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Seungmin wanted it again.
He wanted Changbin to grab him, hold him still, rough him up just enough to make his breath hitch. It had been replaying in his head ever since that night—Changbin’s hands firm on his wrist, the quiet authority in his voice, the way his body reacted before he could even think.
And he was frustrated.
Not with Changbin. With himself.
Because he didn’t know how to ask.
Teasing was second nature to him—his shield, his weapon, his way of keeping control. But this? This made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. It was easy to poke and prod, to push just enough to get a reaction, but what he really wanted—what he needed—felt impossible to put into words.
So instead, he kept pushing.
Waiting.
Testing the limits.
The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning glow, silent except for the quiet drip of the coffee machine and the low rustle of fabric as Seungmin leaned against the counter. He watched Changbin wash dishes with methodical focus, his strong forearms flexing with each motion.
Seungmin smirked, voice low and teasing. “You clean like someone’s judging you for it.”
Changbin didn’t look up. “Someone is judging me.”
“I’d never,” Seungmin replied, grabbing a piece of fruit and popping it into his mouth. He put the empty bowl into the sink just after Changbin finished washing up.
That got Changbin’s attention. He dried his hands slowly, turning, eyes narrowing with that familiar glint.
“You keep pushing,” he warned, stepping forward.
Seungmin’s voice dropped, breath hitching just enough to betray him.
In a heartbeat, Changbin was there, catching Seungmin’s wrists and pushing him back against the counter. He twisted his arms gently behind his back, watching for the flicker in Seungmin’s eyes. Not fear—no, it was the opposite. A glimmer of want, of trust.
“You okay?” Changbin murmured, voice low and close.
Seungmin swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes.”
Changbin’s mouth found the corner of his jaw, then lower, tracing heat along his neck. He held Seungmin steady, breathing against his skin as his hands tightened ever so slightly around his wrists.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered. “Just—don’t let go.” Seungmin replied, barely audible.
“I won’t.”
The moment was thick, charged. Seungmin’s breath was ragged, hips barely moving—testing, grinding gently into Changbin’s thigh. He gasped when Changbin pressed him firmer into the counter, kissing him now, deep and slow. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth open with each moan, the heat pooling low and fast.
He barely noticed the tears in his eyes until they fell. Pleasure, tension, release—it blurred everything. He felt raw and adored and undone all at once.
Then the door opened.
“What the hell is going on?!”
Chan’s voice rang like a thunderclap.
Everything stopped. Seungmin froze. Changbin’s grip loosened instantly, but Seungmin didn’t move. His chest heaved, face still wet, pupils blown wide—not from fear, but from being so utterly overwhelmed.
Chan rushed forward. “Did he hurt you? What is this?! Seungmin—are you okay?!”
Seungmin turned slightly, eyes wide, lips parted, still too breathless to answer. His body trembled as the shame hit him hard and fast.
“What were you doing?” Chan barked at Changbin. “He’s crying—he looks scared—what did you do?!”
Changbin raised both hands slowly, stepping in front of Seungmin without shielding him completely. “Hyung. Please. It’s not what you think—”
“It looks like you cornered him, held him down—are you out of your mind?!” Chan snapped, chest rising. “This isn’t a joke, Changbin. This is serious. What if I hadn’t walked in?”
“Hyung—stop.” Changbin’s voice was low but firm.
Chan’s eyes darted back to Seungmin.
Seungmin, who had stayed silent—not because he was scared, but because he was struggling to catch his breath, to centre himself again. Now he pushed forward, clutching the back of Changbin’s hoodie and stepping into his space, curling into his chest like a lifeline.
“Ihe didn’t do anything I didn’t want…” he said softly.
Chan’s expression crumbled. “Wait—Seungmin—”
“I’m okay,” he insisted, voice shaking but steady. “We were just—together. He asked. I said yes.”
“You… wanted that?” Chan asked, voice cracking slightly.
“Yes.”
Silence fell. The tension in the room slowly bled out as realization sank into Chan’s expression. His shoulders dropped, guilt rushing in.
“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—when I saw your face, the tears—I panicked. I didn’t even think.”
“I get it,” Seungmin said, still clinging to Changbin. “It’s okay.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Changbin added gently, meeting Chan’s gaze. “You were looking out for him. But I promise, I’d never hurt him.”
Chan exhaled sharply and rubbed his hands over his face. “I believe you. I do. I just—can we talk about this later? I need to… un-see this.”
Seungmin breathed out, a small, shaky sound muffled by Changbin’s hoodie.
“I hate everything,” Chan muttered as he backed out, leaving the two of them alone again.
Changbin tilted Seungmin’s chin up. “You okay?”
Seungmin nodded. “Just embarrassed.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know. It just felt… exposed.”
Changbin pulled him closer, kissed his hair, and held him as tight as Seungmin needed.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of what you want. Not with me.”
