The Force that Drives the Flower - Borealix (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Hakone, Japan 2022

They’ve wrapped for the day. Their manager and production assistant file out of Felix’s suite, calling cheerful goodbyes as they head towards the ryokan dining room for a late dinner. After the door closes, Felix sighs and looks around the suddenly quiet suite. Their rooms are decorated in traditional ryokan style, with a low table, warm lamps, fabric- and wood-panelled walls, and sliding room dividers with paper latticework. The windows are large, and let in the last rosy light of the setting sun. A glass door in the main room opens onto an elevated patio overlooking a mossy, maple-full garden.

He steps softly over the tatami mat floor to his room and unzips the bag he’d thrown on the bed. Inside he finds a thin jumper and black jeans to replace his summer clothes. The hot sun has slipped behind the mountains surrounding Hakone, and the breeze filtering through the open patio door carries an alpine chill. He hears the faucet running in the loo down the hall as Minho freshens up.

Felix fusses over his outfit restlessly, even though he’d packed it this morning thinking it would be casual enough to be comfortable, and stylish enough to look nice for Minho. Not that it matters. They live together but rarely get to travel alone with each other.

In the mirror, he feels a familiar jolt of surprise at his black hair. Each time he changes it, he takes a while to get accustomed, especially going dark after blonde. It’s gotten long again, the layers in front tickling his cheeks. The tip of his nose and his pointed chin look suspiciously pink; he probably got sunburned today. If he counted freckles, he’d likely find more sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. He should’ve applied sunscreen before boating on Lake Ashi with Minho this afternoon because the makeup artists will scold him later. But it’s hard to feel sorry for that in such a beautiful setting.

Anyway, the look is cute, he guesses. The grey designer cardigan is simple and hangs smoothly off his slim shoulders. And it doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard, which is the important thing. A tap sounds on his door, and Felix stops fiddling to grab his phone, wallet, room key, and a face mask. The sliding room door reveals Minho sporting the glow of a freshly scrubbed face and a happy grin, looking comfy in trim jeans and a green t-shirt with long sleeves pulled over his hands.

Felix smiles, gratified by the slightly pink tip of Minho’s straight nose. He wasn’t the only one who forgot sunscreen. Besides, something about his friend’s bare, heart-shaped face always makes him sentimental. Like he can catch a hint of what Minho looked like as a round-cheeked child.

“Ready?” he asks, linking their arms as his hyung hums agreement; and they step out into the inn hallway without any responsibilities at all for the evening. A rare treat.

That had been the goal of this little trip: relaxation and a bit of freedom. A welcome break at the end of weeks of touring. Felix, Minho and Hyunjin had stayed behind after their last show in Japan to spend some leisure time. Hyunjin wanted to stay in Tokyo to see the art museums; and Felix had been excitedly anticipating a visit to the famous hot springs in Hakone. Except he didn’t really want to go alone. Luckily for him, Minho immediately offered to come too, even though he’d been contemplating sightseeing in Kasukabe.

After leaving Tokyo this morning, they’d spent the afternoon wandering around Hakone, filming snippets of content for a SKZ vlog. Minho had agreed to every tourist spot Felix suggested, even though Felix knew he would’ve preferred more time at restaurants instead of rest stops. Tomorrow they’ll enjoy the private onsen at their ryokan, a 300-year-old Japanese inn featuring hot spring baths surrounded by giant oaks and fir trees.

The road connecting the inn to town is narrow but well lit, without many cars in this residential neighbourhood. The air is mild and the tall trees part occasionally to offer them glimpses of the mountains and the fading purple sky peppered with slender-winged birds.

“Do you know what those are called?” Felix points as a dark bird stoops gracefully across the open sky above them. Minho stops and watches in fascination, his mouth ajar to reveal charmingly prominent front teeth.

Minho’s mouth always reminds Felix of the lips on the baby dolls little girls in Australia used to play with. His lips have that same rosebud daintiness and slightly puckered shape that usually showed a peek of small, white-painted doll teeth. The irony has never been lost on Felix that the fiercest member of their group is the one with the most doll-like face.

“Well, I’m not up to date on my Japanese mountain birds.” Minho replies dryly, but he keeps watching the sky, awe softening his sharp profile. Felix smiles.

“You mean your dance training didn’t include the names of foreign birds?” He teases softly. Minho grins at the sky before meeting his eyes.

“Mm. It’s been a while, but do I need to go back to school?”

“Maybe.” Felix chuckles.

The intersection with the larger thoroughfare appears shortly. They spend half the distance to town trying to come up with their own bird names, most of them puns. During the second half, they take turns inventing dance moves to represent different bird species - ostrich, peaco*ck, hummingbird. Minho laughs so hard at Felix’s penguin dance that he almost trips off the edge of the road.

The warm lights of town wink through the trees. Even though they’d felt drained after sun and sightseeing today, Minho has a distinctive bounce in his step Felix has learned to associate with new restaurants. Their vague plan for the evening is to eat Japanese food together in town. The bounce, however, stops abruptly mid-spring when they turn a corner onto the main street and are greeted by a mass of pedestrians. Minho’s face falls. Looking around, they discover their options are limited by the crush of tourists in this resort town on a midsummer night. Many of the restaurants here have doorways clogged with lines of people.

“Uhh, that yakisoba place looks nice.” Felix suggests without a lot of enthusiasm. Minho looks blankly at the group of people gathered in front of the brightly lit restaurant entrance near them. Felix can hear a mix of Japanese, Korean, and English in the crowd. Minho considers it, but frowns. “Should we check a different street?” Felix suggests.

“Okay.” Minho says gratefully, clearly uncomfortable with waiting in line; and Felix agrees. Some careful scouting with two different map apps barely loading between them leads to a small sushi restaurant on a quiet side street. Even better, they quickly score a booth in a corner.

It’s about 9 pm, and the atmosphere is relaxed and dim. Minho huddles with Felix to review their options on the menu, helping him translate the Japanese. They decide on unadon for Felix, sashimi for Minho, and a variety of side dishes and desserts for them to sample. Felix also orders the expensive sake Minho picks.

When the sake arrives, Minho leans back on his bench with a sigh, swirling the clear liquid in his mouth with his eyes closed, his dark brows rising as he savours the taste. Watching, Felix takes a sip from his cup and feels his own eyebrows climb at the mild flavour filling his mouth. They look at each other.

“Yessssss.” they say in unison, in English, drawing out the “s” in a hiss. And then burst into laughter.

“I think you needed that.” Felix says as his companion takes another sip.

“Mhm.” Minho agrees happily, his pleasant mouth settling in a relaxed line. The electric candle on the table casts a warm light on his ashy bleached hair, forming a feathery halo about his face and lending a glint to his large eyes.

When the first flush of heat from the sake travels through him, Felix feels a subtle tightness in his body start to ease. There are no cameras here. This morning their JYPE Japanese affiliate production assistant - a very nice man named Sato - had politely suggested the two idols take cameras with them during their “free evening” time slot. Felix had politely declined. He has enough years of experience now to know when he can safely turn down requests to film content. Their manager had promised a light schedule for this trip, which means no filming tonight. And luckily, none of their fellow restaurant patrons have recognized them, so no whispers or phones are peeking at them either. Just the rolling murmur of dinner conversation.

No cameras to mind, Felix studies Minho’s pensive face. Years ago, he would’ve found his friend’s content silence unnerving and pushed himself to fill their evening with chatter to try to be charming and grease the social gears. Fortunately he’s come to realise Minho has a much greater tolerance for silence than him. These days he uses Minho’s calmness as a reminder to slow down.

Minho turns and watches him with a fond tilt of his head as Felix takes another sip of sake, and smiles when Felix swallows without a wince. Felix dips his head shyly, and Minho stares at him a little longer with a crooked grin in an obvious ploy to make him blush.

Okay, he has to admit he can’t always be perfectly content around Minho. Despite really enjoying his company today, Felix has weirdly been on edge. Without the other members around on trips, there’s sometimes been the slightest - tension? - between them, he thinks. Not unpleasant, and their years together as Stray Kids members have blunted that tension with comfortable familiarity, to the point that Felix often forgets there had ever been any awkwardness in their friendship. Except occasionally, like this overnight trip in the picturesque Japanese countryside, he’s reminded. And if he’s completely honest with himself, it’s been happening a lot more these days.

The food arrives, and they happily sample their selections, feeding each other the choicest bits while reminiscing about other meals they’ve shared. His eel is delicious and pairs well with the sake. At least, that’s what Minho says. Felix has always been a lightweight. In no time his stomach is threatening to burst, though his dinner date is still going strong with his fish, chewing each slice meditatively. Content, Felix stretches and leans back, slinging an arm over Minho’s shoulders. He looks around the little restaurant, glancing curiously at the other dishes before his eyes are drawn to the chef at the counter in the opposite corner.

Felix had noticed him when they’d entered the restaurant an hour earlier. He’s tall and lanky, young for a sushi chef, dressed in a crisp white chef jacket tied at the waist, navy apron, and a colourful scarf knotted around his head. His hair is long and dark, swept into a ponytail, and a heavy hoop earring glints silver in his left earlobe. As Felix watches, the chef finishes slicing a ruby-tinted fish fillet with a wickedly curved knife in his long fingers. He deftly transfers his cuts to a plate, finishing it with garnishes. When he hands the dish to the passing waiter, he glances up and meets Felix’s eyes.

“Ah.” Felix mutters without meaning to. The man’s gaze is very direct, brown eyes framed by long straight eyebrows, and he holds eye contact a little too long.

Minho stirs next to him and follows Felix’s gaze. The chef’s glance finally shifts, and he gives them both a small bow with a slight smirk on his face. Felix’s cheeks feel a little hot, and he doesn’t think it’s just the sake. He pulls his arm back to his side.

“Huh.” says Minho quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It sounded like something.”

“Well…” Minho shifts in his seat and tugs his sleeves over his hands. “I can never really figure out what your type is.”

Felix snorts. “That makes two of us.” That’s an observation he’d expect more from Changbin. Followed by unsuccessful teasing to encourage Felix to get the guy’s number, which they all know he won’t. Minho’s in a strange mood. Taking another big sip of his sake, Felix decides it’s even easier to drink the more you have.

“So you don’t have one?” Minho asks curiously, glancing back at the sushi chef wiping down his station.

Felix pushes clumps of rice around his bowl with his chopsticks as he considers Minho’s question. It’s not that he doesn’t have a type; it’s more like he doesn’t believe in the concept. As an idol, he’s been asked “What’s your ideal type?” in interviews more times than he can count; and he considers this a much harder question than most interviewers assume. Because the truth is that Felix likes a lot of different things about a lot of different people. Not only that, he’s been coming to realise lately that there’s a certain… undercurrent. That has run through all his more serious crushes. But thoughts like that are too personal to reveal in an interview about idol trivia.

One of the other things he wouldn’t say in an interview is that he’s known since he was little that he’s not entirely straight, but also not entirely gay. He’d been a romantic kid prone to crushes, and he quickly learned those crushes didn’t always conform to what the adults expected. It took him a little longer to settle on bisexual as the name for his feelings. Which isn’t something that can be dropped into a fun, chipper interview on a Korean talk show. At least, not without consequences.

But this is Minho, not an interviewer. And Minho, like the rest of the Stray Kids, is far more familiar with the parts of Felix that can’t be shared in an interview. Minho more than most.

“I have a certain… vibe,” Felix says the last word in English. “That I like. Not really a type.”

“Vibe.” Minho repeats, the high tone of his voice sliding lower like he’s asking himself a question. His dark eyes glimmer at Felix above the table.

“Well I guess you could just call it a feeling that I get from certain people. Like an energy.”

“Hm.” Minho’s gaze stays level on Felix’s face as he tips his head back to swig the dregs of his sake. Light from the candle sweeps over his high cheekbones.

“What’s the energy you’re looking for?”

Felix hadn’t expected Minho to actually follow up his vague statements with this question, so he can’t help but wince a little when his friend does. Minho can be extremely inquisitive when his interest is piqued, though he usually resists asking many personal questions. Unless it’s about random subjects that only make sense in the mysterious narrative that runs through his head. Like when he’d asked Felix this morning - with genuine curiosity - which tying method his parents taught him to knot his shoelaces as a kid. They weren’t even talking about shoes at the time.

Generally speaking, Felix has managed to mostly avoid talking about romance one-on-one with Minho for a long time. “To be honest, it’s something I haven’t really figured out yet. And I’ve actually been thinking a lot about this recently.” Felix weighs his words carefully. “I just like it when certain people can be a little… forceful. Or maybe just very direct. But not exactly in an aggressive way. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Yes.” Minho smiles sharply. And Felix’s flush feels warmer. Why does it sometimes feel like Minho can read his mind? Is he that transparent? Of all the Stray Kids members, Minho has always been the best at getting under Felix’s skin. Though he rarely pushes.

Felix swirls his sake. “You get it?” He asks his cup. He’d rather not use the words he types into his search bar at night; they feel too explicit. And he’s not entirely sure if those are the words he means, either. He glances at his dinner companion.

Minho catches his lip on his teeth and tilts his head to the side. “I think so. Maybe you like it when your partner knows what they want. When you know you can trust them. When they take control.”

Felix’s eyes flick to Minho’s, but Minho just looks at him calmly.

“Yeah.” He says, voice rasping deeper than usual. “That’s probably a good way to describe it.”

“Why have you been thinking about it a lot lately?” Minho’s question is soft.

