✄ ───

   Changbin poked a whole lot of fun at Chan last night, after Minho disappeared on him, suddenly blending right into the crowd.

   Now, Chan makes it a point to never interact with someone after spending a night with them. But that point came into existence only after he "mastered the art of charisma". In other words... Chan's had a perfect streak— zero rejections for over a year. No one he's had his eye on has turned him down.

   The thing is, Chan didn't 'spend the night' with Minho. But Minho didn't exactly turn him down, either. And that's exactly what he's been telling Changbin. Over and over. That's exactly why he's coming right back to the club tonight. Same time, same place. He's heard from Changbin that Minho practically lives there. So he'll get another chance. He will.

He wastes no time tonight. He throws back a few shots, and then he hits the floor with a determination. He doesn't usually do this sort of thing, but this is special. Minho is special. Stand-out. Exciting. Luckily, that makes him easy to find.

"You again, huh? Didn't get enough of me?"

"Hot damn," Chan breathes as he takes in the sight of Minho. Not that he'd be able to hear. Sure, everyone here looks good, but Minho looks fucking amazing.

Again, he wears shorts and longsleeves, but tonight, his black top is skin-tight, with a large cut-out in the back. There's a ribbon tied in the middle, sitting directly underneath shoulderblades that glisten with a thin layer of sweat, shining pink from the strobing light. The strings flop as Minho moves. They seem to hold his whole outfit together, stretching the fabric taught over his body, as if all you would have to do is give them a tug and Minho would come right undone. It's enticing. His red shorts, mesh and see-through at the sides, are just as tightly-fitted and oh boy, has he got some ass.

Chan raises his voice so Minho will hear him and his frisky tone over the music: "And I thought it couldn't get any better than yesterday." He makes sure Minho sees his raise his eyebrows, too.

Minho's shoulders lift and fall in a quiet, almost shy giggle. He sashays over to Chan, and his fingers crawl up Chan's arm; slide into a loosely closed fist around the tie he wears. "Yeah?"

He's acting so different tonight. Getting talkative. And close. Handsy.

"Yeah."

"Go ahead, then. Tell me how pretty I am."

Wow.

"Don't you already know?" He chuckles. He takes the opportunity, with them being so close, to get his hands planted on Minho's hips, half expecting him to elegantly evade them. But he doesn't. Even as one of Chan's hands drifts down a little lower, Minho doesn't move.

They're already in position; of course, they dance. Much, much closer than the night before. With legs staggered, they face each other, and the steady hands on Minho's hips encourage them to start rolling. Minho snakes his body around Chan's, to the left, and then to the right, coming exactly as close as he possibly can without making contact. It's calculated; skillful. Minho knows what he's doing.

Catching one of Minho's hands, Chan spins Minho so that his half-bare back faces him. He enjoys the view until a deep body roll brings Minho's back right up against Chan's chest. In the brief moment where Minho's head leans in toward his, Chan brings his lips close to his ear to murmur, "So, so pretty, doll."

Minho eats it up, wide grin spreading like wildfire. Staying where he is, he lets Chan run hot hands down his body. And it does something to him, evidently.

Before Chan knows it, he's watching Minho drop it down to the floor in front of him. Knees on the ground and throwing his chest in a circle and oh, oh boy is it getting hot in here? With his intense stare and mischievous smirk pointed directly at Chan, it's like he's performing for him specifically. Trying to make him drool.

Chan might be seeing stars by the time the song ends and Minho's in a full split, tongue hanging out. As if the flat-on-the-floor twerking (that attracted a wave of cheers from the crowd) wasn't enough. Well, this seemed to be as good a time as any to test his luck— to try and pull Minho away from the floor. Changbin had made it sound like an impossible feat. And last night, even Chan hadn't even been able to get both hands on him.

But something about his demeanor tonight is remarkably different.

Swallowing dry and biting down his enamored grin, he offers his hand to bring Minho gracefully to his feet. And he doesn't let go once Minho's up and standing. Neither does Minho.

"How drunk are you?" Chan chuckles, when Minho follows him out of the crowd with no resistance; his hand remains firmly in Chan's as he willingly follows through the path Chan's shoulders clear in the the sea of bodies. He pauses, turning around for the moment, just to look Minho in the eye as he answers. It's a little quieter here on the sidelines.

"Haven't had a drop," Minho swears, pursing his lips with his eyes claiming innocence. But, as he leans his head in closer, Chan can smell it on his breath.

"Liar," Chan breathes, lips grazing Minho's ear.

"Okay, fine. I had two shots. Seriously, that's it. I'm barely even tipsy."

Well, true, now that he was off the floor.. Minho wasn't acting very drunk. Was this what sober Minho was like? And perhaps his aloofness last night was just for show?

