nc-17 

Sehun stretches on the mattress, mind awake enough to not to let the cigarette between his fingers touch anything flammable, while Minseok make his way down on him. He sighs when he feels the warmth of Minseok’s mouth around his , and gasps when he’s swallowed down to the hilt.

“Easy,” he tells Minseok, whose talented mouth can get him coming in no time, because it’s Sunday morning and he wants to draw this out.

Minseok drags his lips around Sehun’s girth so so slowly while blinking his morning eyes once, twice, up at Sehun and Sehun thinks pretty, pretty, but doesn’t say anything. He just watches silently as Minseok takes his sweet sweet time and him down leisurely and making hums of appreciations at the back of his throat every now and then sending vibrations up to Sehun’s navel and down to the tips of his toes. Minseok’s lips get redder and redder, mouth hotter and hotter with every slow bob.

And it’s relaxing, as a matter of fact.

Sehun keeps making this small sighs of content while his shoulder go lax and melts into the mattress. Nothing soothes the exhaustion of a full night gig other than an old-fashioned from a very pretty mouth. He takes along hit of cigarette and blow the smoke into the small bedroom.

As the guitarist of an underground rock band, he makes less than Minseok who co-manages a recording studio, the same studio that handles Sehun’s band 4 of Diamond’s recordings. But still, Minseok’s apartment is just another shoebox albeit a very clean and organized shoebox, with a too low ceiling and bed on the floor by the rusty window. His mattress at least is vast as an ocean and his sheets are always laundry fresh and fab-con soft that Sehun mostly prefer waking up in this apartment instead of his own.

Well of course he prefers this because he has Minseok to wake up to and if he’s lucky, like right now, he gets a languid morning . The best types of mornings.

A wind blows the thin white curtain into Sehun’s face and he has to flail the hand holding his cigarette to avoid accidentally setting the damn curtain on fire, like he successfully did the last one. The curtain lands back to place and he’s about to take another hit but his mouth falls open in a soft moan as Minseok’s tongue laps repeatedly at and moves to circle the crown. He bucks his hips up slightly and Minseok takes the cue to take him whole inside his warm mouth. Sehun moves his left hand, which lies on the pillow doing nothing, why is it not doing anything, to run his fingers on the soft strands of Minseok’s black hair, which is more like brown under the sunlight coming from the window. He caresses Minseok’s scalp and pushes his head down a little, encouraging him to go a little faster, because Sehun’s cigarette is getting forgotten and dropping ash everywhere but Sehun doesn’t have the willpower to the anything with his mouth than moan.

Or it’s not about the cigarette, but the pleasure pooling on his gut and Sehun lied, he doesn’t want drawing things out, he cannot anyway. With a last shallow trust and with his heels digging down the mattress, he silently comes down Minseok’s throat, some of his tension he takes out on Minseok’s hair while Minseok him to the last drop.

The hand on Minseok’s hair go slack and Minseok kindly tucks him back to his boxers before nosing his way up. He thinks of telling Minseok of how much he adored his mouth but he’s told Minseok that a hundred times already and then he blinks up, expecting Minseok will kiss him but Minseok just reaches over to take the cigarette out of Sehun’s fingers and lands on his back beside him.

“Hey, kiss?” Sehun asks, tilting his head to follow Minseok and putting an arm around his shoulder.

Minseok’s response is a blow of smoke on Sehun’s face but when the smoke clears, he kisses Sehun anyway, just quick pecks, one, two, three, four in total – Sehun counted, before he’s taking long final drags on Sehun’s almost finished cigarette.

It’s already perfect like this, this thing that is supposed to be a temporary escape between two people that suddenly found themselves trapped together in painstaking, excruciating, long hours of recording and re-recording because Jongdae, Minseok’s recording studio co-manager is a musical terrorist, and Kyungsoo, 4 of Diamond’s vocalist, is an uncompromising perfectionist. Back then, Minseok would catch Sehun’s eyes or sometime the other way around, and they will roll them simultaneously behind Jongdae and Kyunsoo’s back when the two orders, coerces the band to a start-over an already perfect recording.

And that was it, supposedly, helping each other go through their work and falling on each other’s beds after to relieve some stress. But even after the album was done and Sehun’s band started promoting out of town, they still find their way back into one or the other’s apartment.

And now they’re here, Minseok reaching over Sehun, legs draping across his own, to stub out the cigarette on the ashtray by the window. Sehun stills in place, inhaling Minseok’s neck and absorbing his warmth. Minseok always smells a little minty, citrusy, and he’s always so warm in the morning.

