Chapter Text
· · ─ ·♰· ─ · ·
The glow of spreadsheets bled into Mingi's eyes, lines of numbers shifting until they blurred. Same figures, same reports, same endless cycle. Day in and day out, the routine ground him down. Everyone thought being a chief financial officer was glamorous, a corner office with a view over the city, title, and six-figure salary.
But the truth was that it was monotonous with a polished suit. His muscles ached from hours hunched over, a dull ache in his shoulders that had settled into permanence. And under all of it, the tension that had been building for months now: the frustration of not having been touched in far too long.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the leather creak, rubbing at the bridge of his nose beneath his thin-rimmed glasses. People said he looked young for 47, and they weren’t wrong. He had the kind of face that hadn’t collapsed under time yet. Just the faintest wrinkles at the edges of his eyes, the slightest shadow at his temples where grey strands were carefully dyed back to black. Clean-shaven, though the stubble always lingered in a natural shadow across his jaw and chin. He carried himself like a man closer to 40, and it wasn’t just the black dye hiding his grey hair.
The years had marked his body only in texture, not shape. His chest was still firm, shoulders broad, waist still narrow. Arms thick, legs cut from years of keeping active, his ass never softened the way some men did. Only the elasticity of his skin gave away the truth, that subtle looseness no routine could completely erase. He still looked like a man who cared, who didn’t let himself go.
But none of that mattered when it came to intimacy. That was gone, dried up, and well run out. His wife didn’t reach for him anymore, and he didn’t bother to reach for her. What they had left between them wasn’t a marriage, it was a contract of convenience, to stay together for the kids, to show them a household that at least looked intact. A kiss in the kitchen if the children were watching, a smile for appearances. Nothing more.
The truth was, he didn’t even feel particularly loyal to her. Not anymore. But even with the distance, the idea of cheating had always felt like a line he shouldn’t cross. So he let it fester instead. Settled for jerking off alone in his car during late nights, or in the shower, quick and mechanical. He could live like that. He had been living like that.
But the tension only grew heavier.
A sharp knock against the doorframe cut through his thoughts. Mingi straightened instinctively as San, the chief revenue officer, stepped inside with his usual brisk energy.
''Numbers look solid,'' San said as he tapped a file against his palm. Then, narrowing his eyes at Mingi, he added, ''But you don’t. You look exhausted.''
Mingi gave a dry huff, sliding his glasses off and rubbing at his temple. ''It’s not exhaustion. Just... tension, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.''
San hummed, unconvinced, and crossed the room. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click before sinking into the leather chair opposite Mingi's desk. For a moment, he just studied him, too perceptive for comfort.
''You ever think about checking out the lounge?'' San asked casually, though the glance he gave carried more weight than the words.
''You’d find plenty of people there who’d be happy to help with that tension.''
Mingi's mouth twitched in something between amusement and dismissal. ''Not interested.''
''Come on,'' San pressed, leaning back with an easy grin.
''You don’t have to commit to anything, just go, see what you think. Better than grinding yourself down like this.''
Mingi shook his head, firm. ''No. I’m fine.''
San held his gaze for a moment longer, then sighed, clearly recognizing the wall he wasn’t going to get past. He stood, straightening his tie. ''Suit yourself.''
At the door, he paused, looking back with a knowing smirk. ''In case you change your mind, the lounge is called Silver Light Lounge.''
And with that, he was gone, leaving the office too quiet once again.
Mingi leaned back, staring at the door long after it had closed. Silver Light Lounge. The name sat heavy in his thoughts, even as he tried to push it away.
· · ─ ·♰· ─ · ·
Mingi sat in the driver’s seat of his Mercedes Benz, both hands tight on the wheel. The parking lot was quiet, a cold wash of lamplight against polished hoods and tinted windows. He should just go home. Shower, pour a drink, crawl into bed next to his wife and pretend sleep came easily.
Instead, he lingered there, caught by the faint reflection staring back at him in the windshield — the dark outside turning the glass into a mirror under the cabin light. His own face, tired, drawn, met him until he finally sighed and loosened his grip on the wheel. One drink, he told himself. Just one.
He glanced down at his clothes, making sure nothing was out of place. Grey blazer threaded with a faint blue hue, darker grey vest beneath it with the same tint. White button-up crisp against his chest, dark tie patterned in white. Pocket square folded sharp in black and white, the design hidden in the crease. Black belt, black Oxfords polished to a dull shine. He hadn’t changed since the office, but it would have to do.
The lounge entrance glowed ahead, discreet but impossible to mistake once you knew what you were looking for. He locked the car and walked.
♡
Inside, the air shifted instantly. Dim light cast everything in amber and gold, chandeliers dripping crystal across the high ceiling. Velvet chairs lined the walls, polished mahogany tables gleaming with glassware. The sound of a piano filtered through, soft and unobtrusive, paired with the low murmur of men in suits speaking to companions who were far too beautiful to be anything but purchased. Elegant and classy, a place for men like him to disappear.
Mingi's gaze drifted automatically toward the bar.
There, one of the figures perched on a leather stool, back turned. The only thing visible was a long, velvet coat, black and soft enough to swallow the light. Dark brown hair spilled down to the nape of his neck, strands brushing the edge of the collar.
Mingi stepped up to the bar and signaled the bartender. ''Old Fashioned.''
The man beside him shifted, glancing just once out of the corner of his eye. A quick smirk tugged at his lips before it vanished behind the rim of his glass. He took a slow sip, hand still wrapped loose around it.
Mingi let his eyes linger a moment. Amber liquid, ice cube glinting, twist of orange curling in the drink.
''Boulevardier or Negroni?'' he asked, voice even as the bartender slid his own glass across the counter. He gave a polite nod of thanks before lifting it.
The man hummed, thoughtful. ''Boulevardier. Gin doesn’t do it for me.''
Mingi matched the sound with a low hum of his own, then finally allowed himself to look.
Dark-brown hair styled just enough to suggest care without effort, curtain bangs that framed his forehead, parted in the middle, some strands skimming down to his eyes. Round, dark eyes that seemed almost too open, small nose with a subtle bridge, smaller lips yet soft and full. His velvet coat fell open to reveal a sheer black top, patterned faintly, clinging to the lines of his torso. Just enough transparency to show the flat plane of his chest and stomach, but not enough to be crass. Skin smooth, lips tinted naturally pink.
The man raised his drink again, but this time his gaze locked with Mingi's as he tipped it back. When he set his glass down, he tilted his head, pretending he didn't hear Mingi's order earlier. ''And you?''
