Archive of Our Own

🌸🌸🌸

They'd argued about the room allocation, quietly and professionally, in the lobby of the Allure Korea offices. The shoot was planned for three days in Koh Yao Yai, with a stop in Phuket before their flight home, and the company had agreed to give them a room each. Minho was certain that Kibum would be delighted about this, since it seems like only yesterday that they were crammed five to a hotel room, sometimes with a manager in there with them to cut costs. He was wrong.

"I'm not getting any younger!" Kibum had exclaimed at a demure whisper-shout as they waited to be let into their conference room with the shoot director, "I make money from TV but not five star luxury resort suite money. I want this while I can still have it."

He paused for a moment.

"While we can still have it."

"It's four nights," Minho had replied, still slightly unconvinced, "The longest we've stayed together in the last few years is 72 hours and after that you got blackout and called me a -"

"It has a private pool."

"Fine. But I want separate beds. You snore."

Kibum made an aggrieved noise at that but nodded smugly at his overall victory. In the conference room he'd made an excellent, well reasoned and professionally worded case for the suite, including the phrase "work husbands" and "BL-adjacent marketing" which had the executives nodding approvingly. Minho was absolutely certain he'd pre-planned this.

🌸

At the airport in Phuket their translator assumes that Kibum is Minho's actual husband, which Kibum finds so hilarious that he doesn't correct her for the entire trip. He keeps taking Minho's hand and saying "husband?" every time they get onto a different boat to island hop their way to the resort, the staff they have in tow barely batting an eye at this behaviour.

The concept meetings for this photo shoot really didn't do the place justice.

"They have a spa," Kibum comments approvingly as he flips through the TV channels in their suite. He already knew this, of course.

(There is, after all, only one enormous bed, which Minho has grudgingly accepted sharing with Kibum on the condition he doesn't kick in his sleep again.)

Minho is only half paying attention as Kibum starts to read through the list of spa treatments available. He's been to a lot of beautiful places for work, but this really is breathtaking. Out on the balcony, the ocean view is picture perfect turquoise, and it's cooling down to a lovely thirty degrees or so. Kibum had made distressed noises about the heat and what the humidity would do to his hair as soon as they landed, and so refuses to come outside yet. Minho can feel restless energy thrumming under his skin, he missed his usual workout schedule for this travel day.

"I think I might go for a run," he says to interrupt Kibum's endless flow of massage options.

Kibum rolls his eyes.

"Right now? We have dinner reservations."

"Tomorrow morning, then!" Minho exclaims, and dashes to the shower so he can be first in there and therefore win at getting ready for dinner on time.

Kibum shows care in ways that aren't always immediately obvious, like the fact that he booked a table at the Japanese restaurant for their first night, because while he's adventurous about food, he knows that Minho and their managers might want something more familiar when they've just been travelling for hours. The pork kutsudon is excellent. Minho secretly agrees that it was a good choice.

🌸

Minho wakes up shamefully late the next morning, at 8.30am instead of his usual 7am start, but he's determined to go for a run before they start shooting so that he can at least see some of the island. There won't be time later, photo shoots are a lot of standing and sitting around, and he long ago learned that if he tries to exercise on set then the stylists and makeup artists will form a team to murder him and make sure no-one finds the body. Kibum would probably also help.

Fortunately, he planned his route last night after dinner, so all he has to do is grab his running shoes and set off. It's a beautiful morning, the sun already starting to heat up the beach as he runs along it. He runs a lap of the resort, smiles at the other guests as he passes by, admires the flowers spilling from the balcony of every room. No-one else is running at this time, but he thinks they're missing out. The lush green foliage of the forest on the outskirts of the resort looks so appealing, he decides to take a detour on his route back around to the side of the resort their suite is on.

He follows a path clearly designed for small vehicles that loops through the forest, the beach still within view as he checks his watch for his pace. As he goes deeper, the palm trees mix with larger, broader trees, their trunks covered with winding vines and the hum of insects in the air getting louder as the sun rises further in the sky. The trees get more tightly packed as he rounds a bend where the path doubles back on itself, proof he's going in the right direction back to the resort at least.

The flowers here are especially stunning, not that he knows what any of them are, and one of them smells amazing, like honey and vanilla and spice. A small but determined monkey hops out onto the path, sees him, and with a sound of mild alarm, swings up into the tree tops. The branches shake under its weight and Minho feels a dusty cloud of pollen, shaken loose from the flowers above him, drift and settle over him. In fact, as he looks up, he's running through a grove of trees with the most beautiful pink flowers dripping from their branches in long, conical trails. As more pollen is scattered from their petals the delicious sweet smell gets stronger and Minho almost sneezes with its intensity. Still, he feels energised from his run, so he sniffs, and pushes on, arriving back onto the paved pathway of the resort soon enough.

He's back in their suite in time to see Kibum emerging, moisturised, in a plume of steam from the bathroom with his hair in a towel. This means that the shower is free and Minho can still win at being ready for breakfast first, because his shower takes exactly three minutes and 47 seconds, and Kibum's skincare routine takes more than four times that long. He feels so refreshed by his run that he even sings along to Kibum's SNSD playlist.

