Chapter Text
She bad, so maybe she won't, but shit then again, maybe she will
"So fucking good," Yunho says, leaning back against the bus seat, his eyes drifting shut in a flutter of lashes. His long fingers feather over his fly, as if he's instinctively reaching to touch himself at the memory, and his knees subconsciously spread just an inch, jutting his pelvis forward.
Mingi digs his nails into his palm, forcing his gaze away from his best friend's dick, back to the screen in front of him. His eyes run over the Central Park scenery before the image cuts to three women in miniskirts and big gold chains, shaking their asses next to more park benches. All of it lacks context now. His skin prickles, like he's just watched porn.
"But what was it like," Seonghwa whispers, very loudly. In the corner of his eye, Mingi sees the cloud of his fluffy, white hair lean closer to Yunho, despite already sitting in the window seat next to him.
Yunho hums as he thinks. "His hands were really big, bigger than mine. He smelled like cigarettes and breath mints, mostly, but there was just this… maybe it was a feeling, more than a scent. Dark, somehow. I was, not playing coy, y'know, just… honestly I was freaking out."
A nervous smile plays on Yunho's lips, one Mingi's seen before. Yunho is keeping his head back, eyes on the bus ceiling, too embarrassed to look at Seonghwa, or to want to accidentally meet eyes with anyone else. This bus is rented, KQ-only, and the staff sits up front, so they can talk freely, but both topic and content are still deeply personal. So much so that Mingi feels like a creep for listening.
"I wanted it, y'know, but, it's such a big thing that… It was real, suddenly, really happening."
Yunho sets his hand over his heart. Maybe his heart is racing, or maybe he's remembering how it did.
"So he's taking my arm, and I sort of, 'why are you like this,' resist a little, and he's yanking me out the door into the back alley and pushing me against that brick wall. I can feel his hands on my waist. On top of my clothes, still, but I feel them, they're so warm and he took the space without thinking, like he has a right to be there."
Seonghwa listens, enraptured. In the seat in front of Seonghwa, Hongjoong sits slumped with his back crammed into the corner between his seat and the window. His eyes mostly stay closed, but he peeks back between the seats with one eye now and then. Behind Mingi, San watches trash TV, and when Mingi throws a glance back, he's picking at his lips. He's only wearing one earbud.
"It makes me feel my body, feel what I want. I thought, at first, like, maybe he just wants me to suck him. But right there, when he leans in, trapping me against the wall and pushing his body against me… I knew he was going to fuck me."
Mingi's exhalation shakes, and he tightens his control on himself to not accidentally make a sound. His bag is sitting on the seat next to him, and he pulls it closer as if he'll put his stuff in it and get up, maybe go talk to Jongho up front. It's fine if the other guys are listening, because they're just interested in the adventure, maybe wanting an experience like this for themselves. It's not like that for him, but the bag stays closed.
"He kissed my neck, not really sucking or anything, just little ones right under my ear, but it didn't feel like teasing."
"Like tasting something before biting in?" Seonghwa suggests.
"Yeah." Yunho sighs, with a tone of satisfaction that makes Mingi's skin burn. "That's exactly it. And I don't know where to put my hands, I'm a mess, I thought I'd be… not that much of a mess!" He lets up a bubbling little laugh. Yunho doesn't care that he's embarrassed, because it doesn't matter in the end. In the end, he got everything he wanted. "So he says, 'You can touch me,' and puts my hand on his… on his cock."
"Was he big?"
"Not yet."
In the end Yunho got everything he wanted, without Mingi.
"I feel him growing, and I was so hard at this point! It was kind of embarrassing that he wasn't, but, anyway, he's breathing against my neck and filling in under my hand, and he just keeps growing… At some point I think, shit, how the fuck am I gonna get this into me, but it's so good in my hand and it'll be even better… inside."
"Did you try what I told you about?"
"Yeah, like with the…? Yeah, he liked that. Got him so fucking hard."