''Old Fashioned,'' Mingi said. He lifted it in demonstration, then slid it across the counter toward him.
The man arched his brow, but his hand left his own glass. He lifted Mingi's instead, brought it to his lips. Eyes not leaving Mingi's as he took a sip. A quiet hum of approval followed, then he set it back down and nudged it toward its owner.
Mingi accepted it, without breaking eye contact, he raised it to his mouth. Pressing his lips against the exact place the other man’s lips had touched. The bourbon burned, smooth and sharp, but it was the taste of citrus and something else that lingered.
Setting the glass down again, letting the weight of the silence stretch. Around them, the bar buzzed with low laughter and clinking glass, but here it felt muted, like they were in their own pocket of air.
''Not bad,'' the man said at last, fingertips tracing the rim of his Boulevardier. His voice was smooth, calming to Mingi's ears.
''You always drink Old Fashioned, or is this a long day kind of order?''
Mingi huffed softly through his nose, rolling the glass between his palms. ''Long day. But it’s a usual one, too.''
'' Mmh.. figures.'' The man’s mouth quirked, like he knew what was coming.
''Old Fashioned has that... traditionalist feel. Reliable. Predictable. That’s you, isn’t it?''
Mingi turned his head just enough to meet his eyes. ''You think so?''
''Mm.'' The sound was lazy, almost teasing. ''You look like someone who doesn’t like surprises.''
He wasn’t wrong. But Mingi only shrugged, letting a faint smile tug at his lips. ''Depends on the surprise.''
That earned him a quiet laugh, low and warm. The man lifted his glass, finishing the last swallow, then set it down with a soft tap. He extended a hand, casual and gracious. ''Yunho.''
Mingi accepted it, his grip firm, steady. ''Mingi.''
The name seemed to roll on Yunho's tongue even after he let go. He tilted his head slightly, studying him like one would a line of text worth rereading.
''So, Mingi...'' His eyes narrowed just a fraction, interest sharpening at the edges. ''What is it you do for a living?''
Mingi didn’t hesitate. ''Chief financial officer,'' he said, voice even.
The man’s brow ticked up, almost imperceptibly, before his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. As if that answer had told him exactly what he wanted to know. He let the silence linger, fingers gliding along the rim of his empty glass, before tipping it toward the bartender for a refill.
Mingi leaned back against the bar stool, letting his shoulders relax. Inside, though, he felt the flicker of recognition. Watching him, expression steady, though the thought clicked into place easily enough. He’s testing me. Checking if I’ve got the money to make this worth his time.
It wasn’t the first time he’d run into it. Questions dressed as curiosity, answers measured like currency. He’d seen it before, on business trips where someone too forward or too practiced tried to coax him into paying for their company. Usually, he brushed it off.
But this time, he didn’t mind. Not when the man sitting beside him was beautiful, he was elegant in every movement, expensive-looking even in the shadows of a velvet coat.
Mingi took another sip of his Old Fashioned, seemingly unbothered. If he wants proof I can pay, he’ll get it. That’s the point, isn’t it?
He let the moment stretch, then tipped his chin toward him. ''And you? What is it you do?''
Yunho hummed softly, eyes dropping to the swirl of amber in his glass. He let the silence linger a beat too long before answering, voice smooth but threaded with irony.
''You could say I’m a special type of care consultant.''
His gaze flicked back up, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, as if daring Mingi to read between the lines.
Mingi let out a quiet hum, low in his throat, enough to show he understood without needing to spell it out. His glass turned slowly in his hand, catching the light.
''And how do you like it?'' he asked, tone casual, as if they were still only talking business over drinks.
Yunho’s mouth curved faintly. ''I enjoy it. Helping people with needs they can’t handle themselves... there’s a certain satisfaction in that.''
Mingi studied him, the hint of a smile tugging at his own lips. ''Then you must be good at it.''
He let the pause hang a beat before adding, ''How well do they pay you?''
Yunho tilted his head, eyes glittering with amusement as he traced the rim of his glass.
''That depends,'' he said smoothly. ''On what they need help with. And how.''
Yunho's answer lingered between them, smooth as the liquor in their glasses. Mingi took a slow sip of his Old Fashioned, then set it down with gentle care.
''I’m not looking for anything complicated,'' he said, voice steady, measured. ''Just something straightforward. A release I’ve been carrying for a while.''
Yunho's eyes flicked up to him, catching the weight beneath the words. A small hum left his lips, almost approving.
''Straightforward, I can do,'' he murmured, fingertips still circling the rim of his glass.
Yunho let the silence stretch for a moment, then leaned back, one arm draped casually across the bar.
''Rates vary,'' he said, voice easy, as if they were discussing nothing more than consulting fees.
''These...'' he lifted his hands, flexing his fingers lightly before resting them back on the counter, ''run about 750,000 won.''
He let the words linger, then shifted slightly on his stool, his body turning just enough that the pointed toe of his boot traced a slow line along Mingi's leg beneath the bar. The touch was light, teasing, an example.
''Other requests, say, something that can be handled with a lighter touch, 600,000 won.''
He turned back fully to the bar, as though nothing had happened at all, reaching for his glass with the same easy grace.
His lips curved faintly as he went on. ''If you’d like to talk, that’s a million.'' His tone carried the slightest edge, enough to suggest the conversation wouldn’t be with words alone.
''And anything... deeper, more involved?'' He tilted his head, eyes gleaming under the dim lounge light. ''That’s one and a half million.''
Then he calmly sipped his drink again, as though he hadn’t just laid out a price list for intimacy.
Mingi let out a quiet huff, half amusement, half disbelief. ''You charge big,'' he said, eyes flicking to his glass in front of him.
Yunho only hummed, unfazed, shoulders rolling lazily beneath the velvet coat. ''If that’s an issue, there are plenty who take cheaper.''
For a moment, Mingi just looked down into his Old Fashioned, the orange peel glinting against the ice. He swirled it once, then set it back on the counter with a soft clink.
''It’d be nice,'' he said evenly, ''to go have this conversation somewhere else.''
Yunho's lips curved, faint but knowing, as though he’d been waiting for the invitation.
His smile lingered as he tipped his head. ''And where would you like this conversation to take place?''
''My car,'' Mingi replied simply.
The smile softened, but his tone carried a quiet firmness. ''I don’t get into cars that drive off. We stay parked. That’s not negotiable.''
Mingi inclined his head, no argument in his voice. ''Fair enough.''
