Archive of Our Own ^beta

Corny as it sounds in English from him, Jisung said it better than Seungmin could – going out after university just hits different. Perhaps it’s the fact that they live in the city now, where they can visit flashy LED-lit clubs instead of the stale campus bars overrun by overeager students. Maybe it’s better because they’re less messy and less self-conscious, the fun coming easy and loose as they dance as silly as they want, all while being more familiar with each other's telltale signs signaling to wrap up the night.

Seungmin’s different out of school too. Less uptight, a lot less wound up before he even takes his first shot. More confident, walking in knowing the drinks he wants, precisely what kind of beer takes the edge off after the work week, which vodka mix lets him keep up with Hyunjin’s antics when he’s in the mood to. Maybe even more importantly, Seungmin walks in knowing exactly the kind of guy he wants paying attention to him. He’s significantly less shy about his tastes and much more efficient in picking out who could throw him around the way he likes to be.

Jisung keeps sending him the TikTok trend of people violently whipping around when the person behind the camera shouts their type out.

“Yours would be ‘OLDER GUY WHO CAN PICK YOU UP WITH ONE ARM,’” Jisung said at their apartment one day.

They both burst out laughing when Hyunjin lifted his head from his phone curious, earnestly asking: “Who are you guys talking about? Where?”

Friday evening, Seungmin comes home to find his roommates on opposite sides of the couch, legs stretched across the middle, like a pair of chopsticks if one were upside down. When he rolls his backpack off his shoulders and drops it to the floor, neither of them looks up. Jisung is rapidly scrolling his phone and Hyunjin is busy glaring at him. The way he’s drumming his fingers gives away that he’s nervous about something.

“Hello,” Seungmin tries, walking to the fridge and hoping someone will fill him in. Inside, there’s an assortment of fruit-flavored drinks and alcohol, and a couple of lone takeout containers on the actual shelves. There would probably be an echo if he spoke into it.

“See!” Jisung shouts. Seungmin turns around, the refrigerator door shutting behind him. “You fell asleep right on him!”

Hyunjin snatches up his phone. His eyes go a little wide.

“No way. You photoshopped this.”

“You think I photoshopped this. Right now. A picture of you knocked out on Changbin’s shoulder. If you zoom in you can see the drool marks on his shirt!”

Seungmin walks into the living area tepidly as Hyunjin shoots up to greet him. He chucks Jisung’s phone behind him without looking to see where it lands.

“Hey–!”

“Seungminnie! How was your day? You look tired. Should we stop by that cafe we saw last week?”

“Uh. I think it’s closed,” Seungmin says, glancing at his watch. It was almost 7 pm now. He debates whether he should ask what they were bickering over or act as Hyunjin’s lifeline.

His eyes are still pleading, so Seungmin sighs and adds, “Work was rough, they have me analyzing mascot trends now.”

“You? Why?” To Hyunjin’s relief, Seungmin ends up going on a needed tangent.

When he first heard of this job, Seungmin figured it was the next best option for someone like him, someone who realized they weren’t cut out for professional baseball. He studied data science in university rigorously, and even got an analyst position for his favorite team – in order to help management make data-informed decisions about practice and lineups and tactics – all things he’s grown up loving.

To his misfortune, over the course of a year, he’s been pushed to fan marketing analytics instead. Most recently, Seungmin’s been faced with the ridiculous and daunting task of deciding what mascot they should be plastering all over their merchandise.

Jisung pats him on the back where Seungmin’s seated between them on the couch now, three woodland animals calmed down through commiseration.

“I’ll get you a shot tonight if you wanna come out with us.”

“That would be great actually–”

“Who is us?” Hyunjin’s voice is noticeably shrill again.

“Um,” Jisung starts, quietly. “Minho and Changbin.”

“I didn’t know you guys were doing anything.”

“Well, you said you wanted to stay in this weekend, remember? But you’re always invited, Hyunjin-ah. ”

“I know I am.” Hyunjin stands from the couch with a sniff. “I’ll go get ready now.”