Felix chuckles lamely. Maybe this is why that little bit of tension still lingers between them, even though more than two years have passed since this topic last came up for them. They’ve never addressed it directly, but maybe Felix’s subconscious has wanted him to.

And for the first time, he’s starting to think Minho wants to talk about it now too.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

At this point in his career, Felix has to periodically remind himself that most people don’t have a found family of seven guys they live and work with. That few people spend most of their mental energy supporting their friends in a shared endeavour yielding unimaginable success, fame, and millions of devoted fans. Other people don’t live such an intensely public yet cloistered life. The reality is too surreal sometimes for him to fully process.

Because his lifestyle has changed so dramatically in the last few years, it’s hard for Felix to know how that change has truly affected him. Before Stray Kids, he was a teenager with a painfully sensitive nature, a mind prone to overthinking, and a compelling need to emotionally connect with others. After Stray Kids, he thinks the intense demands of his strange career have crystallised those tendencies in himself.

While important, he can also acknowledge his intense connection with his members sometimes occupies too much of his mind. He’s always thinking about them, analysing important memories to try to predict what lies in their future together. It’s like each member is a little plant in the garden of his brain, growing larger every year, spidery roots escaping their individual pots to spread tiny filaments into every intimate corner of his head. He knows he needs to keep more of himself separate, but it’s hard.

Lately, there’s been one particularly messy root tangle on his mind that he hasn’t been able to unwind, no matter how much he pokes at it. And every single strand is connected to the man sitting across from him tonight. Minho is kind of like a tree in his mental garden, Felix thinks, starting as a small sapling that got lost under the showy flowers and fruits of the other plants. But slowly over time, his roots have grown deep, and now he shadows the entire garden. The force that has driven this growth is still kind of a mystery.

When they’d gotten the opportunity to stay in Japan this week, Felix jumped at it, secretly overjoyed Minho decided to stay too. This year, something in him has longed to reconnect with his hyung in a way he’d been avoiding before. Minho’s clear enthusiasm to spend this trip with Felix had excited him but also put him on edge. Getting what he wanted was a little frightening.

To define what exactly he wants, Felix has been spending a lot of time thinking about that tree and examining the ways his sexuality had somehow gotten tangled up with Minho’s years before. And to try to pick apart that tangle, he has to trace those roots back to the source.

Looking back, Felix’s first time talking with Minho was a little like making eye contact with that sushi chef tonight. There’d been a “vibe”, even though the encounter wasn’t exactly unique. After a formal introduction with upper-level staff present, they approached each other in dance class, falling into friendly conversation. Felix was still tripping over his Korean a lot, but Minho didn’t comment on it. And… there was just something about Minho that drew him. His look? His dancing? Those legs… Not only that, from what he could tell by the way Minho’s steady eyes followed him, the feeling might’ve been mutual.

Even in those early days, Minho already had an aura of maturity and composure, along with his striking face. Felix found him compelling and also very intimidating. He didn’t think of him as ‘cold’, however, as some others at the company did then. To him, Minho was already a fully-fledged adult, an experienced dancer not prone to the drama and insecurities of a typical new trainee, which made him a reassuring person to be around. Just two years younger than Minho, Felix had felt his own fears and insecurities acutely then.

So maybe Felix was a little interested. Hard not to be at that age, though he had no intention to do anything about it. Or ever confess it to anyone else either. Even at that age, he’d already been painfully aware of the consequences of that sort of behaviour. Besides, Minho had bonded with Han Jisung from the start. Felix admired their easy rapport and was maybe even slightly jealous. With Felix, Minho was a little different, treating him with the generous warmth of an older friend - with just the slightest bit of deliberate care that sort of mystified him.

In the months leading up to debut, he’d sometimes catch Minho staring, a strange look in his eyes. Felix got a feeling like they circled each other, friendly, but sometimes on guard. Too many other worries cluttered his mind then, and he just assumed Minho probably wasn’t straight either.

And as time passed, Felix discovered that despite his usually calm demeanour, Minho could be a real wildcat. He had unpredictable mood changes and could work himself up into frenzied energy, especially when bored. He had a strong sense of justice that paired dangerously with an intimidating awareness of the behaviour of his dongsaengs. His humour was bizarre yet often genius, and he regularly surprised Felix with his astute observations.

Once Felix got a better grasp of Minho’s personality, it was hard not to love him. He was remarkably generous with his help and concern. His fluid, powerful dancing and patient instruction - demonstrating with his body when language failed them both - had been profoundly helpful for Felix during that difficult time.

It was also hard not to notice that Minho continued to treat Felix differently than the other members. He was uncomfortable with sentimental conversations but always stuck around when Felix needed support. He was cutting and sassy when he felt vulnerable but rarely directed this sharpness at Felix. When the other members complimented Felix on his sunny personality, Minho complimented Felix on his hard work. Out of all the members, Felix cherished Minho’s praise the most because it was the rarest, but also the most sincere. A good dance rehearsal with Minho put Felix in the best mood for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until after the two of them endured their respective eliminations and reinstatements during their survival show, after Stray Kids officially made their debut, released EPs, and started receiving their first awards many months later, that Felix began to wonder about Minho’s “vibe” again. The reason was kind of silly and embarrassing: Minho liked to slap butts.

And maybe Felix liked it.

It wasn’t that spanking was unusual for the members, but Minho was the biggest culprit. His spanking progressed innocently in the beginning, mostly in dance rehearsals. The slaps would fly whenever he was feeling playful, or they were all hyped up from performing, and became a running joke early on. But his spanks were always a bit harder than the other members’, depending on his mood. Felix noticed he usually paused afterwards as if to make sure the hit wasn’t too much. Looking back on it, he has to admit that around this time he began to look forward to those hits, maybe especially the hard ones.

But even more than the spanks, Felix was anticipating the pause afterwards. He would meet Minho’s eyes, finding a curious mixture of emotions on his face. Fondness always. Definitely smugness. But behind that lurked a strange intensity and focus. Like he was very invested in seeing the effect of his slap on Felix’s expression. Whatever Minho saw there made his eyes gleam brighter and his mouth twitch into a smirk. And that smile made Felix’s stomach twist every time.

He’d rationalised his feelings by assuming this was just another way he enjoyed skinship. When he’d arrived in South Korea to train in the brutally competitive world of K-pop, without a support network or even an adequate grasp of the language, Felix had reached out to others any way he could. His family is very physically affectionate, and he discovered skinship was a language he could use to make connections without relying solely on his strained Korean. And communicating physically is something Felix is good at.

Over time, he began to suspect that Minho had developed an instinct about Felix, despite the latter’s attempt to hide his reaction. When the cameras were gone and he and Minho were alone… The difference was subtle, the smacks a little more frequent. In the practice room, in the dorm, especially when Felix was struggling and doubting himself. Minho didn’t seem to know how to reassure him with words, but they both began to realise that a few well-timed spanks and a fond caress did far more good than anything Minho could say.

And Felix was having a hard time in those days. His learning process had always been thorough, and maybe a little perfectionist. So the choreography was still a challenge for him to learn as quickly as the others. His step-by-step approach made improvisation in front of audiences or variety shows difficult to jump into without practice. Because of that, the relaxed charisma of Changbin, Han, and Chan onstage felt out of his reach. Despite gaining experience, Felix felt like his insides were melting before every performance. His Korean still got jumbled, and trying to communicate was a chore. He began to wonder again if JYP had been right to eliminate him. Worse, no amount of cuddles, pep talks, or exasperation could make that awful insecure buzzing in his bones go away.

He can’t remember exactly what day it was when it all came to a head, or even what performance they'd been prepping for. What he does know is it had been an especially bad week. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He’d made the mistake of looking at certain comments about himself online. He kept forgetting to eat, and when he did, his food choices just made him feel worse. He was tired, and the novelty of the work had started to wear thin. He was staring down the barrel of a future of constant jam-packed schedules. Now he and I.n were up late once again going over choreography for the hundredth time while Minho watched them in the mirror.

I.n was flagging, and Felix was fading too despite his best efforts. They’d spent the whole day doing promotions before coming back to the agency for dance rehearsal. I.n and Felix had stuck around afterwards to work on the details, and Minho had casually joined them to “work on his own choreo.” They all knew he was staying to help.

Now their progress had slowed to a crawl over the last half hour, and Minho had already stood up to collect his empty water bottle in preparation to leave. Ignoring this, Felix began the sequence again, counting under his breath.

“Have mercy.” I.n groaned as he stumbled across the cavernous practice room to the long black couch at the back wall, collapsing onto it with his face pressed into the seat, left arm and leg dangling to the floor. Minho looked up as he snagged his sweatshirt from the corner where he’d thrown it two hours ago. He strolled to the couch.

“I think this fox is cooked.” Minho said, shoving I.n’s bony shoulder back and forth so he flopped like a dying fish on the couch. “That’s good for today, Innie. We’ll go over the details tomorrow.” He shoved again. “Go home.”

“Gahhh.” I.n fended off the attack. “Yeah alright.” He slid off the couch and stood up slowly, raking sweaty black hair off his forehead as he grabbed his things. His normally cheerful eyes were puffy and drooping. The clock on the wall read 2 am. “Thanks for your help.” He bobbed vaguely in the direction of Minho and Felix, then swung open the door and called “Goodnight hyung! Don’t stay up too late!” as his head disappeared around the door jam.

Felix smothered a sigh. He couldn’t blame I.n for making a hasty retreat. Felix had been pushing them both hard all night. He began again but only made it three beats before his tired legs stumbled. The room was silent.

“Let’s go home, Bok-ah.”

“I can’t get the timing right in the dance break. Can you show me one last time? And then I’ll be done, I promise!” Felix hated the tired wheedling tone of his voice. Minho just looked at him for a second, shoulders sloping with fatigue, and Felix felt a wave of guilt compress his chest.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll run through the second verse and break one more time, and then let’s head out? We’re not accomplishing any more by staying longer.” Minho said, dropping his sweatshirt on the couch. “Count me in.”

Felix sat on the couch and drew up his knees, trying to suppress the panic that seemed to follow him everywhere these days, and got worse as he tired. Minho strode into the centre of the room and faced the wall of mirrors, meeting his eyes. Felix gave him a 4-count, and Minho launched into motion.

They’d been working and practising so long that day, but the lead dancer’s movements still looked steady and clear. He narrated the sequence as he hit each beat in time. Felix tried to watch closely, willing himself to catch all the details. But as soon as he’d sat down, lightheadedness had begun to creep in. His eyes strayed as he lost focus, attention drifting from the mechanics of the choreography to the dancer himself.

Minho was relaxed and balanced, producing clean lines, strong muscles bunching beneath his loose practice clothes. His face was flushed, and the ends of his brown hair stuck to his face and neck in dark spikes. He was so captivating, especially when dancing. The anxious voice in Felix’s head whispered he'd never be as beautiful when he danced as Minho.

Without realising it, Felix was sliding bonelessly off the edge of the couch onto the floor. Minho wavered in his vision as hot tears filled his eyes. The tightness in his chest was getting worse, and he was having trouble controlling his breathing.

Suddenly the squeak and stamp of Minho’s shoes stopped, and his dark silhouette turned to face Felix.

“Yongbok-ah!” His voice was high and strained.

The fact that Minho was looking at him now felt unbearable, so Felix turned his face into the couch cushions. If only he could make his breathing less loud, and calm the jittery tremors in his limbs, he wouldn’t have to be so obvious in front of his hyung. The sobs that came out of his mouth when Minho put his hand on his back were too loud in the echoey room, and Felix couldn’t make them stop.

“What’s wrong?” Minho’s voice was quiet; the weight of his arm was across Felix’s shoulders, hand gently rubbing his arm. He was crouched next to Felix on the floor, both of them awkwardly facing the practice room couch.

“S-sorry.” Felix gasped between sobs. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” He rubbed his eyes against his arm braced on the couch cushions. “I can’t do anything right.” He whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

Minho was silent for a little while. “I don’t think any of us really feel like we know what we’re doing.” He chuckled softly. “Except me, of course.” He threw in.

Felix knew he was probably right. Could even acknowledge that Minho had his own insecurities despite his teasing. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so wretched. But he just couldn’t shake this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. And Minho didn’t deserve to be trapped in the practice room all night, endlessly repeating dance moves until Felix had a breakdown on the floor. The fact that he couldn’t control himself in front of his friend just made him gasp harder.

“Everything’s okay. Let me get you some water.” Minho said, standing up.

As he turned towards the water cooler by the entrance, they both heard footsteps as someone walked down the hallway outside the practice room. Minho quickly closed the door, turned the lock, and dimmed the light. Felix covered his mouth with both hands; the threat of being seen by a random employee in his current state finally began to steady his breathing.

The footsteps faded without pausing, and Minho dispensed water into a paper cup. Felix stared at his own hands and watched a fat tear drop into his palm. A cup of water pushed itself into the crook of his fingers. He drank it haltingly between coughs and hiccups, grateful for the cold liquid against his tight throat. Minho brought him another, and he drank that too.

“Better?” Minho asked.

Felix nodded silently and handed him back the cup. Minho threw it in the bin, and Felix knelt forward on the floor, resting his head and chest on the couch seat. He pressed his hot cheek against the cool leather of the cushion. He desperately needed to sleep, he needed to eat, he needed to get out of his head for once.

He felt the cushion shift as Minho sat down next to him. A hand rubbed soft circles over Felix’s back. “I’m sorry.” Felix said hoarsely, head turned away from Minho. “I haven’t been sleeping, and things have been piling up lately. In my head.”