Seungmin huffed into his chest.
The tea was warm in Seungmin’s hands, but it did nothing to melt the cold knot in his stomach. He sat on the couch, curled up under the blanket, feeling the weight of the moment replaying in his head over and over again. The moment when Chan walked in, when he froze, when Changbin had been so calm and composed while Seungmin had been on the verge of breaking down.
He hadn’t meant to act like that. He hadn’t meant to get so overwhelmed, but the whole thing—the teasing, the intimate touches, the way he had finally let himself ask for something—had left him in a place of vulnerability that he wasn’t ready for. And now, Chan had seen it. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know about that part of him. Not yet, not like that.
Changbin had disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, leaving Seungmin to his thoughts. But now, as the sound of Changbin’s footsteps approached, he could feel that familiar knot in his chest tightening once more. He was still embarrassed. Stupid, even. He had asked for intimacy for the first time in a long while, and all he had gotten was an unintended mess.
He didn’t even look up when Changbin returned, not at first. His focus remained solely on his cup of tea, which had grown lukewarm in his hands.
Changbin sat beside him again, his presence always so steady, so grounding. “Seungmin,” he said gently, his hand resting lightly on Seungmin’s knee. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Seungmin’s eyes flickered toward the floor, his thumb nervously tracing the rim of his mug. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” Changbin’s voice was calm but firm, and he squeezed Seungmin’s knee lightly, grounding him. “What happened with Chan, it was just... unfortunate. You didn’t do anything wrong by asking for what you need. It’s okay to want intimacy.”
Seungmin’s head drooped, his gaze fixed on the swirling steam rising from his cup. “But I shouldn’t have—asked for it like that. I mean, Chan saw… it was just, everything got so intense.”
Changbin exhaled, his gaze softening as he turned toward Seungmin. “Seungmin, you’re allowed to ask for things. What you want, your needs, they’re valid. That wasn’t something you did wrong. It just... wasn’t the right time. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to ask. It doesn’t make you bad or wrong.”
Seungmin felt his throat tighten at Changbin’s words, like a small weight had been lifted off him, but it was still heavy. He could feel the shame curling in his chest, but there was something in Changbin’s voice that helped it loosen a little.
“I just… I don’t want to be too much,” Seungmin muttered, staring into his cup. “I don’t want to be a burden, asking for things when it’s too much. I don’t want to ruin anything between us.”
Changbin’s fingers gently brushed Seungmin’s arm, and then his hand slid up to rest against his shoulder. “You’re not too much. Not to me. Never to me.”
Seungmin felt the words seep into him, like a balm to his wounded pride. It was just what he needed to hear. But it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy to believe, not after everything that had happened.
“I wanted it so badly,” Seungmin whispered, finally lifting his eyes to meet Changbin’s. “But then I get overwhelmed, and I’m not sure where the line is anymore.”
Changbin understood immediately. He shifted closer, resting his head against Seungmin’s, his hand coming up to gently cup Seungmin’s cheek. “You don’t have to rush it. We’ll take things at your pace. If you want something, we’ll do it. But we’ll always talk first. No pressure. You can ask for things. You can want things. It’s okay. You’re allowed.”
Seungmin closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly as if trying to savour Changbin’s words. He still felt like there was something heavy sitting in his chest, but Changbin’s steady presence made him feel safe enough to let it go, piece by piece.
“You don’t think I’m stupid for wanting this?” Seungmin asked softly, his voice so small.
Changbin pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and for a moment, all Seungmin could see was the sincerity in Changbin’s gaze. The softness, the care, the unshakable warmth.
“Not even a little bit,” Changbin answered. “You’re allowed to need things. You’re allowed to feel what you feel. And I’m here. Always. To listen. To support you. And if you need me, just say it. I’ll be here. Always.”
The weight in Seungmin’s chest shifted, lightened, but it didn’t disappear entirely. His shame didn’t vanish in an instant, but he found himself believing it less. There was still a lingering embarrassment, yes, but for the first time, he felt like he could breathe through it.
Seungmin set his tea down, his fingers lightly brushing Changbin’s hand. “I think I’m just… embarrassed that I wanted it, you know? I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it. If I’d be asking too much.”
Changbin’s smile was soft, warm. “You can ask me anything, anytime. I want to give you what you need. And if you’re ever unsure, we can always talk about it. No rush.”
Seungmin finally smiled back, a small, shy curve of his lips. “Thanks. I… I really appreciate you. A lot.”
Changbin leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Seungmin’s temple, his lips lingering just a second longer. Seungmin felt a small warmth spread through his chest, a sense of gratitude and relief flooding through him
They were the last two in the practice room again. The others had left ages ago, leaving only the faint hum of the speakers and the steady rhythm of their breathing while they collected their belongings and slowly started going back to the dorms.
