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Mingi was a lot of things.
He was kind, tall, strong, liked by his peers, a good musician and rapper. But on top of that? He was a fucking tease.
He had been pushing it all evening, non-stop.
Not in a loud way. Not in a way anyone else would notice. That was the problem, he knew exactly how to be subtle when he wanted to be unbearable.
In the car, his hand had started innocently enough on Yunho’s knee. Just resting there. Warm. Familiar.
Then his fingers began to trace slow, absent-minded circles against the fabric of Yunho’s jeans, like he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. Like he wasn’t listening to the way Yunho’s breath kept catching when he moved a little bit more in his inner thigh or closer to his crotch every time they stopped at a red light.
“Mingi, I thought we agreed you’d behave tonight.” Yunho had muttered at one point, voice low, warning wrapped in something firm yet wavering.
Mingi had only smiled. “I’m behaving.”
That smile. That stupid, beautiful, knowing smile.
By the time they got out of the car, Yunho was already half a second away from losing his patience. But Mingi… Mingi made it worse.
Walking up to the restaurant, he brushed his fingers along Yunho’s lower back like it was nothing. Like it was a habit. Like it didn’t send heat straight through Yunho’s spine. Then, as they stepped through the door, Mingi leaned in just enough that only Yunho could hear him.
“You’re tense,” he said softly. “Should I fix that?”
Yunho shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Behave.”
Mingi hummed, unconvinced, and squeezed his hand just once, just enough to be infuriating before letting go as they were greeted at the entrance.
Inside, the restaurant was warm and elegant, filled with the quiet clink of silverware and soft conversation. Yunho’s family was already seated near the back, a long table set neatly, voices lifting as they spotted them.
And just like that, Yunho straightened up, perfect posture, polite smile, the version of himself that belonged to family dinners.
Mingi, on the other hand, seemed to forget entirely.
As they approached the table, he let his hand drift again, lightly brushing Yunho’s waist, then lingering a fraction too long at the small of his back. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone could call out. But Yunho knew.
Oh, Yunho knew.
“Hi, everyone,” Yunho greeted smoothly, pulling Mingi slightly forward like an anchor before he could cause any more damage.
Mingi bowed politely, smiling like an angel.
Then, under the table as they sat down, his hand found Yunho’s thigh.
Yunho inhaled sharply through his nose. Mingi didn’t even look at him.
He just started chatting with Yunho’s mother like nothing was happening at all, fingers idly tracing slow patterns against Yunho’s leg beneath the tablecloth, casual, controlled, devastatingly intentional.
And Yunho, trapped between politeness and the man sitting beside him unraveling him inch by inch, realized the dinner had only just begun.
Yunho kept his posture perfect.
That was the only thing saving him.
Back straight. Shoulders relaxed. Expression neutral. The kind of composure that came from years of learning exactly how to behave in front of his family, how to smile at the right moments, how to exist without giving anything away.
Mingi, unfortunately, had always been his weakness.
“So, tell me Mingi,” Yunho’s father said warmly, once they were all seated. “Yunho talks about you quite a lot, what do you do in life?”
That made Yunho pause for half a beat.
Maybe that would distract Mingi enough so he would stop his little game.
He knew he was wrong when Mingi’s hand shifted an inch closer where he should not touch in the middle of a restaurant, sitting in front of his soon to be parents-in-law.
“All good things, I hope,” he said smoothly, that easy charm slipping into place like it belonged there, hand shifting higher until it almost brushed Yunho’s crotch. “I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Yunho always talks about how he had the best childhood thanks to you.”
Yunho shot him a look under his lashes.
Don’t you dare.
Mingi didn’t even glance back. His attention stayed perfectly polite, perfectly engaged, smiling at Yunho’s parents, laughing lightly at something his mother said, playing the role of “respectful boyfriend” so convincingly it would’ve been impressive if Yunho wasn’t currently being slowly undone under the table.
Because Mingi’s hand had moved.
And it was now resting comfortably on the growing bulge created by Yunho’s half-erection, thumb idly shifting now and then as if absent-minded.
Like Yunho wasn’t hyper-aware of every small adjustment. Like Yunho wasn’t sitting there calculating whether he could survive the dinner without reacting.