Kibum fixes him with a withering look when he flops down on the bed, flushed and still a little damp. He's on the couch, legs crossed, in one of the hotel robes, sipping an espresso and scrolling through photos of Commes des and Garcons that the dog-sitter sends every time he has a work trip. He looks to be mid-skincare if the glisten on his lips is anything to go by, and it's… well it's especially distracting this morning, for some reason. Minho isn't sure why, because he knows Kibum has pretty lips, in fact he's even taken him up on the 2 for 1 "bring a friend" filler offer at the clinic and can attest to how well shaped and tastefully enhanced they are. It doesn't explain why he's suddenly feeling like his dick is all too interested in the way Kibum pokes his tongue out to lick dregs of sugar off the rim of his cup. Crossed wires from the runner's high, probably.

Kibum joins him for breakfast more as a formality than to eat anything, and Minho doesn't bother making disapproving noises about it this time, since it's one of their oldest arguments. Instead he passive aggressively prods pieces of cut fruit from his plate onto Kibum's tiny coffee saucer every time he picks up his cup so that Kibum is forced to either eat them or do something socially unacceptable like throw them dramatically on the floor. Unsurprisingly, he chooses the former.

🌸

The first day of the shoot is also video content day, something Kibum is delighted about and Minho is professionally happy to be there but personally wishes still photos were the main focus rather than… whatever it is that the video content creative director is doing right now. The SS26 Saint Laurent pieces they're both wearing are beautiful on film but the layers are very much not suited for tiktok dance challenges or southern Thailand. The director calls cut and Kibum throws him a pitying look as he sweats in his leather jacket and two layers of cummerbund.

Minho shifts in his seat, unsure if he's going to make it through the next hour without leaving a permanent sweat stain on his borrowed, fresh off the runway, silk shirt that's pinned strategically to his body. His pants are so tight. Was that a design choice? He doesn't remember them being this tight when he put them on. He grits his teeth. This is nowhere near the worst photo shoot he's ever done. He'll overcome it.

"Why are they asking you about my showering habits?" Minho mutters so that only Kibum and the nosiest of their makeup artists can hear him.

"You went viral for it, remember?" Kibum says, "Besides, aren't we work husbands? It's the kind of thing the fans love to hear me talk about."

"I should tell them about your weird habits, then."

"All my habits are charming," Kibum replies.

Minho strokes his chin in mock thought.

"I can think of a few that aren't…" he muses.

He actually can't, right now. Where usually his brain is full of at least two to five ideas on how to rile up and annoy Kibum, there's just a pool of sweat and some stray thoughts about how pretty his eyelashes are and how his ass looks spectacular in leather trousers. So as not to lose face he blurts the easiest option.

"You always eat food that triggers your acid reflux and then complain about it for the whole evening."

"Taemin does that too and you find it cute and baby him about it," Kibum snaps right back.

"Your belches sound like a whale," Minho snipes.

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

Their manager interrupts with two bottles of cold water and Minho almost wants to kiss him. This was one of their stupider arguments.

Fortunately the next set of outfits are lightweight silk shirts and neatly pressed slacks, although Kibum also gets a pleated skirt to wear over his. He twirls delightedly around the terrace they're shooting on and demands that Minho take some candids of him in between shots. Something about the cut of it makes his waist look smaller, grabbable even, and Minho feels his dick twitch. He gives Kibum his phone back and jumps up and down on the spot a few times to shake it off. One of the stylists makes a scolding noise at him and sprays him down with cooling mist and hairspray again. Minho suddenly understands how dogs might feel.

They shoot Kibum leaning against the archway of the terrace at first, have him throw the hem of the skirt up high over and over until the fall of the fabric arcs just right in the previews Minho noses at over the photographer's shoulder. Minho's eye for fashion has grown over the years, a factor of growing up in the industry, and also of Kibum forcing him to absorb some of it by osmosis. He thinks this outfit looks good on Kibum, that it's not just Kibum making it look good by switching on his idol aura and slouching into a well practised pose.

"Okay, break, can we set up for the next shot?" the photographer's assistant says, and there's a flurry of movement towards where the terrace looks out onto the beach.

There's a low wall running along the length of the terrace, flowers cascading tastefully over it at points that a gardener has clearly worked hard to make look natural. On the other side, a carefully landscaped set of shrubbery rolls down the hill to the beach. Kibum hops up onto the wall and swings his legs, back-lit for a moment by the sun reflecting off the sparkling ocean. The AD positions him seated at first, his profile sharp against the ocean view, one leg propped up on the wall and the other hanging down to the ground, insouciant. The shoot resumes. Minho can't seem to take his eyes off it.

"Kibum-ssi, could you lie down, please?" the AD says from behind the camera.

Kibum leans back, flexible as always, and puts one hand behind his head. The skirt fans wider open and Minho breathes in very sharply, not quite a gasp. With the angle and his legs spread like that, it's… obscene. Surely other people are seeing this, Minho thinks. The dark space between Kibum's thighs draws the eye in so clearly, he can't help but look. Kibum turns sultry eyes towards the camera, and Minho, stood in the shade of the terrace archway several feet away, feels himself start to get hard.

Time dilates into a long, stretched out moment, one where the sounds of camera clicks and lighting adjustments fade into the background and Minho zones entirely into Kibum and the way the veins on the backs of his hands look as he clutches the edge of the skirt and hikes it up higher and higher. It takes the photographer making a delighted comment about Kibum's eye for fabric draping to snap him out of it. Suddenly the reality of the situation smacks him in the face, crystal clear and horrifying. He's at work and he just got hard. He is very much in public, in broad daylight. This hasn't happened since he was nineteen.

