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“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here.”
Chan sniffed. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
Minho sighed, yanking Chan down by his wrist so he stumbled into him on the bed. His arms circled around him and he held on tight. “Stupid.” Minho murmured into his hair, spreading his knees so the other man could fit neatly against his body. “How come you’re so smart and so stupid?”
Chan’s face was buried into Minho’s chest, mumbling something a little incoherent but Minho always understood him. “Dunno.”
He huffed out a laugh, petting his hair, smiling against him, kissing softly. “Baby. So afraid to ask for what you want.”
Chan whined against him and Minho warmed immediately. He knew just how to coax out this part of their leader. He knew just what he needed. He always did.
“Dunno what I want.”
It’d started as something small. Hesitant touches in the dark of their old dorms. Moments that only existed in between the creaks of the floorboards, underneath the grinding of the generator. It was comforting whispers when their turbulent lives were filled with uncertainty. It was confessions of fears too big to understand and desires too burdensome to act on.
Minho had years to peel off the layers of wallpaper that wrapped around Chan’s heart. He saw firsthand the decaying pillars he had built his foundation on. Eventually, Minho was given permission to break down those rotten bits and stand next to him as he built himself back up. That was a privilege he cherished. A privilege he would never take for granted.
“You know.” Minho hummed, tapping him on the waist so Chan would lift up and Minho could readjust them both. He sat up a little taller and leaned against the headboard, opening his arms wide so Chan could make himself small. He fell into him with a practiced ease. “You know what you want. You just don’t wanna ask for it.”
Chan looked tired. Burnt out. Post-concert adrenaline waning into insecurity. That’s what Minho was here for. That’s why Changbin asked for him.
[23:42]
Hey. You awake?
[23:45]
yeah
[23:45]
Come to Chan’s room? Me and Hannie are here.
Stay when we leave.
[23:46]
omw
It’s not that Minho knew him better than anyone else. He just knew him differently. He had a unique insight that was special between them. Private and intimate and no one else’s. Minho liked having something that was just theirs.
“Minho,” came that oh so quiet voice. “Just… ‘m tired.”
“I know, baby. You work too hard.” He cupped his face and Chan keened into the touch. He needed grounding right now. A physical reminder of where he was. Who he was. They all needed it sometimes, it just came out in different ways. The food they would make each other, the private walks they would go on, the late night conversations that bled into morning. Touch, love, understanding. The group had figured out what worked for them and it made things easier. Didn’t mean it wasn’t still hard.
Minho stared at the boy in his arms, in his lap, in his heart. (For so long, in his heart.) He trailed his fingers down his cheek and jawline, caressing so gently until he thumbed at his lips, anticipating the flutter of Chan’s eyelids. Let go, Minho thought. It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t drop you, even if you collapse.
“Feel like ‘m always doing something wrong.”
Minho frowned and squeezed Chan’s forearm. He held his face up delicately, cherishing it in every way he could. Every way he deserved.
“You hold yourself to too high a standard.” Minho contested, leaning forward so he could press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Chan tried to duck his head. “You deserve love even if you make a mistake. You deserve grace even if you do something wrong.” He smiled, tilting his head down to meet Chan’s eyes. “Not that you did anything wrong, baby.”
Chan was hesitant in his eye contact, but it was a good sign that he opened them at all. “What if I screw up so badly I ruin it all for us?”
It had almost become a script between them.
Chan’s insecurities and doubts and fears washed over him like the moon pulling the ocean tide. They came in violent droves that crashed at the shoreline, flattening any measly sandcastle that stood in their way. The timing wasn’t always consistent, but Minho… Minho was. He’d be there, firmly standing knee-deep in sand and saltwater until the tide pulled away again.
Minho spoke and it sounded like a memory. “You think this all rests on you, hm?” He rested his hands on either side of Chan’s face, making him look directly into his eyes. Chan squirmed but he didn’t try to look away. “You’re important. You’re so important. But what we have is because of all of us, together. It’s not just you.”