Mingi has to glance over, because what is Seonghwa talking about? Try what? Seonghwa's eyes are glittering, he's hanging on every word Yunho speaks. Ever since Yunho started on this journey of self-discovery, Seonghwa's been so attentive to him, so gentle and so firm.
"Scary?" Seonghwa asks.
"Nah, not… just… there's this swoop in my stomach…?"
"Oh, the good swoop. Go on."
Yunho bites his lower lip. His cheeks have warmed up, there's a hint of weight in his eyelids. He's getting turned on, talking about it, and who wouldn't? Not an hour ago he was fucked in an alley by a random stranger, completing a long and difficult journey for him to not just accept but embrace himself, his sexuality, his needs. The faint ache in his ass, the sweat on his skin, it's filthy but it's medals of honor for the trials he's overcome.
The drop of dried cum he rubs off his sleeve is the stamp of approval that a man could want him this way, and he could deliver. The hushed conversations in Seonghwa's hotel rooms, the red-cheeked confessions sitting perched on Mingi's desk, the giggling Google searches through a VPN with San on the couch, they've all been theory. Burning with need, but intangible. This, today, is physical proof that what he's imagined is what he really wants. A thousand insecurities have been permanently stomped out. A thousand what if have transformed into one certainty, one self. And Mingi wasn't there for it.
"His hands were big, I said that, and kind of rough. It's not like when a woman touches you, not just the softness but there's a weight to it. He held my waist and I tried to push away from the wall just to feel him hold me back… It felt so fucking good. Man…"
"I know," Seonghwa murmurs. He got his medals years ago, under completely different circumstances, but the rumble in his throat says they feel exactly the same as if it's only been minutes.
"And he… he's saying all this stuff, and my pants, the waist is so tight he can't get his hands inside, so he comes to the fly and feels how hard I am. There was this little smile on his face, when he felt it. He goes, 'you good?' and I'm like holy shit what does it look like." Yunho laughs.
"What did he say?"
"Huh?"
"He said stuff. What stuff?"
"Um…"
"Wanna whisper?" Seonghwa offers his ear. Mingi will strangle him. He can't listen to all this but he also can't miss it. He hasn't even glanced at his phone other than to turn off the buzz, he barely dares shift in his seat in case the rustle will cause him to miss a word, a sigh or a hum. He'll fucking strangle Seonghwa, he will.
"Nah, it's okay, it's the usual stuff, y'know…" Yunho pulls his dark cap down lower over his face and looks down, hiding. It's the same as on stage, they've talked about it, like how Mingi puts on his big sunglasses and becomes the center of the world; everyone's looking at him, but no one knows where he's looking – he's in control. When Yunho quotes the man, it's in English and Mingi realizes of course it was a white guy. Why would he be Korean, they're in Barcelona. "He just said stuff, like, 'fuck, you're so hot,' and 'I'm gonna fuck your sweet little ass,' and 'your waist is so tight, babygirl,' and–"
Seonghwa's gasp cuts him off, and the hint of Yunho's cheeks that Mingi can see definitely gets redder. "How was it?"
"How was what?"
"Being called that."
"I mean, it's just… what people say…"
"Yunho," Seonghwa says, very softly. "How did it feel?"
There's a slight tremble to Yunho's chin that makes it seem like he'll cry, but then he's smiling again, and his voice is so smooth saying, "Good." It's important. Seonghwa is pushing because this has been so difficult for Yunho. Sometimes Mingi caught him staring into a mirror, like he could hypnotize himself. He would ask everyone, but especially Seonghwa, over and over if he looked good in this or that outfit, but he never looked satisfied when they swore he did. Maybe he habitually clings to control because he's been trying to suppress all this – every fucking breath of it for every fucking second of his life.
Mingi hadn't seen it. He's known Yunho since they were kids, but Yunho had made it look so effortless. At some point Seonghwa saw. He took Yunho out to look at fashion under the pretense of shopping for himself, showed him the right selca angles, and made what could have been traumatic into fun. He told the group about his own journey just so that Yunho would know that Seonghwa was there to hear him, if he wanted to open up, no pressure.