“Don’t apologise.” Minho cupped his hand over Felix’s head. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, the practice room dim and the noises of the building unnaturally distant due to the hour. Felix took several deep breaths, closed his eyes, and willed his heartbeat to slow down. His nerves were still jangling, and his muscles had begun to seize up after the long practice session. The silence in the room started to feel awkward.

“I wish I could chill out.” Felix turned his head so he could look up at Minho. His friend gazed down at him with a searching expression on his face, brows bunched and mouth soft. Felix sniffed and gave him a very serious look. “I think I need a really big spanking, hyung.” He said, dryly.

Minho blinked hard three times, head co*cked, and then suddenly huffed a goofy laugh. “Really?” He glanced at Felix’s butt where he knelt half-collapsed against the couch.

“Yeah. Clear my head.” Felix croaked with a watery grin, glad he broke the tension. Minho always preferred granting requests instead of consoling. Felix had just never made this particular request explicitly before. But really, now that he’d said it, he thought it might be a good idea. They’d goof around, he’d be distracted from the anxious thoughts in his head, and he could distract Minho from worrying too much about him. Then they’d go home and Felix might finally pass out. Minho may not even mention Felix’s breakdown to Chan, though that was a slim chance. He knew all his seniors worried about him.

Minho jumped up and used both hands to gleefully tap Felix’s bum in a rapid rhythm, alternating cheeks and laughing maniacally.

Felix snickered, lifting onto his elbows. “No no no! You have to do it properly!”

“Yes, you’re right!” Minho replied, lowering his voice to sound stern. Felix dropped his head so he could watch between his arms as Minho’s sweatpant-clad legs squared up next to him.

“Ready?”

“Please!” Felix replied in English, trying to convey mock desperation. It wasn’t hard. He even threw in a little butt wiggle.

“Here you go!” The hit resounded with a sharp clap in the quiet room. It was about as hard as Felix was expecting, but he couldn’t help the soft huff that escaped him as the burn began to tingle across his left cheek.

“Thank you!” Felix gasped with only a little sarcasm.

“Again?” Minho asked in an amused tone.

“Yes! The other side.”

This slap was harder, and it made Felix rock forward on his knees. The pain was delayed for half a second before it bloomed across his right cheek.

“Ahh!” Felix groaned, dropping his forehead to the couch before laughing.

“Ohh ho ho” Minho cooed, fingertips lightly rubbing both cheeks over Felix’s sweatpants. The feeling was rather soothing, despite it being half a joke.

“More?”

If the hits continued, Felix wasn’t sure he could keep up the pretence that this was just a game. He was too on edge. Yet he already felt compelled to continue. The pressure that had been building in his head for weeks was suddenly easing, and he could feel an electric charge that made him forget about his exhaustion. Maybe just a little bit more, to see how it felt?

He nodded, unable to say it out loud. Minho stopped moving. Felix was very aware of the sound of his friend’s breathing in the quiet, dark room. Then Minho shifted, as though he’d made up his mind. He drew back and followed up with ten more steady slaps in succession, somewhat harder than his usual spanks, and Felix had to bite his tongue.

Minho’s hands weren’t very large, but he was strong. The sensation was frightening and wildly exciting, and Felix’s noises in reaction became quieter as he focused inwards. The pain was both sharp and diffuse, and Minho only waited long enough for the sharpness to recede slightly before following up with another hit in a hypnotic cadence.

Finally Minho stopped, likely Felix’s silence making him pause. Felix gulped a breath, shifting slightly as he adjusted to the ache in his backside. He looked over his shoulder to meet Minho’s eyes for the first time since they’d started.

That look was back. More fierce than Felix had ever seen it.

“Is that better?” Minho asked softly, no longer joking. His damp brown hair partially veiled his face, but his eyes were hooded, dark irises black in the partial light of the room. His mouth was quirked in a half-smile, showing white teeth. Felix had no idea what look was on his own face, though the heat radiating off him guaranteed he was blushing fiercely. Whatever Minho saw there made him narrow his eyes further. For the first time all evening, the rigid knot of anxiety in Felix’s stomach was replaced by a different kind of tension.

“Not completely.” Felix didn’t break eye contact, and Minho bit his bottom lip. He reached out both hands and gripped Felix’s hips, pulling him higher. Felix closed his eyes. The sensation was exactly the same as - and completely different from - the many times Minho had corrected Felix’s position during dance practice. Felix decided the duality of that touch, combined with the vulnerability of this position, might drive him a little mad.

“You like this.” Minho’s smooth voice grated. It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer. But it would be dangerous to confirm directly.

“So do you.” Felix whispered. Minho’s fingers tightened on his hips, and Felix curled his toes in his shoes. “Can you… Can you do a couple more? I think it’ll make me feel better.” His voice wobbled slightly, and he didn’t look at Minho’s face, feeling like his blush might make his entire head combust. A voice in his mind was chanting to call this off, pretend it’s a joke. This was getting serious. But the building tension inside kept him from listening.

He felt Minho’s warm hands move from his hips to cup his burning buttocks. Felix dropped his head with a gasp.

“Don’t move.” Minho murmured.

Felix nodded and bit his lips in the pause that followed, achingly conscious of his stinging skin, and the strain of his thighs as he held this position. He was also increasingly aware that other - parts - of him were responding to Minho as well.

The next spanks weren’t any harder than the last, but they blazed against Felix’s already-sensitive skin, and he couldn’t stop the tense grunts that fell from his mouth. The pain began to build in earnest, and he lost track of how many times Minho struck him. Tears pricked his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, pressing his sweating forehead against his knuckles. But he kept his hips steady.

“Good. You’re so good, Yongbok.” Minho breathed behind him, accentuating his words with another hard strike. Felix choked on a sob. His tears were flowing freely again, but they seemed like an afterthought now. Like crying from getting spanked was as automatic as sweating on a summer day. He was vaguely aware he was nodding over and over. It really hurt, but the pain seemed to fill his head with fire, burning away all his worries and fears. Minho said he was good. The next hit fell inexorably, and the sting of his ass grew to a fever pitch. He felt like something was cracking inside him.

“Hyung!” He cried when Minho struck him once more. His elbows collapsed and his legs crumpled, right hip hitting the hard practice room floor.

Strong arms immediately slid under Felix’s armpits, and he felt himself lifted. He came down on top of a solid body, and his smarting knees hit soft padding. When he opened his eyes, he found his nose pressed into Minho’s collarbone, his body cradled koala-style on the dancer’s lap, both of them finally off the floor and settled on the couch. Momentarily stunned, Felix rubbed his wet face against Minho’s shirt.

“Gross.” Laughed Minho weakly. His hands stroked Felix’s back, fingers trembling. Felix breathed slowly; an overwhelming lassitude was enveloping his body, making his limbs feel empty. He was so tired. For once he felt like he might sleep deeply tonight.

“Thanks.” He said, voice sounding strangled.

“Yeah.” Minho replied, resting his forehead lightly on Felix’s shoulder. He noticed that Minho was breathing hard. They sat quietly for a long time, soft music coming from a distant practice room. Felix gradually perceived how close they were entwined, absently surprised when he felt a hard ridge against his hip bone. His own arousal was embarrassingly obvious as well. Yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away. A blanket of odd intimacy lingered over them and muffled his senses.

Minho’s hand drifted down Felix’s back and gently fondled his rump. Felix hissed and burrowed his face into the side of Minho’s throat. The burn beneath Minho’s hand throbbed in time with Felix’s heartbeat.

“You okay, Bokie?”

Felix breathed into the skin of Minho’s neck and allowed his hands to wander up Minho’s sides, enjoying the firm curves he felt there. He knew from experience that Minho had a stunning body, but he’d never gotten the opportunity to genuinely caress it with intent. Minho’s breath stuttered next to his ear, and his hand tangled in the back of Felix’s t-shirt. Combating the urge to cross more boundaries, Felix wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck. He probably shouldn’t be feeling up his friend, but he also couldn’t resist seeking full-body cuddles after what they’d done. Fortunately, Minho seemed to sympathise and didn’t resist.

“I’m okay. That was a lot more intense than I expected. But I think I needed it.”

Minho was silent for a moment. “I wish you wouldn’t doubt yourself so much.” He said into Felix’s shoulder. “It’s disturbing you can’t see your own charms. The rest of us can.” Quietly, he added “And… the way you were just now -“

He stopped himself midsentence and leaned back. Felix raised his head, brushing damp pinkish hair out of his eyes, and looked at Minho’s face for the first time since he’d arrived in the other man’s lap. His expression looked more unguarded than Felix had ever seen it. His lovely eyes wide and vulnerable. Felix saw fear there, and an almost wild excitement.

“f*ck, Minho hyung. I really didn’t mean to put you in that position. That was messed up to do. I didn’t think it would go that far…” Felix twisted backwards to escape the couch, wincing a little. But Minho grabbed his waist and pulled him close again. They both grunted as their bodies jolted together.

“You didn’t make me do anything.” Minho said hoarsely, staring frankly at Felix’s face, forehead creased. “I… wanted to.”

Felix exhaled shakily, all his feelings lingered dangerously close to the surface, and he threaded his fingers through the soft hair at the base of Minho’s head. Minho felt like the only solid thing in the room. The dark mirrors, echoey music, and the groan and creak of the leather couch seemed strange, like a fever dream.

Minho’s eyes dropped to Felix’s mouth, brows tensed in a disturbed ‘v’. Felix found himself mirroring the action. Minho’s soft lips looked bitten red. Both of them moved at the same time.

The kiss was velvety, Minho’s mouth gentle. Felix’s heart lurched. He sensed immediately that they were playing with fire, yet couldn’t wrench himself away from the silky slide of Minho’s lips as he leaned closer, hot right hand firmly grasping the back of Felix’s neck. How delicious. If he wasn’t careful, he’d want to do this for hours. Felix relaxed, enjoying the electrifying press of their bodies, and Minho sighed into his mouth. The tip of Minho’s tongue swept inside as his left hand clutched Felix’s hip and pulled him in tight, rolling his pelvis up in a smooth motion.

They both groaned, and Minho pulled back with a gasp. They stared at each other before Minho lowered his eyes.

“We should stop.” They said over each other. Minho looked back at Felix’s face, expression soft.

“After everything that’s happened lately, losing a member. Everyone’s so stressed.” Minho said breathlessly. “I think this is probably a bad idea. We might mess everything up.”

Felix nodded and lowered his head. The aches and pains of his body were creeping back into his consciousness, and so was his shame.

“Felix.” Minho said sharply, fingers gently tipped his head back up. “Don’t feel bad about this. I don’t. What you wanted wasn’t weird, and I said yes to it all. Besides, I was the one who should’ve slowed down.” He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d like for us to be able to stay friends, and hope that you’ll trust me to have your back.”

Minho was blushing a charming amount. Felix felt a swell of tenderness for his friend and smiled. That was probably the longest sincere statement about feelings he’d ever heard come unsolicited out of Minho’s mouth. And despite the strangeness of Felix’s request for a spanking - plus Minho’s surprising enthusiasm to comply - he felt they’d accidentally come to a deeper understanding of each other rather than making an embarrassing mistake. But they were also very much at risk of throwing off the entire group’s dynamic.

“Thank you, hyung. I get what you’re saying, and I agree with you.” Unfortunately, this sort of situation wasn’t entirely new to Felix, though the spanking was. He also knew the group - and by extension the company - had to come first. How had he strayed so far off course so suddenly? If he didn’t feel so weirdly empty now, he’d definitely be panicking.

No energy left to panic, he wearily lifted a leg and climbed off Minho’s lap, gingerly lowering himself onto the couch next to him. God, he was lucky they weren’t performing tomorrow (today?). He’d have to add voluntarily bruising himself days before a performance to the list of questionable choices he’d made tonight. He rubbed his face hard, trying to force his scrambled thoughts back in order.

“Can we… go on? After this? I mean, have I made everything super awkward?”

“I think it’ll be okay.” Minho replied quietly, leaning forward and staring at his hands. A glance confirmed that his palms looked pink. Felix blinked and tried not to imagine how red his own ass was right now.

They sat there wordlessly, as if waiting for reality to return. Felix’s heartbeat finally stopped racing. Unlike before, the silence between them was oddly relaxed. His instincts told him to explain himself better, smooth things over; but his tired brain wouldn’t cooperate. The clock on the wall showed that not even an hour had passed, which seemed strange given everything that happened.

Finally, Felix’s exhaustion threatened to glue him to this couch forever, so he stirred and tentatively rested a hand on Minho’s shoulder. “Thank you. For helping me. I actually feel pretty relieved.” Minho nodded gratefully. “Let’s try hard to not get caught up like that again. I’ll do my best because I really love working with you.” Felix squeezed Minho’s shoulder, and Minho gave him a sweet, sad smile. It wasn’t hard for Felix to summon an answering smile to reassure him.

Minho nodded again and blew out a breath. “Yes. I agree. Let’s enjoy our work and live a happy life. Come on, let’s go. You look wrecked.”

“Thanks.” Felix sighed, unable to deny that he must look awful.

Minho helped him up, gathered their things, and unlocked the door. He got them a car home. Felix went through the motions, bracing himself for the litany of self-recriminations to start in his head like they always did when he’d stepped out of his comfort zone. But perhaps he was too drained for that because the only emotion he felt was love for his friend.

