’t want to say the idea of it made him a little wet… but his dick was hard and there was nothing he could do about it. But San could fix the problem… or make it tremendously worse. Mingi didn’t mind either way.
He stuck out his hand, “It’s Mingi.”
San smiled politely until something came over him. His eyes suddenly widened and his grin grew with them, a distinct firing of synapses crackling in the air as San put two and two together without needing a single hint. “Mingi!” he said excitedly. “Yeah! Oh man, how are you? Really?”
“I’m good! I really am! Sorry, I just thought I’d see if you recognized me.”
San laughed, “I didn’t recognize you, but I definitely noticed you.” his hand met his forehead. “This feels like fate.”
“You noticed me?” Mingi asked. “From across the gym?”
“Yeah. I’ve been sort of watching you, not to be weird or anything. I can tell it’s your first couple months, but you look really good, man!”
“Wow, that’s crazy.”
“Do you want to, like, get dinner? We should catch up!”
Mingi’s breath hitched in his throat. “After this?” he asked, hoping his voice hadn't pitched itself up with nerves.
One of San’s eyebrows raised slightly, the action creating a stupid amount of heat in Mingi’s stomach for how subtle it was. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
“Yeah,” Mingi said on reflex, his hand coming up to tug at the string of his black hoodie and mouth gone dry. He wanted to smack himself when San’s face fell and his words registered.“I mean, no. Sorry. No. I do not.”
San’s eyes were earnest as he said, “So, dinner?”
“What’s your schedule looking like for cheat days?”
The grin San cracked was mischievous. It was so fucking obvious that Mingi had him hook, line, and sinker. “What did you have in mind?”
(⫘⫘⫘(⚠)⫘⫘⫘)
The cheat day dinner decision came in the form of a Thai restaurant with the best dumplings Mingi had ever had in his life. They showered and changed at the gym, Mingi thanking the lord he had packed his cologne because the idea of smelling like nothing around someone as good looking as San made him feel somewhat naked. He kept his sweatshirt and shorts on, but changed the tank top underneath for a fresh one, hoping that his sweat wouldn’t stick to him enough for San to notice.
The walk was about fifteen minutes from the gym, but San offered to drive despite the warm weather and less than crowded streets. Mingi had easily talked him into walking, saying it would give them more time to talk. San had jumped at the opportunity once Mingi had made it a bonding opportunity. It was nice to see he still wore his heart on his sleeve.
Mingi learned a few things about San as they stepped over cracks in the concrete and past pawn shops and dispensaries. One; he had just graduated with a business degree and had moved here a few months ago for law school (which Mingi had gagged at on instinct and San had laughed so hard he snorted between Mingi’s apologies). Two; he had been working out religiously for the past three years. and three; he had a cat named Byeol whose pictures filled his camera roll… intersected once or twice by a nude photo that Mingi half caught a glance at before San was zooming in on Byeol and cooing at her silly antics.
San was organized. San was big. San was kind. San was a whore. Mingi felt dizzy.
“I’m still in school actually,” Mingi was telling San as they slid onto the stools facing the window of the small restaurant. “I took a gap year and a half before enrolling. Moved down here for work and college followed.”
“What are you studying?”
“Music composition with a minor in graphic design in case music doesn't work out.”
“You were always good at the recorder,” San said with a wry smile. Mingi pushed him, San holding sturdier than a rock.
“C’mon, don't tease me,” Mingi whined.
“No, I'm so serious. You were always on beat,” San said. “Do you play any instruments now?”
“I still play piano and bass guitar.”
“Wow. Bass guitar. That’s kinda hot,” San let slip, an easy smile on his face and Mingi began to die on the spot. His soul started to escape out of his mouth and he shut it with force to keep the rest of him from leaking out. San picked up his water and put it to his lips, mouth twitching around the rim of the glass as he took a sip and Mingi fumbled for anything to say.
“Way sexier than your business degree,” he decided and San nearly choked on his drink as he laughed, the sound like music to Mingi’s ears.
They ordered a couple things to share, plenty of dumplings, skewers, egg rolls, a noodle dish. Conversation flowed easily between them, topics coming and going like ships on the horizon. It was with familiar ease that they delved into things and San was far from shy with his comments. It eased Mingi into flirting back none to subtly as the man to his right doled out compliments like some sort of gacha machine. Food came and went and soon Mingi was gripped with an emptiness as he considered having to part ways with San.
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Mingi found himself asking as San signed the bill—the other having insisted on paying for the both of them with his Big Boy Job at a firm. Mingi’s Big Boy Job at a tourist tshirt shop was not quite as lucrative so he appreciated the gesture. Besides San’s willingness to buy him dinner was almost more mouth watering than the dumplings themselves. Mingi’s contribution to the hang was going to be snacks and candy. And lube and condoms if they got that far. He had been taking packets from the transgender health center and to his luck, he had just had an appointment last week so the condoms were definitely not expired.
San shook his head, a last mouthful of food between his teeth as he signed the bottom of the receipt in a flourish. Mingi didn't understand how a nice signature could make him feel like a damn fool but here was San with his stupidly nice swoops and lines, making Mingi’s head hurt with lust.
“No, I'm free,” San said as he swallowed.
Mingi didn't hesitate before saying, “Do you want to maybe help me bleach my hair? I've been meaning to for a while.”
San's eyes went wide. “I've never bleached hair before,” he said.
Mingi waived his concern off. “It'll be fine, I’ll walk you through it.”
“What if I mess up?”
“San, you'll be so fine.”
“Okay, but if it turns out weird-”
“I'll just cuss you out in my head every time I look at a mirror,” Mingi argued. His hair was the one thing he wasn’t picky about. San could make it look any which way but Mingi figured a bad dye job would be worth it by the time the night was over.
“Alright,” San said. “I can do it.”
“You can do it,” Mingi cheered him on, standing from his stool. San followed. “There's a Walgreens nextdoor. We can stop for bleach and snacks before going to my place.”