And now they're here. Babygirl. Yunho doesn't want to be a woman but he wants to be this; he doesn't want to change his body but wants to be small and petite. Mingi has tried and failed to wrap his head around it, and that bothers him, because he wants to give Yunho whatever makes him happy.
Seonghwa preens like a proud mother, touching his own curls, so happy for him. "Okay, and then?"
"Um…" Yunho blinks, his eyes searching through his memory for where he'd left off. "He kept saying all these things about my body, it felt so good, to just be… something someone wants like that. Felt like his hands were saying it too. He got my pants open, so he could get his hand down the back. And um…" Yunho's hand in his lap flexes, a subconscious tug on his dick. "I tell him there's lube in my back pocket, and I thought maybe… maybe he'd be put off, I don't know. I was so fucking easy in there so it's not like he didn't know what I was after, but maybe he doesn't want a… that … But he just took the packet and… uh…" Yunho hesitates, not sure how detailed he wants to be, but is reassured by Seonghwa's steadfast attention. "His fingers were thicker than mine, he had to… work it in, more. Twist. I thought, if I can feel even that tiny difference then how will it feel…?"
Mingi looks down at his own hands in his lap. His fingers are slightly bigger than Yunho's too. Not longer, just thicker, it's barely noticeable but he knows. He knows every detail of Yunho's body. No one knew as much as him… until now. Now there's a man out there somewhere, a white guy with big hands and a big dick, who knows parts of Yunho that Mingi will never know. The world keeps turning, Mingi keeps breathing, but it's a fact and it changes things.
"I was afraid he'd get impatient, so I said it's fine, I'm ready, you can go, and he just chuckled, like I was being cute. 'I know you can't wait to get on my dick but let's not get you hurt.' Like that. It was sweet. And hot. At the same time."
Seonghwa nods, like he knows exactly what he means. The hardest part for Yunho to accept hasn't been that he wants men, or that he wants dick up his ass, but that he wants to be fucked. He wants to be pushed around and told what to do, wants cute pet names, praise disguised as insults, and insults disguised as praise. Wants men to stare at him like he's a piece of flesh, a sex toy, and call him a silly little puppy. He refused it for a long time. Seonghwa tried to help him, but even he got frustrated.
This is the one thing that Mingi could do for him. Mingi had already been buffing up, for the job, and because it made him feel better about himself. He always liked the princess stuff and people looking after him, but he also likes the way Wooyoung giggles when he picks him up, and the way San blushes when he hugs him, really wraps around him. He never dared to do it to Yunho, who'd get pissed off if he tickled him one second too long, but when Seonghwa talked to him about it one night – he saw what he could do.
So he picked Yunho up, one afternoon playing games in his hotel room, and got a burst of giggles and curses. Yunho had told him to not do that, flushed all the way to his collarbones, but it had seemed very insincere. He cornered Yunho against a wall in the practice room and didn't let him go when he tried. Since he knew about it, he'd been able to see the arousal creep up Yunho's throat, making him stick his hands between his thighs.
Eventually, all of Mingi's little daring pushes meant Yunho couldn't deny the physical truth, when he tried to blind himself to the theoretical one. His hands had been shaking slightly when he'd admitted to Mingi that he needed him to stop doing it, because it was getting weird between them, and after that he'd begun to try to accept himself. There had still been a long way to go, but Mingi had helped.
Now Yunho corrects his cap again, shrugs the black hoodie back up his shoulder, licks his lips and says, "I wasn't going to, but I kissed him. He was being too nice, I needed it, so I kissed him, really got into it, and, heh, he took my wrists in one hand to hold them up against the wall, to stop me trying." There's the faintest shudder through him, he rubs his own wrist. "So I called him daddy." He shifts from his normal tone into a lighter whine. "Come on, daddy, I want you.' Like that."
The little moan in Yunho's voice goes straight to Mingi's hips. He shifts in his seat, trying to shake it off, because he can't feel like this. Yunho is his best friend, and he's made it clear he doesn't want that kind of attention from Mingi. From every man in the world, but not Mingi.