Yunho reached for his glass of water. Something fresh. Something to focus on.
A mistake. A huge one.
The slight shift of his body made Mingi’s fingers press a little differently against him, subtle, accidental-looking, perfectly timed.
Yunho nearly choked.
Across the table, his younger sibling was talking about school. His mother was laughing softly. The waiter was pouring wine.
And Mingi—
Mingi leaned closer just slightly, turning as if to say something to Yunho, his voice low enough that it barely brushed his ear.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured.
Yunho’s grip tightened around his glass.
“Stop that,” Yunho said under his breath with a smile still intact for everyone else.
Mingi hummed like he was considering it.
Then his hand pressed harder against him, like a thought that refused to leave.
Yunho exhaled through his nose, controlled. Careful.
“Mingi,” he warned again, firmer this time.
This time, Mingi finally looked at him.
He didn’t look guilty. Or apologetic.
He looked amused. Delighted by the sight he had in front of him. To be the cause of Yunho’s distress.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said lightly, then turned back to the conversation at the table as if he hadn’t just said something completely untrue with perfect innocence.
Yunho stared at him for a long second.
Then, slowly, he set his glass down.
Under the table, his hand moved.
Mingi didn’t react at first. Still chatting. Still smiling. Still the perfect boyfriend at a family dinner.
Until Yunho’s big palm ended up on his crotch and pressed hard.
He almost squealed. Almost. His voice didn’t falter mid-sentence, but his eyes flicked down for half a second, something sharp and interested flashing behind his calm expression.
Yunho leaned in just enough that only Mingi could hear him.
“You want to play?” Yunho said softly, “I’m gonna remind you who’s in control.”
Mingi’s breath hitched so subtly it almost disappeared into the clatter of cutlery and soft conversation.
Almost.
His composure held for exactly one more sentence, whatever he had been saying about something Yunho’s mother had asked him, but Yunho felt the way his body changed. The way the teasing ease in his posture tightened, just slightly, like a string pulled too far.
Yunho didn’t move his hand away. Discreetly, he began to massage Mingi, his fingers doing a devastating job before he unzipped his fly discreetly, the sound masked by the conversations and laughter around the table. He slipped three fingers inside and why was he surprised to notice Mingi wasn’t wearing any underwear.
The sudden contact of his finger on his sensitive skin made Mingi pull his hand away, finally retreating, but Yunho was not done.
Across the table, no one noticed. No one ever noticed with them. That was the problem.
Yunho kept stroking him with three fingers from the base to the middle since his long digits permitted him to do so. Mingi’s breath hitched more than once, his chest heaving as if he was physically reining himself back in as he kept participating in discussion and sipping his wine.
Then his jaw flexed slightly, and for the first time all evening as Yunho stroked him particularly harder, he stopped talking mid-sentence.
“Oh?” Yunho’s mother said, pleasantly unaware. “Did you lose your train of thought, dear?”
Mingi blinked, then smiled again—smoother now, more careful. “Sorry. Just… remembered something I need to do later.”
“Busy man,” Yunho’s father chuckled.
“Something like that,” Mingi replied politely.
Yunho leaned in again, still smiling for appearances.
“You’re not untouchable here,” he murmured, voice soft enough to disappear between conversations. “Will you be a good girl now?”
That did it.
Mingi exhaled through his nose, a quiet laugh that sounded more like surrender than amusement. He shifted slightly in his seat, thighs pressing together and nodded.
Yunho finally withdrew his hand, zipping his pants discretely before folding it back into his lap as if nothing had happened at all. He picked up his glass again, taking a slow sip of water to ground himself, eyes forward, expression composed.
“Excuse me,” Mingi said politely a moment later, turning toward Yunho’s family with a charming nod. “I’ll be right back.”
He stood before anyone could question it. Before anyone could see.
Yunho watched him walk away, expression unreadable, hand returning to his drink as if nothing had happened at all.
But his pulse was anything but calm.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Yunho’s father asked him something about work. He answered automatically. Smiled when appropriate. Laughed when expected.
And still, Mingi didn’t come back.
Yunho excused himself shortly after, when he felt he could stand without having a big problem, voice light, casual. “I’ll check on him.”