Minho keeps his face schooled and takes a sip of water, not that it does much to cool him down, it must be reaching the hottest part of the day. He can't afford to panic in a situation like this. He's hard but not noticeably so, grateful for the flowing fabric of the slacks he's wearing, so he resolves to just think about the most horrible things he can until the problem goes away by itself. He clears his throat and starts with the memory of Arsenal losing the FA cup, then vivid imaginings of walking through fish markets with his parents as a child, followed by some mundane thoughts about renewing his driving license. This seems to resolve things momentarily and he sighs gratefully. He can overcome anything as long as he sets his mind to it!

"Minho-yah!" Kibum calls from across the terrace, and Minho's gaze snaps towards him before he can think better of it.

Kibum is on his knees, for some reason, legs spread wide again, skirt pooled between them, one hand thrown behind him on the tiled floor for balance. Minho is instantly, shamefully, hard again. The AD is walking towards him, and he realises that he missed his cue, and this is where the work husbands part of the shoot starts. He hopes the panic of this makes his boner go down before he strides over to where Kibum is relaxing out of his original pose and into a squat.

"Would you pay attention?" Kibum snipes, on instinct, stretching his arms where they're clearly sore from holding the pose for so long.

"I'm always paying attention to you," Minho says, entirely honestly.

Kibum's face twitches into the eye smile he does only for people he really likes, and then smooths back to camera-ready. Maybe the heat is making Minho's tongue a little loose. The AD directs him to stand while Kibum squats, their eye lines not meeting yet because those are the rules of high fashion editorial photography, apparently. Minho manages several more minutes before his eyes meet Kibum's coming out of a pose and he feels heat wash over him again.

What's wrong with him? He berates himself as the shoot continues. No, there's nothing wrong with him, the part of his brain that's been to therapy reasons. He works in an industry where the job is to be hot and talented, it's only natural that he notices that about his coworkers sometimes. No-one outside of his personal trainer and medical professionals has touched him in months. That and the change of scenery must have lowered one of his walls of professionalism and made him more susceptible to it today, that's all.

Kibum snaps his fingers in front of his face.

"We're done," he says, in that faux-annoyed tone that means he's actually quite concerned.

"I was admiring the view," Minho lies, turning away from the edge of the terrace.

Kibum rolls his eyes.

"I told you going for a run in the heat this morning was gonna tire you out," he sighs, and it's his well worn exasperated tone and not his bickering one.

"What are you talking about!" Minho exclaims, following him back towards their dressing room, "I'm fine! Just because you couldn't do it doesn't mean I can't. I told you before, it's about stamina."

"Oh honey, my stamina is just fine, I've never had any complaints," Kibum replies, and then cackles when Minho breaks into a coughing fit.

They reach the door and Minho realises he cannot possible get mostly naked in front of Kibum right now, because he thought about Kibum fucking someone for hours and now he's fucking hard again. He can't hide from Kibum while they change in the tiny repurposed office space, because that would instantly make him suspicious. Until today, Minho hasn't felt an ounce of shame about his body around Kibum. They've shared dressing rooms and dorms and public and private baths for so long that Minho could dress and undress the shape Kibum's body himself with his eyes closed, probably. His cock twitches traitorously at the thought.

"You go, I need the loo," Minho blurts pathetically, and flees.

🌸

The toilet he chooses has two locked doors between him and the camera crew and yet Minho still feels watched and uneasy when he slams his back against the door and shoves his hand down his pants in desperation. He reminds himself that they left their mic packs with the AD half an hour ago. He reminds himself that he's human and these things happen. His cock is so hard he's leaked into his underwear a little. He gets so wet, always, that it's a bit embarrassing, and as he runs his thumb over the slick head of his cock he realises he has to do something about this.

Mindless, he shoves the borrowed trousers and his underwear down to his thighs so they're out of the way. His cock springs up to his stomach and leaves a wet patch on the waxed smooth skin where his happy trail once was. He's dripping so much that he doesn't need spit or lube, he can just go right in, soft strokes at first since he's feeling so hypersensitive from being hard for so long. The pressure of his hot palm is so good, he tightens it a little, tries to think of nothing but nebulous, heated fantasies.

He gets two strokes in before he thinks about Kibum's lips, five before he thinks of the space between Kibum's thighs, six before he thinks about sticking his face there, he doesn't care where, Kibum's big cock buried deep in his throat or going lower, tongue first into his ass. He thinks about Kibum sitting on his face and comes before he can fully process how startlingly hot that image is.

Minho's first coherent thought in over an hour filters through his brain as his dick softens. He just jerked off thinking, vividly, about one of his closest friends, his coworker, his… Kibum.

He's fucked.

🌸

Minho arrives at lunch to find that Kibum has saved him a lunch tray, but refuses to admit this, just shoves it and some chopsticks at him and says,

"Did you have diarrhoea? Eat, we're shooting again in 20 minutes."

Minho never wants to think about the bathroom cleanup that he just did ever again, in fact he'd almost rather he had just shat everywhere, because it would be a whole lot less complex to deal with emotionally. He shovels gimbap into his mouth so he doesn't have to respond.

Mercifully, the next set of shots is of Minho alone, leaning against a palm tree. The photographer calls him "classically handsome", a compliment that he's received a lot, but always accepts graciously. Kibum mocks him occasionally from a spot in the shade behind him where a stylist is fussing with his outfit. He breathes in ocean air, breathes out, breathes in again, and it feels refreshingly normal, so maybe he's going to be alright after all.