Mingi helped. But unfortunately, in the process of helping, he had his best friend fret and blush and wiggle against his body, which made him discover some things about himself, too. He also likes girls, or more like, he doesn't like anyone. He likes attention, he likes teasing and getting what he wants, he likes turning people on and being wanted. It was only when he got Yunho under his hands that he noticed the difference; that there is something else, something more than that. There's no drive to fuck them, really, guys or girls. He can, and he does, and it's fun, but it's not the same, no – the only one he actually needs to fuck is Yunho. Fuck his life.
"It got to him, calling him that," Yunho says. "He spun me around and pulled my hips out, and I glanced back and saw him there, with his dick in hand, about to stick it in me. My pants were around my knees at that point, I couldn't spread my legs but he didn't care, he just…"
"Just?" Seonghwa says, with a playful smile.
"Just." There's a hot breath over Yunho's lips, his eyes close again. He's gotten warmed up, not so embarrassed anymore, the words are coming easier. "He'd used so much lube, he slipped first, it was filthy, ugh, but… When I felt his dick push against me, I thought no way, this is never gonna fit, but I had to, I wanted it so bad. So bad, hyung."
"I know," Seonghwa says, again.
"I tried to focus on the bricks and the city, but it's impossible, it's just so much. He was so hard I could fucking feel his veins, I swear… It hurt a bit but not in a bad way. It should, that's what it felt like. The stretch, that feeling of being filled up… No, not just that, but opened up and filled. That… part of me I couldn't unlock myself, it's being torn open, and that should hurt a little, because I'm not… pure and new anymore, I'm… used." His exhalation is almost a pant, and his feet move on the floor to spread his legs a little more. "It felt so fucking good. It feels so fucking good."
Mingi wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. Used. Like a condom. Made to be ripped open, used and thrown away. He longs to feel Yunho's thighs flex under his palms, to dig his fingers into them until it hurts. It should hurt a little. It shouldn't turn him on, but it does.
"It feels like it takes forever for him to get into me, just more and more, shoving my guts aside to fit him. I can't stop thinking about it, that he's taking my ass, he's gonna fuck me, and my legs are already shaking. He's grunting about me being so tight. 'Tight virgin ass,' he said, and I thought how the fuck does he know, but he didn't, I don't think. It was just something he said."
Seonghwa nods, like this is normal. It doesn't feel normal to Mingi. He hadn't realized Yunho hadn't told the guy it was his first time. He was mad that someone else got to do it, not that it was the first; he doesn't give a fuck about virginity, he got rid of his own as fast as he could. But it feels worse now. It shouldn't be like that, it should be special; Yunho is special, not some nobody to be fucked and forgotten.
This is a million dollar body that makes girls cry and scream, that wears Dior and supermarket t-shirts like he could be on the cover of Vogue in either. Yunho is someone, not just to Mingi. But he knows in excruciating detail that Yunho got exactly what he was after, because they've talked about it. He wanted his first time to be as dirty as possible, to kill any doubts, to defile him so badly he can never go back to what he was.
"He gets all the way in, and his hands come around my waist, both of them, getting lube on my skin. It's a bit disgusting but it's hot how he doesn't give a shit, he just shoves my hands away when I try to push him off. He reaches so fucking far around my waist; I feel his fingers on my stomach when he's holding it, it makes me feel… small, like I'm weightless. And I can feel his dick in my stomach on the inside too. He digs in and holds me there, like he wanted to… I don't know, experience me? Absorb, take in…?"
"Possess," Seonghwa says, and the single word hisses along Mingi's spine and makes his thighs clench.
Yunho's only response is a low groan, and more intense chewing on his already red and abused lips.
"He fucked you?"
"So good."
Those hands on Yunho's waist should be Mingi's, they could have been, if he'd understood earlier. No, Yunho doesn't want it that way, it was weird, he said. Don't make things weird. Fuck, if he knew Mingi is so fucking weird for him. He wants to lick the lube off Yunho's soft stomach, and eat his cum from his ass, wants to slide his hands up the smooth, warm skin of his chest to feel the arch of his body and palm his nipples. Wants to set his lips against his throat, so he can feel the vibrations when he shoves deep and Yunho groans, just like that.