''Good.'' Yunho finished the last of his drink, setting the glass down with a neat tap. Then he rose from the bar stool, coat falling elegantly around him. ''So... where’s your car?''
''Parking lot, down the block,'' Mingi answered as he downed the last of his Old Fashioned and stood to join him.
Yunho hummed, satisfied. He gestured toward the door with a graceful sweep of his hand. ''Lead the way, then.''
They stepped out of the lounge together, the cool night air sliding over them after the warm amber glow inside. Mingi adjusted his blazer as they walked down the quiet block, his pace steady, purposeful.
Yunho followed just behind, hands tucked into the deep pockets of his coat. He didn’t seem nervous, not the way some men did when leaving with a client. Calm, collected, humming faintly under his breath as if they were just two men leaving a bar.
When Mingi stopped, Yunho's eyes followed to the sleek black Mercedes waiting under the glow of the streetlamp. His brows lifted ever so slightly. Like he hadn’t expected wealth of this caliber, not from someone who carried himself with such unassuming restraint.
Mingi stepped forward first, unlocking the car with a click. He opened the passenger door for Yunho, a small, old-fashioned courtesy that drew another flicker of surprise across Yunho's face.
''Thank you,'' Yunho said smoothly, sliding into the seat. The interior smelled faintly of leather and cedar, spotless, every surface gleaming.
Mingi shut the door firmly, circling to the driver’s side. He cast a quick glance up and down the block, empty, quiet, before getting in himself and closing them off from the world outside.
The soft thud of the doors closing left the car in silence, save for the faint tick of the cooling engine. Mingi rested one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his thigh, glancing sideways.
Yunho settled easily into the passenger seat, crossing one leg over the other. His coat shifted just enough to reveal more of the sheer black fabric underneath, catching the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the windshield.
''Nice car,'' Yunho said lightly, gaze sweeping over the polished interior before flicking back to him. ''You must do well for yourself.''
Mingi gave a small, noncommittal shrug. ''It pays the bills.''
Yunho's mouth curved, amused. ''Pays more than that.''
Their eyes held for a moment, the air warm despite the chill pressing at the glass. Then Yunho tilted his head. ''So... how do you want to do this?''
Mingi didn’t bother dancing around it. He leaned back against the seat, eyes steady on Yunho.
''I want you to suck my dick.''
Yunho's lips parted in a soft chuckle, warm and unbothered.
''I figured as much.'' His gaze flicked down briefly, then back up, sharp beneath the lazy smile. ''But before that, how are you planning on paying me?''
Mingi reached into his pocket and brought out his phone, the screen lighting his face in the dim interior. ''I have Kakao Pay, if that works.''
''Good.'' Yunho nodded once, still calm, still professional.
''But here’s how it goes: half first. That way I know you’re not planning to drag me out here and disappear without paying.''
His voice carried no edge, only the kind of firmness that came from rules repeated a hundred times before.
Mingi nodded without hesitation. ''Okay, give me your information.''
Yunho recited it smoothly, his tone the same practiced calm as before, as if he’d done this exchange a thousand times. Mingi's thumbs moved across the screen with precision, just like he would when authorizing a transfer at the office. A moment later, a soft chime came from Yunho's pocket.
He pulled his phone out, glanced down at the glowing numbers, and then let out a sharp laugh that carried through the quiet car. He leaned back against the seat, shaking his head slightly. ''750,000?''
His lips curved, dark eyes shining with amusement. ''What are you expecting for that, extra service?''
Mingi's face stayed steady, his tone cool but clipped. ''No. I just wanted to show I’m serious.''
For a moment, Yunho studied him, the kind of long look that made Mingi want to adjust his tie though nothing about it was out of place. Then Yunho slid the phone back into his coat pocket with a faint hum.
Mingi cleared his throat, fingers tapping once against the steering wheel before he let them drop back into his lap. He hesitated, words sticking in his throat. When he spoke, it was quieter, unsure in a way he wasn’t used to.
''Unless...'' He glanced at Yunho, then down again, swallowing before forcing it out. ''Unless it covers a kiss too.''
The effect was instant. Yunho's head snapped toward him, his brows flicking up before his mouth spread into a grin. A chuckle broke free, low and amused, carrying more warmth than mockery. ''A kiss?''
Mingi straightened slightly, defensive in the silence that followed. ''Forget it.''
''No, no.'' Yunho leaned in an inch, his smile curving sly.
''That’s... unexpected.'' His eyes softened as he tilted his head. ''You must be the romantic type.''
Mingi gave a short, rough huff. ''I wouldn’t say that.''
His fingers tightened once against his thigh before he let them relax again. ''Maybe I like starting with the basics.''
Yunho's chuckle returned, lower this time. ''Maybe you do.''
The tension between them didn’t break. It stretched, warm and taut in the quiet car, until Yunho shifted forward slightly, one hand reaching across the console to brush against Mingi's tie.
''You want me to kiss you before anything else?'' he asked, voice dipping softer now, though his eyes gleamed with playful sharpness.
Mingi didn’t answer right away. His throat tightened, breath caught between steady and uneven. Finally, he met Yunho's gaze directly, his voice low. ''Yes.''
Yunho didn’t rush. He leaned in slowly, his velvet coat brushing against the console as his face closed the space between them. Mingi held his ground, though his pulse kicked up hard in his throat. He wasn’t inexperienced, and he knew how to kiss a partner well enough, but it had been years since anyone had drawn this kind of tension out of him, slow, sensual, loaded with intent. And never in his life had he paid for it, never sat with the knowledge that he was allowed to ask for something this simple.
When Yunho's lips touched his, it was barely a press, soft and coaxing. Mingi inhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders stiff at first, his body unsure whether to lean forward or sit back. The kiss was gentle, testing, almost patient.
Then Mingi exhaled, his eyes fluttering shut, and something in him loosened. He tilted his head, pressing back against Yunho's mouth with a steadier rhythm. Not practiced, he didn’t need to prove anything, but with growing confidence, like muscle memory returning after too long.
Yunho hummed low against him, one hand sliding up to cradle Mingi's jaw, thumb brushing just beneath his cheekbone. His touch was warm, grounding, guiding the angle of the kiss without forcing it. Mingi's breath caught at the contact, and slowly he lifted his own hand, placing it over Yunho's. His palm pressed lightly, not moving Yunho away, but holding him there, encouraging.