...Because right now, he was all over Chan, eating up his attention with a voracious appetite; accepting every pass Chan made at him, and making his own in exchange. Because right now, he very clearly wanted Chan's mouth on his. Subtlety was thrown out the window— glass broken and everything— his eyes were glued straight to Chan's lips. His hands were dancing their way up to the back of Chan's neck.

Gotcha.

Honestly, at this point— after last night— it felt a little too easy. Where was the challenge?

Fingers slide into Chan's hair and entangle themselves there."You like me, huh?" Minho purrs.

"Like you?" Chan echoes, eyebrow raised. What... did Minho develop a crush? Overnight? He's not used to hearing words like these. And he'd like to keep it that way. "Mm."

He keeps his voice smooth and low as he replies, "You know, I gotta warn you, baby." he swipes his thumb over Minho's lower lip. "I might just break your heart."

Minho just giggles breathily.

He must think Chan's kidding.

So Chan decides to define his intentions in a subtle, sexy way. "You're not the first pretty boy I've been with. And you won't be the first I've left."

Minho blinks slowly, expression neutral. No reaction. "...Are you done?"

Amused, Chan's lets a puff of air escape his mouth before it collides with Minho's. The lips on his are plush and soft, but the energy behind them is fiery and electric. And they're sweeter after waiting extra long for them (but not as sweet as they could have been, had Minho kept up his game of evasion a little longer).

   Ah, there we go. All I gotta do now is find us some privacy and then: victory. Take that, Changbin.

He lets his tongue dart out and graze Minho's lower lip, just for a second. Just to make him need more.

When they pull away from each other, Chan keeps his eyes fixed to the glistening red lips he's just kissed as he pops the question. A little smile, oozing seductive charm, slides onto his face as he whispers, "Wanna find someplace quieter?"

"Buy me a drink first," Minho grins.

───

Only once Minho's properly buzzed does he allow Chan to pull him into a room with a lock on the door. Mouths never parting, Chan uses his hips to push Minho toward the counter. Once Minho's blind, backward steps halt, due to the cool granite pressing against his back, Chan grips Minho's hips firmly.

Minho places his hands on the counter behind him to keep steady and do about, say, a quarter of the total lifting it takes to get him sat up on the counter. Holy shit, he's light.

From there, Chan's free to slot himself between Minho's legs and go right for it. His lips ghost along the skin of Minho's neck.

Minho's head rolls back and opens up a perfect space for Chan to move into, sucking and nipping. The little hums he lets escape excite Chan— they egg him on and inspire him to go for—

"Ahhh..." It comes at last, from deep within Minho's hitching chest, as Chan sucks with perfect precision— light enough to keep from making a mark, but still hard enough to elicit such a reaction. That's it. Against delicate skin, Chan's lips curl. If he glances in mirror behind them, he can see the arch of Minho's back, and it's so, so hot.

In the end, not even someone as obviously masterful at the game of hard-to-get as Minho could resist Chan. He had Minho right where he wanted him now.

Chan moves his efforts back up to Minho's mouth as his hands venture from their previous resting place— Minho's thighs. They go exploring. They begin up at Minho's broad chest, caressing; groping. They slide down his side, over protruding ribs, and come back down to hip level. Blind fingers play about the tight waistband of his shorts. Chan pinches the fabric of Minho's shirt between two fingers and untucks it from them, then lets his fingers creep underneath it.
 
He feels Minho's breath stop for a moment. A little shudder. Then the tension in his body dissipates. All according to plan. He starts his fingers on a short trip up towards Minho's chest, dragging the hem up along with them.

"Mm—" is the next sound to come from Minho. It's short and staccato, nothing like a moan. More like a note of surprise. His head retracts.

They both pause and take a breath, but while Chan simply goes back in to connect their mouths once more, Minho turns his head to the side, as if he's suddenly finding the white wall beside him far more interesting than the inside of Chan's mouth. His big, doll eyes are rather wide as his hands hastily sweep down and smack Chan's fingers away. He tugs his shirt back down to its proper place.

A little puff of air, akin to a scoff but laden with a hint of some other, indecipherable emotion, leaves Minho's lips. He regains his composure, eyes falling half-lidded and glazing over with the sultry shine Chan had gotten used to as he gears up to say something so sexy, but so annoying. "Down, boy."

Chan pulls back, shaking out his mildly stinging fingers, other hand resting on the counter, right against the outside of Minho's thigh. "Fucking tease."

Chan's left staring at himself in the mirror as Minho slips off the counter, and the bathroom door clicks and swings open. With nothing to show for the past half-hour and the drink he bought.

Still playing with him; second night in a row. That little minx.

Problem is: now it's getting  fun.

─── ♡

so uncomfy to write lmao
do YOU think minho has a crush on chan, or is chan delusional? 👀