"He fucks me but all that lube, it makes so much noise, so wet, I got scared someone would hear it and come looking for the source. I was freaking out and he noticed. 'Don't worry about it, I got it,' he said, and I, um, I…"
Yunho stutters, hitting a new wall. Seonghwa's hand slides over his, guiding him to his own cock. He's definitely hard, his pants legs are loose but the waist is tight around his hips, the bulge is undeniable, because Yunho is big too. A big, pretty boy, Mingi thinks.
"What?" Seonghwa urges.
"I was…"
For a breathless second, Yunho turns his head away from Seonghwa, straight towards him. Mingi can't move, it happens as if in slow motion. He'll see Mingi staring at him, he'll read Mingi's thoughts from his face, and it'll all be over. But Seonghwa's hand quickly comes to his jaw to guide him back, keep him in the moment, not let him get self-conscious.
"What, baby?"
Yunho's eyes grow distant as he sinks back into the memory. He shifts in his seat, as if the friction against the fabric of his pants is so close to feeling good. Or to rub his ass against the luxury upholstery? "I was… whimpering and whining too much, he said, 'what's the matter, pretty baby, you want to come up so you can see?' and I didn't understand what he meant but I said yes anyway. So he kicked my shoes off, I wore these because they're easy to take off, yeah?" He lifts his foot to show his beige/brown Nike Air Force 1. "And he got me out of my pants and…" He clears his throat.
"Underwear?"
Yunho's cheeks are burning bright. "I didn't wear any," he admits. Because he went out specifically for this. Not just to get fucked for the first time, but to make a monument, a memorial to the old Yunho and his old life. Yunho went out yesterday morning looking for the right spot, and filmed a dance challenge in the alley he chose, not-very-subtly bounced on cock against that brick wall. Tonight, he went out and picked up a random guy to get fucked against that same wall. They can't keep just anything on their phones, and Yunho especially is extremely careful. He would never film the sex itself. But he can keep that video to watch and remember; he can, and did, post it for the world to see. To see him.
"He got my back against the wall and hoisted me up, and got in me again. It felt so good, how I was fucked open enough that he could shove right in that time, but not too open, y'know, he still had to push. I thought I'd be afraid I'd fall but he was strong, it was pretty steady. The bricks were scratching my back but it kept me from sliding down, so he could thrust. It was different, seeing his face. It got so real. I really went out and… had a stranger fuck me… like a…"
There's a soft rustle when Seonghwa pops the button of Yunho's pants. He's not wearing underwear, just as he said, and his cock is thick and needy – raw, because Yunho prepared for this meticulously, shaved it all, even his tiny baby happy trail, which in Mingi's opinion was a mistake. That fuzz was made to be kissed and nuzzled, it was adorable. Mingi only gets a glimpse, however, before Seonghwa has put Yunho's hand over his cock, hiding it from view. He doesn't let go then either, steering Yunho through rhythmic pumps with the heel of his palm, not allowing him to fist the shaft properly.
"Like what?"
"Ummm… hyung, I…"
"Yunho."
Seonghwa isn't just being nosy, he's helping Yunho process, and this is at the core of it all. Yunho planned this for months and chose Barcelona. He got the guys to go around with him on Thursday, two days ago, to look at churches and holy places, and he booked the late night private tour of the Sagrada Familia that they're on their way to now. The last brushstroke to his masterpiece will be to walk around one of the most beautiful churches in the world still feeling a stranger's cock in his ass.
They picked him up on the way. He went alone tonight despite them warning him it was dangerous. Being gay is one thing, Yunho could make peace with that. But what he really wants, dropping to his knees, spreading his legs… that's unforgivable. So he went alone, because it's his choice and his responsibility – his character assassination of the old Jeong Yunho.
"Had a stranger fuck you like a what?"
Yunho's voice rumbles in his chest, Mingi can feel it in his bones. "Like a whore," he says, and his hips jerk.