As Chan tried to argue, Minho kissed him. Chaste. Small. It worked because he felt Chan melt into it. Minho murmured against his lips, “And I know you know that. You chose us all for a reason.” When he pulled back, he took in the blushing pink that appeared over Chan’s cheeks and rose up his neck.
Minho smiled, full of adoration. “It’s not fair if you don’t let us shoulder the bad things, too. I want to. I want to share everything with you.” He let Chan lean closer this time and when Minho spoke, their lips brushed together. “I love you.”
Chan kissed with stubborn determination, much like he did with everything else in his life. The difference was that normally, Chan held himself back. Self-doubt and fear and guilt infected him.
With Minho, he kissed like he was allowed to want it.
“I love you.” He repeated, arms wrapping around Chan’s neck, wishing he could merge their bodies into one. If Minho could scrape away every last layer of skin on his body, fit them together into some unholy beast, abandoned by gods and devils alike… he would.
For now, he would settle for this.
Minho tasted the tears that collected between them. He didn’t brush them away.
Chan folded into him like he was made to. Waves crashed and collapsed around him until the harsh saltwater stripped him down. He was just Christopher Bahng, full of youth and hope and determination. Minho loved when he was allowed a glimpse of this – not many were, even amongst the kids. It was special. Minho was privileged.
This vulnerability was special. This vulnerability was carved from hardship endured together and the trust to allow them to go through it again. Minho knew that this part of Chan was something to be coveted. Treasured. He was Minho’s treasure.
“How could you ruin a single thing? Look at you.” Minho covered him in awe-inspiring worship and Chan’s eyes were pink from the tears that had spilled. “You’re just a masterpiece.”
Chan muffled his own broken, quiet sob by pressing his mouth to Minho’s skin, nudging his face into his neck. It was messy and wet and desperate and god, Minho loved him. Just like this.
“Minho…”
Chan started to rut against him, his movements shaky and broken and eager.
“What do you want, baby?”
Chan whined, gasping at the way their bodies collided. “Pl-please.”
“You know you have to tell me.” Minho flexed his hips up against him, mouth parting, entirely too affected already. This feeling of being needed and desired never lessened. He was on fire and no tidal wave could put him out. “Tell me what you want.”
“Hyung.”
Minho was ravenous.
“Love you so much.” He hummed, fingers tangled in that thick, curly hair. He pulled him close and nipped at his lips. “Can you feel it, Channie? I need you to know.”
Chan was whimpering, pulsing his hips, grinding their bodies together until they were both moaning.
“Take off your clothes, baby.” Minho groaned, hands sliding to Chan’s waist and squeezing. Chan cried out in something between pain and pleasure and he quickly obeyed. His shirt came off in one movement, stripping himself until he was completely bare. Minho looked without shame.
“You’re so beautiful, you know? So pretty, so pretty. You know that, too, don’t you?” Minho gave him his praise, forcing it down his throat and into his heart. He flooded him with it so he couldn’t come back up for air. He needed him to drown in it. “Could look at you forever.”
Chan shook his head, his brow furrowed, nearly pouting. Minho couldn’t help but to laugh, stroking his cheek. “You really wanna argue with me about it right now? Gonna argue with hyung?”
The resulting gasp was so delicious Minho had to swallow it whole.
His hands touched every part of Chan that they could. They splayed down his back, squeezing and groping and taking anything in their path. Chan squirmed on top of him, nuzzling into Minho’s neck, lips parted and Minho could feel them wet on his neck again.
“I didn’t think so,” Minho huffed, grabbing a handful of his ass and reveling in the resulting shudder. “Do mine now, sweetheart.”
Chan could be so obedient.
He shifted with just a small sound of discontent, sitting up and tugging at the hem of Minho’s shirt without waiting for him. Minho giggled outright, admiring the fragile creature he held in his arms. Small, sweet, and pliant for Minho - only for Minho. Chan tugged Minho’s shirt off, then backed up so he could take off his shorts. He was straddling his knees before he looked back up at Minho with pretty wide eyes and it didn’t matter what he was going to ask because Minho already knew his answer was yes. He’d give him anything.