No one thought twice.
The hallway outside the dining area was quieter, dimmer, the kind of space that made the noise of the restaurant feel far away, muffled behind thick walls and polite distance.
Yunho found him near the end of it.
Mingi was leaning against the wall outside the restroom corridor, one hand braced behind him, head tilted slightly down as if he was collecting himself. When he heard Yunho approach, he looked up.
And there it was again.
That look.
Except now it wasn’t teasing.
It was desperate and needy.
Yunho stopped a few steps away.
“You’re impossible,” he said quietly.
“Please—” Mingi almost whimpered out loud.
That was it.
Yunho stepped closer and grabbed his wrist. Together, they stepped inside the restroom and Yunho pushed Mingi inside one of the cabins.
As soon as the door was locked, Mingi leaned in to him, crashing their lips together in a wet, open-mouthed and desperate kiss, their body pressing together until there was no space left.
Yunho’s hands reached Mingi’s hips, gripping hard enough it would probably leave marks. Mingi moaned, hands tangling inside the dark strands of Yunho’s hair. Holding on there.
Their mouths moved together as if they were starving, all messy and wanting and impatient. Their tongues fighting the other. Mingi was clinging to Yunho like his life depended on it, hips rubbing against him like he couldn't stand the distance.
Yunho let himself be consumed by those lips for a moment before he pushed Mingi against the door. His grip tightened possessively on Mingi’s waist, pressing him flush against the door. Mingi shuddered, fingers tightening in Yunho’s hair as he whimpered inside the older’s mouth.
Yunho broke the kiss first in favor of pressing his lips to Mingi's neck. To his Adam apple, where he knew it always drove him crazy, biting, nipping, marking. Mingi moaned again, arching against him, fingers tugging on Yunho's hair.
Yunho made his way up, biting each parcel of skin he had at his disposition till he reached Mingi’s ears. He tugged his lobe gently between his teeth before he whispered:
“Look at you, whining in a public restroom like you spend all dinner begging for this. Should I punish you and stop?”
His hands slid on Mingi’s ass, groping it and pressing their hips together, the friction of their erect crotches almost unbearable.
"Please, don't stop."
Mingi's voice was breathless and needy, and it was the hottest thing Yunho had heard all day. He couldn't resist the chance to tease Mingi a little more.
“Why couldn’t you be a good girl at the table, princess?” He asked, as if it pained him, “Why did you disobey me when I told you to behave? Didn't you want to be good for me? Why were you acting so naughty, in front of my parents in addition.”
Mingi whined, pressing his forehead against Yunho’s shoulder as his hips stuttered forward involuntarily.
"Because—because you look so pretty when you’re frustrated," he gasped, fingers tightening in Yunho’s shirt. "And I like seeing you lose control because of me—"
Yunho growled low in his throat, gripping Mingi’s jaw and tilting his face up to meet his eyes, dark, pleading, guilty.
"Oh, you like it?" Yunho murmured, his free hand sliding down to palm Mingi through his pants again, just enough pressure to make him shudder. "Then tell me, was it worth it? Knowing I’m going to make you wait now?"
Mingi’s breath hitched. "No—"
"No?" Yunho’s thumb rubbed slow circles over him, just teasing, just cruel. "Then what do you say?"
Mingi whimpered, hips jerking forward again, chasing the friction Yunho was denying him.
"I’m—I’m sorry," he gasped, voice breaking. "Please—Yunho—Daddy—I’ll be good, I promise—just please—"
Yunho smiled.
"Good girl."
Mingi melted against him, pliant and desperate, pressing his forehead into Yunho’s shoulder as he whined. His hands trembled where they clutched at Yunho’s shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric like he was afraid Yunho might pull away completely.
Yunho, ever the merciless victor, just kissed the top of his head, gentle, almost patronizing before whispering:
"Later."
Mingi let out a broken little noise, hips twitching forward instinctively, but Yunho was already stepping back, adjusting his own clothes with infuriating calm while Mingi stayed pressed against the bathroom stall door, wrecked and breathless.
"We should get back," Yunho said casually, like he hadn’t just reduced Mingi to a trembling mess. "Before they start wondering where we disappeared to."