Even Minho can tell that this is the least exciting pair of looks of the shoot, well tailored jewel tone suits, off the rack, SS26. Kibum had gently rolled his eyes about this in the concept planning meeting but commented afterwards that he couldn't expect much more these days. Still, he'd gone for dinner with the magazine's head of production later that week, and miraculously the next day a few couture pieces had been snuck into the budget. When Kibum steps out of the shade to join the shoot, Minho does a double take. Kibum is wearing one of them now. Kibum is wearing a corset.

Minho has already seen Kibum's outfit, burgundy trousers and a structured shirt of the same tone, in the one fitting they managed to squeeze in before flying to Thailand. He thought nothing of it at the time, maybe just that it suited Kibum and the cut of the trousers emphasised how small his waist was. He wasn't fucking prepared for this. The thin, ornately buckled black corset Kibum is wearing isn't even that tight but it makes his waist look tiny. It's subtle but glamorous, high fashion, the kind of piece he must have picked with his excellent eye for accessorising, but that doesn't matter, because it's immediately turning Minho's brain to molten lava.

Kibum leans against the palm tree next to him so that they're both facing the camera at slightly askew angles, and Minho swallows hard. He wants to grab Kibum's waist so badly that his fingers itch. The photographer only seems to want to encourage this.

"Can you lean closer, Minho-ssi?" he asks, seemingly unaware that Minho is going fucking insane.

Minho leans closer and is hit by Kibum's cologne and the intense urge to put his tongue on the bare skin where his neck meets his shoulder, the spot where he knows it'll be strongest. He resists and directs the energy into smouldering at the camera.

"Closer again!" the AD calls.

Any closer and I'll be in his ass, Minho thinks, and he sees Kibum smirk because they've been doing this shit so long that those kinds of thoughts transmit between them telepathically. Then he thinks about actually, really, being in Kibum's ass, and he has to do some deep breathing exercises for a moment.

"Okay, one more, looking at each other."

Minho lowers his gaze slightly to look not at Kibum's eyes, which they learned years ago this was a route to either an argument or uncontrollable laughter, but at the space between his eyebrows, which is enough to fool the camera. They're so close and it's so hot, he can see the drops of sweat rolling down Kibum's forehead. He's getting hard again.

They have a ten minute break while they change locations to one of the many beachfront bars at the resort and as soon as the B-roll video director calls cut, Minho dashes to the closest toilet. He locks himself in the only cubicle and hyperventilates for a full minute. He doesn't have time to jerk off again, besides, someone could come in at any time.

Minho feels his cheeks flush hot with shame as he tries the only solution that seems possible, tucking his dick into his waistband. He just has to get through the last hour of this shoot, and then they're taking a break, and he can go back to the suite and deal with it properly.

Kibum confronts him outside the toilet like a particularly sexy and well styled ghost.

"I'm being serious," he says, "Is there something wrong?"

Minho rolls his eyes.

"I am healthy and hydrated!" he says, "It's important to up your water intake in hot weather."

He directs the second part, judging, at Kibum.

"I'll take heatstroke over water weight, thanks," Kibum replies.

Minho sees an in and decides to spend the next eight minutes of their break bothering Kibum until he accepts a second water bottle.

🌸

"First shower!" Minho yells as soon as they reach their suite door.

Kibum flops down on one of the enormous couches and waves one limp-wristed hand at him.

"Go on," he says, "I want to keep this makeup on for dinner in a bit."

"Gross," Minho remarks, and dodges the cushion that Kibum throws at him.

They have an amnesty on shower wanking. They know it happens, and they don't talk about it. It was agreed unanimously by all five members after two months of sharing a dorm, and was pretty much the only dorm rule that they never argued about.

("What about times when it would be really funny to point it out?" Jonghyun had asked after Kibum took a 45 minute shower one night.

Jinki, in one of his first acts of leadership, had given a firm "NO" and that was that.)

Minho, therefore, feels absolutely no guilt in jerking off twice in the shower, once fast and hard and the second time slower, one finger teasing his rim. He doesn't have time to finger himself properly, he has some respect for Kibum who knows exactly what he's doing in here, but it feels good just to pet around the edges of his hole until his balls draw up and he has to guiltily rinse the walls of the shower again.

When he steps out of the shower, his cock is still half hard, but he figures this is the best it's going to get, and gets dressed quickly. Kibum wanted to go for dinner and try local food, and he hadn't been able to say no.

Kibum drinks enough wine while they eat that his tongue gets loose and uninhibited, and he says,

"This is nice," with his voice all soft and serious, and Minho idly fantasises that if their managers weren't sat next to them, if this were a date, it would be right about now that he'd think about taking Kibum to bed. He dismisses the thought. He can't possibly get hard a third time today, that would be excessive.

He does in fact get hard between one breath and the next when Kibum steps out of the shower after dinner. He's fully clothed, but the flush on his skin and the delicious open span of his chest where the neckline of his pyjama shirt dips is enough to make Minho weak. He pulls the covers up to his waist guiltily. Kibum is doing his one million step skincare routine, which to Minho's eyes always seems to involve something akin to violence towards his own face. The room is so hot even with the A/C on full blast that Minho sweats under the covers as he waits for Kibum to finish. Maybe if he tries to lighten the mood things will improve.

"Jagiya," he whines, "Come to bed!"

Kibum snorts and keeps applying bee venom serum with aggressive slapping motions.