He seems to forget the offense soon enough, once grapefruit soju bottles are clinking against the counter, his playlist of choice playing through the TV without any objections. The pregame dilutes Seungmin’s troubles at work too, the frustrations turning fuzzy now, shots pulling him into something nicer, sweeter…hornier. Yeah, he feels good, but Seungmin could feel even better if an attractive man were telling him he looked as cute as he looked foldable.

They take the subway towards Itaewon and meet with the rest of the group in a mildly organized and giggly clatter. Changbin has to keep batting Seungmin away as they walk towards a newer club, through a winding street lit up by neon signs and drink deals. All according to plan, Changbin eventually gets him in a headlock to stop his poking and clinging altogether. Being held by the neck, nose pressed to his chest, makes Seungmin’s head rush in a way alcohol doesn’t.

“Someone’s gonna think you’re wasted before we even get in,” Minho scolds as they approach the line. Seungmin detaches himself, but not without shooting him a frown.

He starts planning how he can piss Minho off once they’re inside. He could wait to see him dancing with someone and cut in. Beg him to accompany Seungmin to the bathroom instead. But Minho barely spoke with strangers while they were out. Even if by some chance he did, interrupting would guarantee a lack of homemade kimchi jjigae being dropped off at their place this weekend…and their fridge is so empty…

“ID, please.”

Seungmin looks up to the rich, tenor voice that’s pulled him away from his plotting.

He feels his knees wobble where he’s standing, despite the unmoving concrete beneath his feet. Because the security guard in front of him is unreal levels of sexy, styled black hair pushed off his forehead, gorgeous nose, and fuck, biceps that look like they’re straining against the sleeves of his unassuming shirt. Standing there politely, waiting for Seungmin to react.

In awe, he hands him his national ID card.

“You’re handsome. And muscular,” Seungmin says as he checks it, shooting his shot from the half line. When the man returns his ID, Seungmin deliberately makes sure their hands brush.

He can hear his friends behind him, a range of amusement and exasperation that Seungmin’s already trying to flirt with someone, before they’ve even made it through the doors. Which is not very understanding of them because the man in front of them is clearly Seungmin’s dream.

The security guard smiles back kindly, cheeks dimpling, eyes crinkling. Oh, he’s hot and cute. Seungmin is devastated even before he can get rejected.

“Move along, kid. Enjoy your night.”

Seungmin thinks he could have a lot more fun out here, but Changbin’s arm is looping around his shoulders and Minho is getting pushy, so he suffers the failure and goes inside.

Two hours later, Seungmin isn’t sure why he didn’t stay out there. They’re playing Western house songs he isn’t familiar with, Minho is actually having fun despite his plans to annoy him, and his sneakers keep sticking to the floor every time he moves because of someone’s spilled beer. When he can’t stand the tackiness anymore, he sits at the bar instead, on a stool high enough for his shoes to not reach the ground.

In a flat tone, he shuts down an approaching guy his age, even though it’s obvious that he works out. Of course, Hyunjin catches the interaction from wherever he’s always keeping an observant eye on him.

“You could have given him a chance,” he says, sliding himself into the space between Seungmin’s stool and the adjacent one.

“What’s the point if I know what I want,” Seungmin deadpans.

“The point is, a few hours ago, that’s exactly what you would want.” Hearing Seungmin’s sigh, which becomes more dramatic when he drinks, Hyunjin adds, “I checked outside again for you, you know. But I couldn’t find him, his shift probably ended.”

It takes everything for Seungmin not to launch himself forehead-first into the granite countertop, hard enough to make an imprint. Instead, he falls onto it with slightly more grace, while Hyunjin rubs circles between his shoulder blades and says he could have the rest of his cocktail and that he’ll do that stupid TikTok dance in front of everyone if it’ll cheer him up. Seungmin doesn’t respond, so Hyunjin offers to make out with him, which at least breaks his catatonic state enough to say gross.

Hyunjin laughs, and eventually coaxes him back towards the DJ through a combination of sweet sentiments (“You saw him once, what if he’s awful!”) and insults (“You saw him once, pull yourself together for fuck’s sake, Kim Seungmin!”)

