Accidental. }

The catalyst of Jonghyun’s mischief occurred in two parts. 

While lying in bed on his tummy, attempting to edit some compositions, he received a first text.  There was no caption, which seemed incredibly deliberate as the photo alone was enough for Jonghyun to push away his laptop, roll onto his back, and digest his shock enough to zoom in further. 

After all, Choi Minho rarely (and by ‘rarely’ he meant ‘never’) sent him shirtless pictures.

He felt a mixture of surprise and amusement.  The two young men had an infamous game of cat and mouse—and size aside, Jonghyun couldn’t help but feel like a very clever mouse, indeed, as he admired the photo that was obviously sent as a means of chasing his attention. He was absentmindedly his lips, eyes drinking in the liquid chocolate that seemed to drip off Minho’s tanned skin in the form of sweat, when he received a second, much more urgent, text.

“Ahh!!! Accident!!!”

Jonghyun’s face fell, the corners of his lips tugging in opposing directions, feeling confusion over what to do . . . should he laugh? Or frown in disappointment? Finally, he breathed a tight chuckle.  His eyes scrunched shut and he shook his head to himself, laughter growing more in the warmth of his belly.  For a moment, he considered if he should be embarrassed over how into that shirtless photo he was, but the specific thought was quickly dismissed.  Who wouldn’t be into that?

Pondering the nature of embarrassment further, and how it sometimes felt worth the cost, Jonghyun planted his feet into the mattress as leverage for him to lift his hips.  He quickly did away with his belt and pulled his jeans and briefs down enough that they were sitting just above the final destination of his treasure trail.  Admittedly, he had the early developments of a hard-on growing, and if he angled his camera just right, it would be more than noticeable. 

Some embarrassments were worth the joke, Jonghyun mentally repeated to himself.

The photo taken was a masterpiece: with his hips still lifted, the definition of his v-line was thoroughly emphasized; a fine vein popped slightly at his right pelvis, leading the eye down to where his hand had a hold of his . . . he smirked with pride at his own body, his own humor, his own skill. 

Maybe doing this only proved that he was a thirsty cat, or maybe this ‘joke’ was proof that he was indeed a clever mouse.  Either way, Jonghyun shamelessly uploaded the teasing photo to the same thread where Minho had accidentally sent a shirtless picture.

He captioned it, “Woops!  Same.”

--

Minho never responded to Jonghyun’s text after that—not even verbally, when they met up with friends later that evening.  Minho wasn’t too cold over it; in fact, he acted exactly the same as usual.  It felt unsettling to have Minho clap a hand over his shoulder, whilst making all the usual, charmingly rowdy jokes.  This admittedly produced anxiety about whether or not Jonghyun had taken the joke too far, but he tried to choke it down and replace the feeling with arrogance over not being worshipped for such a teasingly wonderful addition to Choi Minho’s spank bank.

It was just the two of them heading home on the train that evening.  Taemin and Onew had gone home even earlier than them, while Kibum was not ready to leave at all.  The compartment Jonghyun and Minho had entered was busy with all the other youth who were hoping to sober up by a reasonable hour.  None looked too interested in eavesdropping, much to Jonghyun’s relief.

He and Minho were facing one another, Jonghyun holding a safety pole and his taller companion holding to one of the hanging straps.  His biceps curled nicely, taut beneath his shirt as he tried to maintain stability crowded, bumpy train.  Each minute alone with Minho felt too long, with the constant image of his ‘accidental text’ looming in Jonghyun’s mind.  Consequently, the small, frustrated man was white-knuckling it, his tiny frame struggling harder to remain upright and also struggling not to his lips at the sight of his bro before him.

The train came to an abrupt stop and Jonghyun put a foot out to steady himself firmly.  If this were a campy movie, he would have fallen right into Minho’s arms.  Instead, he had recovered his balance just a centimeter away from the unfortunately clothed abs he had been pining over all day.  Jonghyun stared down at them wistfully with a pout, before turning that pout up to look at Minho. 

“Did you get my text?” he finally willed himself to ask, now ten minutes into their tense train ride.