"This marriage is dying," he replies, deadpan.

When Kibum finally gets into bed and turns out the light, Minho lies next to him in the dark listening to his frankly unsexy falling asleep noises, and considers how fucked he is. He's sweating a little, and his dick is hard, and there's nothing he can do about it except hope that this is a weird reaction to his new pre-workout formula or something and that tomorrow he'll wake up and not be distressingly horny about his best friend and coworker.

He falls into an uneasy, fitful sleep, every dream heated and hazy, slipping from one to the next, never with any relief. Kibum, sitting astride him, looking down his pretty nose imperiously to call Minho "jagiya!". Kibum, lips parted around the head of his cock. Kibum, naked except for wreaths of pink flowers between his thighs.

🌸

Minho wakes up the next morning and things have gone from bad to worse. He feels groggier than ever, no thanks to Kibum refusing to let him set his usual alarms last night, the pull of sleep heavy on his limbs. Almost as heavy as a whole person, in fact -

Kibum is plastered up against his side, one leg slung over his hips, and he's drooling all over Minho's shoulder. Minho is so hard it hurts. He has never been more awake in his life. The soft inside of Kibum's thigh rubs tantalisingly over the sensitive head of his cock and for a moment Minho, terrified, thinks he might actually come, hardly touched, just from the pressure of it, while Kibum is sleeping on him.

He extracts himself with lightning speed to a protesting noise from Kibum and sprints to the ornate bathroom. He turns the shower on and comes with his hand pressed to the front of his pants before the water has even heated up. He's still hard. Fuck.

Minho tries again in the shower. And again. During his third orgasm a tear slides down his face and mixes with the shower water, and he goes, finally, mostly, soft. He doesn't think this is the end of it, but he can hear Kibum waking up in the other room, so it'll have to do for now. Why Minho finds him attractive when he can hear his disgusting morning throat clearing noises from inside the supposedly soundproof bathroom, he doesn't know. He's really hoping this is some kind of excruciatingly realistic dream and he'll wake up on the flight from Phuket to Seoul with nothing but normal island resort photo shoot memories.

Fuck, the photo shoot. Minho does some underwear wrangling that he hasn't had to do since he was a teenager and then, while Kibum is in the shower, grimly googles,

"how long safe for boner to last?"

"how many hours boner before hospital?"

"can dick be harmed by too many huors boner."

He doesn't gain much reassurance from this but he feels more medically informed. His brain feels foggy, not enough room for more than one thought at a time, and at least half of those thoughts are about fucking. With great difficulty, while they have breakfast, he creates a plan for himself for the day.

During the first shoot of the day he studiously doesn't look at Kibum, or the way his collarbones look exposed by the artfully distressed holes in his sweater. It takes most of the morning to shoot the video content the company wants of them wandering around the resort and chatting to the interviewer, and afterwards they have a full 30 minute break. Minho uses this to his advantage and jerks off twice in the private bathroom next to their dressing room, or at least he plans to.

For efficiency, he'd got mostly naked as soon as he went inside the bathroom, so he's still covered in his own come, which shot up his chest the first time and almost hit his chin with how pent up he was. As he strokes his cock, slick and tight, he feels himself get closer to the edge, white hot pleasure pooling in his pelvis, but it's not enough, somehow. He goes faster, it's not enough. Slower is worse, makes him sob with desperation. He keeps going, enough that his wrist is starting to get sore. Something is missing. He feels, somehow, empty.

Minho is beyond shame when he shoves two fingers in his mouth to get them wet. He's leaked all over his other hand, and he mixes the slickness there with spit so he can press one finger inside where he needs it most. He feels debauched, he feels wet and nasty, and unfortunately this is exactly what he needs, and he groans with relief. One finger isn't enough so he tries two, the stretch burning with only spit for lube, but he likes it like that, always has. His cock hasn't flagged at all, and when he starts stroking it again he whines helplessly. Oh this is it, something to clench down on, this is what he needed. He comes all over the expensive tile in front of him, squeezes tight around his own fingers as each wave hits him. When he starts to pull them out he feels an aftershock flutter through him and another thick blurt of come drools out of his spent cock.

Clear-headed for the first time in hours, he wonders if this is it, and cheerfully cleans up the worst of the mess he's made for the second time in 24 hours. When he goes to change into street clothes for lunch, Kibum is fortunately nowhere to be found in the dressing room. He's got this!

🌸

Minho does not in fact, got this. Three hours and two outfit changes later that afternoon and he's sweating profusely, and acutely aware of how his asshole is stretched just a tiny bit more open than usual. Normally, this is a pleasant feeling, one to enjoy as a reminder of previous activities. Right now though, it's just making him painfully horny again.

Kibum looks at him from where he's suggestively eating a popsicle on camera. It's melting faster than they're able to shoot and so the AD has to keep bringing him a new one every five minutes. Minho has an absolutely unhinged thought that Kibum could fuck him with it and he wouldn't mind. Maybe it would cool him down from the inside. Kibum sticks his tongue out and licks melted popsicle off his wrist before it can soak into his designer shirt, camera clicking behind him. Minho feels feverish, he feels like he's descending into madness. He want's Kibum's wicked tongue in his ass.

"Are you alright, Minho-ssi?" his manager, Yejun, asks as he chugs his fifth bottle of water.

"M'fine," Minho says with a burp, "Just the heat."

"Are you sure you're not sick?" Yejun insists with deep concern. He's younger than Minho and it's almost endearing.