“Wanna. Your thighs, hyung, please. Can I? Want it so bad. Please.”
Minho had to resist throwing his head back and crashing it into the headboard.
“Yeah, baby, of course you can. You can have anything. Hyung will give you anything.”
Chan was already so hard, so wet and desperate, Minho could only watch as he pushed Minho’s shorts up and quickly shoved his cock against his thighs. They both groaned in tandem.
There was a drag as Chan thrusted into the small gap, not wet enough, but neither of them seemed to care. “Fuck, just like that, Chan-ah. You’re so good.”
Minho couldn’t help but start to palm himself over his shorts as he watched Chan take what he wanted. He could get off just by watching the pleasure on his face. Chan spit messily onto his cock and Minho’s thighs and it dribbled everywhere. Minho gripped his own clothed cock firmly at the sight, his resounding moan too loud.
“You’re so pretty like this. My pretty boy. Love it when you use me.” Minho’s breathing was quicker and Chan’s movements were growing more erratic. He started to reach under the band of his shorts so he could touch himself fully, but Chan cried out in dismay. Minho halted immediately and Chan covered his hand, moving it aside.
“Wanna.”
“Okay.” Minho breathed, because what else could he do?
Chan’s cock was pink and Minho wanted to touch it even as he forced himself not to. Wanted to do everything with him - for him. Minho wanted to give and give and give so Chan could take. Take everything he could ever want.
The air was cool on the skin of Minho’s cock, but Chan quickly covered it with his mouth, eyes set and determined and Minho did throw his head back then. “Chan-ah, fuck.”
His mouth was warm, wet and tight, and he happily took Minho full into it. Minho fought to keep his eyes open at the sight of it. Loud, messy, slurping sounds filled the air around them, mixed with panting and groaning and Chan’s sweet little whines. “You’re so good. How can you be so good, baby? How can you make hyung feel so fucking good?” Chan made pleased sounds at the praise, humping Minho’s thigh as he bobbed his head.
When he pulled off, there were tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and Minho felt disgustingly fond all over again. “My baby.”
Chan pouted but there was a smile pulling at his mouth, anyway. “Need you… need you inside, hyung.”
Minho nodded. “Yeah, honey, anything you want. C’mere.”
He grabbed the bottle of lube from his shorts pocket as Chan moved to straddle his waist again. His cock pushed up against Minho’s stomach, seeking pleasure anywhere he could find it. Minho’s own cock slid against Chan’s ass and he shuddered.
His fingers were soaked in too much lube as he slowly slid one, two between his cheeks. Chan collapsed forward onto Minho immediately, pushing back onto his fingers, begging, oh, begging so sweetly.
“Please, please- please, Minho-hyung, please, need it, need you, love you, love you- f-fuck, oh fuck.”
Just one finger up to the first knuckle, gently massaging around the rim, prodding into him at an agonizingly slow speed. “Good?” Minho asked, his voice low and broken, as he carefully eased it in further.
“Yes, hyung-ah, fuck, fuck.” His pleading and swearing were some mixture of broken Korean and English. Minho loved it.
When Minho pulled out so he could start inserting a second finger, Chan whined loud and beautiful, biting into Minho’s shoulder. He rocked back onto him and Minho spoke into his ear as he fucked him open.
“Work so hard to be good, don’t you? Work so hard and do so well, but you don’t even have to try, huh? My sweet, lovely thing. You are everything I need - just like this.”
Chan cried out against him. The drag of Minho’s fingers was slow and methodical and torturous. Just the way Chan liked it. “Gonna come for me so much. I can already tell. Gonna let hyung take such good care of you until you’re coming all over him.” He circled two fingers inside him and prodded his hole with a third, barely able to get it in at first. “So tight for me, huh? You’re gonna make hyung come too, so warm and sweet.”