“You still want snacks?” San laughed, gesturing to the plates sitting out on the bar, all empty.
“A sweet treat never hurt anybody, besides, you said it was your cheat day.”
San smiled. “I did say that.”
“So what's the hold up?”
“Alright, Mingi. You strike a hard bargain.”
“Maybe I should be a law student.”
“You wouldn't last a day in court.”
“Says the kid who cried everyday in elementary,” Mingi said, pushing the door to the restaurant open for the both of them and San’s face twisted into a grimace as he angled himself to slip past Mingi.
“I did do that,” he said none too proudly. “You used to tell me to shut up and hit me.”
Mingi’s mouth flattened at the reminder. “I’d like to formally apologize for my behavior,” he said as he stepped outside behind San.
San put a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, the weight comforting. “I’m sorry that I clung to you. I must’ve been so annoying.”
“I probably shouldn’t have bullied you.” Mingi cringes at the memory.
“Did you really?” San asked, looking oblivious under the streetlights.
“I was mean as hell, San. Don’t you remember? I, like, made sure to break up with you in front of an audience.”
“You weren’t really that mean.”
“It didn’t scar you for life?”
San thought for a moment. “No. I think you were just my type.”
“Oh.”
“You say oh a lot,” San commented. “It’s cute.”
Mingi lips moved before he could stop them. “So I’m still your type?”
San stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, Mingi breaking with him so he didn’t bowl over the shorter man. San turned back fully and looked Mingi up and down, eyes casting over every inch of Mingi’s body.
“I’d say so,” he said and Mingi felt his cheeks warm.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely,” San continued.
“So when we get to my place…?”
“I’ll bleach your hair,” San said cheekily, spinning on his heel as they approached the Walgreens. Mingi watched San fish a box of American Spirits from his pocket, feeling like he had just suffered severe whiplash going 90 miles an hour on the highway. San shook a cigarette from his box and placed it between his lips. “Go get what you need. I need to indulge a craving,” he said around the butt of the cigarette and leaned against the brick wall outside the building, watching Mingi with expecting eyes.
Mingi had expected there to be a vape in San’s pocket with all his Gym Bro tendencies. Somehow cigarettes were far hotter. Mingi wouldn’t touch a vape anymore, not after his freshman year when half his student job income went to procuring fruity death traps. He wouldn’t buy cigarettes either, but watching San bring his nice, silver zippo lighter out of his pocket and strike a flame had Mingi’s brain chanting for nicotine.
“Save some for me,” Mingi said, getting ready to go inside. San smiled as the cigarette glowed red. He pulled the stick from between his lips and exhaled.
“Of course. Be quick about it.”
Needless to say, Mingi had never done a quicker Walgreens run. He was in and out of the store within 5 minutes, a plastic bag hanging from his arm with a bleach kit, one of the big bags of Nerd Clusters, a bottle of ginger ale, and some Doritos tucked away inside.
San was still leaning on the wall when Mingi returned, one leg kicked up against the brick and the cigarette smoldering between his pointer and middle finger. He pushed off the surface as Mingi approached, falling into step with Mingi as they headed back the way they came.
Mingi reached out for the cigarette and San slipped it between his fingers. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” San said and Mingi took a long drag, their stride never breaking. It was ridiculous how in sync Mingi felt with the other man. “Do you have parking around yours or should I leave my car at the gym?”
“Up to you,” Mingi told him. “It’s only a six minute walk.”
“I’ll leave it,” San decided, taking the cigarette back from Mingi as Mingi exhaled the smoke up into the clouds. Just the action of smoking had Mingi’s brain slowing, the grip of nicotine not quite wrapped around his neck yet, but the placebo there without question.
“How come you smoke?” Mingi asked San as the other tapped the ashes from the butt of the cigarette.
“I used to vape, but I didn’t like how accessible it was. I’m trying to quit… it’s just…”
“Hard?”
San bit down around the cigarette, smiling at the cracks in the sidewalk like they knew his secrets. “Hard.”
“I get that,” Mingi said. “Took me almost a year.”
“Oh yeah? What was your secret?”
“Being dead broke.”
San laughed. “That would help.”
“You have too much expendable income to quit,” Mingi quipped as San passed the cigarette back to him.
“Every time I’m reminded of my salary, I have a stroke.”
“Not used to it?”
San shook his head. “Not in the slightest. But it got me a nice car.”
“What do you drive?” Mingi narrowed his eyes when San hesitated to answer. “Seriously, what do you drive?” he repeated.
“An Audi.”
“Fucking hell,” Mingi hissed and San gave an embarrassed laugh, grabbing the cigarette from Mingi’s fingers and taking a drag of shame. “At least you have some shame about it.”
San coughed on the exhale. “Look,” he started slowly, but Mingi didn’t let him finish.
“Nope. I won’t do it. I will be closing my eyes. I don’t want to know anything about your business degree and firm job and Audi… unless you’ve considered becoming a sugar daddy.”
San was suspiciously silent. It had Mingi wondering if he had offended the other, but San only looked a little red in the face and contemplative as the cigarette burned down to the filter. He bent down to snub it out against the concrete, but kept the butt in hand, tossing it into a trash can as they passed by.
“I wouldn’t mind buying you things,” San said suddenly.
Mingi grinned. “Not to be a freak, but I think we should get married. Obviously not because I think I’d make a great stay at home dad whose music career needs supporting.”
San shook his head, a smile creeping over his features. “Yah,” he said with mock annoyance. “I already proposed to you once and you had the gall to shove me in the mud and say we were no longer boyfriend girlfriend.”
“Times have changed,” Mingi said with a shrug. “The currency in play is no longer Silly Bands.”
“Do you still have yours?” San asked and Mingi tipped a flattened hand back and forth. He still had some of them tucked away in a shoebox alongside his Pokemon cards and his pet rock, a couple other trinkets lining the bottom of the box. “I remember giving you a shark.”