"Really!" Minho repeats, "I'm totally fine."

Yejun, unfortunately, has two kids under four, and before Minho can dodge away he's pressed the back of his hand to Minho's forehead.

"You're burning up!" he exclaims, "I'm sorry, but you definitely have a fever."

Minho's shoulder slump. He was worried this might happen.

"I can do a COVID test," he sighs.

"What?" Yejun says, as though Minho suggested he strip off and run into the ocean, "No, it's fine. I was just going to say you should go back to your room and rest. They've got most of the shots they need of you in this outfit."

"I mean it is still around, I assumed you -"

"Yeah, of course it's… okay, I'll give you one from the medical kit to do in your room. Just text me if it's positive, otherwise I'll let Kibum-ssi check on you later."

Minho bows to all the directors on his way out, at speed, with a COVID test kit in one hand and his jacket in the other to hide his now extremely obvious erection.

🌸

Minho is not ashamed to admit that when he packed for this trip, he had an idle thought about getting some alone time in their suite, when Kibum went for cocktails maybe. He might have mocked Kibum for wanting to lean in to the luxury of this trip, but he enjoys it himself, quietly. So yeah, he thought about jerking off in a king size bed with an ocean view, and then he thought he should go big or go home, and he shoved his favourite dildo into his checked bag before he could think about it any more.

Minho is so sincerely grateful to his past impulsive self, because as he stumbles through the suite door and kicks off his shoes, he aches to have something inside him. He strips his sweat-drenched clothes off and throws them uncaring on the floor. He can overcome this. He unzips his suitcase and digs through it until he finds it: hot pink, thick, with a little curve to it, it's perfect, he even packed lube next to it. He deliberates for a moment between bed or shower and decides the latter is neater, besides, he's sweating so much his skin feels slick to the touch.

When he steps under the spray his dick bobs in front of him, accusingly. Minho clearly has to pay it some attention before he gets clean. He takes a hold of himself and thinks about Kibum's lips wrapped around the popsicle, the way his pink tongue had poked out when he licked the corner of his mouth. He thinks about the dream he had last night where Kibum was adorned with flowers, petals dripping from his hair and fingers, legs spread open in invitation, so pink and wet inside.

Minho comes, and as he comes he realises, oh. The flowers.

Thinking comes second to fucking in Minho's list of priorities now, though, so he quickly washes up and then, finally, gets two slick fingers inside himself all in one go. He's a little sensitive from the spit-stretched desperation of this morning, but it feels so good. He looks around to where he left the dildo on the little towel bench inside the, frankly excessively large, shower. He could fuck himself with it standing like this, but it's not a great angle. Instead he turns the water off and considers for a moment before sticking the dildo to the wall with its useful suction cup. It's the perfect height for him to just slide it in, and he does, no preamble.

Minho moans, high pitched and breathy, when he gets the dildo seated fully inside him. Fuck, he needed this so bad, it's filling him up so good. He feels strung tight, full to the brim. As he starts to rock back and forth on it, he only wishes it was a little thicker, a little warmer, the texture is so realistic usually but nothing beats the real thing… He wishes it was Kibum's cock inside him. He moans again at the thought, because it's opened the floodgates to a wave of filthy fantasies. Kibum bending him over in their dressing room and just taking him, too hot for it to get fully undressed. Kibum folding him in half on the gigantic bed in their suite. Kibum fucking him raw -

Minho shouts and clenches down hard on the dildo as he comes, and his hips keep twitching, making him whine with oversensitivity. Come drips from the tip of his still hard dick. His legs feel weak and shaky. He doesn't want to pull the dildo out, but he didn't plan this well and he has to in order to reach and turn the shower back on for cleaning up. He frowns in discomfort at how empty he feels when he does. He rinses and dries off as fast as he can.

🌸

Back in bed, the clean dildo lies innocently on the sheets next to him. Minho couldn't quite bring himself to put it away in his suitcase immediately, for some reason. His hole feels wet and open, and it's worse now he has the fresh sense memory of fucking himself just minutes ago. He wants it again. Sweat drips from his forehead as he looks from his straining erection to the dildo, pink and tempting. He has a faint thought that he'll need to strip the sheets if he does this, that it's probably violating all kinds of personal and professional boundaries to do this in the bed he's sharing with Kibum. He's too horny to care.

Minho holds onto the headboard as he lowers himself down onto the dildo again, sweat running down his spine. He feels messy, he feels out of control, he's setting a fast pace riding it already, but he can't get enough. Every thrust hits his prostate and it feels incredible, but it's not like before. The angle is wrong, maybe, because the steady build of pleasure isn't leading anywhere. His arm is starting to get sore. Humiliatingly, he feels tears of frustration start to spring in his eyes as he gasps and pants, trying in vain to find relief. His cock is leaking so much it's dripping all over the sheets.

The suite door lock beeps.

Minho freezes.

"You better not have fucking COVID!" Kibum calls from the main entrance, followed by some shoe clattering noises.

Minho can't really control his limbs to do anything sensible like cover himself, and so the next 30 seconds are the most excruciating of his life. Kibum appears in the doorway to the bedroom, and even with a mask on, his face is a picture. He acts up on camera but he's actually quite hard to shock, and this might be the first time that Minho has seen him speechless. His eyes widen enormously before he snaps them closed.

Minho clears his throat. He's a little hoarse from moaning.

"This is uh," he starts, "This is exactly what it looks like and I'm so sorry."