Changbin entered his room, sat down on the bed and started scrolling through his phone, his back resting against headboard. He looked tired but content, his posture relaxed, shoulders slightly slumped from exhaustion.
Seungmin watched him for a moment before taking a step inside Changbin’s room, closing the door with a soft snick and turning the key.
“You’re not leaving?” Changbin glanced up at him, something amused in his eyes.
Seungmin shrugged. “Not tired yet. And bored…”
“Liar,” Changbin murmured, but there was no bite to it.
Seungmin ignored him and crouched down in front of him, just close enough to toe the line of personal space.
He didn’t even know what he was doing. Not exactly. He just knew he wanted something.
“You should stretch after practice,” Seungmin said, nudging Changbin’s foot lightly with his own.
Changbin raised an eyebrow. “You offering to help?”
Seungmin tilted his head, smirking. “Maybe.”
Changbin chuckled, setting his phone aside. “You’re in a weird mood.”
Seungmin didn’t react the way he expected. He didn’t roll his eyes or push him away. Instead, his expression shifted—just slightly.
Interested.
Aware.
Seungmin swallowed, suddenly too warm.
“Hyung,” he started, but the rest of the sentence died in his throat.
Changbin didn’t move, didn’t reach out. He was waiting.
For Seungmin to make the next move.
Seungmin slowly sat down, his fingers curled against his knee, restless, unsure. His pulse pounded in his ears, every nerve on edge with the anticipation of something he wasn’t sure how to name.
He didn’t want to tease anymore. He wanted Changbin to do something.
But he couldn’t say it. God… Images from their moment in the kitchen came to his mind. How good everything felt. How Chan interrupted them. Seungmin shook his head in embarrassment.
The words sat heavy on his tongue, refusing to come out, no matter how much he wanted them to.
So instead—
He reached out, hesitating only for a second before his fingers lightly curled into the sleeve of Changbin’s hoodie.
It was barely anything. A touch so soft it was almost meaningless.
But Changbin noticed.
His gaze flicked down to where Seungmin held onto him, then back up, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, quietly—intentionally—Changbin raised his hand and gripped Seungmin’s wrist.
Seungmin sucked in a breath, his skin burning where Changbin touched him.
And fuck, that was all it took.
His body reacted before his mind could catch up, warmth curling in his stomach, his knees going just a little weaker.
Changbin’s thumb pressed against the inside of his wrist, firm, grounding. His voice was low when he spoke.
“Tell me.”
Seungmin’s breath stuttered.
He clenched his fingers around the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie, heart hammering in his chest.
He wanted to.
He wanted to say it.
But his throat was tight, his face burning, the weight of his own shame keeping the words locked away.
“I…” He was shaking. Not out of fear—but out of something else. Something deeper.
Changbin’s grip didn’t loosen, but it didn’t tighten either. Just a steady, unyielding hold.
Seungmin bit his lip, frustration bubbling up in his chest. He didn’t want to say it. He wanted Changbin to just know, to just do it without forcing him to lay himself bare.
But Changbin wouldn’t.
Not without permission.
And Seungmin knew, deep down, that it made all the difference.
So he forced himself to exhale, his fingers tightening in Changbin’s sleeve, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Please.”
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t everything. But it was enough.
Changbin moved instantly.
Seungmin barely had time to register it before his world tilted—Changbin gripping him tighter, pulling him forward in one swift motion.
He gasped, barely catching himself as he stumbled into Changbin’s lap, his hands landing against broad shoulders.
Changbin’s grip slid from his wrist to his waist, steady, solid.
“You’re really bad at asking for things,” Changbin murmured against his ear.
Seungmin shuddered.
Changbin chuckled, his fingers tightening just enough to make Seungmin feel held.
But still, he hesitated.
Seungmin’s breath was shallow, his face still burning, his whole body tense as he processed what was happening.
Then—softly—Changbin’s voice. “Is this okay?”
Seungmin exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder as he nodded.
Changbin hummed, fingers brushing lightly over his lower back. Seungmin swallowed, throat dry. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
Changbin’s arms tightened, pulling him impossibly close.
And Seungmin melted. Seungmin was unravelling.
His breath came in short, uneven bursts, his fingers gripping the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie like a lifeline. Every inch of his skin burned, hyper-aware of where Changbin was touching him—his wrist, his waist, the warmth of his breath against his ear.
He didn’t know how to handle this.
Changbin had him right there, held tight, caged in without even trying. And Seungmin—who had spent so long teasing and pushing, acting like he was the one in control—was trembling in his lap, too overwhelmed to move.
Changbin’s fingers flexed on his waist, grounding him.
Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder, his breathing embarrassingly shaky.
“Seungmin.” His voice was soft. Controlled. Patient.
Seungmin shuddered.
He didn’t know what he wanted—well, he did, but he couldn’t say it. Every word felt like it was stuck in his throat, tangled up in the mess of emotions and heat pooling in his stomach.
