Into The Act V
Mortal EnemiesMinho regretted sleeping in the couch the moment he woke up: his neck was badly stiff, and his back was aching. But Minho was sure that none of these aches were hurting him now: something from inside him was throbbing in pain so unreal he himself couldn't point to it.
Then he remembered Taemin. And what happened last night.
Suddenly, the seemingly fictional pain became true, its rage unbelievable yet real. A pain that overshadowed his stiff muscles, a pain that just brought his whole day down.
Why does he have to do that? Minho asked himself. Am I that bad in his eyes?! Ramyun is the only thing I can cook! He continued to rant in his head. He was so frustrated with what happened with Taemin last night that his nose almost missed the smell that was floating in the air. It was a very delicious smell, like meat being cooked in different spices. Only then did Minho realise how hungry he was—he hadn't had dinner last night, mainly because of Taemin's sudden outburst. He then quickly (well, quickly in a much slower pace since his back and neck were really hurting him) got up and made his way towards the source of the smell. As he came upon the arch of the kitchen, his heart halted. Literally.
What the ing hell.
There, inside the kitchen, from across the table wherein a big serving of beef casserole was sitting, in front of the stove, someone , apart from an apron, was cooking.
Oh no. This is not good, Minho thought, as he felt his breathing slowly becoming labored.
Then, all of a sudden, he felt the muscle down there tensing. Rapidly. His pants were becoming tighter and tighter as he continued to stare at the half- boy.
Oh no, no, no. Please, stop. Please! he pleaded the tensing muscle, but it showed no signs of cooperating. Worse was it had already started aching, as if craving for something.
At that point, Minho knew that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to control the raging stallion. Also, he wasn't hungry anymore. He was salivating, but not for the hot food on the table.
Maybe you want the other meat, Choi Minho.
. . .
. . .
. . .
WHAT THE HELL, CHOI MINHO?
Cold sweats broke out on his forehead. The voice in his head was not helping him one bit.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, CHOI MINHO?! IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, YOU SHOULD BE ANGRY RIGHT NOW AND NOT ! he inwardly berated himself. As he did, he noticed the impressive bulge that appeared in his pants. WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A DISGRACEFUL ERT, CHOI MINHO!
"Ya, Choi Minho," Minho heard Taemin call.
.
Minho was now panicking. He could not let Taemin see the tent in his pants and so, even if his back hurts, he bent down, his arms across his crotch.
"Uhh... what's happening?" Taemin asked, worry evident on his voice. "Is your stomach hurting or something?"
"Oh... this? This is... nothing Taemin, just go back to cooking," Minho replied while still bent down. He couldn't look at Taemin now, because if he did, he's scared that something else might come. And he really doesn't want that.
"What?" Taemin said, confused. "Why are you so weird, god. Anyway, I've just finished cooking these eggs—"
EGGS...
'And these hotdogs—'
HOTDOGS...
"For, you know, breakfast. I think you'll like them since I made the eggs extra creamy—"
CREAMY... NO, EXTRA CREAMY...
"And the hotdogs that I bought were just so long and so big—"
NOT JUST LONG... BUT BIG AS WELL...
"Also, I made sure that they're so juicy—"
SO NOW IT'S JUICY TOO...
"So I think you'll really like—"
"STOP, FOR GOD'S SAKE! JUST STOP!' Minho, suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs.
Taemin's mouth was agape. He was stunned.
"Just... stop, Lee Taemin. Just stop. Please," Minho added in almost a whisper.
"Look Minho," Taemin started, his voice now apologetic. "If this is about what happened last night, trust me, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into m—"
"You know what? It's fine, Taemin. Let's.... let's just sit down for now," Minho said, dismissing Taemin's plea for forgiveness as he inched towards the table still bending down. Once he reached the table, he pulled a chair, sat down and, for the first time, looked up to see Taemin as he slid down the chair opposite his. Regret hit him like bullet train.
, Minho thought, its two meanings running wildly inside his mind.
Taemin was indeed wearing nothing but faded distressed pants and an
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