They arrived at their dorm, quietly said goodnight, and Felix collapsed into his bed without showering or changing his clothes. On the edge of sleep, he heard someone softly enter the room. Hands gently turned him onto his side, and he felt the chill of a frozen gel pack tucked around his hips and butt. He looked up to see Minho’s shadow above him and clutched his hand as Minho drew back. He squeezed Felix’s fingers, and walked away, closing the door silently. Nestled in cool comfort, Felix passed out.

***

Looking back, Felix is surprised again by how quickly they adjusted. Within days, Minho returned to his playful slaps and manhandling. Though Felix took a bit longer to be able to look his friend in the eyes again. The only lasting change was that their roughhousing became much more careful, especially in private. And by tacit agreement, they avoided discussing the topic with each other at all.

Despite this change, Felix weirdly felt a lot closer to Minho after The Thing happened (in his mind, Felix always thought of that spanking as ‘The Thing’, subliminally capitalised). Minho appeared to feel the same way. They became more comfortable with each other after confirming their similar… interest? Like an unspoken question had been answered. Knowing that, they became more adept at avoiding subjects and situations that would lead to temptation, and managed to discover more interests they held in common.

The other members easily adjusted to the new dynamic, though of course it was accompanied by good-natured teasing. It’s hard to ignore when members mysteriously become closer. Perhaps he and Minho sometimes gazed at each other cryptically or abruptly stopped their teasing at the height of the fun, but that was just seen as their weird habit.

The only one who seemed a little reluctant to adjust to the change was Han, whose bond with Minho was deep, but somewhat ambiguous. Despite their clear affection for each other, and the time they chose to spend together off-schedule, Felix could never really figure out the full extent of their relationship. Each member had their own theory, but nothing was ever confirmed or denied. The excessive teasing they endured from the other members didn’t ever faze the pair either, so eventually they all kind of stopped speculating. Except maybe Felix in his most private thoughts. He knew it wasn't his business, so he did his best not to dwell. They all got on so well, he couldn’t afford the jealousy.

This was still during their turbulent early years, when they all rubbed each other wrong at times, conflicted over petty differences, and were carving out their roles in the collective whole. Tempers sometimes ran high. Fortunately, as quickly as Han’s jealousy was stoked, it also rapidly burned out. Han’s feelings moved fast, and Felix didn’t worry about it too much.

One thing he did worry about, however, was Han’s occasional moodiness that sometimes held Minho and the rest of the group at a distance. This moodiness came to a head not long after The Thing when Han’s panic attacks in crowds became so bad he was finally able to accept treatment. Like all the members, Felix did his best to help his friend in the months that followed, and fortunately Han improved. The effort helped Felix put aside his lingering preoccupation with what he and Minho had done in the practice room that night. All the members seemed to want to put that difficult year behind them.

Later, Felix used his lingering embarrassment to fuel his drive to finally deal with the insecurities that caused his meltdown. By gaining experience as an idol, his confidence increased, and he learned how to better trust all the members so he didn’t feel so alone in his struggles. And the members were there for him.

In that time he also gained some perspective about why he and Minho had clumsily stumbled onto a kink together, and he was able to put some names to his more complicated desires. He’d been young and naive - and he has to admit, pretty catholic - when he came to train in South Korea. The difficulty of adapting to a new language, work, and culture had diverted a lot of the thought he would’ve channelled into more typical teenage interests. Not that he hadn’t fooled around a little bit; he was training nonstop with a bunch of theatre boys, after all, despite the very strict environment at JYPE. And Felix likes to flirt. But he’d never had the chance to fully consider his preferences in the following years beyond a few embarrassing crushes and, more recently, a somewhat unsatisfying fling with another idol.

These days, age and a little contractual freedom have led him to explore his more unorthodox interests. Being an idol, however, is complicated and he juggles a lot of conflicting responsibilities. He has so little free time, and there isn’t anyone in his life he feels he can trust enough to hand over his control without massive consequences. Because if he’s honest, letting go of control is what he wants.

How typical, then, that Minho would now so casually state the exact answer to a question Felix has taken months to ask himself: What do I want? The answer: to give up control. Either Felix’s tastes are not as unusual as he thought, or Minho has good intuition. He decides it’s probably both.

“Why have you been thinking a lot about it?” Minho asks him in their little sushi restaurant. Which is a really difficult question to answer because The Thing has been featuring heavily in Felix’s thoughts lately. And The Thing is tangled up so tightly with all those intrusive thoughts he’s been suppressing about Minho this year.

Felix swallows and looks at his friend. Minho sits there calmly, asking him about his love life while cradling a cup in hands that have spanked Felix into submission. His clear gaze is even more direct than the sushi chef flirting with Felix in the corner. His hyung has sexual proclivities Felix definitely has zero interest in. Minho is also his very close friend and co-member.

He runs his fingers through his hair, considering the minefield of this conversation, and clears his throat. “I’m just trying to figure some stuff out for myself.” He says casually. “My likes and dislikes. I guess you could say I’ve found myself at a bit of a crossroads.”

“Anyone else travelling with you on that road?” Minho asks as he pokes at his mochi dessert with his chopsticks. Felix stares at him. He’s a little shocked Minho is suddenly pursuing this subject after years of avoiding it with careful nonchalance. He leans back on his bench.

“No.”

Minho looks up from his plate. He smiles ruefully, sensing Felix’s alarm. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about this stuff if you don’t want to. I thought maybe enough time had passed…”

Felix lets out a shaky breath at Minho’s indirect mention of The Thing, and deflates a little. If it had been up to Felix, they would’ve already talked this subject to death as a way for him to process. But circ*mstances had been against him. At the time, Stray Kids was in a rocky season, losing a member one year after debut, when they were still clawing their way onto the charts. They’d all felt insecure about their future together. Dwelling on a sexual awakening with a fellow member had seemed like a guaranteed disaster. Felix can also recognize that neither of them had been in a good place to deal with a seismic shift in their relationship. Has that changed?

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

Minho puts down his chopsticks. “To check with you, maybe? I guess I just wanted to get the chance to say I’m sorry.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck and meeting Felix’s eyes. His whole face softens when he’s being sincere, like all the tension has drained out of it, making him look younger. “I’ve always felt guilty that I never talked to you about spanking you back then. Especially since you seemed so low at the time.”

It takes a minute for Minho’s words to compute in Felix’s brain. Then he leans forward and grabs Minho’s arm “Minho hyung, I asked you for that spanking!”

Minho grimaces, “Yeah I know. But you were just 19, and I was pretty clueless about the impact that kind of play can have. You were struggling. I should’ve been there for you.”

Felix smiles, really touched by Minho’s confession. “In a way, you were there. When I needed you most.” He waggles his eyebrows. Minho rolls his eyes, but he’s clearly holding back a grin.

“I’m just saying you can talk to me about this stuff. I want you to.” Minho says after a pause, his voice serious.

Felix meets his eyes for a long moment, unexpected relief flooding him. “Thanks hyungie, I’d like that.” He says. Minho vigorously nods, eyes shining.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

As their meal winds down, Felix and Minho take a few selfies to commemorate the evening. The waiter passes them, and Minho smoothly snags the check before Felix can protest. They bicker comfortably over the bill until Minho slips his card to the cashier, ending the argument without a word. On the way out, Felix suggests buying them drinks from a convenience store as a thank you. Minho immediately agrees.

One of the many advantages of travelling with Minho, Felix thinks, is that he’s so open to doing pretty much anything. And he’s usually genuinely interested in everything Felix suggests. Felix swings the plastic bag of hard seltzer and dagashi he bought from the local 7-Eleven as they walk back up the road to the inn, feeling happy and loose. If they weren’t walking uphill he’d probably try a few twirls. The night is cool and mist is forming in the mountain valleys. The breeze against Felix’s face is like the quiet, moist exhalation of a lover before a kiss. He occasionally looks at the shadowy figure walking beside him and catches the gleam of Minho’s eyes on him each time.

Returning to their suite, the evening feels unfinished, so they decide to settle onto cushions on the porch to sip their drinks and dangle their legs. They turn off the overhead light in the main room so they can look out at the irregular shapes of moss-covered trees in the garden, gleaming greenly in soft accent lights.

“So.” Felix says over the quiet creaking of night insects.

Minho looks over at him, drink in hand. “So?” He asks, one brow raised. Felix gulps his seltzer and winces at the bite of alcohol and carbonation. He takes a breath and makes the plunge. “Spanking. Do you do it a lot?”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl.” Minho says, lying back on the well-swept wooden planks and grinning at the night sky. Felix leans sideways and batters Minho’s arm with loose fists.

“C’mon hyung! You can’t say you want to talk about it, and then not talk about it!” He complains.

Minho holds his drink out of Felix’s range, laughing. “I didn’t say we should review each other’s sexual history. I just meant I’m okay with talking about that kind of stuff in general, if you want.”

Felix abandons his attack. “Oh, sorry!” He feels his shoulders snap up and smiles uncomfortably. “I’m not looking for intimate details, I’m just curious about what you think. Since you asked me about my preferences, I thought you wanted to talk.” He says, unable to control the awkward crack in his voice.

“Mm.” Minho lies there for a solid minute, seltzer can balanced on his stomach, watching the tree branches above them sway against the hazy stars. Felix is about to admit defeat, disappointment making his head droop, when Minho finally turns his head to look at him.

“Sure.” He says haltingly, sitting back up. “I’ve played around with that a little, but not much, mostly because I’ve never had a partner who really wanted that.”

Felix considers that carefully, aware that they’re skirting the line of those ‘intimate details’ somewhat dangerously. He plays with the tab of his seltzer can hard enough to make it snap off. He really, really shouldn’t ask, but he desperately wants to know.

“So Han…?”

Minho rocks back hard like he’s been pushed.

“Let’s not talk about Han tonight, okay?”

Felix freezes a little, immediately regretting giving away his intense curiosity.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m really sorry I asked.”

Minho sighs deeply and shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’re right that I was the one who brought all this up. And I get why you asked. But I don’t really want to speak for Han. So I probably shouldn’t get into it right now.”

Felix nods his head slowly, despite his lingering confusion. “You don’t owe me an explanation, hyung.”

His friend looks away and takes a big drink from his can. When he looks back, he seems more relaxed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to give you one. So I guess the short answer is no. It’s not like that. For Han.”

“Mm.” Felix murmurs, extremely intrigued but doing his best to steer clear of that risky subject. Minho said ‘for Han’. Does that mean Han doesn’t like spanking? Or Han isn’t into Minho ‘like that’? He already knows speculating about this only brings frustration, so he sternly pulls himself back onto safer ground. “So - did you do any spanking… play? Before us?”

Minho fiddles with the tab on his own can. “Sort of. But nothing really intense. Not like…” He cuts himself off to take a drink.

“Not like us.” Felix finishes for him.

Minho swallows. “No.”

“Huh.” Felix assimilates this information. It feels strange to have a new perspective overlaid on his worn-out memories. “So you like spanking.” Felix states.

Minho snickers. “I think that’s well known.” He nudges Felix with his elbow. “By you especially.”

“Yeah, no. I mean, not just for fun.” Felix says, flustered. “Like - sexually.”

Minho meets his eye. “Yes.”

Felix finds himself nodding for a long time. He takes a drink to make himself stop. Multiple thoughts are racing through his head, and he’s not sure what to focus on.

Minho watches a shiny black beetle wander across the wood next to him. “But you knew that already.” He says again, quietly.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Of course this isn’t new information, but it feels different to have his assumptions confirmed. Felix kicks his legs back and forth as he dangles them off the edge of the porch, feeling wired. He ought to be getting sluggish after the food, sake, and seltzer. He pulls out his phone and squints at the playlists, picking one he uses for dance practice cool-downs. He hits shuffle and lays it on the deck next to them.

Minho shifts closer and starts swinging his leg too, playfully knocking their feet together. “So Bokie, all this thinking you say you’ve been doing lately, I assume it has to do with spanking?”

“That and other things, yeah.” Felix reaches behind them and pulls open the plastic bag, rummaging until he finds the box of yoghurt-covered biscuits. Maybe the sweetness will offset the sharpness of the alcohol; and maybe snacks will make this conversation feel a little less intimidating.

“Other things.” Minho repeats. He stares at the side of Felix’s head until Felix finally caves.

“You want to know?” He asks, poking a biscuit into Minho’s mouth. Minho just chews it placidly, humming appreciatively at the taste while nodding.

Felix takes another swig from his can, the looseness of his limbs warning him that he’s had enough alcohol tonight to start seriously oversharing. He’ll have to be careful.

“When you spanked me back then,” it feels so weird to talk about The Thing out loud, “the way it made me feel really surprised me. I mean, I already knew some people like spanking… that way. I’d seen the internet.” Felix says, blushing. “But I didn’t realise that it could be so emotionally… intense.”

“Mm.” Minho nods, chewing thoughtfully on the last of his biscuit. “Not commenting on your taste in websites.” He shoots Felix a playful look. “So what you’re telling me is that I rocked your world.”

Felix splutters on seltzer. “f*ck you.” He says weakly in English, knocking his shoulder into Minho’s, hard.

“Ow - wow! Such disrespect for your thoughtful hyung! You were never this rude when you were younger. Address me properly.”

“Eat me.”

“Buy hyung dinner first.”

“I bought hyung drinks!”

“Fair.”

Felix sighs, and Minho pets the back of his head in apology. “So, getting spanked was emotionally intense, which surprised you.” He says in a more measured tone. “That makes sense, especially since you were so worked up beforehand. It must have been overwhelming.” Felix nods. Minho nods back wistfully and kicks his feet more. “It affected me a lot too.”