Changbin exhaled through his nose, the sound almost amused. “You’re shaking.”
Seungmin swallowed hard. “I—I know.”
A quiet hum, then a slight shift—before Changbin tipped his chin up, fingers firm under his jaw, forcing Seungmin to meet his gaze.
Seungmin’s stomach dropped.
Changbin was staring at him, searching. His grip was light, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it.
“Tell me what you want,” Changbin murmured.
Seungmin’s pulse pounded. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Changbin’s thumb brushed against his skin, just barely, and Seungmin twitched. His entire body was wound so tight he thought he might snap. He slightly leaned forward, watched him for another agonizing second. Then, finally—finally—he leaned in.
Seungmin barely had time to process it before Changbin’s lips pressed against his.
It wasn’t soft or hesitant.
It was purposeful. So firm, warm. Commanding.
Seungmin gasped into the kiss, his hands tightening in Changbin’s hoodie. His entire body tensed before melting all at once, his breath catching in his throat as Changbin tilted his head, deepening it.
Seungmin ached.
He barely realized he was whimpering until Changbin pulled back slightly, his breath ghosting against Seungmin’s lips.
“Breathe,” Changbin murmured.
Seungmin inhaled shakily, trying to regain control of himself. But then Changbin’s grip shifted, fingers sliding down to his wrists.
Before Seungmin could react, Changbin pulled his hands behind his back, holding them in place with one firm grip.
Seungmin froze.
His mind blanked, every thought wiped clean as his breath hitched, his entire body trembling.
Changbin stayed still, waiting for a reaction.
And Seungmin—Seungmin didn’t know what to do with himself.
He was tense all over, overwhelmed, burning. His fingers twitched in Changbin’s hold, testing the grip. He couldn’t move.
Changbin’s voice was low, careful. “Okay?”
Seungmin nodded. It wasn’t enough.
Then, without warning, Changbin dipped his head—and bit his shoulder.
Seungmin gasped, his whole body jerking. He barely registered the sound he made, something desperate and breathless, before Changbin soothed the bite with his tongue, pressing a kiss over the mark.
Seungmin felt like he was going to collapse. His entire body was trembling, his legs barely holding him up as heat curled in his stomach, spreading through his veins like fire. He let out a broken, shaky breath, his fingers flexing uselessly behind his back.
Changbin chuckled softly against his skin. “You’re so tense.”
Seungmin made a noise—something between a whimper and a frustrated sigh, his head tilting forward until his forehead pressed against Changbin’s.
Changbin loosened his grip on his wrists, letting Seungmin move if he wanted to.
Seungmin didn’t move. He was melting, every wall he had carefully built up over the years crumbling in Changbin’s hands. For once, Seungmin didn’t have a witty remark. Didn’t have a tease or a joke or a way to deflect.
All he had was this. Himself—bare, vulnerable, aching—and Changbin holding him steady.
Seungmin didn’t know how to come back from this.
His whole body was trembling, his breath erratic, his mind foggy from everything Changbin—his warmth, his strength, the way he held him down so easily. And now—Changbin was pulling him in, his arms wrapping around Seungmin’s waist, holding him close, steady.
Seungmin barely had time to react before he was tucked against Changbin’s chest, his wrists finally freed but too weak to do anything except clutch at the fabric of his hoodie, holding on for dear life.
He felt small. Not physically, not really—Changbin wasn’t that much bigger than him—but the way Changbin held him made him feel like he could disappear into him completely.
It was overwhelming.
Seungmin let out a shaky breath, his face burning, his body betraying him. A whimper left his lips before he could stop it.
Changbin inhaled sharply, his arms tightening ever so slightly.
Seungmin wanted to be embarrassed. He should be. He never made noises like that—never let anyone see him like this.
But here he was, practically melting against Changbin of all people, reduced to a trembling mess just because he’d been held a little too tightly.
And Changbin—damn him—wasn’t teasing him.
Wasn’t mocking him, wasn’t pushing him away.
He was holding him. Gentle. Steady. There.
Seungmin pressed his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. He felt so hot, his skin prickling, his body screaming at him to do something, to react—
He let out another shaky whimper, barely above a breath. Changbin exhaled slowly, before pressing his lips against the side of Seungmin’s head.
“You’re okay,” he murmured.
Seungmin shuddered.
His fingers curled tighter into Changbin’s hoodie, his knuckles white.
He wanted to say something, but his throat was tight, his voice refusing to work.
Changbin shifted, pulling back just enough to look at him. His hands found Seungmin’s face, cradling it between his palms, thumbs brushing over his heated skin.
Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, his breath catching. “Hey,” Changbin murmured. “Look at me.”
He bit his lip, hesitating—before finally, hesitantly, he forced himself to meet Changbin’s gaze. Changbin’s expression was so gentle it made something twist in Seungmin’s chest.