That one Mingi did have. San mentioning it brought up the memory of trading San for a black cat band on the playground, Mingi hanging upside down from the monkey bars as he slid the cat off his wrist and told San to take good care of it or he’d “kill him”. The shark had always been Mingi’s favorite; made of transparent blue plastic that glowed in the dark of Mingi’s cupped palm after recess. He had packed it away with a wolf and a chicken after cleaning his childhood bedroom before his departure to college. The rest of his extensive Silly Band collection had gone to Goodwill.
“I definitely still have that one,” Mingi said with a grin. “It was the best one. Obviously.”
“You kept it,” San said, a sort of sappy, melancholy smile on his face. His voice sounded wet and for some reason Mingi was suddenly worried that San would cry. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s not because I liked you or anything. It was just cool.”
“I know. That’s why I gave it to you,” San told Mingi, his hand wandering to brush against Mingi’s fingers. “I think I wanted you to think I was cool too.”
Mingi sighed. “Once a loser, always a loser,” he said playfully before grabbing San’s hand in his. “C’mon, my place is right up ahead.”
(⫘⫘⫘(⚠)⫘⫘⫘)
San and Mingi arrived at Mingi’s apartment out of breath. After Mingi had tugged them into the small space in front of the stairs, he had let San’s hand go and raced him up the stairs. San had always been a bit competitive though, and he had pushed past Mingi, taking each step two at a time. When Mingi had stumbled trying to follow him, San had quickly reached back, holding Mingi by his waist so he didn’t fall down the stairs and crack his head open on the tile next to the mail boxes.
“Careful,” San had said patronizingly.
“Don’t drop me,” Mingi warned and San smiled before hauling Mingi upright with surprising ease.
“I think it’s safe to say I won,” San said as they climbed the final three steps at a slower pace, Mingi going to unlock the door.
“Won what?”
“The race,” San said with a smile as Mingi swung his front door open and San stepped past him to enter the apartment first, eyes darting around with poorly concealed curiosity. “At least you’re a loser with a nice place.”
Mingi shook his head, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Once a loser, always a loser,” San quoted. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to use it more.”
“But not on me.”
San hummed, wandering towards Mingi’s kitchen and peeking past the doorway. “I don’t know. Almost falling down the stairs is loser behavior.”
Mingi scoffed at the words, rolling his eyes in a big circle as San began to inspect Mingi’s record player and the other trinkets on his shelf. “I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t pushed me.”
“I caught you though.”
“And?”
“You didn’t think that was smooth?” San said, looking away from the skeleton figurine Mingi had breakdancing under his tv.
“Sorry, there was too much adrenaline pumping through my veins at the thought of dying to appreciate your hand on my waist,” said Mingi, rolling his eyes again. San just smirked and walked to the couch, falling back against the cushions with his hands laid over the back and his legs open wide. He looked particularly edible like this, thighs hugged tight by black slacks and dark hair sticking up from running his hand through it on the walk. His t-shirt was loose, but not too loose and the black fabric clung to his arms and chest.
“Do you have roommates?” San asked, eyes flicking up to meet Mingi’s.
“I already gave him a heads up,” Mingi told San. “He won’t be back until around midnight. Said he’s going to the bars.” San nodded slowly and Mingi swallowed, unable to keep his eyes from raking over San’s figure in a way that had the other man smiling like a pleased cat.
“I’m glad we both agree bleaching your hair might take awhile.”
Mingi cleared his throat and jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom. “Shall we?”
“Sure,” said San, standing up and following Mingi to the small space. Mingi grabbed the Walgreens bag on his way.
The bleach smelled of burning chemicals and had San making a face as he inhaled the scent after the bottle was mixed and opened. It would be obvious it was the other man’s first time bleaching anything by that reaction even if San hadn’t told him in the first place. Mingi had laughed at him and San pouted, making some excuse as he squirted bleach over Mingi’s scalp, his eyes watering at the smell. He had locked in after that, letting Mingi talk but not being one for conversation as he did his best to spread the bleach evenly throughout Mingi’s bangs and mullet. Mingi stopped talking about halfway through, trying not to purr as San’s gloved hands ran over his scalp, gently applying the bleach and rubbing it into each strand of hair with meticulous precision. Mingi busted out the Nerd Clusters and popped them in his mouth just for something to do other than watch San’s reflection in the mirror from where Mingi sat below, hunched on a small stool so San would be able to work on his hair at a good angle.
As San worked on Mingi’s lower hairs, he began to hum, the tune something Mingi wasn’t familiar with. His ability to hit the notes was far more attractive than it should’ve been and had Mingi pausing in his chewing to listen, pussy throbbing just a little bit.
Then the bleach was in. There was nothing else to do. Mingi felt his heart rate pick up at the realization. It was just him and San in his bathroom with San’s lips wrapped around the bottle of ginger ale Mingi had picked up from Walgreens, his Adam’s apple pumping up and down with each sip in a way that had Mingi’s gut alight with want. His head was angled just the right amount, chin tipped to the sky as his profile screamed artwork. And of fucking course there was his throat. His thick neck and his goddamn throat. Mingi’s mouth felt dryer than Arizona.
“Hey,” he managed to croak out and San’s eyes flicked over to meet his. He pulled the green bottle away from his lips and wiped at them with the back of his hand, keeping his eyes on Mingi the whole time. San’s eyebrows raised as if to ask Mingi' what? “The bleach is gonna take about an hour to set.”
San did a double take. “An hour?” he said, looking shocked. His grip had strengthened considerably around the bottle, the plastic making a crunch as San’s knuckles tightened. Mingi’s gut did the same.