Minho didn’t answer right away, feigning innocence as he scoped out if anyone was listening.  When turned to look at Jonghyun, he had a -eating grin on his face.  “You’ve been dying to bring it up, haven’t you?” he accused with much too much mirth.

“That means you did get my picture!” Jonghyun accused back, avoiding the question entirely.

“Of course I did; it was so obnoxious,” Minho replied with a dry expression. 

He didn’t sound outraged, or uncomfortable.  Just dismissive.  Still, there was something to be said in the way he broke eye contact with Jonghyun at the specific mention of his -pic.  The smug smile had disappeared, to be replaced with a pensive frown and a furrow of his brow.  This back and forth Jonghyun and Minho had was beginning to frustrate the former, and he was tired of waiting for the latter to give in.

“Whatever,” Jonghyun said with a roll of his eyes, “it was an accident anyway.”

Minho snorted.  “We both know it wasn’t.”

“It was!  Does that really seem like something I’d do?!--”

“—Yes!” Minho answered exceptionally quick; a mocking laugh was laced through his words, “—It seems exactly like something you’d do!”

The taller man had raised his voice, eyes bulging with incredulity of Jonghyun’s blatant lies.  Mollified, Jonghyun turned his face away, the plump pout back on his lips.

“Well. I still embarrassed myself to make you feel better about your picture.  You should be placating me back.”

“Ah, no, hyung, no way,” Minho clucked his tongue and shook his head.  “Why should I?  I didn’t ask you to do that.  You purposefully chose to—you must have been really into my pic.”

Jonghyun couldn’t even deny his lust for Minho’s photo, given he’d sent photo evidence of how much he was into it.  But it was so hard to admit he enjoyed it when Minho wouldn’t do the same for him.  His face continued to escalate through shades of red, blood boiling between frustration and embarrassment.

Petulantly, Jonghyun asked, “Who was the picture for then?”

“What?”

Minho’s faux-innocence was so transparent, encouraging Jonghyun to goad further, “Your chocolate abs.  That you claimed to have sent accidentally.  Who was that picture for, if not for me?”

As he bore his accusatory stare into him, Jonghyun noted that Minho’s vision was deeply and resolutely focused the space above Jonghyun’s head, unseeing.  His lips were chewing themselves subtly, pursed as if having to force themselves shut. 

This, Jonghyun knew, was the face of someone concocting lies.

“…No one,” Minho managed through an awkward cough, “I was just. . . .lonely.”

The lights in Jonghyun’s eyes flickered on, dancing with sadistic amusement. 

“Lonely? Aw, poor Minho-goon,” Jonghyun sighed dramatically. 

The hardened line of his jaw softened, shoulders rolling into the relaxed posture of someone with lingering regrets that had come across a great fortune.  He removed his hand from the safety pole to rub Minho’s muscled shoulders comfortingly.

He could imagine Minho sending the photo as a flirtation, only to regret it and send some fake- excuse about it being an accident.  He could imagine Minho’s surprise when Jonghyun made it clear he didn’t care if it was an accident or not by sending a picture of his own arousal.  Even if Minho hadn’t replied, Jonghyun hoped this lonely man at least jerked off to the photo.  He had a very vivid image of Minho in bed, still in his shirtless glory, rubbing one out to the idea of Jonghyun’s slender hips lifted just for him . . .

A twisted smirk sidled onto Jonghyun’s heated cheeks. 

“What is that grin about?” Minho asked sternly, pulling him out of his irreverent reveries.  God, Jonghyun would most definitely lift his hips for Minho’s dad-voice.

“That picture was totally for me,” Jonghyun taunted, irritatingly casual and infinitely confident now.  “So, I guess ‘you’re welcome.’”

Minho shifted his stance, turning his body to tower more over the smaller man.  His frown was insistent.  And y.  “For what?” he asked, suspiciously.

“For curing your loneliness.  You’re welcome,” Jonghyun didn’t allow Minho to argue before asking, “what did you think of my picture?”

There was a second of hesitation before Minho finally acquiesced to the discussion with a dejected sigh and a soft chuckle.  Arguments could only go on for so long before they turned from playful to annoyingly drawn out.  His stance softened, hip cocked a bit as he recalled what the photo looked like.  As if he could forget.  Jonghyun’s hand traveled down from the tall man’s shoulder to his bicep, and he gave it a flirtatious squeeze.  This cued another chuckle from Minho and he finally answered with a shrug and a thoughtful pout.