“You’re okay,” Changbin said again, slow and assuring. “I’ve got you.”
Seungmin’s face burned. He felt ridiculous—so wound up over something so simple, but his body wouldn’t stop reacting, his nerves frayed, his emotions tangled.
“It’s okay to want this.”
Seungmin broke.
A choked noise slipped out before he could stop it, something between a gasp and a whimper, his entire body curling inward. His hands twisted tighter into Changbin’s hoodie, his nails digging into the fabric as he pressed his face into the crook of his neck.
Changbin held him. Without any hesitation or judgement.
“You don’t have to fight it,” Changbin murmured softly. “It’s okay. I promise.” Seungmin let out a shaky breath, his whole body trembling. He hated how much he needed to hear that, how much he’d been holding back without even realizing it. His mind was foggy—everything was a haze of heat, warmth, and the steady, grounding presence of Changbin.
Changbin hadn’t let go.
His arms were still around him, keeping him close, his steady breaths brushing against Seungmin’s hair. It was almost too much—the warmth, the weight of him, the sound of his heartbeat. Seungmin was drowning in it, in a way that made him feel both safe and dangerously out of control.
And then—Changbin moved.
It was small at first, barely noticeable. Just a subtle shift, a change in the pressure of Changbin’s arms.
Then Seungmin felt it.
A hand on his thigh.
His breath hitched immediately, the air leaving his lungs as the heat from Changbin’s palm spread through him. He tensed, his body going rigid, fingers tightening around the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie, unsure whether he wanted to pull away or pull closer.
Changbin’s touch was so slow, so purposeful—his hand resting gently on Seungmin’s thigh before beginning to rub, just enough to make Seungmin gasp.
The sound left his lips before he could stop it, a needy, desperate noise. His body was betraying him, his muscles tight, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might explode.
His body was shaking, his mind a mess of confusion and desire. Changbin’s hand on his thigh, so close, so steady—it was like a spark that lit every nerve in his body.
Seungmin’s hips shifted instinctively, his body responding to the touch even though his mind was screaming at him to stay still.
But Changbin wasn’t done. He moved his hand higher, the pressure growing just enough to make Seungmin gasp again. This time, Changbin’s fingers tightened, catching Seungmin’s wrist in one smooth motion, pinning it against the side of his body.
Seungmin’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to pull away, but Changbin’s grip was unyielding—firm but gentle, holding his wrist securely. Seungmin shuddered.
His pulse was racing, his body on fire, and his mind was spiralling.
“Seungmin,” Changbin murmured again, his voice low and soothing. “Tell me what you need.”
Seungmin’s breath came out in a shaky exhale. His face burned with embarrassment, and yet—he didn’t want this to stop. His body was betraying him, but it felt too good, too right.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead into Changbin’s shoulder, trying to hold onto something—anything—to stay grounded. But Changbin’s touch was pulling him apart.
Seungmin gasped when Changbin’s lips pressed softly to his temple, soothing him, grounding him. The warmth of Changbin’s body, the gentle press of his lips—it all melted Seungmin’s resistance. He mewled softly, his hips pressing slightly forward without him meaning to.
Changbin’s other hand drifted to Seungmin’s waist, fingers curling around his side, holding him steady as he moved against him.
His body was screaming for more, but his mind was still spinning, tangled in confusion.
Changbin seemed to understand.
And as he did, Seungmin didn’t want to stop it.
Seungmin’s pulse raced, and his breath quickened as he pressed closer to Changbin. The tension that had always hung between them was thick in the air now, crackling and alive. He could feel Changbin’s breath against his neck, his fingers tracing over his skin with purpose, and it only heightened the heat between them. Seungmin’s body reacted instinctively, his chest rising and falling in anticipation.
“I want you,” Seungmin breathed, voice rough with need, and his hips subtly rocked forward, seeking more of the connection, more of the feeling of Changbin’s body against his.
Changbin grabbed Seungmin’s waist, turning him onto his back, his hand tightened again around his wrists as he lowered his head to kiss him, hard and demanding. The kiss was rough, hot, and desperate, like they hadn’t been able to touch in weeks, not days. Changbin’s lips moved against his with a hunger that matched his own, pushing Seungmin further down into the bed, and Seungmin’s body responded instantly—eager, wanting, craving the intimacy he’d learned to trust so completely.
“Changbin…” Seungmin’s voice was barely a whisper, strained and breathless. “Please.”
“Please what?” Changbin growled against his ear, his breath warm, but his tone was commanding, pulling more of that needy sound out of Seungmin.
“I need you,” Seungmin gasped. “I need you to touch me… more.”
Changbin didn’t answer with words; instead, he lifted Seungmin’s hips slightly and tugged at his sweatpants, pulling them down with a firm, practiced motion. The air hit Seungmin’s exposed skin, and he shivered, his body responding to the exposure. His heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn’t fear—it was the anticipation of what was coming, the need to feel Changbin’s hands on him, his body moving with his.