The night ends unceremoniously, and Seungmin does spend his hangover on Saturday pulling himself together. He does not carnally need a man he barely spoke to, what he needs is to get rid of his headache. He needs to come up with a trade offer for Minho so he’ll drop by with leftovers from cooking this weekend. He needs to clean the bathroom and vacuum their living room rug and untangle the Switch controller wires. He’s too busy this weekend to think about anything else!

A hand-holding scene from the anime Jisung’s playing on the TV later in the afternoon is all it takes – to send Seungmin spiraling back into a horny rage. There’s no reprieve in trying to escape it. The old man from yesterday…he desires him.

He assesses his options for getting back into that club tonight. On his left, Jisung is still engrossed in the show, wrapped in a blanket, under which are the pajamas he only puts on when he knows he won’t be leaving the apartment again.

Somewhere in Gangnam is Hyunjin, getting a facial and probably shopping with Jeongin after. There’s no telling when he’d be home.

Changbin is most like Seungmin in having a routine, but he’s more disciplined when it comes down to it. It’s unlikely he’d break his rule of not going out back-to-back nights. Well, unless it was Hyunjin asking.

Which left Minho. Seungmin’s stomach tenses at the thought, twists fully as he presses his contact to call him. He leaves Jisung on the couch to shelter himself inside his room.

“Hyung!” he chirps after the fourth ring.

“Kim Seungmin.”

“Do you want to get drinks with me today?”

He cringes away from the phone at Minho’s sudden laugh on the other end. “What, just us?”

Seungmin steels himself. He knew this wouldn’t be an easy task. “Everyone else is busy and I wanted to hear the set tonight. I think it’s all girl group remixes. I’ll even buy you whatever you want.”

Minho contemplates the offer for too long, being difficult on purpose, and Seungmin considers switching strategies. Giving Minho such a massive headache over the phone that he’ll be convinced he needs the drink more than anything else.

“Okay, sure, since you’re desperate enough to ask me,” Minho agrees eventually. “I wanna see how pathetic you get for that bouncer.” He abruptly hangs up before Seungmin can try to deny it.

Then he grumbles, because Minho’s texted him a grocery list of ingredients to drop off for him in exchange.

Compliantly, he swings by Lotte before going to his place, follows several orders about cutting vegetables right, and they make it to the same club from yesterday before 9 pm.

There isn’t a line yet, so he quickly spots the guard again. He’s shorter than Seungmin remembers, a byproduct of his blood alcohol level, but he certainly doesn’t look any less divine. In fact, his soberness allows him to notice how sharp his jaw is, how biteable his lips look as they get closer.

His steps slow while Minho trails ahead. Was he really here to hit on a guy while he’s on his shift?

It only takes seeing him shoot Minho a smile for his resolve to come back tenfold. Yes, he was.

Not unsubtly, he crowds up to Minho’s side and gives the bodyguard his most confident, dazzling, I-want-you-so-badly smile.

“Hi. Pretty sure you already know my age,” Seungmin says as he hands his ID over.

“Doesn’t hurt to check.” The guard glances at him, Seungmin’s heart jumping as their eyes briefly meet, and then looks back to his card – hopefully comparing just for show.

“I know you remember me,” Seungmin insists, even if he only feels aspirational inside.

“I see a lot of people come by,” the guard chuckles, handing the card back.

Seungmin takes it back as slowly as possible since he isn’t outright denying anything.

“And you recognize me anyway? I appreciate that.”

He waves him and Minho to go but never stops smiling. It looks so good on him, warm, kind, a little bashful in a way that Seungmin hopes means whatever he’s doing is working.

“You’re holding up the line, Seungmin.” No honorific, which confirms he’s older.

“Can I get your name too?” he attempts before going inside.

The bodyguard shakes his head amusedly and takes the ID of the person waiting next, effectively cutting off further conversation. Seungmin sulks to the bar as Minho cackles.

Seungmin doesn’t even end up ordering a drink for himself, just pays for Minho’s beer, and helps him edit a video of his cats after realizing he isn’t going to respond to any of Seungmin’s accusations – that he knows Minho cares about him more than he shows it, so could he please show some of that care right now – leaving them as the two, definitely least weird people to walk into a club on a Saturday night.

