Turn off the light

In his eyes, the light twinkles like stars in the vast sea of the universe, like the flame that stands on the wind, the force that draws him home. He is the color that never changes, remaining the same, inked over his skin, the hues that drown into his bones, painting them with the shadows that are only his, and that means what he feels for him.

The feelings he has storage for him are overflowing; those who were tamed in a cage now are raising to be free, to be handed in to him finally; he wants nothing but him, he dreams of nothing but him, all his heartbeats belong to him entirely, completely; he is his life and the ocean that is drowning him because he is pretty and perfect and Minho doesn’t know what else to do to forget, to get over the fact that he is in love with Jinwoo.

He looks at him and flushes hard; it’s so hot to think and Jinwoo is only worsening things while wearing only shorts to stay in. Minho can appreciate all the soft muscles on his stomach, how toned he is becoming, growing them with hours on the gym, doing a lot of push-ups to build up all his upper body; it’s such a view to taking in; he breathes warm air and his thoughts becomes twisted – he doesn’t want to ravish his hyung with his eyes but his blood rush through his body; it can’t be helped; his pupils follow him around, scanning his flesh as if never seen it before – but under the pale light of the moon it gleams in silver and the shadows in between are so tempting, Minho only wants to them, taste the sweat, salty under his tongue, to sink into him, give his love away, for free.

His mind isn’t working properly – it hasn’t for a long while, since the beginning of the summer, when Jinwoo decided to ditch his clothes away due to the heat and the sun; Minho hasn’t been the same since then, thinking in ways to ravish Jinwoo’s exposed skin, sneaking in his bed and remove the last bits of fabrics covering him, reveal to him everything.

Keeping his hands still is a hard task forasmuch as he wants them to caress the silky, milky skin, his fingers tracing all the contours, dancing to the right song made of Jinwoo’s his name under his weights, pinned down the mattress, trapped like a bird between his hands and his lips and all of his desire for him. He curses the fact that he is so thirsty of him, that he is losing all his remaining control; how can he sleep well when he is all he can see? When is Jinwoo featured in all of his dreams, leaving him breathless, hard and unsettled? He is using all his power to hold himself from doing something that he won’t regret but that might taint Jinwoo forever – he wants to astray on his essence and never come back from relishing into his body, biting flesh coloured in purple and the shape of his teeth engraved on his skin so deep that it will take days for it to fade away. His thoughts are running wild again and he is all he can see.

The night falls over him but he can’t sleep – the heat that comes from his mind is too much to handle and he is shaken awake, the intensity of how much he needs him, how much this greed of him is hurting him, pulsing down his blood to his harden point where a little bit of friction will ignite a fire, burn him alive. He wants to combust, Minho is too deep into him to care; one glance will be enough to end him.

Silently, he lurks into his room, sneaking through the darkness he steps into him; the moonbeams over him, coating his closed eyes with silvery, shuttering dreams that he wants to draw, to be in. He is so close that he can drink from his lips, take away his breathe and swallow the small things he is murmuring – and that resembles his name in a way that makes Minho tremble in lust.

It happens that Jinwoo felt sleep while listening to music, the headphone still connected and the revoice is echoing throw the distant, forgettable phone lying on his side. Minho smirks remembering the lyrics of his song as if a remote star – he sings directly to him, his hands cupping his cheeks.

When Jinwoo opens his eyes, wide and beautiful, with stars drawn deep inside, he looks at him perplex.

“Min –“ he doesn’t let him finish his name; he drinks it hard and raw and passionate, capturing his words with his lips, pressing them harshly so they won’t escape through the leaks.

“I need to breathe you, hyung, or I’ll gonna die” he whispers right to his eyes that are sparkling, the fireworks reflexed inside his own orbs like a mirror. He kisses him again, his hands still holding his face, Jinwoo smiling under his kiss.

The last note of his song dies at the far end of his consciousness, slipping through his mind while Minho keeps on repeating the lyric only for Jinwoo to hear.

“I’m using all my strength [to hold myself back]
But you don’t notice anything
Or maybe you know but you’re acting like you don’t.”

Jinwoo smirks at him, telling him that he knows, that he has known all along, all this time; that he has been playing with him.

“I’m not innocent, baby” his voice tackles him and his hands just uncover the sheets, revealing what is under – his porcelain skin glows, pure white that Minho , its flavor salty and he feels in ecstasies, a catharsis unfolding inside his chest while he is sinning all over Jinwoo.

“Minho” the sound of his bare name is delirious, hot and he is left panting, wondering how someone with such an angelical face can be such a sinner, with fingers that are exploring in all the right places, with a tongue that is buried deep inside his mouth, relishing into his palatal and much more, someone who is making such a delicious moans that explode in the night as if stars being created. “I also love you. But from now, let’s just hold hands.”