“It did?” Felix asks in a small voice.

“Yeah.” Minho replies softly.

“Oh.” Felix drops his chin to his chest, breathing deliberately slowly. Minho continues stroking his hair.

“Anyway, I wasn’t really ready then to figure out what that meant for me.” Felix continues, spilling all his thoughts on the subject despite vowing not to overshare. He suddenly urgently needs to make sure they understand each other. “All I knew was that it was a big scary release of a lot of feelings I’d bottled up. And I needed to cope with those feelings before I could deal with discovering a new kink with my dance leader.”

“Got it.” Minho says sheepishly, dropping his hand to his side. “And now?”

“Now?” Felix smiles crookedly, feeling a bit of a head rush. “Now I guess I’m ready to figure it out.” He finishes his drink with a showy flourish, adding breezily, “Because I’m starting to think I might f*cking love it.”

Minho coughs into his can.

“Too much detail?” Felix asks, thumping Minho on the back as he wheezes.

“N-no!” Minho wipes his mouth with his hand.

They sit there for a while, humming to Felix’s music and nibbling snacks. The mist thickens to an opaque emerald colour in the garden. Minho opens a second drink.

“So when you said you like certain peoples’ ‘vibe’,” Minho says reflectively after a long pause, “does that mean you’re hoping to find someone who’ll dominate you?”

Minho is too perceptive, Felix decides. And also unusually intent on this subject. One indirect benefit of Minho’s reluctance to talk a lot about feelings is that his uncanny focus isn’t usually directed intensely at Felix when discussing sensitive subjects. Felix has relied on that to keep the always-shifting boundaries between them intact. His edginess intensifies, this is dangerous territory. He can’t make out the fine details of his friend’s face because he’s only dimly illuminated by the green lights in the garden. But he can tell Minho is looking at him intently.

“Yeah, I think so.” Felix slowly admits, brows furrowing. This is a more intimate question than anything Felix has answered yet tonight, but the darkness and the drinks help him to be honest. And really, it’s kind of a relief to be able to admit it to someone after keeping those thoughts to himself for so long. If anyone would understand, he thinks, it’s Minho.

Felix sighs. “I- I just want to feel what it’s like to let someone take over control for a bit. So I can stop thinking and feel that freedom again. Getting punished when I felt out of control was such a… rush.” He shivers. “I guess you can call it submission and domination. I haven’t figured out how that all plays out yet.”

He swallows and rubs a damp hand on his thigh nervously. “Anyway, I’m not sure if that’ll ever happen. At least not right now, which sucks. We’re so busy, and it would have to be someone I know I can completely trust.” Felix’s voice gets quieter. “And I’m afraid of getting hurt. Or exposed.”

He shrugs his shoulders in a way he hopes is casual, and sets down his empty drink can behind them. Minho is still looking at him, but Felix can’t meet his gaze. His hyung puts his arm around Felix’s waist and pulls him closer. Felix instantly melts and rests his head on Minho’s shoulder, snaking his arm around his back.

“Thanks. For talking to me about this. I haven’t been able to share this stuff with anyone, and it’s kind of been eating at me lately.” Felix admits gratefully. That’s an understatement.

“It’s the least I can do.”

Felix presses his cheek against Minho’s shoulder and breathes in a hint of his woodsy cologne, mixed with Minho’s earthy scent, familiar and comforting. Minho’s body is so solid. He can lean heavily on him without worrying he’ll tire quickly. It’s been so long since he’s been this deep in Minho’s confidence, sharing vital secrets. Excitement and reassurance mix to make a heady co*cktail that fizzles in his veins. Minho quietly sips his drink, gently stroking Felix’s hip.

“Why did you bring this stuff up tonight?” Felix asks.

Minho sets his can down and adjusts Felix’s head on his shoulder. “Well,” He pauses, clearly trying to find the right words, “I’ve thought about it too. And like I said, I wanted to be able to talk about what happened between us at least once, to make sure we’re good.” He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His voice has a hint of forced lightness. “It’s bothered me for a while. I was running on instinct that time with you, and I’ve never been sure if I handled it the right way. So I guess I’ve always wondered if you’re okay.”

That’s - really touching, actually. Felix snuggles closer. “I’m okay, Minho hyung.”

“Good.” Minho says hoarsely.

Felix throws a leg over Minho’s knee and thinks about it for a minute. “You know, I’m really not kidding when I said you helped me back then.”

Minho squeezes him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. At the time, I needed to get out of my head pretty badly because I was feeling so down about myself. When the other members tried to encourage me, I just couldn’t believe their compliments. And I know it probably sounds strange, but when you spanked me like that, I really felt like you cared for me deeply. So, thank you.”

Minho is silent as Felix’s music softly plays, and then there’s a jostle when he nods his head.

“You’re welcome, Bokie.”

Despite how intimate the subject of their conversation has been, Felix feels reassuringly certain Minho won’t look at him any differently after his confession about kinks tonight. They’ve never talked about it before, but he knows from experience it’s pretty difficult to fluster his friend. Flustering Felix, on the other hand, well…

Part of him always questioned whether Minho had been humouring Felix when he’d spanked him, and just got a bit carried away. Given Minho’s admission that he was as affected by The Thing as Felix, he realises he has a new problem. That undeniable fact has invaded his brain now, like a weed. He has a feeling he’s going to be spending a while reevaluating every encounter they’ve ever had. And moving forward, he’ll have to squash down a renewed preoccupation with how erotic it had been to be spanked by his hyung.

Not only that, Minho’s admission that his relationship with Han isn’t exactly what Felix assumed has thrown him off-balance. Like Felix, Minho never tried to keep his sexuality a secret from the other members. Han was a little more private, despite the beautiful love songs he’s written. It wasn’t seen as a problem. Everyone has their boundaries, and they all do their best to respect each other’s comfort zones. It’s hard enough to maintain any sense of privacy when you live and work practically on top of each other most of the time.

With this new information, he knows it’ll be a battle for him to push down his curiosity about his friends’ relationship again. Felix has already found his place in their group, after much struggle. Obsessing about Minho, and whether Felix had missed out on a relationship as harmonious as the one Minho shares with Han, will just make him question if he’s the odd man out again.

It feels like he’s suddenly been thrust back in time to that turbulent period when he’d just discovered a new kink with his friend. He’d rather not relive those days, when he’d woken up with a tender ass, feeling bewildered, romantically conflicted, and vaguely ashamed of himself. Better to focus on the positives. He knows now that he has someone close to him he can talk to about the stresses of learning about D/s dynamics. Minho has always been a levelheaded source of advice.

He sighs. A soft breeze ruffles his hair, and now the food and drinks are starting to catch up with him. His eyelids are getting heavy, and Minho is warm and very comfortable. Maybe Minho will agree to share Felix’s big bed and cuddle tonight. Would that be weird? They haven’t done that since he was a teenager, but it would be nice. He presses his face into Minho’s soft shirt as his playlist pauses and then starts up a new song.

“Hey Yongbok-ah.” Minho’s voice is so quiet that Felix can only hear it because he’s snuggled close.

“Hm?” He asks sleepily.

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this…” Minho trails off, rocking them restlessly.

“Just ask, hyung.”

“Ok.” He’s silent for a while, and Felix fiddles with the denim covering Minho’s knee.

“Well… I just wonder, if I can help you?”

“With what?” Felix yawns.

“Um, if you want to - do that. With me. You know you can trust me, and I trust you.”

Felix’s drooping eyelids snap back open. Shock flashes through him, evaporating his sleepiness, and his body stiffens instinctively. Minho drops his hand from his waist. Felix has to repeat Minho’s statement in his head. Minho wants to ‘help’ him?

To dominate him?

“Are you serious?” He asks, pulling away to look at Minho’s face.

Minho tugs on his ear nervously. “Yes.”

“Are you drunk?”

Minho blows out an awkward laugh, self-consciously moving his half-full drink farther away from himself. “No. Not really. I mean, I’m not completely sober either. I know what I’m asking, though”

“Oh.”

They stare at each other in the eerie green darkness of the garden. Felix experiences an uncanny feeling like he’s floating at the bottom of a lush green lagoon, suspended in a soft column of water. He’s aware his brain has stopped working.

Minho gently takes his hand, and the gears in Felix’s head finally grind into motion. What Minho is suggesting is crazy? Logical? Stupid? Genius? Dangerous? Completely safe? Incredibly disruptive? Exactly what he needs? Irresistibly seductive? Well…

“I know we just started talking about this, and I’m probably springing this idea on you too soon. Or it’s just incredibly stupid to suggest it at all. But… I’d really like to do that with you.” Minho says haltingly, looking at their joined hands. “Plus I couldn’t stand you getting hurt either. Whatever you want, you can trust me.” He squeezes Felix’s fingers and starts talking faster. “That includes if you don’t want that kind of relationship, or never want to talk about this stuff again. I’d get it.”

All of Minho’s words make sense, and follow a logical order, but Felix’s brain just can’t seem to accept their meaning. What he’s proposing perfectly encompasses everything Felix has carefully avoided thinking about directly. There’s a reason he refers to that spanking as The Thing in his head. The name makes it easier for him to keep the memory vague. To think of it as a spanking brings back the memory of that electric connection with too much clarity.

That spanking. The heat in Minho’s eyes. The relief of the punishment. That breathtaking kiss. Minho’s simple care and concern. Everything he’s not supposed to dwell on. And not just that. He’s not supposed to think about Minho and Han’s relationship either. Or the painful mix of love and longing he feels for their easy companionship. Han…

“But what about Han?” Felix asks, feeling completely lost now.

“Right, I really got ahead of myself, didn’t I?” Minho remarks as if to himself. He turns away and Felix hears a fizzy gurgling sound as Minho pours the rest of his drink into the grass beside them.

He turns back, sets the can down with a metallic clatter, and pulls his sleeves over his hands. “I should’ve just explained before.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s no secret Han and I are really close. And there was a time I thought we felt the same way.” Felix nods quietly, barely breathing. But Minho doesn’t immediately say anything more.

After a pause, Felix ventures “But Han… doesn’t?”

Minho smiles. “Not the way I wanted him to.”

Now it’s Felix’s turn to rock back like he’s been pushed.

“Oh.”

He really ought to come up with some other response, ask Minho to clarify, but Felix is honestly a little too stunned. His monosyllabic reaction seems to prod Minho into action, and he takes Felix’s hand again.

“Listen, Han and I came to terms with our feelings years ago. He’s my best friend. And I try not to discuss any of that with the members because he’s still working through some stuff.” He outlines Felix’s fingers lightly with his free hand. “We love each other. But at the end of the day, we’re more comfortable being friends because we’re not in the same place, and we don’t have the same tastes.”

Felix nods slowly. “And I do.” He says simply.

“Well yes, but that’s not why I’m asking you now.” Minho says hastily, squeezing Felix’s fingers hard enough to pinch. Felix struggles for a second to drastically realign all of his assumptions, and then gives up to address the matter at hand. He says the first thing to come to mind.

“Are you asking me this because you’re worried I’ll do something stupid?” He says, heart sinking. “You said you don’t want me to get hurt.”

“No!”

“Because I’d feel pretty awful if you thought that.”

“No-No!” Minho awkwardly scoots closer. “That’s not what I mean.” He brushes his fingers against Felix’s cheek until he looks at him. “You’ve always known your own mind, and I trust you to make good decisions.” Minho tips his shadowed head close enough for Felix to feel the warmth of his breath on his face.

“Honestly, I’m being stupid and greedy.” His voice drops in volume. “I know we’re supposed to be good. The two of us have been really good for a long time. But for me… it’s just been getting a lot harder, lately.” Felix catches his breath, unprepared to hear his own thoughts echoed by his friend.

Minho licks his lips. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not incredibly jealous of whoever you’ll choose to play with. I think we’d complement each other - in a lot of ways. Because I’ve never forgotten what it felt like to handle you.”

It feels like the air has solidified into a suffocating mass in his lungs, and Felix exhales in a rush. He’s immediately, powerfully tempted by Minho’s proposition. Everything feels possible here in the dark, alone with his friend. His friend who admitted to enjoying spanking Felix, who wants to do it again, who maybe wants to do a lot more than spanking. Just the thought of it makes heat careen erratically through his limbs. Like the most pleasant electrocution ever. There’s a reason he’s never allowed himself to seriously consider this option. It was too dangerously seductive.

“Have you - done that? Before? Dominating someone for real?” Felix asks haltingly, aware that just asking the question is opening a door that probably needs to stay locked.

“Not really. I mean, not the way you’re talking about. But I know I really want to. Especially if it’s with you.” Minho’s thumb caresses his neck.

That’s - really a lot for Felix to digest all at once. He fights a strong impulse to tackle Minho right here on this porch.

But what about tomorrow? He doesn’t have the excuse of wild teenage abandon anymore. They’re experienced idols. What happens when they wake up in the cold light of day and are launched once more into the busy schedules of touring, filming, promoting, and making music? How will it feel to have the cameras trained on them after they do - that? Even though all his members have matured into confident artists, and they’ve grown so much as a unit, are he and Minho strong enough now to stay professional? Would Stray Kids fall apart? And would he ruin the thing they’ve all worked years to achieve?

But setting aside all those vital considerations, there’s something even more important he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t get it, hyung.” He says quietly. “I thought - I thought you didn’t like me like that.” Admitting such a deeply secret doubt makes Felix’s chest hurt.

