Oh, if you only knew
What we've been up to
I guarantee you'd keep it secret
So give it to me now
We're lost in a dream now
Do it (5-4-3-2) one more time

Minho watched the lithe figure that stood in the middle of the dance floor, limber body popping and bending in ways that he had only ever seen in fantasies. The boy's candy apple red hair was illuminated by the flashing lights of the club, and his pale skin looked absolutely flawless covered in a light sheet of sweat from the heat of the packed floor.

His eyes trailed the boy's every movement from where he stood at the bar, glass of liquor in hand, and head tilted slightly to the side in awe. Minho felt like a ert, watching like that, but he wasn't the only one. Everyone on the floor had parted to watch the person moving to the beat of the heavy bass pounding through the building, and nearly everyone at the bar was staring with lust filled eyes as well.

It was different for him, though. It wasn't lust. Rather, it was pure fascination with the sight before him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. However, he didn't have a choice once a tall, muscular man stepped in behind the said dancer and obstructed his view, while the man made his move on the boy.

Minho cleared his throat and huffed out a sigh before downing the rest of his beverage in one go and slamming it down on the bar in front of him. He turned to face the bartender, calling out for another round.

The Vegas lights
Where villains spend the weekend
The deep end
We're swimming with the sharks until we drown
 

He leaned comfortably against the bar once more, waiting patiently for the drink. In no time, the buff man behind the counter slid it over to where he stood. He reached for the glass, but before his long fingers could wrap around it, there was another smaller hand in place of where his should be, and then it was gone completely.

He whipped around to bark out a curse at whoever stole his drink, but the teasingly innocent eyes that stared up at him from under bright red bangs made him choke on the words in his throat.

“I hope you don't mind, but I'm thirst from all that dancing.” he said simply before pressing the edge of the glass against his plump lips and knocking it back, downing it in one go just as Minho had a moment ago. The victim of the stolen drink just gaped, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly.

Dancer boy laughed, the sound tinkling like bells. “Ajusshi, you look like a fish when you do that.”

And at that moment, Minho swore he was lost in all that was Dancer Boy.

The Vegas lights
The lies and affectations
Sensation
We're winning 'til the curtain's coming down

Minho was gone the moment he had laid eyes on the boy, who was to be called Taemin, by request of said boy. He had thought there was something different about him, because it was obvious he wasn't at that grimy old club for the same reasons that everyone else was. Taemin was there for the music and the beat that controlled and contorted his beautiful body in ways that blew away anyone that laid eyes on him.

That's why Minho would never have imagined ending up in those exact reasons, with dancer boy writhing underneath him as he nibbled at a sensitive spot beneath his ear. The lust filled whines that sounded through the hotel room were music to Minho's ears as their lips crashed together desperately, clacking teeth together painfully, but it only resulted in more pleasure.

One of his large hands trailed its way up the boy's shirt, caressing the soft skin under his palm gently as it made its way up. His empty hand then gripped the edge of the shirt, and sliding it up slowly. But then Minho halted, pulling away with uncerainty, and Taemin whined in disapproval, pouting in a way that tested Minho's resolve.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, one last time. It was the third since they had kissed in the front seats of his car, after Taemin talked him into getting out of there and taking him with him.

Taemin nodded, for the third time, smiling reassuringly, and brought his own hand to guide Minho's in removing his shirt. “Of course. Now help me take these off.”

Ain't it so, ain't it so perfect
Our cynical minds will make it totally worth it
So give it to me now
We're lost in a dream now
Do it (5-4-3-2) one more time

Minho woke the next morning confused, cold, and angry. Dancer boy must have gotten what he wanted and ran, because now he was laying alone in the large, plush bed of the hotel room, spent from the previous night's events.

He groaned as a dull pounding beat in his head, an after affect from his several drinks the night before, and rolled over in the sheets, burying his face into the pillow next to him. It still held Taemin's scent of honey and sweat, and it made him sick to his stomach.

What if it was his fault that he left? What of he was the one at fault, and the flawless boy really hadn't wanted to go through with it?

Minho felt like a bastard now, having lost control with such an angel.

He huffed a frustrated breath, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent again. It was soothing, in a way, and eventually he drifted back into a sleep packed with dreams of bass, lights, and a certain limber figure swaying beautifully to the beat.

We're all not here for nothing
And we're bored with looking good
We gotta be starting something
Would you change it if you could?

Minho mumbled grumpily in his sleepy state, swatting away whatever continued to poke his cheek annoyingly. After another couple of pokes to his cheek, and one landing painfully in his eye, he jerked upright, glaring at the source.

However, his annoyance drained away in mere seconds at the sight in front of him. There dancer boy sat, black coffee, aspirin, and a lap full of assorted muffins in hand.

He parted his plush lips, voice sounding like a beautiful melody to his ears. “They serve breakfast in the lobby, but it was so late that all they had left were muffins. I didn't know what kind you like, so I got one of each.”

Minho had never seen someone so perfect, and so he said so out loud. “You're so.. perfect. Are you an angel, Taemin-ah?” His tone was dead serious and completely sincere.

Taemin tilted his head back and laughed. When he calmed down and brought his bright eyes to meet Minho's large ones, he had the brightest smile. “No, I'm not an angel. But you're my frog prince.”

Minho quirked an eyebrow as he plucked a blueberry muffin from the younger's lap. “Why's that?”

“Because, ajusshi, before you looked like a fish with your mouth like that, you looked like a frog with those wide eyes of yours.”

And at that moment, Minho swore he fell hard.

A/N: So, this series will be entered as an entry in the 2min anniversary contest! Thanks for the great response.

How do you all like this series so far? Should I write things like this more often?

As always, comments & subs are love~