Seungmin’s hands were still above his head, and as Changbin stripped him down further, there was a thrill in the way he could feel Seungmin’s resistance—his body taut with tension—but it was the kind of tension that excited him, that made him feel needed. Changbin slid his hand down Seungmin’s chest, pressing the heel of his palm into his stomach, then moving lower with an intensity that left Seungmin gasping for air.
Seungmin’s body arched as Changbin touched him, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He was so close, so on edge, and the feeling of being completely at Changbin’s mercy was intoxicating.
“Changbin,” Seungmin’s voice was desperate now, needy. Changbin’s grip on his wrists tightened again, pulling them farther above his head, but in the next instant, his mouth was at Seungmin’s neck, biting and licking with rough affection. The sensation of Changbin’s body pressing against his in every way felt almost overwhelming, and Seungmin couldn’t help but let out a soft, pleading noise.
“Fuck, Seungmin,” Changbin muttered, pulling away for a moment to look down at him. His eyes were dark, filled with something fierce, something that made Seungmin’s breath hitch. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Seungmin tugged at his wrists, his body aching with the need to touch, to feel more. “Then let me feel you. Please.”
The urgency in Seungmin’s words lit a fire in Changbin’s chest. With a growl, he moved on top of him, shifting to hover just over Seungmin’s hips, his hands moving with a forceful, almost possessive energy. He didn’t wait for Seungmin to beg any longer. He lowered his body against him, pushing him deeper into the bed as his lips found Seungmin’s again—hard, demanding, and filled with a raw intensity that matched the storm in Seungmin’s chest.
Changbin’s hands went lower, brushing against Seungmin’s thighs, then moving back up to his chest, not gentle, but not rough either—just the right amount of force, making Seungmin’s heart race with anticipation. His breath was ragged now, his body aching for more.
“I’m going to take care of you,” Changbin said softly, his voice like a promise. He moved carefully, his fingers slipping down as he traced soft circles over the exposed skin, coaxing Seungmin to relax.
Seungmin shivered slightly, but it wasn’t out of discomfort — it was the feeling of Changbin’s touch, the familiarity and tenderness of it. His body melted into the bed, hands still above his head, and he let himself be guided through the motions, the moments where Changbin took his time to make him feel seen and wanted.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” Changbin said, his voice steady but full of concern as he slowly prepped Seungmin with some lube he grabbed from his nightstand. He guided Seungmin’s legs apart slightly more, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, his touches lingering there as Seungmin’s breath quickened. His fingers moved with care, making sure to stretch him, to ensure everything felt right. He whispered words of reassurance as he did so, brushing his lips over Seungmin’s skin.
“You’re doing so well,” Changbin praised softly, fingers moving with patience, his eyes always watching Seungmin for any sign of discomfort. “Just relax. You’re safe.”
Seungmin’s breath was ragged, and as Changbin’s touch deepened, he felt his heart race, a mix of vulnerability and desire surging through him. There was no rush — only the steady rhythm of Changbin’s hand and the sweet, intimate words he murmured as he continued to guide Seungmin through the process.
When Changbin was certain Seungmin was ready, he finally leaned down, kissing him again, this time deeper, more urgent, a silent question in his touch.
“Are you ready?” Changbin asked, his voice low and thick with desire, but there was also a quiet reassurance in it—something that gave Seungmin confidence, something that told him yes, this was exactly what he needed.
Seungmin nodded quickly, his hips pressing up against Changbin’s. “Yes… I need this. I need you.”
Changbin’s eyes darkened at his words, and without another moment’s hesitation, he moved with precision, holding Seungmin’s wrists firmly, just the way Seungmin liked it. As he entered him, Seungmin gasped, back arching into the pressure, his body opening up for him completely. The sensation of being filled was immediate, overwhelming, but somehow it only pushed Seungmin to crave more.
Changbin’s pace was swift at first, urgent, as if he couldn’t get enough of Seungmin’s body, and Seungmin’s own hips moved to meet him, desperate for more friction, more connection. He felt every inch of Changbin inside him, the movement deep and filling, the rhythm of their bodies perfectly aligned.
Each thrust was a reminder of just how far they’d come—how far Seungmin had come. This was theirs, built on trust, on boundaries, and yet it was still raw and unfiltered. His skin flushed, his breath quickening as Changbin pulled him closer, pushing him deeper into the mattress.
“Fuck, Seungmin…” Changbin’s voice was rough, strained with exertion, but there was a trace of something softer, something vulnerable there too. “You feel so fucking good.”
“Changbin…” Seungmin whispered, his voice hoarse. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat, but he needed more. He needed him more than he could put into words. His hands, trembled as he tried to control his breathing, to steady himself. But his body betrayed him. The way his hips moved against Changbin, the way his legs pressed closer, desperate for more friction—it was all so obvious, yet still, he couldn't bring himself to ask for it outright.