The kiss deepened. Yunho parted his lips first, and Mingi followed, tongue brushing tentative at first until Yunho met him halfway. Their mouths moved together in a growing rhythm, soft pulls, a faint press of teeth, lips parting then closing again, the exchange heating until it was less tentative and more consuming.
Mingi's other hand braced against the center console, knuckles white against the leather as he steadied himself. His breath had quickened, mingling with Yunho's in the close air, the taste of bourbon and orange peel clinging to both their mouths.
Then Yunho shifted. He let one hand remain cupping Mingi's face, fingers sliding into the dark hair at his temple, but the other hand slipped lower. Smoothly, it trailed down his chest, past the line of his vest, until it pressed firmly against Mingi's lap.
The kiss didn’t break. If anything, it grew more urgent as Yunho cupped him over his trousers, his palm kneading slowly, deliberately, through the expensive fabric. Mingi groaned into his mouth before he could stop himself, the sound vibrating between their lips as his hips shifted involuntarily toward the pressure.
Yunho's hand moved with slow precision, palm pressing firmly, fingers kneading along the outline of Mingi's cock through the fabric. Each squeeze drew a faint grind from Mingi's hips, like his body was chasing the pressure despite himself.
The kiss grew hungrier, lips parting wider now, tongues meeting with more certainty. Mingi tilted his head further, one hand gripping the back of Yunho's wrist to anchor himself, the other sliding up to clutch at the side of Yunho's coat. He groaned again into the kiss, low and muffled, and the sound only seemed to amuse Yunho.
Yunho hummed softly, lips curving against Mingi's, as his hand kept working him slow. His thumb dragged in lazy circles near the base, then pressed higher, squeezing at the thickening bulge. Every motion was deliberate, teasing, as if to remind Mingi that he was the one setting the pace.
Mingi's chest rose and fell harder, his breath catching in shallow bursts between kisses. It had been so long since he’d let anyone touch him like this, long since anyone had leaned into him with this kind of focused care. He felt starved for it, every nerve strung tight.
Yunho's grip shifted again, this time pausing just to let the heat soak through the fabric, fingers curling possessively. Then he gave a slow, firm knead that had Mingi breaking the kiss with a ragged exhale, lips brushing at Yunho's before finding them again, desperate to stay connected.
The sheer patience in the way Yunho teased him made Mingi ache. Every squeeze, every drag of his palm against the fabric sent a shiver through his thighs. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t tearing at his clothes or shoving him back. He was savoring it, savoring him, and that, more than anything, made Mingi's head spin.
The kiss didn’t break. Their mouths moved together in deep, slow pulls, the sound of breath and lips mingling in the close heat of the car. Yunho's hand stayed firm over Mingi's lap, kneading until he felt the weight strain harder against the fabric.
Then, with measured care, his fingers shifted. They traced down to the buckle of Mingi's belt, tugging at the leather loop. The faint scrape of metal echoed in the silence as he began to ease it free.
Mingi's breath stuttered, hips jerking against his palm. His own hand flew down instinctively, gripping the belt with urgency and yanking the buckle open faster than Yunho's teasing pace.
Yunho chuckled against his mouth, the sound low and warm, lips never leaving his. He let Mingi's haste fumble with the belt until it was undone, then slid his hand smoothly to the buttons of his trousers.
One by one, the closures gave way. The rasp of the zipper followed, pulling open until the tight fabric loosened around him.
Yunho's lips stayed pressed to his, coaxing another slow kiss as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of Mingi's briefs. His fingers wrapped firmly around him, the warmth of his palm sinking through the thin barrier of fabric as he gave a slow, testing squeeze. Mingi's breath shuddered into Yunho's mouth, the sound raw, his hips twitching upward as if his body had been waiting for this for far too long.
The kiss deepened again, lips pulling and pressing with a messy need, though Yunho kept his steady control. He angled Mingi's face with the hand still cupping his cheek, thumb brushing idly over the sharp line of his jaw while his other hand stroked him.
Mingi groaned into him, the sound muffled but rough, his chest rising quick against the pressed layers of his vest and shirt. His hand clutched harder at the back of Yunho's neck, fingers threading into his hair as though the contact kept him grounded.
Yunho's lips curled as he swallowed the sound. He shifted his grip lower, sliding beneath the elastic waistband until his skin met heat. His fingers curled around Mingi's cock fully now, stroking with careful slowness, each pulling a taunt.
Mingi broke the kiss for half a second, panting against Yunho's lips, then dove back in, his kiss hungrier now. He chased Yunho's mouth with a rawness that betrayed how starved he was for this, tongue pressing deeper, lips dragging harder.
Yunho took it easily, meeting him with calm, patient rhythm, letting him push and pant and strain while his hand kept stroking in that same slow pace. He pumped him slow from base to tip, thumb brushing the head just enough to make Mingi shiver against him.
''Fuck-'' Mingi muttered into his mouth, voice cracked but low, swallowed up quickly by Yunho's lips pressing in again.
Yunho hummed in satisfaction, still working him with steady strokes. He kissed him through the curse, kissed him until Mingi's groans turned into broken exhales, until his hips jerked up against the seat, trying to force a quicker rhythm that Yunho wouldn’t give.
The car was thick with the sound of it, their breaths, mainly Mingi's, the wet pull of lips, the faint rasp of fabric shifting under Yunho's wrist. Mingi's body trembled with the effort to keep composed, but every stroke dragged him further from that control.
Yunho's grip shifted, twisting faintly on the upstroke, his thumb dragging across the slick already gathering at the head. He smirked against Mingi's mouth when the man shuddered, when a groan tore through his chest without permission.
Mingi clutched at him harder, both hands now tangled in Yunho's hair, pulling him closer, trying to fuse the kiss deeper while his hips rocked helplessly into Yunho's hand.
Still, Yunho didn’t rush. He kissed him slow, thoroughly, even while his hand stroked him with a slow, teasing pace that kept him trembling on the edge of urgency.
Yunho shifted the rhythm of the kiss, slowing it until his lips slipped from Mingi's. He pressed another kiss at the corner of his mouth, then along the line of his jaw. His stubble scraped faintly against Yunho's lips as he trailed lower, each press slow and soft.
Through the soft drag of his mouth against Mingi's skin, his voice slipped out in a whisper, warm and steady, ''Pull your pants down.''
Mingi shivered, his head tilting instinctively to bare more of his throat to the kisses. His pulse beat fast under Yunho's lips, sharp against the trail of heat he left down his neck.