“Do you want to… do something?” Mingi asked, fully prepared to set up his xbox if San couldn’t take a hint, but he was more than lucky. Maybe even Golden Ticket lucky, because San pushed up from his place against the shower stall and strode over to Mingi, placing the ginger ale atop the toilet tank as he did so. One hand shot out past Mingi’s head and hit the wall behind Mingi’s stool and San leaned over Mingi, making Mingi feel smaller than he ever had in his life. San’s eyes darted across Mingi’s face as he stared down, his face a mask of intensity as Mingi swallowed his words down and stared back, unsure where to put his hands and what to tell the man in front of him. San didn’t use his big boy words when he chose to lean in, but he paused before his lips met Mingi’s, giving the man under him some time to recalibrate and understand the opportunity presented in front of him.
Mingi understood it well.
The thing was, Mingi hadn’t ever said he was explicitly into men like San Choi, that was to say cis and built stronger than steel, but he had never really had the chance to kiss men like San. Usually Mingi dated boys and girls who were more alt. Most of them had had an obsession with Twenty One Pilots or My Chemical Romance some time in their life and had never gone to the gym for anything other than kpop dance club. That was not San. San was an archetype that Mingi had always considered unattainable from the way cis men looked at him when they had seen his baby pictures or Mingi had been brave enough to tell them anything at all about his gender. There was curiosity, sometimes respect, but Mingi was almost always othered by men like San. Of course it was different if the man was queer, but men like San weren’t usually queer. Of course Mingi had been forced to do a double take when San had looked at him with eyes deepened with lust. He couldn’t believe it was real. Even with San’s lips hovering above his own, it was hard for Mingi to say that this wasn’t just some game to him. Fuck a trans man , Mingi had heard from some dumbass athlete in his dorm once who promised he was the straightest thing since wood planks, they’re an experience . That comment had stuck with Mingi throughout it all. It stuck with him even now as he met San’s lips, tasking the cigarette from earlier and strawberry chapstick.
San sighed into the kiss, happy to be kept from waiting and Mingi could feel him smile. San leaned down further, taking his hand off the wall and cupping Mingi’s cheek with his fingers. His other hand came to rest on Mingi’s shoulder.
San kissed so softly, like he was afraid that Mingi would bruise. Mingi liked it. He liked how gentle San was with him. San seemed to give a shit despite all of Mingi’s fears. Mingi pushed into him, asking for more and San delivered, matching Mingi’s pace with the ease of someone experienced. It was as if his heart beat in tune with Mingi’s.
San broke the kiss sooner than Mingi would’ve liked, and he was ready to complain, but San’s lips landed on his lower cheek, near his jawline and Mingi melted into the touch.
“Is it good?” San asked breathlessly and Mingi nodded, looking up at the other man with big eyes. San cooed at him and kissed his forehead where his hair wasn’t pulled back in the shower cap. He made a face when he tasted the bleach that still rested against Mingi’s skin despite them wiping it off.
“I want-” Mingi started, but he felt embarrassed to ask for more and more. Felt ashamed to ask for all of San. His eyes lowered to the tile of the bathroom, fixated on a crack in the white stone. From above San tsked and there were suddenly two fingers under Mingi’s chin, tilting his head upwards.
San was so gorgeous like this, haloed by the overhead lights, his skin somehow not washed out in the luminescence. The shadow he cast over Mingi made Mingi lose his breath.
“Tell me,” San asked softly, running his thumb over Mingi’s chin.
"I want…” Mingi tried again. He bit his bottom lip, holding it between his teeth in embarrassment. “I want more.”
San’s laugh was breathy. “Stand up,” he said firmly. Mingi stood without question, reversing their height difference as San was forced to retreat, his spine hitting the sink as he leaned back to take in all of Mingi. There was a smile on his face that made Mingi feel exposed despite having all his clothes on. “Sorry. My back was going to hurt if I kept kissing you like that,” San apologized.
“My bad,” Mingi told him and San shook his head.
“Come here,” he requested, using one finger to draw Mingi in. Mingi couldn’t help the blush that raised on his cheeks as he boxed San back against the sink, one hand on either side of his thick waist. San’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, then slowly slipped under the thick material of Mingi’s sweatshirt. Mingi’s breath hitched as San began to run his hands down Mingi’s biceps. His grip was like fire.
“You really have been lifting, huh?” San asked teasingly and Mingi’s clit twitched at the words.
“Wanna see?” he asked San and the other man nodded, taking his hands off Mingi’s shirt and crossing both arms across his chest. It highlighted his forearms, the veins running down them, and the rigidity of the muscle. San was so built it made Mingi stupid. Despite his inferior stature, Mingi took a deep breath, embedding himself with the confidence he needed to let the sweatshirt fall off his shoulders and slip to the ground. With his cheeks painted red, Mingi struck a pose, raising his arms to his head. San bared his teeth at the image as though he was in pain.
“Fuck. You’re so beautiful,” he said. Mingi flexed further, the bicep he had been working so hard to cultivate coming to life against his skin. San reached out, fingers gracing the muscle. “Are you a praise or degradation type of guy?” he asked, eyes splitting away from Mingi’s arm to look at Mingi’s face. Mingi swallowed heavily.
“Both,” he stuttered.
“Want to see mine?” San asked as if Mingi hadn’t spent their entire time at the gym watching San show off. But there was a certain temptation to seeing how San’s arms dwarfed his. San rolled up his sleeve, the fabric tightening severely on the seam of his shoulder, black tshirt digging into skin. When he flexed, Mingi feared that the fabric would rip. But in a good way. A gut clenching, heart pounding, dick throbbing type of way.
“What a slut,” Mingi said, unable to help himself. “You probably couldn’t wait to show off.”
The laugh San let out was dry, but the smile on his face and the sudden tightness in the front of his pants had Mingi biting his lip in anticipation.
“I’m not a slut,” argued San. But it was weak. Not a single thing to back up his claim.
“You so are,” Mingi bit back. San’s hands were tight against the crook of Mingi’s waist, gripping Mingi like that would somehow win his case. But this was a battle of wits and Mingi always chose his battles wisely. “Fucking built as shit and for what? To get hoes?”