"Yeah. Needy little whore. But it felt good, didn't it? How did you feel?"
"… Pretty," Yunho gasps. Good, Mingi thinks. "Mmnnn… I felt like the hottest piece of ass on the sidewalk. He didn't look away for one second, knocked the cap off my head, 'I wanna see your pretty face,' wanted me to moan for him. I didn't want to be too noisy but he wouldn't let it go, and… after the first one…"
"It gets easier, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. 'Let me hear how much you like it,' that's what he said, and…" Yunho's eyes flutter shut, he licks his lips again. "And I liked it a lot," he adds with a hint of breathless wonder, and a scoop of mischief.
It's what Mingi wants for him, to be able to let go and be who he wants to be; who he actually is. He doesn't give a fuck about the risks, or what it could do to the rest of them; if Yunho wanted to come out tomorrow, Mingi would tell him to do it. He's seen what it took to get here, and whatever Yunho wants, he's earned it. But he hadn't understood that what Yunho went for would be this. A nameless white guy fucking him like an animal in an alley, Yunho's beautiful smile at remembering being used and spit out like gum.
No, that's not true, Mingi had been made perfectly and explicitly aware. Yunho had told him in detail what he planned and hoped. He just hadn't understood that it would feel like this.
"And then he stopped," Yunho says. "Said, 'Come on, babygirl, you can work for it too, with that body,' so I tried to roll my hips." Yunho draws sharply for breath when Seonghwa swats his hand away, takes his cock in both hands and twists. "Nnggghh…"
Yunho's head flies back to strain against the headrest. His neck is soft, Mingi likes how it feels, and his veins don't show easily, he has to work for them to come out. So it's all smooth skin wrapped softly around his jugular, still – they've not quite arrived at the crescendo yet.
"I… tried to roll my hips but… it wasn't easy. So I got my hands on top of the wall, so I could lift myself." He brings his arms up to hold the headrest, elbows straight up. He might be showing what it looked like, but more likely he wants to reenact it, to experience it again. "I fucked myself on his dick and fuck, it felt so good, it felt just like when I d-danced… ahh…"
Holding his breath, Mingi watches Yunho roll his hips to fuck into Seonghwa's hands with long, slow strokes. He can see San in the corner of his eye, leaning back with his eyes closed. The only movement is the tapping of his fingers on his armrest. Hongjoong has sat up, hugging his jacket around himself, and Mingi would be willing to bet he's seeing a lot more in front of his eyes than the square of bus floor he's staring at.
"Felt like I was dancing on his cock, mm, the rhythm… I could hear the song in my head. He pushed my clothes up to see my body. Haaa… he liked it. He liked me dancing for him." Yunho's moan is pure porn now, unapologetic. "Spit in his hand and took my cock, saying all this shit, all the things I… I wanted to… 'damn, you're a pretty slut,' and, 'come on, get yourself off on my cock, let me see it,' and… mmmnn… Let me see it, he said, like I was… just there for him, doing it for him… when… I was losing my mind, he felt so good. I couldn't stop. So tired, my stomach, my arms, fuck, my arms… but I couldn't stop, was fucking him so good, I was so… so… close…"
There's a dark hum from Seonghwa and a flick of his finger over Yunho's cockhead that feels incredible, judging by how Yunho arches his back off the seat. A hint of veins is slowly marbling his throat, rising under his skin and revealing the pressure that pushes from inside.
"Mnn, hyung, hyung…"
Hearing the need, Seonghwa guides his knee aside to wiggle to the floor between his legs. There's just barely enough space. From there he can pump Yunho's cock more easily, and Yunho squirms under his grip, panting and whimpering.
He's completely forgotten himself. There's not a single cell in him that worries about who sees, or how he'll be seen, or that he shouldn't like or want it. He's wide open and it's the most beautiful fucking thing Mingi's seen in his whole life. In his whole life. Because he's never seen Yunho like this before. There's always been that last wall of self-awareness, of shame, of cramping control, but it's not here now. At his most vulnerable, Yunho looks the strongest he's ever been.