“It was . . . hot.”

Just then, the train came to their stop, allowing the small, smug man the dramatic exit needed to punctuate this victory.  He pulled away from Minho, his fingers lingering for a teasing moment before he walked out of the compartment with his nose in the air, a resigned Minho in tow.

“So,” Jonghyun began as he stepped onto the platform wearing a cocky grin.  “Was it reeeeally hot?”

“…Yeah…” Minho hesitated, before a mischievous smile formed and threatened to ruin Jonghyun’s good time.  “—or, rather, it was, like . . . cute.”

“Cute?!”  For a moment, Jonghyun wondered if he had sent the right photo.  Cute was not how one would prefer their -pics to be described.

“Yes, cute,” Minho answered, scrunching his nose at Jonghyun teasingly.  “You, like, clearly put so much effort into it—the angle, the lighting.  Like a dork.  So it was cute.”

“So I put all this quote-unquote effort into sending you a prime photo of my , and you think it’s cute?”

Minho wasn’t bothered by this extra exposition, his opinion unwavering.  “Yes, cute,” he snickered.  “So small…”

Jonghyun’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he began to protest such an adjective.

“—No, sorry!  Not that that’s small, but like, you’re small, hyung, you know?” Minho said, trying not to laugh too hard, “You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

Watching his stupidly tall frame saunter up the subway steps, Jonghyun couldn’t help but want to knock Minho down.  He continued to fume, walking several paces behind the other man, not because he was small or his legs were short, but because Jonghyun wanted his own space for a bit.

The walk home still wasn’t as tense as their initially silent train ride.  Minho was much more talkative now, his voice back to it’s usual charming bravado.  He continued to pose joking, but persistent, implications of Jonghyun’s tiny frame, like assuming he’d bottom, or that he’d be Minho’s Little–even promising Jonghyun the proper after-care rituals for when his flat little couldn’t handle it anymore.  It was merciless.

But even then, Jonghyun still found himself itching for Minho’s company and approval.  It’s just that, unlike hours before, where he was simply heady off the image of the taller man’s defined body, Jonghyun now felt the even more tantalizing desire to prove himself on multiple levels. 

The first being that he and Minho’s undeniable flirting, often masked in competitive squabbling, had come to a head with these photos: they were recognizably attracted to one another.  Hell, even the sub jokes were tempting when he pout his pride aside.  But if Jonghyun didn’t act on it now and prove that there were legitimate possibilities buried in this , he was certain the opportunity would not come again—and certainly not as easily as an accidental shirtless picture falling into his lap.   

The second reason was for the selfless act of friendship: if the gorgeously ripped and unfairly charismatic Choi Minho was lonely (as he’d so briefly and vulnerably confessed earlier), then of course Jonghyun was more than willing as a friend to help him out with that, no strings attached.  He was just that nice.

The last need to prove himself was simple, and all the more poignant: Jonghyun was absolutely certain he could handle Minho.  Small or not.

It was clichéd to say that size was no indication of power, but surely it was only a cliché due to the relatable humanity of that truth!  At least, that’s what Jonghyun told himself as he purposefully powered ahead of Minho up the stairwell to his apartment, trying, at this point, to one-up the other in any way possible.  Their shoulders bumped clumsily as he passed, cutting off Minho’s lengthy joke about what a gentleman he was for walking such a cute and dainty man home safely.

“Whoa!” Minho yelped indignantly.  “Are you in a hurry or something, hyung?”

Minho waited two steps below Jonghyun, looking up at him with his eyebrows raised and, no doubt, expecting some kind of apology or explanation.  He had no idea how petty Jonghyun had become in his own mind.  At the moment, the petite man was relishing in the fact that, for once, they were the same height, which meant many things.  Jonghyun could look Minho square in the eyes, his own leonine irises darkened and flickering in the wanton light of the stairwell.  Jonghyun could see the smugness on the tall man’s face and wipe it off, starting from those lips that were lush and impossibly pouty, probably without meaning to. . .