Kibum covers his eyes with one hand and says,

"Amnesty rules. I'm giving you one minute to cover your dick."

Minho hurriedly grabs a topsheet to cover himself with and then realises.

"Um, I need to, take out the -"

"Oh my god," Kibum exclaims, "Yes, also take the toy out of your ass. For fucks sake."

Minho can't help the strained little "ah" sound that slips out of him as he removes the dildo, his hole involuntarily clutching at it. He doesn't know what to do with it, so he wraps it in a corner of the sheet to figure out later. He sits back against the headboard, defeated.

"Done?" Kibum asks.

"Yeah," Minho says miserably, "And I don't. Have COVID, that is."

Kibum takes his mask off and puts it on a side table.

"I can go," he says, tentative, "If you wanted alone time you should have said."

"No!" Minho says, far too loudly.

Kibum stares at him and then raises an eyebrow.

"How are you still hard right now?" he says, "Are you into getting caught?"

"No!" Minho insists, quieter. Then he sighs, because he might as well tell Kibum everything.

"It won't go away," he admits.

"What do you mean, it won't go away?"

"I mean it won't stop!" Minho says, gesturing to his dick, which is making no secret of the fact even under a layer of sheet, "Yesterday wasn't as bad, today every time I come I just stay hard."

Kibum gapes at him and then at a near whisper asks,

"And how many times have you -" he makes a wanking gesture.

"I don't know, nine? It helped at first. Now even um. Well, what you just saw. That doesn't help."

Kibum continues to stare at him, the full intensity of it making Minho feel like he's having his skin lasered off. He's pursing his lips the way he only does when he's angry. He's so hot when he's angry. Minho's fevered brain suggests that if Kibum yells at him, he might come from that alone.

"You idiot!" Kibum shouts.

(Minho's dick twitches)

"You idiot!" he shouts again, "Two days this has been going on and you never asked anyone for help?"

Minho swallows nervously.

"Who would I ask for help?" he says, despairingly, "We're at work."

Kibum turns towards the nearest wall and knocks his head against it softly. Then he turns back to Minho.

"Do I have to spell everything out for you? Me. You would ask me."

"Oh."

Minho feels his cheeks heat with a flush of shame and arousal. Does Kibum know? Had he noticed Minho's eyes on him all this time? Has he made Kibum horribly uncomfortable? No, he wouldn't suggest something like this unless he was comfortable with it. Had he not noticed Minho's obsession with him at all? Is he really just offering this as a favour, one that means nothing to him? That option is worse, perhaps.

Kibum is looking at him expectantly. He's wearing the fox-like expression he uses often around Minho which means that he wants Minho to figure out what he, Kibum, wants from Minho, and then do it, without ever directly telling him what it is. He never says this in actual words because they both know it would make him sound insane, and because Minho is always happy to oblige. His favourite thing is solving the puzzle that is Kim Kibum. Minho waits to see if he'll get a hint, and when Kibum isn't forthcoming with one, he goes with his gut.

"Hyung," he breathes, "Help me, please?"

Kibum's eyes go very dark. He stalks towards the bed. Minho's legs fall open and Kibum puts a hand between them and yanks the topsheet away. Kibum licks his lips, a predator taking his time to play with his food. He sits right down on Minho's thigh, fully clothed.

"Did you ever think about this?" he says, voice rough, as he closes his hand around Minho's dripping cock.

Minho sobs. He nods frantically as Kibum strokes him off and Kibum looks pleased. He strokes faster, spits nastily on Minho's cock to make it even wetter, and Minho tries, he really does, but he can't hold off any longer.

"M'gonna -" he groans -

- and Kibum hisses "Yeah."

Minho comes, thick ropes of it shooting between them, and as he does he gasps out,

"Hyung, ahh hyung, Kibum-hyung!"

He doesn't have time to be embarrassed for coming in four seconds, because Kibum is still jerking him off and he's helpless with it, he's an exposed nerve, twitching and crying with pleasure. He's slid onto his back, legs spread wide, he needs more.

"Please," he whines, "Please."

"Please what?" Kibum growls.

"Please hyung," Minho begs, "Please fuck me."

Kibum presses his fingers hard and cruel against Minho's taint and he comes again. He's mindless with pleasure, waves of it washing over him but still not enough. He pushes back on Kibum's probing fingers and pulls away seconds later so he can thrust up into his hand.

"You're so wet inside," Kibum mumbles, and it's the first time Minho realises that Kibum might be affected by this also, that he's into it.

"How many times did you fuck yourself, baby?" Kibum says, four fingers deep and thumb pressing insistently at Minho's rim.

Minho can't remember what numbers are any more. Kibum tucks his thumb under his fingers and pushes, not all the way in, just as a suggestion, and Minho wails. His cock shoots clear fluid that adds to the come pooling on his abs.

"Have you taken a fist before?" Kibum says, "I bet you could. I could make you. You like a challenge."

Minho whimpers, tries desperately to catch his breath so he can form words. Kibum has the sleeve of his button down shirt rolled to his elbow. He wants.

"Fuck me," he moans, "Want your cock, hyung. Thought about it."

"Oh, I know honey," Kibum says, voice low and hot, and he kisses the inside of Minho's knee as he pulls his whole hand out of him and starts to undress.

"I'll give it to you, don't worry," he says when Minho whines and squirms and brushes his fingers over his flushed, oversensitive dick.