With a rough exhale, Mingi lifted himself just enough from the seat, his hands fumbling at his waistband. He shoved his trousers down only as far as needed, freeing himself from the confines of fabric. His cock sprang forward, heavy and flushed, the cool air of the car washing over him.
Yunho's lips moved lower, kissing down the strong line of his throat, lingering at the dip above his collarbone. Each press of his mouth was patient, as if he was savoring him. Mingi leaned his head back against the seat, throat bared, chest rising fast.
Then Yunho pulled back. His hand remained curled around the base, steady, but his eyes lifted to take him in fully now that the fabric was gone. His gaze was sharp and appraising, lingering on Mingi's cock before flicking up to his face again, the corner of his mouth tugging with the faintest smile.
Yunho's hand stroked him slowly, the weight of Mingi's cock heavy against his palm. He gave another squeeze, his eyes still on him, and his mouth curved into a smirk that was more appreciative than mocking.
Lips quirking with a slow smile. ''Mm,'' he murmured, giving another long stroke from base to tip. ''You’ve got a beautiful cock, you know that?''
Mingi's breath shuddered, his head dropping back against the seat.
''Thick,'' Yunho went on, his thumb dragging lazily under the head, spreading the slick dripping out of the tip.
''Perfect length. Heavy in my hand.'' He gave another slow pump, savoring the way Mingi groaned. ''It’s the kind of cock people want to get on their knees for.''
A faint chuckle slipped from him, warm against Mingi's jaw as his lips brushed there again. ''Too bad it’s been neglected. Left aching, untouched... what a shame.''
Mingi's hips jerked upward involuntarily, a rough groan spilling from his throat. His hand clutched at Yunho's shoulder, fingers digging through the velvet.
Yunho angled his face so his lips ghosted along Mingi's neck, teasing with soft kisses as he whispered.
''I can tell how long it’s been. You’re already throbbing just from my hand. Can’t remember the last time someone stroked you like this, can you?''
Mingi swallowed hard, his voice breaking low. ''It’s... been a while.''
Yunho smirked against his skin, his hand squeezing at the base before sliding upward again, thumb pressing slow over the tip.
''Too long. A cock like this deserves better than being ignored.'' He let his teeth scrape lightly against Mingi's throat, a teasing nip softened by another kiss.
''Don’t worry. I’ll remind it what attention feels like.''
He pulled back just enough to look down again, his hand still working in a steady rhythm. His eyes traced over the flushed length, glistening now in the low light, and his tongue swept briefly over his lower lip.
Leaning back just far enough for his hand to keep stroking him alone, Yunho shifted lower, lowering himself until his mouth hovered close to Mingi's cock. His gaze lingered on the flushed length in his grip, glistening faintly in the low light.
Then, without a word, he tilted his chin forward. His mouth opened, and a long, gleaming string of saliva dropped down, landing hot against the head before sliding down the shaft.
Yunho let the weight of Mingi's cock rest against his tongue for a moment, his lips closed just behind the head. He hummed low, the vibration sending a jolt through Mingi's hips, before pulling back enough to swirl his tongue lazily around the tip. Spit and precum mingled, shining in the dim glow.
''Fuck...'' Mingi groaned, voice low, his hand tightening instinctively against Yunho's hair. He wasn’t pulling, just holding, grounding himself against the flood of sensation.
Yunho smirked around him, then leaned back just far enough to let another thick string of spit fall onto the shaft, watching it slick down before he used his fist to spread it. His tongue darted out, licking the head again, then dragging down the sensitive underside in slow, gentle strokes.
Every reaction from Mingi was noted, the sharp hiss when his tongue traced the vein, the stutter in his breath when he focused on the tip, the ragged curse when he let just the head pop past his lips with a wet sound.
Mingi tilted his head back against the seat, chest rising harder now beneath his vest.
''Jesus Christ...'' His voice was rough, cracking at the edges. ''Feels- fuck- it’s been so long.''
That made Yunho chuckle, low in his throat, the sound buzzing against Mingi's cock as he took him in again. This time he went lower, sliding more of the length past his lips, his throat relaxing as inch by inch disappeared into heat. His free hand pressed against Mingi's thigh, firm, steadying him as his mouth worked deeper.
Mingi's groan tore out of him raw, his hips jerking despite himself. He forced them still, breath ragged, not wanting to break the rhythm. His hand smoothed back through Yunho's hair, clutching at the strands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Yunho pulled back slowly, saliva stringing between his lips and Mingi's cock as it slipped free. He dragged his tongue flat up the underside again, wetting him thoroughly, before swallowing him down once more in a steady motion.
Wet sounds filled the car, the obscene slick of spit, the faint gulp when Yunho took him deeper, the muffled hums vibrating around him. He built a rhythm, slow but devastating, each bob of his head matched by his fist stroking the base.
Mingi was panting now, every exhale broken.
''Shit... Yunho... your mouth...'' His eyes fluttered shut, a shiver racing through him.
Yunho only hummed again, intentionally sending the vibration straight through him as he sank lower, nose brushing Mingi's trimmed hair before he pulled up again, lips shining. He paused at the tip, letting it rest against his tongue as he licked at the slit, then took him back down with a wetter, sloppier suck that had Mingi gasping.
The control in it was unbearable. Yunho never rushed, never faltered, every movement designed to wring sound after sound out of him. He pulled back just far enough to stroke him with his spit-slicked hand, twisting his wrist at the head before sinking down again, swallowing another groan as it broke from Mingi's chest.
''God... fuck-'' Mingi muttered, eyes squeezed shut, his head thudding back against the seat. His thighs trembled faintly, every muscle tight from restraint, from the need that clawed higher with every drag of Yunho's mouth.
Yunho let his free hand slide higher, resting briefly against Mingi's stomach as he worked him, feeling the taut clench of muscle under layers of shirt and vest. Then he pressed lower, cupping Mingi's balls in his palm as he stroked him with the other hand, his mouth still sucking at the tip in slow, indulgent pulls.
Mingi's entire body jolted, a strangled moan breaking from his throat. ''Jesus-fuck, don’t- don’t stop-''
Yunho smirked around him, lips curved even as he slid him back into his mouth. He bobbed lower, swallowing half the length with ease, then pulled back just to lick along the shaft, spit trailing down in glossy strings. His hand stroked faster now, pumping him to the edge before slowing again, keeping him hovering, keeping him desperate.
''Fuck... you’re gonna kill me,'' Mingi groaned, voice shaking. His grip in Yunho's hair tightened, not forcing, just clutching, desperate.