He hears Minho shift a little, but doesn’t look up. Minho hitches a breath.

“Yongbok-ah, I’ve always liked you. Too much.” His normally clear voice sounds weak.

“Oh.”

Felix’s phone switches to an uncomfortably sappy love song. He fumbles for it next to his hip and turns it off. The crickets sound loud in the sudden silence. He takes a deep breath.

“I’ve - always really liked you too.”

Minho’s thumb tightens convulsively on the side of his neck. The blurry outline of Minho’s features looks so sure and intent. Felix feels an overwhelming urge to kiss him. Instead, he shuffles forward on his knees and wraps his arms around Minho’s neck. Minho sighs shakily, holding him tight.

“I think you’ve actually blown my mind this time.” Felix says gruffly. Minho gives a broken laugh. They stay there huddled in the leafy dark, Felix abruptly aware of Minho’s muscular body in a way he hadn’t been five minutes ago.

“Let’s not decide anything tonight.” Felix murmurs finally, trying to tear his attention away from all the exciting scenarios his brain is (not so) helpfully scrolling through his head. He needs to be good. This idea is way too new, the hour too late, and he’s probably tipsy enough to act impulsively.

“Yes. You’re right.” Minho replies.

“I’m extremely tempted, hyung.” Maybe he’s being not-entirely good.

“Now you’re making this hard.” Minho says breathlessly. “We need to decide what we’re doing before we start anything.” Felix regrets his admission at once because it’s much harder now to pull away. He massages Minho’s biceps and nods his head, forlornly knocking his forehead against his Minho’s shoulder before disengaging.

They retreat to the opposite corners of the little porch. “Let’s take time to think. There’s no rush. We can talk later when we’re ready.” Minho quietly remarks. “Until then, let’s continue getting along well.” He smiles calmly, avoiding Felix’s eyes. In the silence that follows he climbs to his feet to pick up the empty cans and wrappers on the porch, dropping them into the plastic bag.

“Yup yup yup.” Felix repeats dully. He watches Minho tidy up, trying to maintain his composure despite the storm in his head. Minho wanders back to him with a clanking bag, porch clean once more. He offers Felix his hand and pulls him to his feet.

“Sleep on it.” Minho says with a smile.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Felix can’t sleep on it. He can’t sleep at all. He’s washed and brushed and donned his comfy pyjamas. He lies in his white bed linens watching the faint green tree shadows shift across the ceiling of his room. Minho is (maybe) asleep on the futon in the main room of their suite, having lost the rock, paper, scissors game they’d played that afternoon for the oversized bed in the single bedroom. Felix had not asked him for cuddles.

He still feels a little hazed from the drinks, and ought to be asleep. This trip was supposed to be an opportunity to relax, damn it! Felix sighs and sits up. He hooks his bag from the floor and pulls out his Switch, loading the first game on the list.

He plays mindlessly for a while, doing his best to ignore any thoughts that pop up. But the distraction doesn’t last. Images come unbidden to his mind’s eye: Minho grinning at him under the bright lights on stage, Minho blushing hard after goofing a dance move, Minho laughing into a full body roll. And then, also: Minho invading his space when Felix teases I.n too hard, Minho watching from the side as the members tickle Felix until he begs, dark-eyed Minho leaning in for a kiss…

His character on screen dies again. Felix slides his hand over his neck, squeezing. Minho likes him. He wants to dominate him. He knows now Minho’s probably always wanted to. All their interactions over the years had whispered that suspicion deep in his mind. Like a bell with a toll so low it couldn’t be heard, but it rang every time Minho looked at him too long, held him too tight, or stopped himself from reacting to Felix’s teases.

After their conversation tonight, it seems like Minho has been on a similar journey of self-discovery as Felix. Maybe Felix has been a fool to not see all this before, but he has to admit he’s spent a lot of energy lately trying not to think about these subjects specifically. There’s something perilously pleasing about having his most secret longing confirmed.

Now that Minho’s interest has been revealed, it’s almost impossible to avoid imagining him in the role of dominant. How would it feel to be the sole focus of Minho’s attention? To have Minho’s smooth, crooning voice in his ear telling him what to do, how to behave, taking satisfaction in Felix’s compliance? Minho’s so steady, so safe and yet so dangerous. Living together has improved Felix’s habits so much already. What would it be like to have Minho’s strong hand to remind him to make healthy, happy choices? And enforce them. Felix could behave so well for him; he knows what Minho likes. And if he misbehaves, the punishment…

He powers down his game and rolls over with a tired groan, head spinning from the swarm of questions and fantasies plaguing him. What exactly did Minho mean when he said he wanted to ‘help’ Felix? ‘Help’ as in some kind of practice, except for BDSM? A cordial exchange of spanks for kisses, all between friends? Can Felix be satisfied with that?

Would they play out scenes between schedules? Try out different methods of punishment? Establish rules for how to behave during the long waits in Green Rooms? The idea feels simultaneously absurd and unbearably hot. Are people allowed to do that? Are idols?

Yet as exciting as all that seems, it also lacks meaning, somehow. It feels like some kind of game. Did Minho just want to continue his journey of self-discovery with a friend who conveniently shares the same crazy job? The same locked-down flat? The same kinks? Minho said he likes him, but how much? He’d been very good at keeping their relationship under control after The Thing. Better than Felix.

And even though he finally has a clearer picture of Han and Minho’s relationship now, he can’t shake the old feeling that he’ll always come in second to Han for Minho’s affection. Just thinking about it makes Felix’s stomach hurt. He hates to view Hannie that way, like some sort of rival instead of the sweet, smart, turbulent, lovely bundle of hilarity Felix knows he is. Yet… why had Minho always been so free in his admiration for his best friend, while holding Felix at a distance? Minho can’t really like Felix as much as Felix likes Minho, can he? A trickle of doubt unsettles him.

Lying in this strange room, the sickening doubt starts to accumulate. Familiar darkness blooms in his mind. First Han, now Felix. Is Minho just working through the queer members of the group? Is he seeking safety by keeping his business in-house? None of them have any illusions about the consequences of being outed while under contract. No one trains in the industry for long without hearing the stories. Idol dating is hard enough even when you’re straight. Felix’s tastes conveniently complement Minho’s. What other reason could Minho possibly have to want to be with Felix?

Felix grinds the heels of his hands into his stinging eyes, hard. Focus! Minho isn’t like that. He knows that. None of them are. It’s late, and the grim voice of his insecurity shouts loudly when he’s tired.

He needs to decide what he wants, ideally soon, but he’s genuinely divided. On one hand, he really should avoid temptation, and turn Minho down. Maintaining the status quo would be the most logical choice. Casual sex, or any sex at all, with fellow band members is a really dangerous temptation. The members, the company, and millions of STAYs are relying on them to be dedicated and not cause drama or controversy. And Chan… well, that’s a whole other subject that’s guaranteed to keep him awake.

Anyways, on a day-to-day level, they’re risking throwing off the group’s dynamic the same way they had two-and-a-half years ago. The playful friendship he and Minho have developed has always hinged on the delicate tension of playing with the knowledge of the other person’s kink while knowing neither of them will risk acting on the tease.

But on the other hand, what if they can’t return to the status quo after admitting they want to try a sexual relationship, especially a kinky one? Would the strain of rejection do more harm than good? Would their comfortable push and pull be blown to pieces? Could they still work together?

On a more personal level, when will the opportunity present itself again to indulge Felix’s vices with a willing, skilful, trustworthy partner? It might take years. And… a softer voice in the back of his head asks: Now that he’s seriously considering Minho as a partner, how will anyone else possibly compare?

What if… what if they could pull it off? They’re not rookie idols anymore. His members have perfected their roles, they’re a well-oiled machine. Would he and Minho be so unprofessional that they’d let their personal lives affect their professional ones? He and Minho know how to work around attraction and tension. They’ve done it for years. Wouldn’t it be a relief to not have to fight it in their personal lives?

He buries his face in the pillow, as if smothering himself could quiet the argument bouncing around his skull. His head is starting to pound as the alcohol in his system burns off, so he gets a glass of water from the bathroom. Returning to his door, he sees the dim outline of Minho’s futon in the main room, but can’t make out the shadow of a head on his pale pillows. Curious about where Minho has gone, he decides to take refuge in his room. If Minho wandered off to be alone after their talk, it would be rude to interrupt him.

Felix slides his door closed and gulps down the water. It tastes slightly alkaline, probably from the hot springs this region is known for. Which jogs another thought out of the chaos to consider. They’d planned to spend the morning enjoying the ryokan hot spring baths, ideally filming vlog content. Can their informal truce survive this deliberately intimate setting? Felix was charmed by the romantic backdrop of this historic ryokan when they’d arrived, but now it makes him uneasy.

He collapses back into bed. Time drags on as his thoughts circle, unresolved. The last time he checks his phone, it’s 3:30 am. At some point he exhausts himself enough to fade into sleep.

***

Felix is jarred awake by the buzz of an incoming call and spends several confused seconds reeling in the charging cord to fish his phone out of the tangle of blanket. Holding up the screen, he accepts a call from their manager, wincing at the deep scratch of his voice when he answers. He agrees to come to the dining room in 15 minutes to film breakfast content.

His phone reads 7:30 am, and he estimates he’s gotten barely four-ish hours of sleep. Sighing, he rubs his eyes and starts extricating his legs from the twisted blanket. He’s operated on less sleep often in the past, but it doesn’t bode well for a relaxing vacation.

Sliding his door open, he sees that Minho has made his bed and left. Not unusual, Minho is more of a morning person than Felix; though he’s tempted to read some kind of hidden message in his friend’s absence. He shakes his head and reminds himself he’s supposed to be maturely contemplating his relationship goals while maintaining professionalism. How annoying.

Taking a deep breath, he throws on clothes, and steels himself for staff, cameras, and a friend who apparently wants to make Felix kneel for him. Stop! He tells himself sternly and pushes his obsessions as far back as he can manage.

Arriving at the private dining room, he finds assistant Sato setting up a camera on the table, his wire-rimmed glasses perched dangerously close to the end of his nose as he stares at the little display screen. Minho is talking comfortably with their manager in the corner by the window. Their manager is a mountain of a man, towering over everyone in Stray Kids - a gentle giant. Minho seems petite standing next to him. Otherwise, his friend looks just as he normally does when he isn’t on a job: loose clothes, wild hair, absurdly handsome face. Despite their turbulent night, he seems relaxed.

Felix runs his fingers through his crumpled hair and summons a casual smile to his face before approaching them. Minho greets him warmly and puts his hand on Felix’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, which calms his nerves a lot. Maybe they can go on just like this, they’ve done it before, Felix thinks. He just needs to keep his cool.

Their manager reserved the room for the team, so the four of them spread out comfortably at the low table.

“Well, I didn’t get any tipsy phone calls last night from Felix-ssi saying he’s homesick.” Manager Lee Yi-Joon jokes.

Minho rolls his eyes dramatically, and Felix lets his jaw drop in exaggerated affront.

“That was one time! And it was my birthday!” He complains. “Can’t a guy reach out to a friend?”

Yi-Joon laughs and waves his hands in front of himself in surrender. He’s always saying that Stray Kids is the most entertaining talent to manage at the agency.

“Yeah sunbaenim,” Minho says with a drawl, “Yongbok should’ve just put up a sad birthday post on our Instagram instead.”

“Okay okay.” Yi-Joon says in defeat. “So you guys had a good night?”

Minho looks down at the table, but Felix discovers there’s a smile on his own face.

“Yeah.” He says quietly. “It was really nice, actually.” Minho looks up, mouth curling at the corner.

Sato asks what restaurant they visited, and Felix and Minho fall back into their old rhythms, chatting and joking without too many awkward pauses. Relief creeps over Felix. They discuss the unique charms of their inn and the surrounding countryside. Minho smiles as Felix gushes about the birds at sunset last night, quizzing Sato about what species they might be.

Breakfast is served for the group, and they all quiet down to eat and film some easy content reacting to the food. This ryokan is known for the authentic Japanese meals they offer, and Felix enjoys the dishes a lot. Minho asks Sato about the stringy natto, then tries a bit. After a taste, he spoons a small pile of the weirdly sticky beans into Felix’s bowl. Felix glances at him.

“Eat it.” Minho says softly. Felix has the spoonful halfway to his mouth before it occurs to him how readily he always follows Minho’s instructions. Looking up, he finds Minho watching him. Felix locks gazes and eats the beans slowly, contemplating the rather pleasant, fermented taste. It’s strange, but good. He nods appreciation and Minho smiles smugly, holding Felix’s eyes just a fraction too long.

A frisson of satisfaction, pleasure, and embarrassment bubbles through Felix, and he swallows. f*ck.

Ignoring his absurdly racing heart, he tries to focus on the rest of his meal, appetite half-forgotten. He shoves a large clump of rice into his mouth and unlocks his phone, staring robotically at the last video he took yesterday. The screen shows Minho walking slowly beneath the massive trees lining Ancient Cedar Avenue, a ray of sunshine picking out his profile. The man himself settles back next to him and stirs his eggs and rice slowly. God, Minho’s good at keeping his cool. Felix is suddenly much more aware of the cameras sitting on the table - recording from multiple angles - than he had been before.

Shortly afterwards, the cameras are packed up and piled together for them to grab, intended to film personal vlogs. The only agenda for this morning is to soak in the private onsen connected to their suite.

“Have you gone in yet?” Minho asks Felix as the breakfast dishes are cleared.

“The onsen? No, not yet. Have you?”