Mingi groaned, slumping forward, forehead resting against the door. "You’re evil."
Yunho smirked, reaching out to smooth a hand down Mingi’s back, mocking, soothing, maddening. "You did this to yourself, princess."
Mingi exhaled sharply, pushing off the door and straightening up with visible effort. His cheeks were flushed, his lips bitten red, his hair a mess and Yunho loved the sight of it.
He stepped forward, catching Mingi’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face up just enough to press one last slow, lingering kiss to his swollen lips before pulling away.
"Behave now," Yunho murmured, tapping Mingi’s nose lightly. "Or I won’t give you anything when we get home."
Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, equal parts horror and anticipation before Yunho turned and unlocked the stall door, stepping out as if nothing had happened.
Behind him, Mingi took a deep, shaky breath waiting for his boner to go before following.
The walk back to the table was quiet.
And for the rest of dinner, Mingi didn’t dare touch him once.
***
When they arrived at their apartment later that evening,they barely made it inside, they were already back at each other's throat. Yunho leading, Mingi accepting whatever Yunho had decided to do to him for his earlier behavior.
Yunho pushed Mingi back towards the wall the moment the door was shut, pressing him against the surface as their mouths crashed together.
The kiss was fierce, possessive, demanding. Yunho’s hands were everywhere, roaming over Mingi’s body, gripping his hips like he wanted to leave bruises.
Mingi whimpered into the kiss, arching up against him, fingers grasping desperately at Yunho’s shirt, his shoulders, anywhere he could reach.
Little by little, as they moved through their house, their clothes were discarded on the floor. When they reached their bedroom Yunho was in underwear, Mingi all bare in front of him.
Yunho stepped back, taking a moment to look at Mingi like a predator watching its prey, his eyes raking over the taller's body, taking in every inch of exposed, trembling skin. He hummed softly, a small, satisfied sound that did nothing to soothe Mingi's nerves.
"Get on the bed," he said, the order soft yet firm, voice barely above a whisper. He didn't have to raise it, knowing Mingi would hear the underlying command. “All fours.”
And Mingi obeyed.
Yunho climbed behind him, his hands roaming over his bare skin. He bent down to press slow, biting kisses down Mingi’s spine, across his shoulder blades, his touch leaving burning trails on his skin.
"You made such a mess of yourself earlier," he murmured, dragging a fingertip down Mingi’s back. "Whining like a spoiled brat in that restaurant bathroom. Do you know how hard it was not to bend you over right then?"
Mingi shivered, fingers twisting into the sheets beneath him. "Y-you could’ve—"
"Oh?" Yunho’s hand slid lower, tracing the outline of Mingi’s ass till it brushed his entrance, already twitching with anticipation. “You wanted me to fuck you there? Risk getting caught? That’s even more shameless than I thought."
Mingi bit his lip, nodding desperately.
His hand slapped sharply on the curve of his cheek. The sound echoing in the room as well as Mingi's scream ending like a moan. Yunho pressed his palm against the soft red mark it left. Knowing it would sting. Knowing Mingi would love it.
And Mingi cried out, arching back instinctively as heat flared across his skin. Yunho let out a low chuckle, darkly satisfied by the reaction. A shiver ran down Mingi's spine, anticipation and desire coiling deeper in his gut.
Yunho ran his fingers lightly over the stinging skin, his touch feather-light, his mouth curving into a knowing smirk.
"Still impatient, aren't you, princess?"
“Y-yes—” He was almost sobbing at this rate, “P-please Yunho—please—Fuck me, fuck my brain, fuck me so hard I forgot my own name and remember only yours—Yunho please—”
Yunho tsked, lightly slapping his ass again. "Manners. You know to address me properly."
Mingi let out a whine, pleading. “Ngh—Please-Daddy please—”
"Good girl," Yunho murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. His hand moved back, tracing over the reddened skin he had just spanked. "You're so pretty when you beg. You know that? You know how desperate you look right now, princess? On your hands and knees, begging, whimpering, shaking. You like being a mess for me, don't you?"