Seungmin is determined to get his name for the rest of the week, at least so his friends can stop referring to him as the sexy security guy. Partly because they’re teasing him with it, mostly because that’s Seungmin’s sexy security guy, not theirs. When they sit for dinner, CJ rice Jisung microwaved up for them, stir-fried pork and soup courtesy of Minho’s visit earlier, it comes up again.

“Did you get that guy’s number yet?” Jisung asks, cheeks full.

Seungmin swallows a spoonful. “I don’t even know his name.”

“I bet I could get it right now,” Hyunjin says, loftily enough that Seungmin leers at him a bit.

“How?”

“Permission to take a call at the table.”

“Go ahead,” Seungmin says, rolling his eyes at his own rule being brought up. He’s a bit of a stickler for courtesies at the table, and they don’t forget to make fun of him about it. So what, he enjoys spending undistracted time with his roommates!

Hyunjin searches up the Itaewon club’s number and puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello! This is Hyunjin, yes, I asked a member of your security to hold onto, uh, my sunglasses the other night, but I completely forgot to grab them again. Ah, so nothing’s come up?” He describes Seungmin’s hot security guy in detail. “Yes, I believe he had it, when is he working again? Oh wonderful, I’ll ask him about it on Friday, it’s not a big deal. What was his name? Chan? Okay. Thank you so much.”

Hyunjin hangs up and cuts off Seungmin and Jisung before they can react, typing rapidly into his phone.

After another few moments, he adds, “Bang Christopher Chan. He’s an independent music producer too. Oh, even NMixx sang on one of his tracks! The club gig must be a part-time thing.” He sighs too longingly. “He’s so cool, reaching for his dream like that as an artist.”

Seungmin interrupts him. “Yes, that’s exactly why I like him so much.”

Still, he drops a nice piece of pork onto Hyunjin’s rice.

Equipped with Chan’s schedule, name, and a handful of other unnecessary details Hyunjin digs up from his Instagram, Seungmin hones his game. He ups the intensity of his lines each time they stop by the area, even if it’s just for dinner or street kebabs, or a very calculated evening stroll.

“Chan-ssi, I have an annual lease I already paid off.” Chan raises his eyebrows mildly, as unaffected as he’s always been, minus the first time Seungmin dropped his name. “I split it with my roommates, of course, but they are very polite about me having guests over. So accommodating about guests. I also have a savings account and I make five million won a month and I could get you free baseball tickets.”

When Chan responds with a genuine but simple, that’s great for you, Seungmin, Changbin grabs him away by the ear like he’s that one gym leader from Pokémon.

“Why don’t I ever see you inside,” Seungmin tries the next week, blinking innocently in hopes Chan sees the sparkles Hyunjin brushed onto his eyelids.

“Thankfully, we haven’t had a lot of problems,” Chan says earnestly, like Seungmin gives a shit about the lack of bar fights.

“Does that mean if I cause problems, I’ll see you in there? You’d have to drag me away, right? I’d put up a fight so I bet you’d have to grab me really tightly.”

Chan laughs, a sweet, musical sound that makes his heart skip and is in some ways a win. But Seungmin seriously isn’t trying to be funny. He wants this man, badly, his big hands everywhere and underneath his shirt, pinning his wrists onto the nearest surface even if it means the brick of the club exterior digging into his spine.

“Don’t get into any trouble Seungmin-ah.” They do their little ID handoff again, Seungmin’s favorite routine of the week, practically a tradition now. He convinces himself that Chan lets their hands brush increasingly more each time, allows them to linger because he also feels the electricity between their fingers, briefly thrumming in circuit.

Seungmin barely spends time inside the club anymore, most often walking away once he gets his ID back. He’s there for only one thing, after all.

“Say we met outside of this context,” Seungmin waves his hand at their surroundings. “This professional environment that I think you are taking a touch too seriously.” Carrying all that weight on his broad, toned shoulders.

As usual, Chan checks his age for show, but Seungmin can see the corner of his lip lift. Enough for him to keep pushing.

“Chan-ssi, if we were in there instead of out here, what would you do to me?”

“Probably get you to finally shut up.”

Seungmin chokes on the night air.

“What?” He needs to make sure he heard that clearly. “You mean that in a sexy way, right?”