Changbin noticed. Of course he did. His eyes were soft, filled with understanding as he watched Seungmin, the desire in his gaze matching the desperation that Seungmin couldn't hide. The tension in Seungmin’s body didn’t go unnoticed either—he was holding back, unsure if he was allowed to ask for what he wanted, afraid that it would be too much or that Changbin might think less of him for needing it.
Seungmin’s voice cracked as he gasped for air, the pleasure overwhelming him in waves. “Hyung… faster…”
As he held Seungmin’s hips in a firm grip, he could feel the way Seungmin’s body trembled, the way he sought out more, as if he couldn’t get close enough. Changbin increased the pressure, grinding against him, teasing but with a purpose. Seungmin’s eyes closed in pleasure, but there was still that shy hesitation, as if he were unsure whether he was allowed to feel this much, to crave this much.
“Hyung,” Seungmin gasped, his voice shaky. “Please… don’t stop.”
And with that, Changbin’s control snapped. He picked up the pace, pulling Seungmin’s wrists tighter above him, thrusting into him with a power that nearly sent them both tumbling over the edge.
Seungmin felt a whimper rise in his chest, but it wasn’t from pain—it was from the overwhelming need to feel closer, to feel everything.
The tension was building, reaching a fever pitch, and Seungmin could feel himself teetering on the edge. But Changbin’s steady presence, his gentle but firm control, kept him grounded, kept him from losing himself completely. Seungmin felt a release of tension, his body going limp in Changbin’s arms as the pleasure hit them in waves.
Seungmin’s whole body tensed, his legs shaking with the intensity of it, but he didn’t pull away—he welcomed it, welcomed the force of Changbin’s body against his, the rawness of their connection.
They came together, and the rush of it sent them both into a breathless, shared climax. Changbin’s hands loosened, and for a moment, they just held each other—sweat-slick and breathless, hearts pounding in synchrony.
Seungmin’s chest rose and fell with every breath, and though the intensity of the moment had passed, the weight of it hung in the air, heavy and beautiful. He felt utterly, completely connected—and for the first time in so long, there was no shame in what he needed. He didn’t need to hide. He didn’t need to question.
This—this—was them.
Later that night, the room was dimly lit by a soft glow from a bedside lamp. Changbin and Seungmin lay together on the couch, tangled in a warm, shared blanket. The earlier intensity had softened into quiet intimacy—an unspoken promise of safety and understanding. Seungmin’s head rested on Changbin’s chest as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence.
For a long time, Seungmin listened to the soft rise and fall of Changbin’s breathing, his own thoughts swirling in the quiet darkness. Finally, his voice—barely more than a whisper—broke through the calm.
“Hyung,” Seungmin began hesitantly, his eyes tracing the gentle patterns on the ceiling. “I…I’m not really sure how to ask for things.”
Changbin’s hand moved slowly from stroking Seungmin’s hair to softly tracing circles on his arm. His tone was soothing, free of judgment. “What do you mean?” he asked, careful not to interrupt the delicate vulnerability in Seungmin’s voice.
Seungmin sighed, the sound catching slightly as he gathered his thoughts. “I mean…I’ve always been the one teasing, pushing, provoking. It was easier to hide behind those jokes. But now…now that I know I like being manhandled—like the way you touch me—I can’t seem to just say it out loud. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, of…of revealing too much. I’m scared that you might…judge me for what I like.”
Changbin’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Seungmin’s forehead. “Listen,” he said quietly, “there is absolutely nothing wrong with what you like. I know your kinks aren’t something to be ashamed of. They’re a part of who you are, and I want you to feel safe enough to say whatever you need to say. I won’t judge you—ever.”
Seungmin’s eyes searched Changbin’s face for a moment, as if looking for hidden doubts, but all he found was sincere warmth and understanding. “You really mean that?” he asked, voice trembling with both relief and lingering uncertainty.
“Of course,” Changbin replied. “This is our space, Seungmin. You can tell me anything—even if it’s confusing or messy. I want to help you feel comfortable, and that starts with you being honest with me.”
A small smile began to form on Seungmin’s lips, the tension in his body easing slightly. “I guess I’m just…not used to being so open. I always thought that by teasing, I had control, that I could always just deflect. But sometimes…sometimes I just want to let you take control. To feel… complete.”
Changbin’s fingers gently squeezed Seungmin’s hand. “There’s no rush. We can take things as slow as you need. I’m here for you, no matter what. And there’s nothing you can say that could ever change that.”
They lay in silence for a while, the comforting closeness of their bodies filling the quiet space between them. Seungmin’s mind, still raw from the earlier intensity, began to settle into a calmer rhythm. The vulnerability he’d feared was met with unwavering support, and slowly, he allowed himself to trust that it was okay to be exactly who he was.