''You- shit- you’re so good-''
Yunho hummed again in approval, his lips wet and swollen as he slid down the length, taking him deeper this time until his throat flexed around him. He held there, nose pressed to Mingi's skin, swallowing around the thick weight in his mouth.
Mingi's groan broke into a curse, his thighs jerking as he gasped. He clamped his jaw, trying not to thrust, not to lose the fragile control he had left.
When Yunho pulled back, his chin wet, saliva glistening on Mingi's cock, he stroked him slow and firm, his eyes locked to Mingi's face.
''You taste like you’ve been waiting for this,'' he murmured, lips brushing against the head before sucking it back into his mouth.
Mingi’s breath hitched, raw and broken. ''Fuck- please...''
And Yunho gave him more, finally building the rhythm he’d been denying him, hand and mouth working together, wet and relentless, dragging every last sound from Mingi's throat as his body strained against the seat.
Yunho set the pace deeper, his mouth sliding down until the full weight of Mingi's cock was sinking past his lips, stretching his throat. The wet sounds filled the car, obscene and heavy, his spit slicking every inch as his hand gripped the base to keep control.
Mingi's fingers dug into Yunho's hair, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to stay still. He bit back curses, every muscle straining with the effort not to thrust. But as Yunho swallowed him to the root, nose brushing his skin, the pressure cracked.
''Fuck-'' The word tore out ragged, and Mingi's hips jerked upward, driving himself deeper.
Yunho gagged sharply around him, the sound wet and sudden. His hand flew to brace Mingi's thigh, pushing back as he pulled up off the length in one swift motion. Saliva strung between his lips and Mingi's cock, breaking with a slick snap as he caught his breath.
Mingi's eyes flew open, panic cutting through his haze.
''Shit- fuck, I’m sorry-'' His hand slipped from Yunho's hair, hovering in midair like he didn’t know whether to reach for him or not. ''I didn’t- Jesus, I didn’t mean to-''
For a split second Yunho stared at him, wide-eyed, chest rising hard. Then his lips broke into a grin, a low laugh spilling out as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
''Oh my god,'' he muttered, shaking his head, his voice warm with amusement.
Mingi's face flushed hot, shame and heat burning under his skin. He swallowed, ''I swear- fuck, I wasn’t trying to-''
Yunho chuckled again, a short, rough sound that filled the car. He leaned closer, his palm smoothing against Mingi's thigh reassuringly.
''Relax. You looked terrified.'' His lips curved into a smirk as his eyes flicked down to Mingi's cock, still slick and flushed. ''Honestly? It’s kind of flattering.''
Mingi let out a shaky breath, running a hand over his face. ''Christ.''
Yunho's grin widened, playful now. ''If that was your idea of a surprise, I’ll take it.''
Then, without giving Mingi time to protest further, he leaned down again, licking a slow stripe up the shaft before swallowing the head back into his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief as though daring Mingi to try it again.
Yunho went back to work without missing a beat, lips sealing around the head before sliding lower, swallowing inch after inch with practiced ease. His spit-slick hand stroked the base in rhythm, wet sounds filling the car as he bobbed deeper each time.
Mingi groaned, low and hoarse, the sound breaking out of him with every downward pull of Yunho's mouth. He was trying to stay composed, hands gripping at the edge of his seat now, knuckles white from restraint.
Yunho slid one hand up from Mingi's thigh, fingers prying gently at his wrist until he freed it from the death-grip on the seat. Without pulling off, he guided it up, pressing Mingi's palm firmly against the back of his head. His eyes flicked up briefly, locking with Mingi's, the unspoken message clear.
Mingi's chest tightened, his breath catching at the contact. His fingers curled instinctively in Yunho's hair, tentative at first, afraid to push. But Yunho only hummed around him, the vibration rippling through his cock, encouraging.
His hips shifted before he realized it, his hand pressing lightly down as his length slid deeper into Yunho's throat. He gasped at the heat, the suction, the sheer obscene feel of guiding himself in. ''Fuck...''
Yunho's mouth stretched wider, spit slicking down his shaft as he let Mingi ease him in, his throat working around the thick length. His other hand braced steady against Mingi's thigh, grounding him as his lips sealed tight, the wet sounds growing louder with every thrust.
His head fell back against the seat, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He tried to keep it shallow, careful, but the sight of Yunho beneath him, willingly letting him use his mouth, tore another groan from his chest. His hips pushed deeper, slow but stronger now, feeding himself into the heat that swallowed him.
Yunho's eyes fluttered shut as he let Mingi guide him, his jaw slack, throat flexing with each push. He looked almost serene, like he was savoring every rough groan that Mingi spilled, every shudder that rippled through his body.
At first, it was a tentative press of his hips, testing, shallow thrusts that slid his cock deeper past Yunho's lips. But the wet heat of his mouth, the way Yunho's throat flexed around him with every push, burned through whatever restraint he had left.
He groaned low, guttural, and his grip in Yunho's hair tightened as his hips snapped forward.
The sound it made was obscene. Wet, messy, each thrust driving spit to spill from the corners of Yunho's mouth, slicking down his chin. The car filled with it: the wet gagging each time Mingi hit the back of his throat, the heavy drag of breath through his nose, the slap of skin against skin as he bottomed out again and again.
''Fuck- fuck, Yunho-'' Mingi rasped, his voice rough, broken by gasps. He couldn’t stop himself now, his thighs trembling as he bucked harder, fucking into the wet clutch of Yunho's mouth like it was nothing but a hole for him to use.
Yunho gagged wetly around him, throat convulsing with each deep thrust, but he didn’t pull away. His nails pressed into Mingi's thigh as he steadied himself, eyes half-lidded, spit and precum dripping down to soak his hand at the base. The sound of it only spurred Mingi on, his groans breaking into curses with every gag that rippled against him.
Mingi's head thudded back against the seat, sweat beading at his hairline, his body trembling from the sheer intensity. He’d never fucked anyone’s mouth like this, never lost control this way, and it was overwhelming, the hot slick, the raw sounds, the sight of Yunho willingly taking it, letting him unravel completely.
''God, your mouth- fuck, it’s-'' He choked on the words as his hips bucked faster, his rhythm falling apart as the need tore him closer to the edge.
The only answer was another wet gag, loud and messy, as Yunho swallowed him to the root and stayed there, throat stretched, spit dripping freely. Mingi groaned loud, his body jerking, his cock twitching deep inside the tight heat of Yunho's throat as he lost himself completely.