Mingi nodded, his body arching up towards Yunho's touch. "Y-yes—I-I like it—"
Yunho smiled, pleased with the response. "That's better. Now you're being a good girl."
He leaned in, reaching for their almost empty bottle of lube, coating his fingers before pressing two immediately inside, watching the way Mingi’s back arched beautifully, the way his breath hitched and stuttered.
Yunho took his time, maddeningly so, working Mingi open with torturous patience, adding fingers only when Mingi was trembling and gasping, his thighs shaking, his forehead pressed into the mattress.
"You’re taking me so well," Yunho praised, curling his fingers just right, drawing a sharp cry from Mingi’s lips. "Always so good for me when you finally remember your place."
Mingi whined, hips pushing back against Yunho’s hand, desperate for more.
Yunho chuckled, withdrawing his fingers just to hear Mingi’s frustrated sob.
"Patience," he chided, gripping Mingi’s hips tightly. "You made me wait all night, now it’s your turn."
Mingi let out a ragged whimper, his fingers clutching at the sheets beneath him as he trembled. "D-Daddy—please—I can't—" His voice cracked, hips rocking back futilely, chasing Yunho's touch.
Yunho ignored him, pressing a slow kiss to the small of Mingi’s back, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath his lips.
"You can," he murmured, nipping at his skin. "And you will."
With that, he pushed his underwear away and finally slicked himself up, lining up against Mingi’s entrance and pushed in with one smooth, deep thrust.
Mingi screamed.
His back arched beautifully, his whole body shaking as Yunho bottomed out inside him in one go, filling him completely. Yunho groaned, gripping Mingi’s hips hard enough to bruise, savoring the tight heat around him.
"Fuck—" Yunho hissed, pausing just to catch his breath. "Always so tight—always—"
Mingi was panting heavily, tears pricking at his eyes as he tried to adjust, tried to catch his breath but Yunho didn’t let him.
He pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, earning another broken cry from Mingi.
And then he moved.
Hard, deep, relentless thrusts that had Mingi sobbing into the mattress, his fingers twisting into the sheets as Yunho fucked him senseless.
"D-Daddy—" Mingi gasped, voice wrecked, barely coherent. "F-faster—please—harder—"
Yunho growled, gripping Mingi’s hair and yanking his head back, forcing his spine into a sharper arch.
"Since you asked so nicely," he murmured darkly, before snapping his hips forward even harder, driving into Mingi with brutal precision.
Mingi wailed, his vision blurring with tears as pleasure and overstimulation crashed over him in waves. His prostate was being abused by every thrusts now. Yunho didn’t slow down, didn’t give him a second to breathe, just fucked him deeper, harder, until Mingi was sobbing his name, until he was shaking apart beneath him.
"Y-Yunho—I—I can’t—" Mingi choked out, his body taut with impending release.
Yunho leaned over him, lips brushing his ear. Mingi came for the first time. Spilling thick ropes across the sheets beneath him. Yunho hummed, delighted by how Mingi was clenching around him. This was how he liked to fuck him the most, after an orgasm where Mingi would be incredibly tighter and sensitive.
“Shit-shit-shit–t-too much—” Mingi gasped when Yunho kept fucking into him at the same rhythm and strenght, the overstimulation becoming quickly to much to bear, tears prickling at his eyes and falling down his cheeks.
Yunho leaned down, pressing Mingi into the mattress, chest against his back, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You wanted me to fuck your brain out?" His voice was rough, dripping with dark amusement. "Let’s see if I can."
And then he moved again, harder, faster, driving into Mingi with bruising force, each thrust punching ragged cries from Mingi’s throat. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with Yunho’s relentless pace.
Mingi was dissolving, every coherent thought, every rational sense of self obliterated under Yunho’s merciless attention. His thighs shook, his vision blurred, his mouth falling open in silent, shattered pleasure as Yunho angled his hips just right, hitting that spot inside him over and over until—
"Look at you," Yunho growled, wrapping a hand around Mingi’s throat, not squeezing, just holding, just owning. "Can’t even speak anymore, can you? Just taking it, just letting me ruin you. Mine."
Mingi sobbed, nodding frantically, his body taut like a bowstring, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until—
Yunho’s free hand slid between Mingi’s thighs, stroking him once, twice—
And Mingi shattered, his second orgasm of the night tearing out of him, making his body shake violently.