“Um, ah. Maybe. Wait, no! Please forget it. You’re good to go.” Chan pushes the ID back into his hands urgently. “Next person!”

Still dazed, Seungmin shakes his head, walking away to not hold up the line behind him.

Once he’s on the subway, back of his head hitting the train window with a thud, he thinks he can count it as a win. The sheen forming on Chan’s forehead, the helpless stutter. A slip in his facade, a reward for Seungmin’s persistence.

He knows better now that Chan isn’t as unmoved as he tries to come across, knows he can take it further, whittling Chan down until he’s small enough to fit inside Seungmin’s palm, if he isn’t there already.

The next time he’s at the fateful Itaewon spot, Seungmin focuses on enjoying himself. It’s Friday, he’s with his friends, dressed up with a couple of shots in his system that have already pushed his latest work troubles far away, to the foggy part of his brain that doesn’t need to keep up with the rest of the night.

He shrugs his jacket off, allowing it to slip just below his bare shoulders.

“You look…like you’re gonna be having fun.” Chan has to pause mid-sentence as he walks up, his eyes all over Seungmin before they can make it back to his eyes.

It’s an understatement. Seungmin looks slutty, and he knows it. His stomach visible, the faint lines of abs, his rib cage exposed to the cool air every time he raises his arms. And after another week at the office desk doing useless research on the uncanny valley’s relation to mascots, Seungmin is absolutely in the mood to stretch out today.

“It’d be more fun if you met me after your shift.”

Chan rolls his eyes lightly. “Stop messing around. Go, enjoy your night.”

Seungmin blinks at him. “I feel like I might get lots of attention tonight, Channie hyung.”

“I can tell the bartender to keep an eye on you…make sure no one gets too handsy.”

How professional of Chan, to act like his hand isn’t the one trembling to slide beneath Seungmin’s shirt. He’s so competent, to stand there, devour Seungmin’s body with his eyes, and then act like it’s part of his job.

Well, Seungmin does have fun. He does sake bombs with Jisung and bets with him how many times he can put his palm on Changbin’s bicep before Hyunjin glares at him. The answer is twice, and Seungmin buys Jisung another shot because he lost betting on once. They play Shoot Me by Day6 later and Minho is drunk enough to grab his shoulders and shout bullet, bullet, bullet with him where they’re dancing. The night dwindles after that, but Seungmin hasn’t pulled off the finale yet.

“Sungie,” he starts, slightly more sober than he was a couple of hours ago. “I really need you to kiss me while we’re heading out.”

“Dude, no way. I know you haven’t gotten any in a minute but I’m not going to be a replacement. I need time, courtship, and—”

“Please? It’s so Chan notices.”

Jisung contemplates for a moment. “Okay, yeah, I get it.” He puffs up his chest, prouder now. “At your service.”

Seungmin laughs. “Thanks, Jisung.”

They walk outside, a few feet past Chan who’s currently talking to the other bodyguard with him tonight.

Seungmin hasn’t drank quite enough to be into exploring his platonic relationships like this, so he hopes doesn’t look too stiff as he’s pulling his friend flush against him.

Thankfully, Jisung’s arms circle his neck back in a coordinated effort, and then they’re kissing without another pause. Seungmin acts extra desperate and wet and loud about it, knowing they’re in Chan’s line of sight.

He takes a breath of air, a thin line spit connecting his and Jisung’s lips so perfectly he couldn’t have planned it.

In his peripheral, he sees Chan, no longer talking, his mouth open soundlessly instead. Seungmin wants to smirk, but he briefly turns away from Jisung to confirm that he’s truly looking.

Sure enough, Chan’s eyes are blown wide and unquestionably trained on them.

Seungmin bites his lip between his teeth with one more fleeting glance at him, then leans back into Jisung. He gets Jisung’s leg between his, grinding along his thigh as they make out. It’s nicer than he expected.

More importantly, this has to be a vision for Chan. He has to notice, how desperate Seungmin could be for him. How far gone he would be, rubbing himself all over him because he can’t get enough, begging for more when he feels hands slip under his jacket.

When they break apart, Jisung smiles back cockily at him.

