I tried to write the thing. 

All the sarangs

DrG-Lee

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            Nearly a year later, Minho still felt the same way he did before he found Taemin wandering the streets in the near-freezing weather. Yes, he did feel a bit happier, but Minho still felt the hole that was never filled and he still felt like he was going to cry at any moment, though he didn’t really understand why.

            “Maybe you’re depressed,” Taemin said while patting his back lightly one night weeks ago. Maybe he was, Minho thought. But was it really worth it to him to try and fix it? “Maybe it’s the stress of work?” Taemin would suggest and hand a cup of relaxing tea to Minho. It would help for a bit, but the next day Minho would inevitably stir in his sleep and feel the weight on his broad chest of forever uneasiness. “Do you even love me anymore, hyung?” Taemin would ask when Minho left the room or walked out of the house after an argument. Of course Minho loved Taemin. What else did Minho know?

            “Minho appa is just sad today” Taemin would tell their son, explaining why Minho didn’t want to go to the park with them.

            “Minho appa is sad every day,” Inho would say, looking at his stoic father.

            Minho wouldn’t say anything. Sometimes he would go weeks without this feeling and at those times, he could pick Inho up, kiss him and tickle Taemin on the lips with his own. During these moments, Minho could smile, cook and hold his small family close, snuggling under the blankets with the Lees. But that was as far as they had ever gone.

            Just fully clothed underneath blankets, skin hardly touching skin, lips only touching soft, warm lips and nothing else. It pleased Minho, who was never touchy, but never satisfied Taemin. Taemin wanted more from Minho, who blushed furiously when Taemin suggested any activity that involved more than kissing. Taemin, frustrated, began to argue with Minho more often and Inho, biased, began to avoid this Minho who upset his father.

            It was a furious circle of angst. Minho, feeling isolated, gave Taemin no affection. Taemin, receiving no affection, isolated Minho. Inho sat in the middle, confused. Minho appa became Minho.

            The first time Minho heard his son’s error, he ignored it. Inho was just a kid. Sure, he could forget the appa part. The second time Minho heard it, he corrected Inho. The third time, Minho cried.

            But that was the past. Today, Minho was in a good mood, Taemin saw. Today he would try for the last time. The last time. He put Inho to sleep and walked into the bedroom where Minho was, curled up on the bed with Taemin’s book. It had taken him forever to read it and he still wasn’t done.

            “Inho’s asleep.” Taemin said, locking the door behind him.

            “Oh? Are you going to shower now?”

            “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

            Minho put the book down and raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

            “Hyung,” Taemin crossed the room, keeping his smirk to a minimum. “It’s been a year.”

            Minho pursed his lips and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and stretching. His back cracked in a few places and he bit back a sigh of relief.

            “And look, I get it. I know you’re hesitant about this but hyung, I have needs, too. I love you and there’s certain things people do when they love someone. Kissing is one of them. Hugging. Eating together. Raising a family together…” Taemin gestured vaguely, trailing off.

“Don’t we do all of those things, Tae?” Minho asked, standing to grab Taemin’s hand.

“Making love is one of those things, too.” Taemin muttered.

Minho his lips nervously. “You… you really want to do that?” his cheeks flushed faintly and he cleared his throat, looking down.

“Of course I do. I love you and you love me, right? We’re both adults and it’ll be okay.” He Minho’s warm cheek, causing the older to look into Taemin’s eyes.

“I don’t know how to do it, Taemin.” Minho said. “I..”

Taemin placed his finger on Minho’s lips and soon replaced the finger with his own lips. “It’s okay, hyung. I’ll lead.” he said after a while. He kissed Minho again, pulling the older towards him, pulling away and kissing him again. Teeth clashed awkwardly, until Minho felt his chest warm; he felt hot, burning with embarrassment, exertion and lust. Taemin sensed the change in his lover’s mood and quickly helped Minho remove the offensive piece of clothing as well as his own.

            The two stood facing each other, shirtless, a faint trickle of sweat starting to form on Minho’s sharp collarbone. Taemin panted before running his hands down Minho’s chest.

            “Tae, I--” Minho started, eyes closed. Taemin kissed his neck, slowly moving downwards causing the older to arch his back and moan.

            “Shh, hyung”. Taemin said. He untied Minho’s pants, threw them aside and removed his quickly.

            Minho wasn’t really quite sure how to respond to any of this, but Taemin wasted no time, especially when he had patiently waited for over three years. He pushed Minho onto the bed harshly, ravaging his already swollen lips again, tongues battling in an unwinnable and new war, slick bodies and warm bulges grinding quickly against each other.

            Minho ran his fingers through Taemin’s too-long hair, pulling at it and twisting it around his thin fingers. He groaned when he felt Taemin slip his hand under Minho’s grey briefs, slipping them off slowly, making him shiver with every delicate and planned touch. He grimaced through the pain, protesting slightly. Just when he thought he couldn’t bare the agony anymore, he felt as though he was drowning in an ocean of ecstasy and was this what Minho had missed all these months? He felt ashamed for depriving Taemin of this pleasurable feeling.

            He bucked his hips involuntarily, his body simply reacting to Taemin’s smooth and rhythmic motions and soon Minho couldn’t keep quiet. He bit his lips, hard, trying to keep the crescendoing moans silent. Taemin made no such effort, rocking his hips back and forth, vocalising every movement, not seeming to care that their four year old son slept in the room over. He picked his pace up, grunting, his sharp hips bruising Minho’s delicate body. Neither boy complained and their lips found each other, meeting in a struggling, oscillating kiss and Taemin moved quickly, more erratically, faster, less rhythmically until he yelped and forcefully one last time, collapsing on his beloved older half, hot, sweaty bodies stuck together, breaths stolen away, lips swollen and eyes filled with an undeniable and irresistible lust.

            They relaxed into each other, lips lazily meeting lips, necks, chests, stomachs and lips again. Over and over until both were lulled to sleep by the sound of their beating hearts.

            And for the first time, Minho held Taemin close, nothing between them, nothing hidden and it was the first time he slept soundly in years.