In a hallway three floors down, they stand eye to eye. 

He breathes out shakily, “God, Yunho. Are you mad?” He rests his head against the concrete wall and whispers, “they might see us.”

The older man merely presses a finger to his lips. “We’ll just have to be quiet then.” A low chuckle resonates in his throat, and Changmin’s lip quirks up a little.

“Well, c’mon then,” he teases.

Yunho leans forward, a little hesitant at first, as he always is, and presses his lips against Changmin’s. Fingers skirt over his shoulders, and soon, Changmin’s tugging at Yunho’s collar needily, into the older man’s mouth achingly slow. 

“You,” mumbles Changmin against Yunho’s lips, nipping at the corner of his mouth. “Never leave.” He curls his fingers into Yunho’s hips and kisses him again lightly, not caring that they’re fifteen minutes late to their next photoshoot or that Yunho’s completely messed up his hair.

It’s a pretty moment. He wants to remember it for what it is.

“Wouldn’t dare,” murmurs Yunho. He thumbs his way over Changmin’s jawline and smiles a little. “Hyung’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

The younger man laughs softly. “Yeah.” He smiles, and loops his arms around Yunho’s neck. “C’mere.”