Mingi's thrusts grew messy, all rhythm gone, just sharp, broken snaps of his hips driving him down Yunho's throat. His groans turned guttural, his voice wrecked as he choked on his own breath.
''Fuck- shit-'' he gasped, his hand tightening hard in Yunho's hair, holding him down as his body seized. His cock jerked deep inside the wet heat, and then he was spilling, hot and heavy, right down Yunho's throat.
Yunho gagged around him, throat convulsing with the sudden rush, but he didn’t fight it. He stayed there, lips sealed tight around the base, hand braced against Mingi's thigh as he took every pulse, every spurt that hit the back of his throat.
Mingi groaned loud, his head slamming back against the seat, his other hand clutching Yunho's hair desperately to keep him there. His body shuddered with every wave, each contraction dragging another broken curse from his lips.
Yunho's throat worked, swallowing it down, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he breathed hard through his nose. Spit and cum smeared at the corner of his mouth, shining in the dim light as Mingi held him in place, hips twitching helplessly through the last spurts.
Finally, the tension bled out of Mingi's body, his grip loosening as his cock softened between Yunho's lips. He sagged back into the seat, chest heaving, still clutching weakly at Yunho's hair as if letting go would undo him.
Yunho pulled off at last with a slick pop, his chin wet, strands of saliva still clinging to Mingi's cock. He licked his lips slowly, swallowing the last of it, then glanced up with a faint smirk.
''Mm,'' he murmured, voice low and roughened from the use. ''Not bad for a first time.''
Mingi groaned, half in embarrassment, half in the aftershocks, dragging a hand over his face. ''Jesus christ...''
Yunho sat back in the passenger seat, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb before licking it clean. His smirk was easy, his voice playful as he looked over at Mingi slumped against the seat.
''Although,'' he teased, tone light, ''I don’t let first-timers cum in my mouth.''
Mingi groaned, his arm thrown over his face as if to hide. His chest still heaved, sweat clinging to his shirt, every muscle heavy with release. His voice came muffled under his arm, rough and hoarse. ''I’m... fuck, I’m sorry.''
Yunho chuckled, low and amused, resting an elbow on the console as he leaned closer again. ''Don’t be. You looked too good to stop.''
Mingi shifted, his arm still covering his face, but his other hand twitched faintly toward Yunho as though he wanted to reach out, then dropped again, spent. His whole body radiated exhaustion, the kind that came from more than just the orgasm.
Yunho just watched him for a moment, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction, before settling back into his seat with a satisfied hum.
Silence stretched in the car, thick but not uncomfortable. The only sound was Mingi's uneven breathing as he slumped back against the seat, arm still covering his face. His chest rose and fell hard, each exhale dragging out like he was trying to catch up to himself.
Yunho didn’t press. He stayed quiet, letting Mingi sit in it, letting the rush fade and the weight of release settle over him. He watched calmly, lips curved in the faintest smile, until finally Mingi's arm slid away from his face and dropped weakly to his lap.
That was when Yunho spoke, his tone soft, warm but pointed. ''Don’t forget to pay me the rest.''
Mingi blinked at him, dazed, confusion flickering across his face for a single second like he’d truly forgotten. Then he jolted slightly, shaking his head. ''Right- of course.''
He fumbled for his phone, his fingers clumsy from exhaustion, and pulled up the app. Within moments, the screen chimed again, the payment sliding through.
Yunho glanced at his phone when it buzzed, the number flashing clean on the screen. He slid it back into his pocket, then turned his gaze back to Mingi, who still slumped against the seat, chest rising hard.
''You know,'' Yunho said lightly, his tone edged with amusement, ''you only owed 250. You’d already sent 750 before.''
Mingi turned his head toward him, eyes heavy-lidded, still glassy from the high. For a beat he just stared, like the math didn’t compute. Then a tired huff slipped out of him, and he let his head fall back against the headrest.
''You deserve it,'' he mumbled, voice rough, worn thin from the groans that had been dragged out of him. ''You... fuck- you earned it.''
That made Yunho chuckle, low and pleased, the sound vibrating warm in the close air. He leaned back in his seat, watching Mingi with a grin tugging at his lips. ''If you say so.''
The quiet settled again, broken only by the faint hum of a car passing on the street outside. Yunho shifted in his seat, smoothing the front of his coat as he leaned toward the passenger door. His hand found the handle, fingers curling around it.
Mingi's hazy gaze caught the movement. Panic flickered in his chest, small but sharp. Before Yunho could push it open, Mingi's voice cut through, rough from exhaustion.
''Wait.''
Yunho paused, looking back at him with one brow raised.
Mingi cleared his throat, trying to mask the edge of need that slipped into his tone. ''Do you... have a number? Something I can reach you on- for future appointments?''
For a moment Yunho just studied him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then his lips curved, a faint smirk breaking the stillness as he slid his hand away from the door.
Yunho leaned back into the seat, extending his hand across the console, palm open. ''Give me your phone.''
Mingi blinked at him, still hazy, but fumbled for the device and placed it in Yunho's hand. Yunho’s face was focused, no teasing smile this time. He typed quickly, then paused just long enough to look at Mingi out of the corner of his eye before saving the new contact.
''There,'' he said, tone even, but softer than before. ''My number. Use it when you need to.''
Mingi glanced down at the digits glowing on the screen, his fingers closing around the phone like it was something fragile. He nodded, throat tight, then saved it quickly into his own.
When he looked up again, Yunho's gaze was steady on him, calm, warm in a way Mingi hadn’t expected. There wasn’t mockery in his eyes, no smirk at how desperate he must have sounded. Just quiet understanding, the kind that settled under his skin and made his chest ache.
''Don’t worry,'' Yunho added, voice lower now, almost reassuring.
''You’re not the first man who wants more than just a one time release, or more. And you won’t be the last.''
Mingi let out a long, unsteady breath, sinking deeper into the seat. ''Thank you.''
Yunho gave a small nod, ''Get some rest. You look like you need it.''
His hand lingered on the console for a moment longer. Then he turned his head, really looking at Mingi. No smirk this time, no sly edge, just a warm, quiet smile that softened the sharp lines of his face.
''Take care of yourself,'' he said gently.
Before Mingi could reply, Yunho's hand found the door handle. The latch clicked, and the passenger door opened with a soft groan. Cool night air spilled in, tugging at the hem of his velvet coat as he stepped out. He shut the door with the same quiet grace, his figure retreating down the block without a backward glance.