Seungmin grabs his wrist and tugs them to where the rest of the friends are at the curb already waiting to hail a cab, in various states of confusion and shock. Aside from Minho, who’s probably turned on.

He doesn’t cast another glance at Chan as they go. It’s his turn to act unbothered.

“He practically broke his neck to watch, Min.”

“Do you think he’s still watching?” They’re facing the street, Chan somewhere behind them.

Jisung slaps his ass. He winks at Seungmin, sleazy and awful, but Seungmin can’t help but appreciate him anyway.

“Just in case.” Jisung slips his hand into Seungmin’s back pocket, keeping it there until they climb into the car.

Seungmin has been confident in what he wanted, and all the measures he’s been taking to attain it – but this time the embarrassment catches up to him. Sunday is manageable, when he sleeps in late and his roommates’ neverending hangover complaints keep him distracted. His Monday starts in the conference room, with Seungmin presenting on the highest-performing merchandise items instead of his careful analysis of the batting order, which he was encouraged to simply email over. It keeps him frustrated enough to avoid thinking of anything else that morning.

But after the meeting wraps up, Seungmin returns to his desk with a pit in his stomach, and unfortunately a light week of work ahead. With two hours until lunch, and another four to an afternoon team huddle, there’s no tangible escape from the reality that unfolded over the weekend.

God. Asking Jisung to kiss him? To make Chan jealous? The whole scene must have looked ridiculous and probably did nothing to get Chan to want him back. Wasn’t it too far? Wouldn’t it turn him off? Or worse, what if Chan thinks he’s interested in someone as small and fragile as himself – when all Seungmin wants is to be folded and slammed and shattered, pressed between any surface and the solid lines of Chan’s needy body.

He rests his cheek against the desk. In his wiry office chair, Seungmin vows to never step foot in Itaewon again, merely being in the neighborhood has him acting without sense. He’s reached the upper limit of desperation with this whole ploy, but even more honestly pushed past it the moment he allowed Hyunjin to give him Chan’s work schedule.

And despite it all, Friday evening, Seungmin finds himself on a metro rumbling towards Itaewon. Leg bouncing slightly, telling himself that he’s simply going to a brewery he appreciates the beer at, and that the fastest way there is by passing the club.

He’s swaying on his feet, a few meters from the entrance, trying to spot somebody in a black t-shirt who should have been here ten minutes ago.

“Are you looking for someone?” A hand gently lands on the small of his back, and Seungmin almost trips. Another hand comes to his chest to steady him. “‘Cause if it’s me, I took today off.”

Chan removes his hands as Seungmin turns to look at him. He’s indeed in black, but instead of his usual t-shirt, it's a long sleeve button down, dressed up with a shiny wristwatch and a silver chain high on his neck. Almost like a collar, that instantly has Seungmin thinking about what would happen if he threaded his fingers under and tugged.

“Hello? Seungmin?” Chan tilts his head, causing the neckline of his shirt to shift. Where the top buttons remain deliciously undone, Seungmin catches sight of the curve of his pecs peeking out and almost comes his pants.

“Sorry, ” Seungmin stares. “I almost just came in my pants.”

Chan sputters, blushes, and then stumbles through a bunch of half-formed words that leave Seungmin smirking with confidence by the end. Confidence he’s earned back being himself – off-puttingly straightforward and unabashedly horny.

“Let’s get drinks,” Seungmin decides, beginning to walk ahead.

Chan grabs his wrist firmly though, so different from the usual fleeting brush of their fingers. He holds him there in place, both of them still, a frozen moment amid the bustling street.

Then Chan snatches his hands back to himself like they reached without his permission.

“How about dinner instead? My treat.”

Still facing ahead, Seungmin smiles victoriously to himself before turning around.

“Sure, hyung. You can take me wherever you want.”

To his satisfaction, Chan chokes.

The BBQ place they arrive at is packed, the familiar smell of burning charcoal seeping between the busy bodies, ash smoke curling up towards the dim lights. Chan steps ahead, leads them to a booth where to Seungmin’s pleasure, they can sit next to each other. As he was on the walk over, Chan continues being a polite and easygoing conversationalist, and he laughs at all of Seungmin’s dry remarks. More affectionate than amused now, compared to how he laughed off most of Seungmin’s attempts to seduce him.