“One day, you’ll remember that the ashtray is just right here Sehun,” Minseok says reproachfully, after spotting and while wiping the stray ashes off the sheets.

One day. Little insignificant words mentioned in passing, that probably really actually meant nothing but Sehun catches anyway and holds onto.

Minseok pulls back, intending to fall beside him again but Sehun holds him in an awkward half-way sitting position.

“What?”

“Let me just stare at you for a sec.”

Minseok tries to squirm away but Sehun has strong grip on his bicep and Minseok seems not to really give a and just compromises by sitting upright, left leg still thrown over Sehun.

It’s so easy, Minseok just lets Sehun get away with moments like this and doesn’t even question his way of thinking. Sometimes, or most times, Minseok even joins him like right now, Minseok lets him stare but also stares back, eyes running down Sehun’s face, down Sehun’s grey shirt that fits snugly against his chest and abs, and eyeing the small patch of exposed skin where his shirt has ridden up. He must have looked like the underground rock star, splayed on the mattress like that. But Sehun knows Minseok can see through that and into his inner childishness. And what Sehun sees is Minseok the cooler and calmer one of the MinJongdae duo, the saving grace some underground musicians for keeping Jongdae’s ideals on the ground, the hyung without really trying kind oh hyung, but Sehun knows that Minseok haven’t grown out of wearing pyjamas yet, too long pyjamas, in fact Minseok is wearing one now and it’s the Ben Ten one, Minseok’s favourite.

So it’s natural what Sehun is about to tell him next.

“I have something to tell you,” he says looking up and intercepting Minseok’s gaze.

“What?”

“I want us to go exclusive.”

He secretly holds his breath, heart going hijacked by a mixture of panic and excitement. Panic at that unplanned proposition, he doesn’t even know he wants it until this morning and the excitement, the tingling in his body over the prospect of being, officially, with someone.

Minseok’s eyes narrow the slightest fraction of a millimetre, Sehun might have missed it but it is exactly at Minseok’s eyes he was looking at. He surprised Minseok of course and Sehun remembers how Minseok doesn’t like being surprised, hates it actually.

And the panic intensifies.

Sehun in all his tact and impulsiveness is also good at backtracking and playing it cool so he shrugs and chuckles. “I mean....I want the right to punch anyone who hits on you and say hey bro, this one, mine.” He says it with a careless flourish of his hand, and with a tone of nonchalance, just to save his pride, to suggest that if Minseok says no, Sehun will be okay with that too. (Of course he will not be okay, but well, he’ll survive.)

“Since when do you ask permission to punch someone?” Minseok asks as calm as ever and Sehun is starting to really think that Minseok is perfect, perfect for him.

In a swift motion, Sehun flips Minseok and pins him down the bed. “This is stupid,” Sehun says and he may be also pertaining to his heart that is fluttering. “I just,” he starts kissing Minseok down, his cheek, jaw, neck, “I don’t want any other,”  down his chest over his black shirt, “ inside you except mine.”

Minseok huffs and pulls him back up till they’re face to face. “How very rocker style romantic of you, and also kinda insulting as you just implied that I’m sort of a .”

“Well Minseok you actually kinda a---Ow.”

Minseok smacks him upside the head but Sehun grabs his arms and stares him down. Because Sehun is aware of Minseok’s many “beneficial” friendships, he doesn’t do relationships he does friends. Literally.

Minseok clears his throat, “Well if you must know, well....you’re not always around are you? And I’m like in the doorway to Seoul’s underground rockers and it’s hard not to notice when is staring you in the face. God, why are rockers so y? Anyway, if you want, fine you can be my personal rock star and let’s do this exclusive dating thing.”

“Okay,” Sehun says, rolling off Minseok to lay beside him and gather his thoughts, get used to the idea of a relationship, and also smile stupidly up the ceiling.

Minseok shifts on his elbow, head resting on his knuckles.

“I did not just let you talk me into that,” Minseok says, suspiciously eyeing the smile on Sehun’s face. “And it wasn’t even a god proposal.”

“It wasn’t. It’s original at least. And it’s totally us.”

“You mean the no inside you except mine? Yeah totally,” Minseok mutters before leaning down and planting a more proper kiss on Sehun’s lips and when he starts to pull away, Sehun pulls him down by the back of the head. “And the be my personal rock star part,” Sehun says against Minseok’s lips.