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“Why does every romantic movie insist on a ‘meet-cute’?”
Joe was tucked into Ming’s side on the couch as they watched-- uh, something, Ming had picked it out. He glanced up at Ming, who was frowning at the television, small lines deepening between his brows. Reaching a hand up to rub out the tension there, Joe said, “Because people like them?”
“Hmm,” Ming said, frowning more deeply before shifting abruptly into a smile. He looked down at Joe and reached up to catch his hand. “Do you wish we had had a meet-cute?”
Joe gave it a few moments’ thought before he chuckled. “We sort of did, didn’t we? The first time we met, you hugged me.” He smiled at Ming. “That’s pretty cute.” Humming, he continued, “Or it would have been, if you hadn’t been so annoyed that you were wrong.”
“You didn’t know I was annoyed,” Ming said. “It could still be a meet-cute.”
“With you wishing I was P’Tong?” Joe squeezed Ming’s hand. “Sorry, but no.”
Ming scowled. “I was wishing you were you. I just thought that meant P’Tong.” He kissed the backs of Joe’s knuckles. “That’s still a meet-cute.”
Moving so that he was a little more vertical, though still pressed sidelong against his boyfriend, Joe said, “No, a meet-cute would have been you hugging me and then thinking, ‘Oh, oops, not P’Tong, but wow, this guy is cute.’” Joe smiled wryly. “Not, ‘Oh, oops, ew, who is this?’”
Ming used his grip on Joe’s hand to drag him around and into his lap. Joe had to put his knees on either side of Ming’s hips, balancing his other hand against Ming’s chest, making them face to face. It only took a few seconds for Ming’s other hand to settle on Joe’s ass, pulling them closer together. “I did not think, ‘ew’,” Ming said.
“But it definitely wasn’t complimentary.” Joe leaned back a little, trusting Ming to have a good grip on him. It left their hips and lower abdomens in close contact, but meant Joe wasn’t cross-eyed trying to meet Ming’s eyes.
Huffing, Ming said, “Fine. If I remember correctly, it was something like, ‘Who the hell did I just touch?’” He pulled on Joe’s hand until he could place it on the back of his own neck before running his hand along Joe’s arm and to his shoulder, which he gripped tightly.
“So no ‘ew,’ you just thought I might be diseased,” Joe said. Ming shrugged and Joe laughed. “Thanks.”
“You were sweaty and your make-up was coming off in clumps,” Ming argued. “Anyone might’ve thought the same.”
Gripping the back of Ming’s neck, Joe just continued to laugh.
“What would have made it a meet-cute, then?” Ming asked. “If I’d fallen in love with you on the spot?” He stroked a thumb over Joe’s shoulder softly, then used his other hand to knead Joe’s ass, a finger teasing the crack through Joe’s pants.
Only Ming could be sweet and dirty all at once. “Hmm,” Joe said, like he was considering it seriously. “A meet-cute doesn’t have to be love at first sight. You could have just apologized nicely, all while thinking to yourself, ‘Oh, he’s attractive’.”
Ming rolled his eyes. “It’s cute, hot, or fuckable -- I don’t think the word ‘attractive’,” he said, quirking his mouth into a half-smile.
“So,” Joe said, “try again.” When Ming only raised an eyebrow, Joe continued, “Give me my meet-cute.”
Wasting no time wrapping both arms around Joe, Ming said, “Hi, there.” He smiled widely. “I seemed to have hugged you. However shall I make it up to you?”
Joe laughed, hugging Ming back, before schooling his features and leaning back to meet Ming’s eyes. “I don’t know, stranger. Maybe you could introduce yourself?”
“Well, I’m Ming,” Ming said, winking at Joe. “And whoever might you be?”
“I must say I’m Joe, and did you know you’re still hugging me?” Joe asked, giving Ming a perplexed look.
Ming made no move to let go. “Huh!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t that interesting? I don’t seem to be able to let go. Did you know that you’re unbelievably hot?”
“Ai’Ming!” Joe yelped. “This is no way to behave toward your senior! Where are your manners?”
“My apologies, P’Joe,” Ming said, smiling broadly. One of his hands started running down Joe’s back towards his ass again and Joe huffed. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Ai’Ming!” Joe yelped again, tensing as Ming’s hand continued down and into his pants and underwear. Ming’s fingers pressed more and more firmly between Ming’s cheeks as Joe wiggled from the sensation. He groaned when those fingers started massaging his rim in small motions, restricted by the fact that Joe was still dressed. “Ai’Ming,” Joe repeated, his voice hoarse, “this isn’t a meet-cute. This is porn.”
“It is?” Ming asked. He made an innocent face and pouted at Joe. “Are they mutually exclusive?”
Joe tilted his head back and groaned as one of Ming’s fingers started teasing at his hole. It was too dry and incredibly sensitive, but Joe had gotten used to it long ago. “I guess not,” Joe said, breathing out deeply. “Ai’Ming,” he groaned. “More.”
“Maybe,” Ming said, adjusting his wrist so he could penetrate a little farther, but not cut off his own circulation, “we should call it a ‘meet-hot’?”