They agree to order samgyeopsal, which Chan grills for them both. While he keeps an eye on the meat, Seungmin stares at the sweat forming on his very attractive nose from the heat, and his exposed forearm after he decides to roll up his sleeves. The hard tendons running up his wrist, all the veins on the back of his hand that have Seungmin sipping from his water glass every half-minute.

When the pork is done, glistening fat and perfectly charred all thanks to Chan’s incredible hands, Seungmin goes to make himself ssam.

“Ah, let me.”

Seungmin blinks but releases the lettuce. Chan leans closer to add a cut of pork belly with his chopsticks, then a piece of kimchi meticulously on top. With endearingly more hesitation, he takes the wrap and brings it to Seungmin’s mouth.

Seungmin doesn’t hesitate. Munch.

“I think samgyeopsal tastes best like this,” Seungmin hums. He takes another bite to finish it, the delicious combination of savory, fresh, and sour. And yet–

“I wish I could have your fingers in my mouth too.”

Chan shakes his head, laughing, but the sound is noticeably strained. “You really can’t keep saying stuff like that to me.”

Seungmin pouts. “Why not?”

“I’m a guy, I’m seriously just a guy and when you act like that, all needy, I just…”

“When I act all needy for you hyung, you what?” He lilts, trying to bite back on a smile.

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not, promise.”

Chan watches him apprehensively. “Well, you can’t keep saying stuff like that and expect me to keep acting normal about it.”

Seungmin fights the urge to roll his eyes. “To clarify, hyung, I memorized your work schedule, threw myself at you all month, and found every excuse to come to Itaewon so you would kindly consider fucking me. Not so you could ‘act normal.’” Seungmin leans closer and lets their knees knock under the table. “I thought I was making it obvious.”

“So it was all serious?”

Seungmin nods looking at him, their faces centimeters apart now, close enough where he can see the crease of Chan’s brow, the barest amount of restraint held in it.

Not unsubtly, Seungmin opens his mouth and licks behind his bottom teeth where Chan can see. His eyes follow the movement immediately.

“Um,” Chan swallows, staring at his mouth. The noise in the restaurant fades to buzz, the heat in the room concentrating in the space between them. “Does…does that mean that I can kiss you?”

The question is stupid, but something in Seungmin’s chest softens too. Apparently he chose the nicest person in the entire country to hit on.

“And more, I hope.”

Chan leans in to kiss him, short and sweet. When he goes to pull back though, Seungmin shoots his hand out onto his thigh and squeezes – delicious, hard muscle under his palm. Chan lets out a shaky sigh, and Seungmin hopes any of his resolve not to pursue this dissipates into the air with it.

Thankfully, Chan leans back in and kisses Seungmin harder this time, one arm tugging him in by the waist, even pushing his tongue in for a filthy second that isn’t befitting of their public setting at all.

Only when Seungmin moans, barely muffled inside Chan’s mouth, he breaks away to place a kiss under Seungmin’s jaw.

“My place is too far from here,” Seungmin complains, knowing they can’t keep going like this in the booth. He feels Chan’s breathy giggle fall on his neck.

“Whiny.”

“You like it.”

Chan pecks his cheek in confirmation. Which is cute. Everything about him is somehow cuter than Seungmin even realized. “I have somewhere we can go.”

Again tonight, he follows Chan’s lead, this time with their hands interlaced the entire walk. Seungmin has to pivot his face to the side Chan isn’t on a couple of times, to hide the giddy smile that keeps fighting to stretch across his face.

“So do I get to see your place?”

“Not quite, but I spend a lot of time here.”

They arrive at an unassuming office building, where Chan scans an ID card that greenlights them to go inside. They cross through an empty lobby and Seungmin has a serial killer joke whirring, just before Chan unlocks another door, revealing a recording studio.

There’s a desk with a soundboard, and a plush, leather chair facing it. A thick glass window through which Seungmin can see a mic stand beyond his own reflection.

The door shuts behind them and the noise makes him jolt.