The kiss was abrupt, rash, and rushed as Jonghyun pulled Minho flush against him.  He had one hand roughly fisted in the taller man’s hair, the other gripping his broad shoulders tightly, leaving no room to express feigned surprise.  They both knew, one way or another, it would lead to this. 

Leaning in at a diagonal, Jonghyun’s slight weight and heavy handedness caused Minho to stumble back, giving Jonghyun the opportunity to step down and gain enough leverage to turn and push the other against the wall, bracing them both.  Their mouths slanted, tongues slick and breathing heavy as Minho gave into his hyung with delicious ease. 

His swollen lips moved down Minho’s jaw, lightly and grazing the smooth skin with his teeth.  Eager hands relinquished their grip from Minho’s hair, sliding suggestively down his shirt and finally giving Jonghyun a feel of those abs he’d previewed earlier today.  He slipped his hands beneath the fabric, grazing his nails into the skin and pressing hard into Minho’s hips as if to nail him to the wall.  All the while, his younger’s hands skimmed Jonghyun’s sides meekly, barely ghosting his frame as he succumbed to his hyung’s hungry feasting.  The stairwell grew hot, and it was all the more clear who was in charge as Minho gave a low and needy moan of want. 

“—Woops.”

Jonghyun pulled away, his kiss having stolen the smug smile Minho had been sporting just minutes before.

There was a subtle sigh exhaled behind him as Jonghyun nonchalantly turned away and ascended the last of the steps to his floor.  No doubt, Minho was surprised at Jonghyun’s capable handling of him—as well as frustrated for the same reason.  He’d probably not want to admit that just yet, but with a giddy grin,Jonghyun wondered how long it’d take until Minho inevitably broke for him again.

They walked the last of the hallway together, the tall man’s footsteps heavy compared to the smaller’s airy ones.  When they stopped at the door, Minho was touching his lips thoughtfully with two fingers.

“Hyung,” Minho hedged, his voice hoarse.  He gave a cough and continued, “Hyung. . . your lips are, like, really soft.”

Jonghyun smirked, pulse racing with praise.  With his back turned to Minho, he squared his shoulders and pretended to calmly produce his keys and slip them into the lock.  “I know,” he murmured, voice low and all-too-pleased.

He faced Minho again, eyes half lidded and lips quirked.  His back rested against the now-unlocked door, ready for wherever the night may lead. 

Across from him, Minho was on his bottom lip in a way that was all too tempting.  Minho tongued the skin of his lip a bit more, brows falling into a furrow.  He brought his forearm up and dabbed at his frown, wide eyes startled at the sight of blood speckles.

“I think . . . I think you bit me too hard,” Minho pouted, leaning closer to Jonghyun to show him.

Jonghyun tiptoed, peering up at the wound.  “Ah.  Accident.”

With bright eyes and a soft chuckle, he attempted to ease Minho’s pains with a soft kiss.  Their lips melded once more, tasting sweet and salty and full of playful promises as Jonghyun pulled away just enough to lead them inside and shut the door behind them.

A/N: This was probably longer than it needed to be. And it ended in the most clichéd way, esp writing/diction/syntax-wise. But honestly I’ve been sitting on this for something over a week and it needed to end.  I’m not very good at writing heavy petting, let alone anything beyond that.  And I am always heavy with the internal monologue.  I also think I'm just awful at pacing and I get scared of redundancy in syntax and titles/how people are addressed (i.e. pronouns, names, how often i repeat them, clarity in that). But ftr, my sense of humor is very dry. so if the writing felt hyperbolic or dramatic, it was meant so humorously!! This one is also, at least, significantly less flowery than my other pieces, so if those weren’t your thing, then I hope this suited you a bit!  But I just love the playful and flirty nature of Jongho and how they both obviously have great affection for each other.  Thank you so much for reading!!! ^///^; I hope to post another one-shot soon enough!

If you did enjoy my writing, please check out my other (more prose-y) one shots!  
Slow, Slow (jongtae)
Can I hold you? (jongtae)
The Irony (jongkey)
Again, not mandatory!  Either way, enjoy!  Thank you, lovelies! :)