“It’s a personal choice.”
“So how do the hoes like it?”
“I don’t know, Mingi,” San said, puffing out his chest to make his pecs look disgustingly good. “You tell me.”
Maybe this was a losing battle.
Mingi didn’t hold back when he grabbed hold of San’s boobs. One in each hand. They were soft, warm, and probably good pillows. Mingi wanted to bite them, he wanted to milk them. He wanted to see San’s perky nipples free of his shirt. San moaned, the sound absolutely filthy as he leaned further back against the sink, Mingi needing against his muscle.
“Don’t stop,” San growled, grabbing Mingi’s elbows and pulling him closer. San leaned forward with more urgency this time and Mingi met lips with him without a bit of hesitation. San kissed like a fucking freak now that he had Mingi rubbing against him. His tongue passed the barrier of Mingi’s teeth in a moment and licked around Mingi’s mouth as Mingi continued to fondle his chest, San’s hands moving to overlap Mingi’s bigger ones. With San guiding him, Mingi began to squeeze harder, pushing up and down as San’s pliant muscle bounced with the movement.
“Flex,” Mingi requested as San pulled away from his mouth to catch his breath, and Mingi gasped when San’s chest turned rock hard in his grasp. “Fucking hell-” Mingi started, but San’s mouth interrupted him before he could finish his statement. Fucking hell was all he really needed to express anyway. Because fuck. Fucking hell .
“You really,” Mingi breathed as he turned his mouth away from San, but still found himself caught up in the other man’s kisses. “You really get off on this shit, huh?”
San pulled away, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Why do you think I go to the gym six days a week?”
“Six days?” Mingi gaped, pussy wetter than ever, and San smiled.
"Mmmm,” he hummed. “Do you think it’s worth it, Mingi?”
Mingi squeezed San’s chest once more. “Worth it?”
“I’m asking.”
“Do I think it’s worth it?”
San scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Answer the question.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“You’ve always been so mean to me,” San lamented. “This is just like grade school.”
“I can be meaner,” Mingi threatened, but San’s eyes narrowed and a grin that made Mingi feel like his chest was constricting came over San’s lips.
“No you can’t.” San said simply and grabbed Mingi by the shoulders. Before Mingi could even register what was happening, San had flipped them, pushing Mingi’s pelvis up against the edge of the sink while San stood behind him.
San’s hand crinkled against the plastic of Mingi’s shower cap. “Makes it hard to pull your hair.”
Mingi flushed a deep red, able to see every pigment in his reflection in the mirror now that San wasn’t blocking his view. “D-don’t say that,” Mingi squeaked out.
“Why?” San asked insolently. “You like it, don’t you?”
“I do,” Mingi said. “I really do.”
“You used to hit me when I’d say just about anything to you in grade school. Now look at you,” San said, wrapping a thick arm around Mingi’s waist, his fingers playing with the hem of Mingi’s shirt as his lips pressed up against the shell of Mingi’s ear. “You’re begging for it.”
San’s kisses turned Mingi’s body electric. He could feel himself soaking through his boxers, could imagine how the release might drip down his thighs when he was stripped of them.
“You used to make me mud pies in the sand box and then cry when I wouldn’t eat them,” Mingi said weakly as San kissed his way down Mingi’s neck, slowly pressing plush lips against Mingi’s skin as if to savor the taste. Mingi could feel San smiling against him and imagined the cat-like grin on the man’s face as he faced the bathroom mirror, his own dark eyes staring back at him. He was too scared to look down. Too scared to watch San. “Do you remember that?”
San looked up for all but a moment, eyes twinkling with playful mirth. “Of course I do. You used to call me gross.”
“You were trying to feed me sand,” countered Mingi, a pout forming on his lips. San laughed lightly, his breath hitting Mingi's neck and making him shiver. San’s arm tightened around Mingi’s waist, and he ran his thumb against Mingi’s hip bone over the fabric of his tank top.
“Cute,” said San under his breath, voice husky as he pressed a kiss lower, near the junction between Mingi’s neck and shoulder, and Mingi’s own breath caught in his throat.
“What?” he asked.
“You,” San mused and Mingi couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow. “You’re cute.”
“Was I cuter back then?” Mingi asked suddenly.
Shame flooded Mingi’s system as he caught himself having opened his mouth before thinking. That was a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. A question he never should’ve asked. He didn’t know what he’d do if San looked him in the eyes and told him yes . Probably cry. Definitely cry. Maybe break something. Or hit San. Or just. Stop. Then get over it and keep moving. Like always.
Mingi’s gaze nervously flitted down to where San’s face could be seen in the crook of his shoulder. There was a thoughtful look on his face that eased Mingi’s nerves but not the shame. San was kind. They hadn’t reconnected for long, but there was no shadow of a kid with too many attachment issues lingering behind him. No warning signs that made Mingi think this was all some ruse to get back at him for breaking six year old San’s heart. Just warmth and acceptance. But San shouldn’t have to answer something like this. It was dangerous treading around the broken glass that made up Mingi’s identity—too easy to leave with shards buried in your skin.
“On second thought,” Mingi said before San could open his mouth. “Don’t answer that.”
San looked up at their reflection intertwined in the mirror, his face having gone soft. He brought his other arm to rest around Mingi’s midsection, holding him gently. With a sigh he rested his chin on Mingi’s shoulder.
“It’s different,” San said despite it all. “You’re older and different, but you’re still you. Same way I’ve grown and changed. It’s not about what you look like or what labels you want to use. Or gender, just to be direct. If I cared about that, I wouldn’t be here. So don’t worry. We are who we are right now, not six and full of cooties. And you know… unhappy with ourselves.”