Mingi stayed frozen in the driver’s seat. His chest still rose hard, shirt clinging faintly with sweat, his body slack with exhaustion but his mind refusing to follow. He stared at the steering wheel, at the empty passenger seat that still smelled faintly of Yunho's cologne, and felt his thoughts spiral.
He’d paid for it, he knew that. It was supposed to be simple, transactional. But the warmth in that smile, the softness in the way Yunho had looked at him before leaving, clung to him harder than the sex itself.
Mingi ran a hand over his face, groaning low. His mind spun, looping between the memory of Yunho's mouth and the name saved in his phone like it was nothing special... Yunho.
By the time Mingi finally pressed the button that started the car, the parking lot was almost empty. The drive home blurred past him in fragments, the steady hum of the engine, the glow of traffic lights, the weight of his own silence pressing in on him. His body ached with release, but his mind wouldn’t still.
When he pulled into the driveway, the house loomed dark and still. Expensive brick, trimmed hedges, the image of a family home. He let himself in quietly, the soft click of the lock echoing too loud in the empty hallway.
The living room lamp glowed faintly where his wife had left it on. She was on the couch, half-buried in a throw blanket, phone in her hand. She didn’t look up when he entered, only flicked her eyes briefly toward him.
''You’re late,'' she said flatly, her voice the same even tone she always used now, neither warm nor sharp, just detached.
''Long day,'' he muttered, shrugging out of his blazer and hanging it neatly on the rack.
She hummed in vague acknowledgment, her eyes already back on the screen. There was no kiss, no smile, no question of where he’d been. Just the quiet distance they’d perfected over years of going through the motions.
Upstairs, the house was silent. His kids’ doors were closed, soft night-lights spilling through the cracks. He paused a moment, looking at them, before dragging himself to the master bedroom.
He stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. The light hummed overhead, harsh against the tiled walls. He stripped the rest of the way down, each motion slow, mechanical, his clothes falling into a pile on the floor.
The shower hissed to life, steam clouding the mirror almost immediately. He stepped under the spray, letting the hot water pound over his shoulders, his chest, his face. For a long while he just stood there, eyes closed, arms braced against the cool tile as the heat soaked into his sore muscles.
He tried to let the water wash everything away, the exhaustion, the tension knotted into his back, the weight of the day. But his mind refused to empty.
Instead, he kept seeing Yunho.
The press of soft lips against his, gentle at first and then demanding more. The slow, sensual way his hand had stroked him, confident and teasing. The wet heat of his mouth swallowing him whole. And that look just before he left, smile warm, eyes soft, as if he knew exactly how much Mingi needed that moment.
Mingi groaned quietly, bowing his head under the spray. His hand slid up into his hair, gripping hard, water dripping down his face like it could disguise the sound that escaped him.
It was supposed to be simple. Transactional. Money paid, service delivered. But nothing about it felt simple now.
Mingi dragged a hand down his face, forcing a harsh exhale. He knew better than this. He wasn’t some wide-eyed idiot convincing himself that a stripper actually liked him, or that a prostitute’s smile meant anything beyond professionalism. Yunho's warmth, his teasing, even the way he had typed his number in, it was all part of the service.
That kindness hadn’t been for him. It had been for the client. For the paycheck.
And yet, even with that knowledge anchored in his mind, the heat of Yunho's mouth still burned along his skin, and the ghost of that final smile still sat heavy in his chest.
Mingi pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes, groaning low under the shower’s spray. He couldn’t let himself mistake it for more.
But knowing that didn’t make him want it any less.
· · ─ ·♰· ─ · ·
The next day, Mingi sat in his office, shoulders squared in his chair, pen scratching across a report he barely cared about. Outside, the floor buzzed with muted activity, assistants shuffling papers, junior analysts whispering as they walked past his door. Every knock before entering was cautious, every report delivered with a careful tone.
It wasn’t that the job was bad. From the outside, he had everything: respect, deference, a salary most men would kill for. The CEO, Dongwon, called him by his first name, and Mingi did the same. Colleagues at his level treated him as an equal. He wasn’t worked to the bone, wasn’t belittled. If anything, people wanted his approval, worked themselves nervous to impress him.
And still, it felt drudgerous. Endless cycles of numbers, long hours, a routine that had calcified into boredom years ago. The money was the only reason he stayed.
A knock broke the monotony. ''Come in,'' he called.
The door opened, and San stepped inside, his usual grin in place, a folder tucked under his arm. He dropped it onto the desk with a light thud before settling into the leather chair across from him.
''You look better today,'' San remarked, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. ''Looser. Didn’t think I’d ever see you unclench.''
Mingi's pen paused. He glanced up, calm. ''I went to the lounge.''
San’s brows shot up. ''You did?'' His grin widened. ''Finally. So... who’d you end up with?''
Mingi hesitated only briefly before answering, ''Yunho.''
The reaction was immediate. San blinked, then leaned back in his chair, whistling low. ''No shit. Yunho?''
Mingi frowned faintly. ''What?''
''Yunho doesn’t just... go with anyone,'' San said, shaking his head.
''Guy’s picky as hell. He turns down more offers than he accepts. Hell, he only ever gave Dongwon a handjob, and refused everything else, even when he threw stupid money at him.''
Mingi's brows drew together, processing. ''So?''
''So,'' San said with emphasis, pointing a finger at him.
''If he agreed to you that quick, it means he found you attractive. Or at least worth his time. You must’ve ticked all his boxes.''
Mingi scoffed lightly, looking back down at the papers on his desk. ''It’s his job. That’s all it was.''
''Sure,'' San said with a smirk, clearly unconvinced. He pushed up from the chair, heading for the door. ''But if I were you, I’d take it as a compliment.''
Mingi let him get as far as the handle before he spoke up. ''San.''
He paused, turning back, one brow raised. ''Yeah?''
Mingi's lips curved just slightly, the faintest glint of smugness breaking through his usual composure. ''He let me cum in his mouth.''
For a second, San just blinked. Then his expression twisted into exaggerated disbelief. ''You’re shitting me.''
Mingi only leaned back in his chair, adjusting his tie. ''I’m not.''
San let out a sharp laugh, though there was a clear edge of jealousy beneath it.
''Asshole,'' he said, shaking his head with a grin. ''Lucky bastard.''
Mingi huffed a laugh through his nose, returning his attention to the papers on his desk as San finally left the office, muttering under his breath as he went.
The quiet returned, but Mingi's faint smile lingered, even as he told himself again — it was just his job.