“Thank you, hyung,” Seungmin finally whispered, his voice steadier. “For… for understanding.”
Changbin smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Seungmin’s face. “Always,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
In that quiet moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, Seungmin realized that sometimes the hardest words to speak were the ones that brought you closer together—and that with Changbin by his side, he could learn to ask for everything he needed without fear.
The dorm was quiet that evening, the usual chaotic energy of eight boys condensed into a rare moment of peace. Most of the members were either in their rooms or out running errands, leaving only Seungmin and Changbin in the kitchen.
Seungmin was leaning against the counter, watching the kettle slowly heat up, waiting for the water to boil. He wasn’t really focused on making tea, though—his attention was on Changbin, who was rummaging through the cabinets, looking for something to snack on.
Seungmin, as always, saw an opportunity.
„You know,“ he mused, his voice laced with mischief, „I read somewhere that too many late-night snacks make your muscles shrink.“
Changbin, mid-search, turned his head to give Seungmin an unimpressed look. „That makes no sense. Who told you that?“
Seungmin smirked.
Changbin rolled his eyes and went back to searching, but Seungmin wasn’t done. He stepped closer, just enough to invade Changbin’s space, and lightly poked his side. „You should be careful, hyung. One day, your arms might just—poof—disappear.“
Another poke.
Changbin sighed, closing the cabinet with a soft thud. „Seungmin.“
Poke.
„Seungmin.“
Another poke, this time to Changbin’s ribs.
And that was it. In a swift motion, Changbin grabbed Seungmin’s wrist and twisted it behind his back, pulling him flush against his chest. Seungmin barely had time to react before he found himself caged in, his body pressed tightly against the counter, Changbin’s breath warm against the side of his neck.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate.
At first, Seungmin laughed, the same playful, teasing laugh he always had when they wrestled like this. But then Changbin’s grip tightened, just a little—firm but not painful. The way Changbin’s body was pressed up against his, how easily he was holding him there, made heat rush to Seungmin’s face.
„Still think you can mess with me?“ Changbin murmured, his voice teasing but undeniably low, his lips almost brushing Seungmin’s ear.
Seungmin swallowed hard. His usual witty retorts were nowhere to be found. Instead, he felt his body go warm all over, a deep, pleasant shiver running down his spine. He barely moved, barely even breathed, his free hand gripping the counter for support.
Changbin must have felt the way Seungmin tensed because he loosened his hold just a fraction. „Too much?“
Seungmin shook his head immediately, feeling utterly exposed but not in a way that made him want to run. His heart was pounding—loud and insistent—but not from fear.
„Not too much,“ he admitted, voice quieter than he meant it to be.
Changbin hummed in response, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles against Seungmin’s wrist before he let go entirely. But the moment his grip loosened, Seungmin turned, catching Changbin’s gaze before he even had a chance to move away.
Seungmin wasn’t thinking anymore—he just acted.
He surged forward, pressing his lips against Changbin’s in a kiss that was messy, uncoordinated, but full of something real, something desperate. Changbin didn’t hesitate. He kissed back immediately, one hand coming up to cradle Seungmin’s face, tilting his head just right.
It was slow at first, exploratory. But as soon as Seungmin exhaled softly against Changbin’s mouth, that tiny sound sending shivers down his spine, Changbin deepened the kiss. His hand slid down to Seungmin’s waist, pulling him even closer, and Seungmin melted into him completely.
By the time they pulled apart, Seungmin was breathless, his face flushed. He was still so close, his hands gripping onto Changbin’s hoodie as if letting go would make the moment disappear.
Changbin was staring at him, eyes searching, waiting for something.
And then Seungmin said it. Finally.
„I love you.“
It was quiet, almost unsure, but there was no hesitation in the meaning behind it. Seungmin had never said it before—not like this, not in a way that carried so much weight.
Changbin’s breath caught, his expression softening in an instant. He brushed a strand of hair away from Seungmin’s forehead, his fingers lingering as he cupped his cheek.
„You mean that?“ Changbin’s voice was gentle, careful.
Seungmin nodded, still gripping the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. „I do.“ His voice was steady this time. „I love you, hyung.“
Changbin exhaled, something fond and relieved passing over his face. He pulled Seungmin close again, pressing their foreheads together.
„You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that,“ Changbin admitted, voice warm with something that made Seungmin’s chest ache in the best way possible.
Seungmin’s lips curled into a shy smile. „Probably as long as I’ve been wanting to say it.“
Changbin laughed softly, his thumb stroking Seungmin’s cheek before he kissed him again—slower this time, more certain. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was full of love.
Seungmin sighed into the warmth of it, letting himself be held, letting himself feel every ounce of the affection Changbin was pouring into him.
This—this was what he had been waiting for.