“Yeah, a couple times. I bathed for a little while this morning. It’s hotter than I expected, which is surprising for a hot spring.” Minho glances at him.

Felix laughs. “A hot spring is hot? Amazing.” He says wryly. Minho smiles.

Felix had been genuinely excited to experience a traditional Japanese onsen, particularly a private one that didn’t need to be shared with strangers. As they wrap up their informal meeting, he decides to set aside the question of Minho and enjoy the attractions of this vacation as much as he can.

They agree on a time to meet up with everyone before check-out at noon and head back toward their room. Manager Lee and Sato turn in the opposite direction to the room they’re sharing in the smaller wing of the ryokan. They’ll try out the large public onsen associated with the inn this morning.

For the first time today, the silence between Felix and Minho lingers awkwardly as they walk alone down the corridor. Minho glances at Felix’s face, and teasingly bumps their shoulders together as they turn into their hallway. Felix flashes him a smile before unlocking the door.

“I’m going to try out the onsen. Would you like to join?” Felix asks as he removes his shoes. Because this is what he would’ve asked Minho before they’d had their Conversation last night (and yes, he’s begun to think of that talk with a capital letter, of course). Felix can see Minho freeze for a split second, a look of uncertainty flashing across his face, but he covers it well.

“I’ve already been. Why don’t you try it for now.” Minho says, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

Felix nods and arranges the cameras on the table, keeping one for himself. He checks the battery. “Okay. I’ll try to film a little.” Minho gives him a thumbs-up from his seat on the futon.

“Join in if you like.” Felix says over his shoulder and heads to the bathroom to find an inn bathrobe, only partially convincing himself that he’s not running away. Following onsen instructions, he showers quickly to wash his body, and then dons the robe, grabbing a small towel and slippers on his way out. He slides open their patio door and takes the short wooden walkway to the onsen room just outside their suite.

High walls segment the garden into individual plots, lending privacy to each suite with a private onsen. The strategically angled, doorless entrance to their bath opens onto a small cedar chamber with a round stone pool just large enough to fit two adults. The recessed pool is full of steaming hot spring water slowly fed by an ancient sluice gate covered in mineral deposits at the edge of the tub. Minho must’ve left the water circulating this morning. Light filters in through the wooden air vents in the ceiling. The room is redolent with the smell of minerals, like a cave, and a light breeze blows in from the garden.

Felix tests the temperature with his toe and discovers Minho was right about the heat of the water being piped in. It’s uncomfortably hot. He records with his camera as he adds cold water to the tub from a bamboo tap.

After setting the shuttered camera on its little tripod on the wide lip of the tub, he sheds his robe and gingerly climbs into the water, going slowly to adjust to the heat. He’s able to sink to his shoulders and sighs in bliss. Carefully checking the camera’s field of view, he hits record again, and comments on the loveliness of the onsen for a personal vlog segment.

It really is lovely. It feels wonderful to soak naked with nature just outside the door. Over the sound of the trickling water, he can hear birds singing in the garden, and the distinctive rhythmic drone of Japanese cicadas in summer. The steam wafts gently across his face in the breeze. He soaks the little towel and puts it on his head to feel the warm water trickle through his hair.

Minutes slip by in dreamy quiet, the warmth gradually saturating Felix’s body. He’s always loved the heat. But too much longer and he might be in danger of falling asleep and slowly cooking in the water like a sous vide chicken. He spends a little longer monologuing for the camera when he hears the creak of the wooden walkway, and a silhouette blocks the light from outside. Minho taps the door frame with his knuckles.

“Hey.” Minho says. He’s wearing an inn robe open at the neck, his pale hair tousled, and leans against the entrance. In other words, he’s stunning. “Hey.” Felix says, conscious of the camera recording him, and his nakedness.

The low sun shining behind Minho outlines his body in the thin robe. It keeps surprising Felix how attractive he continues to find Minho. In their line of work, beautiful people are mundane.

“It’s not hot anymore.” Felix comments with a smile, really happy despite himself to be able to share this amazing place with his friend.

“It’s not hot anymore?” Minho repeats, his mouth quirking a little.

“Yeah. It’s just right.”

“That’s a risky camera angle you got there.” Minho points out. Felix laughs sheepishly, glancing at the lens. “You can only see my head.” He explains as Minho laughs.

He ought to let Minho enjoy the water again before they have to leave. Maybe it’s the safety of the red recording light on the camera that makes him reckless, or maybe it’s the uncertain tilt of Minho’s head that prompts him to say “You should join in as well.”

“Hm.” Minho’s eyes quickly scan him in the bath as Felix glances away.

“Alright. Hold on. Turn off the camera for a bit.”

“Okay.”

Felix shakes water off his hand and presses the power button on the camera. He carefully lays it on the floor facing the wall so Minho can be sure it’s not recording them. In his peripheral vision, he sees Minho drop his robe, revealing a whole lot of skin. Felix hastily looks at the cold water tap to allow Minho time to climb into the tub with a light splash. The level rises to the edge, so Felix adjusts the drain.

Once they’re no longer in danger of flooding the room, Felix looks up to find Minho watching him thoughtfully, water lapping at his bare shoulders. The light from the garden lovingly traces the contours of his chest above the bright water. Felix feels his mouth go dry. This isn’t even the hundredth time he’s seen Minho mostly undressed, or the first time he’s seen him naked. They’ve lived and worked in close quarters for years, including manic costume changes in changing rooms that barely deserve the name. But multiple new factors make this setting strange. The warm bath, the birds, the sunlight slanting into the room. Minho’s body like a Greek statue poised in a garden pool. The Conversation they had in the dark just hours before.

“The temperature’s perfect.” Minho remarks, wrapping one of the thin cloths provided as onsen towels around his neck.

“Mm.” Felix nods, looking at his hands and willing his heart to slow. He raises them so Minho can see, and Minho smiles, grabbing his wrist and turning his hand up to the light. He traces the deep grooves that have formed on Felix’s fingertips from the long soak. Felix suppresses a full-body shiver and bites the inside of his cheek. He extricates his hand to adjust the wet cloth on his head, his eyes skittering over the strong column of Minho’s neck.

What are they doing here? He wonders. It’s almost like they’re testing each other’s composure, yet Felix can’t make himself leave.

Minho drifts over to the hot water sluice and puts his hand under the gentle stream. Quickly, his fingers start to turn pink. “You’re gonna burn yourself.” Felix warns, and Minho makes exaggerated faces of agony as he holds his shaking hand under the little fountain.

“Okay, it’s not that hot, I get it.” Felix laughs, and Minho chuckles apologetically. He comes closer and presses his hand against Felix’s cheek. Felix is caught off guard until he registers the temperature of his fingers.

“Oh, that’s actually pretty hot!” He says.

“Yeah. Dumb joke” Minho self-consciously shakes his hand in the air to cool it off.

“Put it under here.” Felix turns on the cold water, and Minho brushes past him to wave his hand under the stream.

The feeling of Minho’s naked hip sliding past his bare leg is more vivid than the trickle of cold water pouring in from the faucet. Gritting his teeth, Felix asks, “Did you not use the cold water when you came in here this morning?”

Minho turns down the tap, revealing the graceful curve of his back. He shakes his head, “No I used it. I just didn’t make it cool enough last time. I only stayed in for about ten minutes.” He glances out the door. “The sunrise was beautiful though.”

“Really? I’m kind of sad I missed it.” Felix says.

“Oh sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up…”

Felix awkwardly reaches for the camera and begins setting it up again. “No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have thanked you, I didn’t sleep really well.”

“Ah.”

Minho retreats back to his side of the tub. Silence grows between them again. Felix finishes framing the camera but doesn’t hit record.

“So,” Minho says slowly, clearly reaching for a subject. “Did you try the umeboshi at breakfast?”

“No, the look on your face scared me off.”

“Smart dongsaeng.”

Felix nods smugly, framing his cheeks with his hands in an impression of a cute dongsaeng. Minho smiles.

“Do you wanna take a few pictures?”

“Sure.” Minho answers gamely, smirking a little; and they snap some pictures with the company camera, all carefully framed.

They also need more footage for the vlog, so they try taking video of themselves in the pool. But that turns out to be harder than Felix hoped. They struggle after just a couple of minutes, growing quiet when they’re unable to come up with things to chat about in the charged atmosphere. They both say it’s about time for them to get out of the hot water, but when Felix shuts off the camera, neither of them makes a move to leave.

Once this morning is over, Felix reflects, they’ll have to return to real life. The indecision is killing him. He feels almost trapped in his own thwarted anticipation. Can they stay in this limbo around the other members?

After setting the camera on the floor, Felix turns around and rests his arms on the stone edge of the tub behind him, letting his legs float down limply in the water. Avoiding Minho’s eyes, he looks up at the dappled ceiling, releasing a big sigh. The cloth on his head falls to the floor.

“I wish we could stay another day.” He murmurs, really meaning it. He shuts his eyes and enjoys the stretch in his neck, flexing it slowly from side to side. His body feels loose, heavy, and too warm. Only the voice of the slowly trickling water whispers in the quiet room.

In the stillness, Felix is hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity and feels strangely certain his friend is staring at him. Instead of embarrassment, he feels a deep stab of excitement. Naked in the clear water, he experiences Minho’s gaze like a weight.

Eyes closed, Felix’s intense awareness of himself and Minho makes his body feel uncomfortably sensitive. Everywhere his skin is exposed to the air thrums with his attention. His experience modelling for photo shoots tells him the light against his closed eyelids is soft and indirect, giving his feverish skin an attractive glow. The line of his jaw, throat, and chest is elegant, Adam’s apple exposed. He can feel his wet black hair plastered to his head, accentuating the shape of his skull.

Is it vain? Maybe. He doesn’t care. Minho is staring.

He floats there pinned in Minho’s regard for what feels like an eternity. Finally, he opens his eyes and looks up. Minho doesn’t glance away. The colour is high on his cheeks, and the naked desire in his expression knocks the breath out of Felix. For an airless minute, he returns Minho’s gaze.

In front of Minho now, Felix’s spiralling thoughts from last night finally narrow. What’s abruptly clear to him in this charged atmosphere is that the doubts that plagued him late last night were far off the mark. Something in Minho’s unfiltered expression hints at a deep reservoir of feeling his friend has never shown him before. The certainty hits him out of the blue, like lightning from a clear sky. Minho likes him so much more than he assumed.

Damn it.

Suddenly their predicament feels very real. How had he missed this? Had his insecurity been so bad, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him? They’re not tipsy now, or sitting in the dark after a tearful breakdown. Here they are, literally naked, in the bright light of morning. They’ve both confessed, and there are no more excuses for their feelings anymore.

What does he want, really? All other considerations aside?

He wants Minho. Badly. More than he’s ever wanted anyone.

What if Minho wants him just as much?

The moment has stretched to its breaking point. Maybe the scarier choice is the right one. Felix sits up and swallows.

Minho’s face goes blank as he belatedly shutters his expression. Felix blinks. The speed at which Minho can control his reaction is illuminating.

“I’m gonna go.” Minho says abruptly, turning toward the side of the tub. His body rotates with awkward, jerky movements that Felix only sees in him when Minho is self-conscious.

“Don’t.”

He grabs Minho’s arm. “I think we need to figure out how we’re going to do this.”

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

“We’re going to do this?” Minho asks in a disbelieving tone, standing frozen with his eyes on the doorway like he’s planning an escape.

“Yeah, I think we are.” Felix’s throat feels so tight. He lets go of Minho as he turns back to face him.

Minho takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, running a wet hand over his face. He gives Felix a hard searching look that Felix doesn’t know how to interpret. Now that he’s said it out loud, with Minho’s surprised eyes on him, Felix’s heart feels like it’s trying to rattle right out of his rib cage. For a moment he’d been so certain he finally understood his own feelings, but Minho’s reaction now is making him doubt everything. Had he misinterpreted something crucial?

“Is- is that okay?”

“I think so?” Minho’s eyes soften, and his eyebrows unpinch. “I really wasn’t sure you’d say yes. I thought I might’ve completely f*cked up.” Minho leans against the edge of the tub. “I’m kind of stunned.”

Felix can see Minho’s telling the truth - his big brown eyes are wide and the flush has drained from his cheeks. He mechanically blinks at Felix several times, like a robot rebooting; and then a slow smile transforms his face into the brightest, happiest expression he’s ever seen on his friend.

Relief hits Felix so hard, he feels a little faint. Though that might also be the hot water. He laughs weakly, clutching at the cold water tap and placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

“Yeah, definitely time to get out now.” Minho says fretfully, his hand on Felix’s shoulder to steady him.

“Yes.” Felix groans, the heat and his agitated state have suddenly propelled him from pleasantly over-warm to dangerously hot. “I think I might be melting.”

“Don’t melt yet. That’s my job.” Minho replies offhandedly.

Felix coughs, unsure if he’s turned on or horrified. “Do lines like that actually work for you?” He asks with a grimace.

“You tell me.” Minho says with suppressed glee, squinting his clumsy two-eyed wink; and then he climbs out of the tub. Suddenly under siege by the sight of Lee Minho in all his glory - powerful bare body flexing and showering water drops like a lion leaping out of a river - Felix can’t even begin to come up with an answer. Grabbing his robe, Minho turns and leers at him.

“That’s not fair.” Felix mutters.

“I don’t make the rules.” Minho says with a smile as he shrugs on the garment and ties it. He picks up Felix’s robe and brings it to the side of the tub. “Come here before you turn into umeboshi.” He says gently.