Chan was nodding, incoherent babbling spilling from his lips, pushing back desperately. “Pl-please. Ready. Want it.” He slurred out and Minho fucked his fingers deep into him once before slowly pulling out.
“Okay, honey.” He kissed his head, over and over, as he lined his cock up properly. “Love you. Hyung loves you so much.” And the pace at which he slid in made Chan wail. His hole was tight and slick and not quite as ready as Minho would have normally prepared him for, but Chan pushed against him to meet his cock, liking it so much already.
“Feels so- so good. Full. ‘M so full.”
“Me too, Chan-ah, feel so good. You make hyung feel amazing. Nothing like it.”
He bottomed out and they stayed like that until Chan was trembling, breaking apart, tears falling freely down his cheeks. Driftwood crushed under the weight of the sea. Minho held him while he deteriorated into the waves.
Chan finally groaned, “Move.”
And Minho moved.
He mustered all his strength and fucked up into him relentlessly. Chan was sharp cries and gasps and everything Minho could ever want.
“Can you feel it?” Minho gasped, his thrusts strong even as his thighs started to tremble. “Can you feel how much I love you? How much hyung loves you? How you make hyung feel?” Chan was nearly sobbing as he clenched around Minho’s cock, each thrust timed with his little ‘ah-ah-ah’s.’
Minho groaned at the sound, at the sight, wanting to fall apart right alongside him. He flipped them over, careful and tender and sinking back into Chan’s quivering hole until he was full, full of Minho, thinking of nothing else but Minho. Chan’s mouth fell open and Minho covered it with his own. Open-mouthed with teeth and tongue and spit, drool leaking from Chan’s lips.
“Have to answer me, Chan-ah.” He breathed against his mouth, lifting his head so he could watch him. Chan couldn’t hide from him like this. One leg pushed up against Minho’s torso, ankle at his shoulders. Chan was pressed into the bed, so flushed and sweaty and beautiful and his.
He pulled his hips back slowly, letting Chan gape at the sensation of emptiness, before filling him back up, pulsing against him, pressing them as close as Minho physically could. It made him feel crazy. He needed him closer, he needed to find a way to be deeper, splitting him in two until he could be stuck between the two broken halves of Bang Chan. He fucked into him deep once, twice, stopping before Chan could get accustomed to it. “Tell me.”
“Yes!” Chan cried, hands clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin. “Hyung loves me so much. So much. I love- I love it. Love that hyung loves me. Love f-feeling it. Need it. Love me, hyung, please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Chan sobbed and Minho kissed him and his movements slowed to meet Chan’s needs. Dragging in and out, angling upwards, creating gorgeous whines every time he pushed up against his prostate. “Hyung loves you.” He affirmed, grunting into his mouth, and they held each other tightly as Chan’s mouth parted and his orgasm took him suddenly, body shaking violently until it was rigid. “Hyung’s always going to take care of you and love you.” Minho ignored the sticky white smeared between them, grinding against him, sensitive and tight, and Minho’s love was all-consuming as he came into him, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.
Their breathing was stuttered and broken, foreheads pressed together, building a religion around this single sacred moment.
“Love loving you.”
He kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him again. His lips, his neck, his cheeks. He pecked his nose and his eyes until Chan started to come down from whatever high he had floated to. He was giggling, pushing at Minho without any meaning behind it. “St-stop – ya!” As Minho nipped at his ear.
“No,” He grinned, catching his skin between his teeth again, sucking his earlobe into his mouth.
“Minho!” Chan was outright laughing then, but instead of pushing him away, he hugged him closer.
Minho smiled something large. Chan couldn’t help but to match it and their lips brushed together in their bliss.
When Minho looked into his eyes, he saw sunlight. A calming storm. Receding waves.
“Thank you.” Chan whispered, kissing him lightly, and then again. He nudged their noses together. “Thank you for knowing. For being here.”
“Always gonna be here.” Minho murmured, cupping his face. “Always gonna love you.” He pressed their lips together, lingering in this moment that was soft and precious and theirs. “You’re so easy to love.”
He’d weather every storm with him.