“That was…” Mingi began. “Well put. Really well put,” he breathed out. The release felt good. He had been unaware of how trapped he had felt while San was talking. So unsure. But with San’s words came a wash of joy. Easy breathable joy. Mingi giggled, leaning on the man behind him. “But just for the record, you still have cooties.”
“If I have cooties, you have cooties,” San laughed, burying his face in Mingi’s shoulder.
“You’re born with cooties, you can’t transition into them,” Mingi
“Nope. You definitely have cooties. I’ve gotten mine all over you.”
“That’s so gross,” Mingi said, turning his head to the side and reaching up to grab San’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger.
“You like it when I’m gross,” San hummed, pleased, before he met Mingi’s lips.
They kissed for what felt like an eternity before Mingi felt San’s thick fingers brush up against his crotch, the other man making a confused noise as his fingers caught on the fabric of Mingi’s shorts instead of the raging boner Mingi was supposed to have. Mingi cringed, but his posture softened when San pulled away from the kiss, lightly giggling to himself.
“I totally forgot,” San san through his laughter, and Mingi found himself giggling along. He leaned down towards San and San leaned up, bumping their foreheads together. “What do you want to do?” San asked, his face so close to Mingi’s, Mingi could feel his air being stolen away.
“I kind of want you to fuck me,” Mingi said honestly. San’s dick was pressing against the bottom of his ass, rock hard and begging for attention. It had Mingi’s pride soaring. To get a man that hard had to be a skill in itself. Mingi leaned his ass back slightly, unable to hold back a grin as San’s dick pressed up against him harder, chasing the contact when Mingi pulled away. Mingi could see that San was biting his lip in the mirror and had half a mind to praise the man for his self control.
“Mingi,” San said pathetically, burying his face into Mingi’s shoulder and groaning, the vibrations sending themselves down Mingi’s spine and lodging themselves deep inside Mingi’s soul.
“I mean it, you should fuck me,” Mingi repeated and San’s hips jerked forward, surprising Mingi and causing his hips to hit the sink, his mouth having fallen open in shock.
San was fucking big. Mingi couldn’t really tell how big, but shit. Shit .
It had been awhile since Mingi had taken anything, usually preferring to play with his clit by himself and (unfortunately) designated to top most of the time with others because he was tall and could pretend to be abrasive when he felt like it. But Mingi had always preferred to bottom. He always knew that about himself. He just always got caught in roles and what people suspected it should be like. Usually he was sticking his fingers in other people and on occasion, putting on a strap that made him feel fucking rediculous. Sure Mingi had wanted a dick for as long as he understood what it meant, but wearing a strap on didn’t cure the symptoms. Mingi would’ve just rather just pretended his clit was a micro penis and left it at that. It was definitely big enough to make a statement. Just not big enough to fuck.
Mingi had only gotten dicked down with something other than a silicon strap once, and that had been his first year of college. The experience had been okay… but the dick was smaller than all but one of the dildos Mingi had ever owned. The beginner one. The one Mingi had bought on his seventeenth birthday. It was just slightly disappointing. Mingi didn’t hold anything against the guy, he was nice and funny enough to get Mingi wet, but eh.
Mingi wouldn’t call himself a size queen, but then he thought about it… about the outline of San’s dick… maybe he’d introduce a new label tonight.
“Take your clothes off,” Mingi said quietly and San stepped away from him, giving Mingi room to turn around and watch as San stripped himself.
San started with the button and rid himself of his black slacks, making a face as his hands slid past his overly hard member. With the pants out of the way, Mingi could see now a little better just what kind of effect he had upon the man in front of him. San’s cock tented his underwear, a wet patch having started to form where his tip pressed against the fabric.
Mingi’s mind raced with all the gay anime fanfiction he had consumed, the adventures of Naruto and Sauske informing his next move. As San hooked a finger in his briefs, bringing the grey fabric under his ass and allowing his cock to poke over the waistband, the head glowing pink with need, Mingi reached out. His thumb edged over San’s slit, transfixed with the way he could see San’s stomach flex at the touch.
“And the shirt,” Mingi said, his eyes darting up to meet San’s. They were wild, but there was a distinct repression to them. The desire to allow Mingi to lead no matter how strained his self control might have been. “C’mon,” Mingi prodded, bringing his hand lower to hold the length of San’s cock. He couldn’t hold the length in his palm, but his fingers wrapped around it despite the thickness. Mingi didn’t begin to pump his fist until San’s shirt was halfway over his head. With the first stroke, San froze, but with the second, he was moving faster than ever, throwing the shirt aside and placing his arms around Mingi’s neck. Mingi pumped his fist slowly, feeling rather insane about the nude man in front of him.
San’s physique was insane. His dick was insane. The way he dug his teeth into his lip to hold back a moan when Mingi spit into his hand and went back to stroking was insane.
“Feels good,” San groaned, ducking his head, his entire body having tensed with Mingi’s touch.
“You might not make it to fucking me.”
“No,” San argued. “Mmm. I want to fuck you. Want to be inside you.”
“Then don’t cum,” Mingi teased.
San’s grip wound around the back of Mingi’s neck. “Fuck, Mingi,” he said, squeezing Mingi’s neck with poorly contained force. The feeling had Mingi’s eyelids fluttering.
“I wish you were fucking me,” he said, deep voice breathy with lust. His words were weak. So weak.
San’s eyes snapped up to meet Mingi’s, fire alight in his pupils. “Go get your condoms.” Mingi nodded. San fell back to lean against the wall.
“Make it quick,” San said, brushing his hand softly down his abs. His fingers found their place between his abs, playing against the muscle.
“Can we just do it?” Mingi asked, his focus dialed in on San, but San shook his head.
“I know all your eggs could be dead, but I’d rather not get you pregnant.”
“You know what?” Mingi said, sort of wanting to say some line about transphobia to speed the process of getting San’s cock inside him along, but San wasn’t wrong. And he knew something about the effects of testosterone. That was kind of hot. “How do you know that?”