"He felt so good in me, every… every time I pushed down on his cock, I… hhnnn… I fucked myself until I shot all over myself. My thighs, my stomach, everywhere, dripping on the ground, 'pretty baby,' he said, 'fuck, you're good, good job, babygirl, you're so pretty for me right now I wish I could show you,' and he took his phone out of his pocket."
No way, Mingi thinks, stiffening, and he can see Hongjoong flinch and glance over his shoulder.
"Took a photo and showed me my own mess, ngghhhh… 'so pretty,' I… I'm… I'm a…"
Pretty boy, Mingi thinks. Stupid, fucked out, pretty little idiot letting someone take photos. What the fuck will you do if he puts those somewhere?
"And then he fucked me," Yunho says. It sounds different, colder, more raw. "Not for me, just for him, hard. Slamming into me, 'I'll fuck you so good, fill your slutty hole up and let it drip out of you,' he was so hard, just driving into me again and again… It was so good, hyung… it's… so good… you're…" With a fulfilled groan, and veins proudly snaking up his throat, Yunho bucks up and climaxes.
Seonghwa is prepared. Out of nowhere he has tissues and captures it all like he's done this a hundred times. Mingi can't see his face, only an angelic snowy tousle of hair, and his delicate hands handling spurt after spurt without spilling a drop. He must have fallen down a hole somewhere and ended up in a twisted mirror reality, this can't be it. He wonders if Yunho's cum tastes sweet.
Yunho swallows, over and over, lifting himself up by his arms. His ass can most likely remember the impacts, like echoes; it's at most an hour ago. That guy's scent lingers on his body, inlaid in the membranes of his nose; his sweat is surely soaked into Yunho's clothes and dried stuck in the fibers. Seonghwa skillfully wrings the last drops out of him and, like a cat stretching, Yunho's thighs tremble with pleasure when he slumps.
Seonghwa gets up to take his cheek, this time leaning their foreheads together.
"Baby. You did it." He smiles, and Yunho smiles too, fucked out and swimming in bliss, proud and satisfied in every possible way. "You really did it! I'm so happy for you!"
Yunho's hum is virtually a purr.
"Did he cum–" Seonghwa pauses and sits back in his seat, a small frown grows on his forehead. "Condom?" He shakes his head with visible disappointment when Yunho casts him a deer-eyed look.
Yunho prepared everything, even scouted out a few places to have backups, and he's asked around, discreetly, during the tour about how to pick up men. But he didn't bring a condom. Mingi tried to tell him it wasn't a good idea, but Yunho said he wouldn't refuse if the guy had one. What he wanted was to be ruined beyond redemption, but also to let go of control. He'd roll the dice and let fate decide.
"You're getting tested the second we have an opportunity," Seonghwa states. "And that photo–"
"It didn't show my face, hyung!" Yunho says, affronted. "It was just my body. Here, he put it…" He digs out his phone from his back pocket and they lean over it together. Mingi wants to strangle Seonghwa again, hearing the tiny, approving, 'Nice.' He fidgets, not about to go over there, but that photo… Yunho's flat stomach and thighs toned from the effort of fucking himself, filthy with globs and splashes of his cum mixing with his sweat. He absolutely must not see it, but holy hell he wants to.
He waits, but there are no more words. Yunho and Seonghwa whisper and giggle but it doesn't seem to be about that. But Yunho can't just leave it there, the story isn't over? There's some very important details left!
Did the guy cum in him, filling him up to watch it drip out, like he said? Or pull out and coat Yunho's pretty ass in cum just like his front was covered in it? Did he stay, and help Yunho up, clean him, dress him, kiss him… or did he leave Yunho there on shaking legs, after he got what he wanted, like the whore he wanted to be? Did he thank him for the privilege of getting to fuck him, or did he take it all for granted and consider it tribute to his cock?
Did he rip open, use and throw away, or did he leave his number on Yunho's phone?
The bus stops, and they can see the spires of the Sagrada Familia, lit up in the cool Spanish night.