Laughing, Joe leaned forward to bury his face in Ming’s neck. He loosened his grip around Ming’s neck and arched his back so that he could press harder into Ming’s fingers. “Mm,” he agreed, “or maybe ‘meet-slutty’?”
This time Ming laughed, finally breaking character. “P’Joe, yes,” Ming said, moving to bite the rim of Joe’s ear. “The next best-selling genre.” Ming trailed kissed from behind Joe’s ear to his mouth and sucked on his lower lip. “Should we film our own?”
Joe deepened the kiss, opening his mouth so that Ming could lick inside. He slid his hands down Ming’s chest, squeezing and fingering muscles as he went, until he could slip inside the front of Ming’s shirt and twist his fingers into the hair above his waistband.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ming said, breaking the kiss. “Next time. Now I’m going to have you right here.” He pulled his hand from Joe’s pants and used a grip on Joe’s waist to flip him sideways and onto his back, spread out along the couch. He wasted no time stripping both of their shirts and unbuttoning Joe’s pants.
“Ming,” Joe groaned, lifting his hips so Ming could slide his pants and underwear off. He watched as Ming stood to pull Joe’s pants the rest of the way off before removing his own. Joe threw his arms above his head and spread his knees, knowing Ming loved the way it looked.
Ming licked his lower lip before climbing back onto the couch and positioning himself over Joe and between his knees. He shoved Joe’s knees and thighs up to his chest and reached down to push a finger all the way into Joe’s ass.
Joe winced at the dry burn, but arched his back to give Ming a better angle. When Ming’s finger pressed against his prostate, Joe arched more and moaned, “Ai’Ming!” He bit his bottom lip hard when Ming forced a second finger in with the first.
Ming leaned up to kiss Joe and pulled his fingers out. He ran his tongue over the indents in Joe’s lower lip and Joe tasted just the slightest bit of blood between them. While they were kissing, Ming lowered himself further so that he was held between Joe’s legs, his hard dick rubbing up against Joe’s own for a moment.
“Ming!” Joe shouted, as Ming positioned himself. “Lube!” Ming only pouted until Joe hit him on the upper arm. “Lube!” he said again, gesturing behind himself at the table beside the couch.
“Needy,” Ming muttered, but he was smiling as he stretched up and over Joe to reach the table, pulling open a drawer and withdrawing a tube of lubricant. Once he had it out, he took only the required amount of time to flick it open and squeeze out enough to coat his dick, wiping the rest from his hand by massaging it into Joe’s rim.
“Sane,” Joe said, though less forcefully than before. He shouted again when Ming lined up and slid all the way home in one move. “Ming! God!”
Ming had gotten his hands behind Joe’s knees and was pressing his legs back and out of the way so that he could start thrusting properly while bent over Joe, kissing his neck.
“Oh,” Joe groaned. “Ming, Ai’Ming.” His voice was hoarse as he wrapped both arms around Ming’s neck and hung on as skin meeting skin started to echo in the room.
Latched onto the side of Joe’s neck, where he could only be drawing the blood to the surface in what was sure to be an epic bruise, Ming hummed and thrust harder.
Since the first time, Joe had never found it hard to get off on Ming simply enjoying his body. It helped, too, that Ming’s dick was like a prostate-seeking missile, never missing as it wound Joe up higher and higher. He wasn’t ever worried about coming too soon, as Ming never got him off just once, sometimes fucking him straight through oversensitivity and into a second orgasm before Ming ever came himself.
Joe was close, his eyes squeezing shut tight and his breath coming out in harsh pants. He held on through will alone, enjoying the rush too much to let go yet. Ming was thrusting into him so hard and fast that all Joe could hear were the sounds of wet skin hitting and his own heartbeat, echoing loud.
Ming had a tendency to remain quiet when they fucked, only making noise or speaking to tell Joe to move in a particular way, or to gasp and groan as he came. Joe, on the other hand, only stopped making noise when Ming smashed their mouths together, kissing as deeply as he fucked. Even then, Joe would moan and whine and pant, making his enjoyment clear as it could be.
When Ming released his mouth to breathe hotly into Joe’s neck, Joe shouted, the hoarseness of his voice only deepening as his fingers dug bruises into Ming’s back. Joe sneezed as he came, causing Ming to smile into his neck as he fucked him through it, well past the point of overstimulation. Ming only came when Joe’s post-orgasm brain had started to convince itself that they just might die if Joe’s prostate received any more of its rough treatment. He moaned as he came, a hodge-podge “ooh” and “mm” and indescribable sub vocalizations.
Even after coming, Ming stayed where he was, buried to the hilt in Joe’s ass and littering kisses over every part of Joe that he could reach. He kissed and licked and nipped until Joe had caught his breath before pulling out and listening to Joe whine as come and lube combined and dripped over his ass and upper thighs.
When Joe found his voice again, he rasped, “Ai’Ming, bed,” tilting his head to catch Ming’s lips with his own. The kiss was messy, filled with too much tongue and saliva, and when it ended, Joe repeated, “Bed, Ming.”