“Hey, are you nervous?” Chan’s thumb rubs against the back of his hand soothingly. “We don’t have to do anything. I can just play you a song or something.”

“No! No. It’s just not what I expected to see.” Yes, he’s also coming to terms with being in a closed room with Chan after dreaming about it for weeks, but he won’t be admitting that outright.

Chan releases his hand and sits in the chair, spinning it to face Seungmin. “I guess I haven’t mentioned that I work in music too.” Seungmin resists correcting the humble statement, remembering all the hits Hyunjin rattled off that Bang Chan was the first producer on. “The owner of the club helps promote my songs.”

“Making music suits you. You look hot in that chair,” Seungmin says instead, stepping forward.

Chan laughs. “You think I look hot no matter what I do,”

“Oh, you’re finally catching on, old man?”

“You’re such a little–come here.” He tugs a smug Seungmin into his lap. “Are you ever going to stop messing with me? Do you know how hard you would make my job?”

Seungmin hums, nonchalant, casually trailing his hands along Chan’s biceps and admiring them. He lets his fingers drag over his collarbone, where it's rising and falling, then down his firm chest and the ridges of his abs.

“How hard, Channie hyung?” Feather-light, he skims his hand over the sizable tent at his crotch. From what, making out twenty minutes ago? From just having Seungmin straddle him? It strokes his ego either way.

“You think you’re so funny, Seungminnie,” Chan exhales.

“Am I not?”

“You are, but sometimes I wish you’d shut up.”

Seungmin barely gets the words out, the make me, before Chan’s cupping his jaw and pressing their mouths together.

If he wasn’t sure before, he knows now that Chan has the best lips to kiss, ever, made dizzyingly better by how eager he is. How much he wants Seungmin back makes his head spin. Wet, hard, open-mouth kisses have his body moving completely on its own, arms coiling around Chan’s neck to pull him deeper.

Chan briefly breaks the kiss to look down at their legs, where Seungmin has been grinding on his thigh, increasingly more messily. An obvious wet patch had begun to form on the front of his pants. Chan glances back up at him.

“Slut,” he mutters, swallowing the high-pitched whine that leaves Seungmin’s mouth afterwards.

He’s embarrassingly close to coming like that, just rubbing himself over Chan’s body, but then he lifts Seungmin by the thighs, taking a couple of steps and slamming him against the glass of the studio.

“Can–can you fuck me like this?” Seungmin gasps between kisses.

“That’s the plan, baby.” Chan noses his cheek and squeezes the underside of his thighs. “Tell me first, could your pretty friend do this?”

“Mm…maybe.”

Chan loosens his grip so that Seungmin sinks down a bit.

“Wait, no, no,” Seungmin shakes his head, quickly desperate. “I’m sorry about that night, he definitely couldn’t.”

“S’okay. It was hot watching you like that, can’t lie.” Chan grins back, dimple devilishly cute. “I’m putting you down for a sec, just to get our clothes off. Try not to cry, yeah? If you can help it.”

Seungmin huffs – sweet Chan treating him like he’s a brat or something! When they use the packet of lube and condom Seungmin’s proactively kept in his wallet for the month; he demands Chan thank him, which he does with a fond laugh.

When he’s knuckle deep opening him up, Chan chuckles again, this time more breathless against Seungmin’s ear.

“All your lines seriously worked, you know. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how cute you are at all, Seungminnie. How much I’ve wanted to do this.” Chan slides a third finger in and sighs. “So fucking tight. You’re barely going to be able to fit on my cock.”

Seungmin buries his face into Chan’s shoulder and bites on a scream.

Chan fucks him while holding up, hands digging into his ass, thrusting up into him so hard Seungmin shakes every time no matter how tightly he wraps his legs around Chan’s torso. He blabbers for a bit, but eventually Chan fucks him dumb, completely speechless for the first time since they’ve met, and better than he could’ve imagined.

“Jisungie, Jisung!” Seungmin wakes up to the sound of Hyunjin urgently shouting in the adjacent room. “He really did it.”

He hears Jisung’s confused voice respond, though too muffled to decipher.

“Bang Chan-ssi is in our house! His neck looks like he was mauled, poor guy. But he’s making us all eggs!”