He shoves a pillow under Minho's hips before he lines himself up and Minho thinks oh, and then nothing at all because Kibum's fucked into him so hard he's seeing stars. He maybe comes again, he maybe blacks out, he's not sure. The next sensation he's conscious of is Kibum putting both legs over his shoulders so that he can fuck him deeper. Fuck, the dildo was such a pale imitation of what he actually needed, this is what he's been craving.

"You're doing so good," Kibum says as he fucks him with sharp, mean little thrusts, and Minho just pants out staccato little moans in response.

Syrupy hot pleasure builds in the cradle of his hips, and he can't come again, surely he can't, but he feels his balls draw up tight and he gasps,

"Please -"

"What do you need, baby?" Kibum says, "You want it harder?"

Minho nods frantically and then shakes his head because, yeah, he wants it harder, but he wants something else first.

"Kiss me?" he asks, voice small and uncertain.

Kibum's face softens. He slows the movement of his hips and leans in closer, whispers, "yeah, okay", and Minho when grabs the back of his neck to pull him in he realises he's shaking. He wants this so badly.

Kibum's lips are dry, and this late in the day he has the tiniest amount of stubble on his chin, and when they first kiss it's a terrible angle, but to Minho it's absolutely perfect. Kibum pulls back and Minho chases him, and once they start kissing again they can't stop. Kibum presses him into the mattress and licks into his open mouth, and he keeps up the slow, filthy grind of his hips until Minho is whimpering and spilling between them again. Kibum strokes him through it, rubs his thumb over the head of Minho's still hard cock and raises an eyebrow at him.

"More?"

Minho feels out of his mind. He nods pathetically and feels tears finally spill down his cheeks. Kibum smirks and licks one. Then he takes hold of Minho's hips and pulls out, ignoring Minho's sobs, and flips him over onto his stomach. He spreads Minho ass open with both hands and spits onto his hole instead of adding more lube. Minho is in heaven. Minho is going to die.

He can feel Kibum's cock resting against where he's hot and open, and he clenches involuntarily, the wet pucker of his hole kissing it, trying to draw him inside. He feels greedy, he feels debauched. Kibum groans when he sinks all the way back inside in one long, perfect slide. Minho loses all self control and cries out at the ecstasy of it. His cries only get louder and more plaintive as Kibum starts to thrust, big hands clutching at his hips, bruise-tight. Minho in turn clutches at the sheets, gathering handfuls as his knees threaten to give out, but he has to keep going, he's so close now. He needs Kibum to come inside him, that's what this has all been building to. He tries to get the words out but all he manages is slurred pleas for more, harder, faster. Kibum gives it to him, gives him whatever he asks for, his cock hitting Minho's sweet spot dead on while Minho grinds helplessly into the mattress. Minho feels his next release building and he bites his own arm to muffle his scream as he clenches down hard on Kibum's thick cock.

It feels wrenched out of him, this time, waves of pleasure wracking his whole body, warmth spreading from his core all the way out to his toes. His cock soaks the sheets underneath them, and he feels Kibum come inside him with a groan. Something releases inside Minho's body that he didn't realise was coiled so tight. He shudders with relief, his soft cock twitching. When he closes his eyes he thinks he sees flower petals falling for a moment behind his eyelids.

🌸

When Minho wakes up, the bed is bathed in golden light, and he's sore like he just finished a triathlon. Kibum is propped up against the headboard next to him, scrolling on his phone, and he's put underwear on but nothing else, so when the light of the rising sun hits his skin he looks radiant. Minho tenses, expecting his cock to react, but nothing happens. Kibum notices he's awake and puts his phone down.

"It's over?" he asks, more for confirmation than a direct question.

Minho winces as he sits up to join Kibum.

"Yeah, I think so."

He looks down at himself.

"Did you clean me up while I was asleep?"

Kibum makes a little "tch" noise and looks away, refusing to admit that he did a nice thing.

"There's still come in your ass. I wasn't that thorough."

Minho is acutely, uncomfortably aware that there is still come in his ass. It must be over, because that would have turned him on if it weren't.

"Thank you," he says very quietly. He doesn't just mean for the clean up.

"It's -" Kibum stops himself from saying something clearly designed to deflect, and says instead, "I wanted to help."

Minho nods and doesn't look Kibum in the eye.

"I still don't know how you ended up in that state," Kibum adds, unable to say anything honest and sweet without immediately sniping to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm not sure either," Minho says, "I mean, I did run through the forest a bit yesterday, and there were these weird flowers that dropped pollen all over me. Maybe it was some kind of allergic reaction."

"An allergic reaction… with your dick?" Kibum snorts, and Minho laughs too, because that is a ridiculous idea.

The laughter makes the ensuing silence more comfortable.

"Well, I mean, I appreciate you um, helping me get it out of my system," Minho says after a moment, and he can't stop looking at Kibum's lips, the lips he kissed last night, the lips he knows the taste of now.

"It wasn't exactly a hardship on my part," Kibum says, then he looks contemplative.

"Are you sure it's out of your system?" he asks, eyes innocent and wide as he gives Minho an extremely thorough once over.

Minho thinks oh.

"Actually," he says, "I really can't be sure."

Kibum licks his lips.

"Maybe," Minho says with trepidation, "Just to make sure it's totally gone. We should try again?"

"We should, yeah," Kibum agrees quickly, and then adds, "You should fuck me this time. Just to make sure."

They are very, very late for call time on the final day of the photo shoot.