“My roommate’s trans,” San explained. “He likes to go on tangents.”
“Oh.”
So, hypothetically, San was well versed in Mingi’s anatomy. And an ally—not that Mingi had suspected anything else, but there was always the threat of something terribly transphobic coming out of a cis man’s mouth. Especially a cis man with a business degree. This lessened the likelihood of Mingi having to listen to the worst take he had ever heard come from San.
“Condoms?” San reminded gently when Mingi didn’t move a muscle, too overcome by his own fantasies of what itches San could scratch without digging his nails too deep underneath Mingi’s skin. Mingi was a masochist, but having marks never felt good in the morning. They stung and dripped blood and Mingi blamed himself for partners tearing too deep.
Mingi was always called sensitive. The more he aged, the less he lashed out, instead taking everything to heart, letting it linger against his arteries, slowing the blood that pumped through his veins, and tiring him till he was but a shell. His porcelain skin had grown cracks. He was delicate. He needed FRAGILE! stamped across his forehead as warning. Rather than being hurt, Mingi would choose to be held gently. Have his identity treated like ceramics. Something beautiful to admire—to be polished and shined occasionally. Allowed to be formed however he wanted and have people view him as art.
Mingi turned around to face the bathroom mirror, opening up the cabinet behind it and pulling out the condoms he kept there, only to hear San laugh lightly behind him.
“You made such a fuss and they were just behind the mirror?” San asked and Mingi closed the cabinet door, to stare at him deadpan in the reflection of the mirror. San looked pleased, a smug expression on his lips. He probably was horny at the idea that Mingi would take him bareback. Mingi couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the implication.
San pushed off the wall, crossing the meager distance to press up against Mingi’s ass again, his cock warm through the fabric of Mingi’s shorts. One hand snaked its way over Mingi’s torso, holding Mingi firmly against San’s built torso while the other snaked down over Mingi’s pelvis, fingers skating over the waistband of the shorts. And Mingi could see it all in the mirror. He looked fucking hot like this, all wrapped up in San’s arms, despite the rediculous shower cap.
San tugged on Mingi’s waistband. “Can I?” he asked, lips so close to Mingi’s ear that it felt like San was already inside of him. Mingi nodded feverishly and San’s hand slipped below his waistband, two fingers skating over Mingi’s pubes as they traveled farther towards Mingi’s throbbing pussy. San’s first caress of Mingi’s clit had Mingi trembling in his arms, suddenly overcome with want.
“What language do you want me to use?” San asked, voice all sultry despite the subject matter.
“Any,” Mingi told him. “I don’t mind vagina terms.”
Mingi whimpered as San bit the lobe of his ear, a hum vibrating through Mingi’s skin. Another whimper escaped as San stroked again.
“You’re so wet,” San cooed as he pushed the tip of his finger inside Mingi, stroking gently before using the slick on his fingers to massage Mingi’s dick. Mingi’s knees knocked together. He was so fucking gone. This was it. This was going to be the orgasm that made him spontaneously combust.
“That’s- That’s good,” he reassured San and San looked up so they met eyes in the mirror.
“I know it’s good, baby,” San said. “You’re practically dripping.”
Mingi’s lip was bitten into by his canines as San began to pull Mingi’s tank top up, the hand that had rested on Mingi’s waist now traveling under the shirt. Mingi’s body tensed as San’s fingers ran over the scar on Mingi’s left pec, the feeling still somewhat numb despite how long it had been since the surgery. He could barely feel it when San’s fingers casted over his nipple until San pinched and Mingi’s body instinctively leaned forward. San’s finger had slipped deeper into him, a second one slowly sliding deeper into his hole. San’s thumb played with Mingi’s clit, rubbing the protrusion in circles that had Mingi’s thighs clenching in pleasure.
“You’ll look so pretty when you come.”
San appeared delirious as Mingi eyed him in the mirror. His face was alight with pleasure, dick rock hard against Mingi’s ass. When Mingi made a noise, a whine, and San’s handsome features screwed up, jaw clenching as he pushed his fingers in and out of Mingi at a quickening pace. When Mingi moaned, San’s jaw clenched harder and hips stuttered, pushing his dick further against Mingi. A wet spot was beginning to form on the back of Mingi’s shorts .
Mingi shivered, feeling close to release as San stretched him out good, getting his fingers to hard to reach places that had Mingi’s mouth falling open and drool practically dripping to the countertop. The tips of his thick fingers pushed up against the sensitive flesh inside of Mingi, and Mingi gripped the countertop as San rubbed against it.
He was so hard.
San’s attention to his clit made Mingi let out a rumbly groan of pleasure as he threw his head back and let it rest on San’s broad shoulder. He inhaled sharply, trying to hold back the inevitable.
“I’m gonna,” Mingi started, his tone wobbly, and San’s head pushed into the side of his face like a cat nuzzling its person. A kiss was pressed against Mingi’s jawline that had his head spinning.
“Gonna what, Mingi?” San growled. That was all it took for Mingi’s legs to shake with the force of his orgasm. San caught Mingi as he slumped against the sink, the world swaying with after release bliss. Mingi barely noticed through the haze as San stripped him of his shorts until he felt San lean over him, the man’s dick meeting bare flesh as he reached for the condoms on the counter.
“Good warmup,” Mingi panted, accepting he had little time to recover and pushing his forehead against the cool linoleum of the bathroom counter. “You gonna put it in?”
“Patience,” said San and Mingi heard the tearing of plastic as San opened the condom and rolled it over his cock. “We’ll take it slow.”
“But I want it,” Mingi whined and he listened to San tsk his tongue.
San’s dick pushed against Mingi’s entrance, his cockhead thick. “Patience,” San repeated and began to push into Mingi, filling him up. San’s cock was as big on the outside as it was on the inside, and Mingi could feel the girth of it pressing against his organs, stretching him open like a toy. He bit his lip as the stretch turned somewhat painful.