Yunho thrusted inside of him more slowly this time, taking the time to appreciate the slide, the way Mingi’s body was going limp beneath him.
“Feels so good inside of you Mingi," He praised, his voice gentler, “You suck me in, you’re perfect, so good for me.”
Mingi could only moan in response. Maybe Yunho did fuck his brain finally.
“Do you think you can give me one more, baby?” He asked, pressing kisses on his ears, reaching for his cheek then the nape of his neck, his back. “Can you give me one more and make Daddy cum princess?”
Mingi whined high in his throat, oversensitive and trembling, but still nodded weakly against the sheets. His body was pliant beneath Yunho, exhausted but willing, always willing for whatever Yunho wanted from him.
Yunho smiled, pressing a kiss to the damp skin between Mingi’s shoulder blades before shifting, gripping his hips again and dragging him back onto his cock with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips.
Mingi gasped, fingers clutching at the sheets as Yunho started moving again gentler this time, achingly slow, every drag of his cock inside Mingi deliberate and torturous.
"Y-Yunho—" Mingi whimpered, his voice hoarse and broken.
"Hm?" Yunho hummed, leaning over him, lips brushing his ear. "What is it, princess? Too much?"
Mingi shook his head frantically, even as his thighs trembled. "N-no—just—just—"
"Just what?" Yunho teased, thrusting deeper, watching the way Mingi arched beneath him, his body responding beautifully even in exhaustion. "Tell me."
“Can we turn around—want to—need to see your face—” Mingi admitted, voice small and wrecked.
Yunho groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering at the words. "Fuck—you’re too good—"
He maneuvered them so Mingi was laying on his back, wincing a little when he felt the sticky feeling of his previous mess on his back but when Yunho plunged inside of him, face so close they were breathing the same air, it was long forgotten.
Then Yunho snapped his hips forward sharply, fucking into Mingi with renewed urgency, chasing his own release now, spurred on by Mingi’s breathless pleas beneath him.
Mingi cried out, oversensitive but still pushing back against Yunho’s thrusts, still taking him so perfectly, still whimpering Yunho’s name like a prayer.
"Gonna fill you up," Yunho growled, fingers digging into Mingi’s hips. "Gonna make sure you remember who you belong to—Who’s in charge—"
Mingi shuddered beneath him, whimpering as he felt Yunho pulse inside him, his third orgasm hit like a lightning strike, violent, overwhelming, tearing through him with brutal force, making him squirt over himself, on Yunho’s chest and on the sheets.
Only then did Yunho finally allow himself to let go.
With a groan, he buried himself deep inside Mingi, hips stuttering erratically as he spilled into him, warmth flooding Mingi's exhausted body.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing, Mingi's quiet whimpers, Yunho's low, satisfied hums.
Then Yunho pulled out slowly, pressing a kiss on Mingi's lips, just a quick peck as he collapsed bonelessly onto the mattress beside him.
"Perfect," Yunho murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from Mingi's forehead. "You did so well, baby."
Mingi blinked up at him, his lashes wet with tears, his lips parted as he struggled to form words.
Yunho smiled, stroking his cheek.
“Come on, we clean up quickly and then we can go to sleep.
Mingi answered with the faintest nod, barely more than a breath, and Yunho was already there, steady hands, gentle strength, guiding him back onto his feet like he was something fragile and precious.
Everything that followed blurred into quiet urgency. Sheets stripped and replaced in record time, the soft rustle of fabric filling the room. The warmth of a damp cloth against skin, careful, tender, unhurried despite the speed of it all.
And then, without hesitation, Yunho gathered him up.
Mingi barely had time to react before he was pulled close, tucked beneath the covers, wrapped in warmth that wasn’t just the blankets. Yunho’s arms came around him, firm and certain, anchoring him there against his chest. Safe. Held.
Yunho pressed slow, lingering kisses into his hair, along his temple, his cheek, each one softer than the last, like a promise he didn’t need to say out loud.
Sleep found them like that, tangled together, breath against breath, drifting under in the quiet comfort of being exactly where they belonged.