“ Fuck ,” Mingi sighed.
San’s movement stopped. “All good?” he asked and Mingi nodded pathetically, unable to look up from the sink’s counter. It was so much. San may have been shorter than Mingi’s biggest dildo, but he was so thick, easily rivaling the silicone monster. It was heaven on earth to feel him so deep inside. When San resumed, he pushed in harder, using Mingi’s release to grease his way till he slipped all the way into Mingi, his hips meeting Mingi’s ass. San’s hands came down to grab Mingi’s hips, his fingers laying in the grooves of Mingi’s pelvis. As San began to thrust, his grip tightened, not unpleasantly so, but enough to make Mingi feel safe in his grasp, like San would hold on through the toughest of storms.
“Don’t let me go,” Mingi murmured and San pressed a kiss against his neck, hips stuttering as he pushed in and out.
San was already out of breath when he said, “I would never let you go.”
“Show me,” Mingi said through clenched teeth. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
San’s pace became rougher in a second and Mingi felt his hip be slammed up against the sink, every medicine in the cabinet rattling behind the mirror as San pummeled into Mingi, knocking the wind out of the taller man.
“ Please ,” Mingi heaved and San thrust even deeper, hitting Mingi where it felt good and making Mingi’s gut coil with want. He groaned, and San’s voice harmonized, creating a filthy melody that echoed off the bathroom’s walls. San’s dick seemed to throb inside Mingi as it happened, like his heartbeat was trapped inside the member. The counter rattled again as Mingi was slammed into it, only managing to get his hands to brace himself at the last minute. “ San, ” Mingi cried out as San’s thrust forward once more, his stamina seemingly boundless. San fucked to his strengths it seemed. That was, he fucked with all of his strenth, and there was a lot of it.
Mingi could feel warmth dripping down his inner thigh. He shook as San pounded into him, the man making breathy moans and groans as his dick slid in and out of Mingi’s tight cunt.
“You’re so warm,” San said through clenched teeth before Mingi felt it.
San’s arms wrapped around Mingi’s waist as he came into the condom, squeezing Mingi tight as though he might disappear once San finished. Mingi could feel his cock clenching with the release and the warmth of the cum filling the condom. It made him orgasm for the second time that night, elbows hitting the counter as his legs failed to hold him steady. San groaned as Mingi clenched around him. San kept him from falling to the floor in a puddle like he would’ve preferred.
“You just come?” San asked, his words somewhat slurred.
Mingi nodded. “Yeah,” he said, trying to catch his breath.
Mingi felt San smile against his skin, the other man pressing a chaste kiss against Mingi’s neck before leaning over Mingi’s body to gain access to his lips. Mingi obliged, turning his head and met San in the middle, lazily kissing him as he garnered his wits about him.
“What are we going to do about the bleach?” asked San.
“Leave it in,” Mingi said, more than content to keep kissing the man behind him.
(⫘⫘⫘(⚠)⫘⫘⫘)
Mingi’s hair had been fried. His locks had turned a stunning shade of white blonde after San and he had kept screwing around, too caught up in each other to remember the bleach, though Mingi remembered the way his scalp stung before they had climbed in the shower together. The bleach had been left in for approximately an hour and a half, turning Mingi’s hair, which was dark brown with blonde highlights, into a light crunchy mess. It had taken several rounds of toner to get his hair where it was at now, a silvery white that framed Mingi’s face like an angel.
Or at least that’s how San put it.
They had been seeing each other a lot. Maybe too much, according to Yunho. He had come home from his rounds at the bar that fateful night to see San and Mingi on the couch together, dead asleep to a Godzilla film. He’d found them like that at least twice in the weeks since then as well.
San and Mingi weren’t officially anything, but Mingi liked San a lot. He liked his company and the way he talked. He liked San’s willful nature, sense of righteousness, and how he wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to take a look at. He liked the sex and the way San would always carry him into the shower if he was too sleepy to clean himself off. He liked how easy everything was with San, how natural it felt.
“Hey,” San said one night while they were spending time at his apartment. They had just curled up in bed, Mingi’s throat still a little raw from the head he had given San earlier that night.
Mingi cracked an eye open. “What’s up?”
“Promise you won’t push me in the mud for this?” San asked, smiling at his own joke, and Mingi knew what was coming.
“Depends on what it is.”
San hummed, rolling on to his side to face Mingi and Mingi did the same, resisting the urge to giggle when he saw how close they were. Sometimes sleeping with San came with the giddiness of an overnight field trip. Of being so close to your crush it made butterflies in your stomach.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend,” San asked, scooting even closer to Mingi until Mingi could see his own reflection in San’s dark irises.
“Yeah,” Mingi breathed out and watched with awe as San beamed, face lighting up like sunshine before he leaned forwards and met Mingi’s lips with his. The kiss was soft and chaste and Mingi could feel San’s smile through it all. It made it hard to keep his own under control. “I’m glad I met you. Again,” Mingi said softly as the kiss was broken.
“I don’t think I ever got over you,” San told him, a hand coming to play with the hair on the back of Mingi’s neck. “We’re tied together by fate.”
Mingi scoffed at the sappy sentence. “More like tied together by this dick,” he said, squeezing San’s crotch and delighting when the other man squirmed, Mingi laughing at him, unable to help the bubbling giggle that rose up his throat. San caught it with his lips and Mingi melted into the man next to him.
So what, Mingi was made up of shattered glass and pieces of porcelain. His shards could be turned into mosaics, his broken body tiling the path he wished to walk, their colors glinting in the sun. He’d lay down all of himself to walk hand and hand with San, to have San call him something beautiful. San could see the image of Mingi past the cracks and he responded with love. A deep care for the man he kept wrapped in his arms. Deep understanding permeating the walls that Mingi sought to protect himself with—breaking them down with ease.
In the end, San had always liked Mingi and San would always like Mingi. No matter what. Mingi understood that now more than ever.