Felix blushes redder than ever and slowly climbs out of the bath. Minho watches him emerge and holds up the robe for Felix to slide his arms into the sleeves. Minho ties the sash.

“You’re cheating too.” His hyung murmurs in his ear as he tightens the knot, and Felix laughs breathlessly. Minho tugs his belt, and Felix automatically follows, finding himself wedged against the cool cedar plank wall with Minho’s hand pressed against his shoulder. Minho’s face is centimetres from his own, eyes intent.

“Are you saying yes because you want someone to play with? Or because you want to be with me specifically?” He asks seriously.

Felix stares at him, bottom lip pinned between his teeth. “I feel like I should be asking you that.” He replies, leaning his head back against the wall. “Last night it seemed like you were saying we’d just be exploring our kinks together. You said you wanted to ‘help’ me.”

Minho drops his eyes and nods unhappily. “I shouldn’t have asked you like that. I kicked myself about it last night.”

Felix tilts his head to try and catch Minho’s eye. “Then why did you ask that way?”

Minho straightens his shoulders and looks up, expression conflicted. “I guess you already know I’m not great at talking about hard topics. Not like you.” Minho gives him a small smile. “Talking with you last night… I just really couldn’t avoid it anymore. It was like you were giving me reason after reason for getting together.” He laughs, but it doesn’t sound happy. “I didn’t know how to tell you what I felt. So, I fell back on being hyung and offered help instead of being honest about wanting more.”

Felix nods slowly, his heart in his throat.

“You want more, hyung?” He whispers.

Minho looks at him through his thick eyelashes, mouth slightly open like he’s having trouble breathing.

“Yeah, Yongbok-ah.”

Well there it is, Felix thinks.

“I want to be with you too.” He breathes, his eyebrows knotting. “I think we’ve been kind of stuck on each other for a long time. I didn’t realise how much until we talked last night.” Minho nods. “In our situation, I doubt we can be casual. I don’t think I’d want to”

Minho laughs painfully, resting his forehead against Felix’s.

“You’re right.” He says in a vibrant tone and meets Felix’s eyes. “I tried. You’re a really amazing friend, Bok-ah. But every time I see you be sweet and flirt and laugh, I want...” He trails off.

“You want… what?” Felix’s voice comes out deep and resonant.

Minho growls, like he has to force the words out. “I want to make you beg.” He rasps.

Felix swallows. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Did you not know?”

“I - I knew.”

Minho nods seriously. He spears Felix’s gaze with his own. “Can I kiss you?”

Felix licks his lips, permitting himself to be honest. “Only if you do it hard.”

Minho breathes in through his teeth and smiles. “I knew there was a reason I like you.”

Obviously relieved that they came to a resolution, Minho pushes Felix’s hip into the wall, and cups his neck carefully, thumb sliding along his jawbone, turning his face to the light from the door. Minho’s barely applying any pressure to his throat, but Felix is very aware of every breath hissing out of his mouth. He relaxes his neck and tips his head back.

“Please.”

“Yes.” Minho says immediately and takes possession of Felix’s mouth with a deft movement, his lips momentarily cool in the humid room.

This isn’t their first kiss, but the shock of the contact squeezes the air from Felix’s lungs. He’d forgotten the specific chemical alchemy that made a kiss with Minho max out his senses. Or maybe his memory just couldn’t do it justice. No wonder he’d been so overwhelmed back then.

Even now, with full knowledge and advance warning, he can’t control the gasps escaping him as Minho deepens the kiss, fingers pressing against his jaw to position him at the perfect angle. All he can do is clutch Minho’s robe as he plunders Felix’s mouth with slow deliberation.

It’s almost too much. His mind goes blank as Minho licks his tongue and seals their lips tightly. He releases Felix’s hip and neck, and wraps his arms around Felix’s waist, pulling him close. Felix moans, and hugs Minho tenaciously, kissing him almost desperately.

He’s vaguely aware that he’s basically trying to climb Minho like a tree, but he can’t seem to stop. Fortunately, Minho plucks his wrists and holds them behind Felix’s back with easy force, effectively anchoring him in place. Minho shifts his attention from Felix’s mouth to his jaw, grazing hard teeth along a clean line until he bites his earlobe with careful pressure.

A strange, jumbled sound falls out of Felix’s mouth in response to the mix of pain and pleasure as Minho sustains the pressure for a couple of seconds before releasing him. He follows up with a gentle swipe of the tongue.

“I think I want to spank you again, but this time I want to see how much you can take.” He murmurs in Felix’s ear. An image of himself bent over for Minho flashes in Felix’s mind. He hides his face against Minho’s shoulder. “I think I can take a lot more - than before.” He croaks, his whole body flushed with heat.

“Mm. Really?” Minho comments, pausing a moment to kiss the junction of Felix’s neck and shoulder. Felix can almost hear the smile in his voice. “I guess we’ll have to find out sometime.”

“Yeah.” Felix replies in a haze. Minho is delicately nosing along Felix’s collarbone, nudging his robe wider. His hands are still wrapped around Felix’s wrists. Felix’s body feels hot and jittery, thin-skinned, with too many instincts prodding him at once. A significant part of him wants to yield to Minho and do absolutely anything he asks; while another part is still grappling with the idea that he’s doing this with a friend.

“What else should we find out?” Minho asks, looking at him with hooded eyes. His tone is lazy like he’s asking Felix what he’d like to eat for lunch.

“Um-” Felix hesitates, every dark desire that’s ever occurred to him crowding forward in his mind at once. He looks up at the ceiling because maintaining eye contact feels like Minho would be able to read everything there. The prospect of sharing thoughts he’s never admitted to anyone is suddenly daunting.

Minho lets go of his wrists and smooths his hands down Felix’s neck, resting them on his shoulders. He waits until Felix looks at him. “Too much?”

“This is just really new…” Felix says hesitantly. “I don’t want to scare you away.”

Minho smiles fondly before biting his bottom lip. “The fact that you’re reluctant to tell me just makes me want to know so much more.”

Felix laughs awkwardly.

“But for now we’ll take it slow.” Minho assures him. Felix nods gratefully and wraps his arms around Minho’s wide torso, pressing their cheeks together. How strange to have the luxury to go slow.

He feels pleasantly slender in Minho’s arms and secretly relishes the pressure of Minho’s erection against his belly. There are perks to being close in height. After a moment, he decides he ought to share at least a little of what he wants since Minho needs to know.

“I think the biggest thing I want is… for you to tell me what to do.” He says haltingly into Minho’s ear. “I want you to tell me I’m being good.”

He feels Minho pulse against him, and his hands catch Felix’s cheeks, drawing him in for a lingering kiss. Felix whimpers, his erection caught against the firm plane of Minho’s stomach. “I can do that, Bokie.” Minho says in a high, tight voice, “As much as you want.”

“Good.” Felix whispers, savouring this new intimacy, and rests his head on Minho’s broad shoulder. They stand like that for a minute, and Felix slowly relaxes, trying to breathe so his arousal won’t overwhelm him. Minho shifts his weight, and Felix gradually becomes aware of his surroundings again. He’s sweating hard in his damp robe. This room is muggy and open. The sun outside has grown hot as it rises, and the drone of cicadas is getting louder. Their manager is due to arrive later this morning, and he hasn’t checked the time in a while.

Minho releases him, and the look on his face is raw. He adjusts himself unselfconsciously, and Felix does the same. They stare at each other.

“Um, wow?” Felix says in English.

“Yeah.” Minho pushes his wild hair off his face and re-ties his belt. He looks at Felix, and Felix suspects he looks like a soggy, blotchy, excited mess right now. Minho smiles, “Maybe we should cool off. Let’s go inside.”

They gather their things and wander back along the wooden walkway, glancing at each other shyly. The breeze in the garden is like an icy river against Felix’s feverish skin. Minho slides open the door to their suite and ushers him into the cool room.

“I’d like to wash up.” Felix says, “Unless you want to go?”

“Go ahead ‘Lixie.” Minho sits at their table with a sigh. “I’ll pack up in here, and then go after you.”

Felix nods and retreats to the loo so he won’t be tempted to tear Minho’s robe off again. When he shuts the door he takes a deep shuddering breath. Did that really just happen? Terror and elation war in his body, making him clumsy as he strips off his clammy robe in a distracted daze.

Despite spending half the night obsessively trying to envision what it would be like to play out his fantasies with Minho, and predict all the consequences that would follow, he hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of the actual experience. Minho’s physicality, and the power he holds over Felix when he focuses his impressive concentration on him, is alarmingly addictive. Just the memory makes him shudder.

He turns on the water, making it much cooler than he normally likes. He mostly wants to shower to give himself a minute to recover, though his skin feels weirdly slick, oddly scented, and sweaty. Probably a combination of hot spring water and feverish arousal. Might as well get clean.

Stepping into the shower, he sighs as the cool water dampens his excitement and clears his head a little. He cleans himself quickly, enjoying the softness of his skin from the mineral bath. They likely don’t have a lot of time before staff arrives to drive them back to Tokyo. After exploring the city separately, they’ll rejoin Hyunjin at the hotel. He needs to get his head on straight before returning to his normal life so he doesn’t make a fool of himself walking around starry-eyed over a new boyfriend.

Is Minho his boyfriend? Oh god, this is as complicated as he anticipated! And just as exciting.

Well, he’s worked under challenging conditions before. This will be another test. He slings a thick bath towel around his hips and looks in the mirror as he finger-combs his hair. The gentle flush fanning across his sharp cheekbones hides his freckles despite them darkening from boating yesterday. Hopefully, the redness will fade, or be mistaken for an unfortunate sunburn - his nose is still burned slightly pink. He knows there’s no suppressing the excited twinkle in his brown eyes, and just hopes his agitated mood won’t seem weird to anyone.

The sound of a suitcase zipper in the suite greets him as he slips into his room. Minho will be done packing soon. His phone tells him their manager will arrive in about 45 minutes, so he puts on an airy shirt and shorts, and methodically packs away his belongings. Years of travel and hotel rooms make the process quick and automatic. The shower starts up as Felix carries his bag into the suite's main room, and settles into one of the pair of low chairs looking out at the garden.

There’s no Wi-Fi in this ryokan, and the mountains make cell signal spotty, so his phone can’t distract him as he sits and gazes at the gnarled trees fluttering in the warm sun. Felix breathes slowly, a soft calm rolling over him. Despite the excitement of this morning, he discovers he feels surprisingly peaceful. He knows Minho would never intentionally hurt or betray him. The only question is how will they make this work?

The shower cuts off as Felix ruminates, and Minho eventually emerges wearing soft white sweatpants and a dark shirt. He shuffles down the hallway, smoothing wet hair off his forehead, and sits in the chair next to Felix, taking a moment to enjoy the view.

“Hi.” Felix says shyly.

“Hi.” Minho gazes at him, the corner of his mouth curling.

“Where did you go last night? I got up for some water and you weren’t in your bed.”

“Mm.” Minho looks down at his lap and smiles cryptically. “I went to the onsen. I couldn’t sleep either so I thought it might help.”

Felix nods. “Did it?”

“Yes? It was interesting. I couldn’t find the light switch in there, so I had to use my phone to see what I was doing. But once I got in and turned off my light, it was like floating in space. Kind of trippy, but I liked it. It’s calming.”

Felix grins, enjoying the image of Minho wandering off and managing to make a hot spring sensory deprivation chamber for himself. Felix would’ve been too uneasy in the dark to try it alone. “Were you not calm before?”

Minho glances at him meaningfully. “No.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I think we were in the same boat.”

Felix nods again, relieved to hear he wasn’t the only one struggling last night. Minho leans forward with his elbows on his knees, resting his temple on a fist, eyes soft and richly brown in the sunlight.

“So what are we doing?” His voice is sweet and light.

That’s the question, isn’t it? Felix finds himself mirroring Minho’s posture and feels his eyelids grow heavy as a secret smile pulls the side of his mouth. “I think we’re going to be lovers.” The last word feels like a strange shape in his mouth. Minho’s pink lips curl further as his eyes scan Felix’s body. The sunlit air between them feels thick.

“Yeah, we are.” Minho replies simply, like there had never been a question about it.

Maybe Felix was being overly optimistic when he’d speculated last night it might not be difficult to compartmentalise a relationship with Minho. That it wouldn’t affect their working relationship much because they’re so accustomed to each other’s rhythms, and have experience masking their attraction. Because he hadn’t taken into account how one brilliant look from Minho could unstring his joints and make him feel like collapsing into a heap of bones.

Fortunately for Felix’s wavering confidence in his own professionalism, Minho turns down the high beams of his eyes and leans back a little, growing contemplative.

“I know this isn’t sexy to talk about, but I think we need to make a plan. There isn’t much time left before we leave here.” He says apologetically.

Felix shrugs. “If you didn’t bring it up, I would’ve.”

“Okay okay.” Minho says happily, giving him a satisfied look. Felix preens.

“So, we both know Stray Kids is bigger than all of us.”

“Yes.” Felix sits straighter. The small part of him that hasn’t been completely consumed with the biggest sexual decision he’s ever made is relieved to come to some sort of understanding with Minho. Despite this distraction, he’ll never forget that all the members have worked too hard - risking health, sacrificing private lives, and even losing sanity sometimes - to reach where they are now.

“If we do this, we’ll have to be more professional than ever.”

This isn’t news to Felix. “Of course.”

Minho nods pensively. “It probably won’t always feel great. I mean, we both know how much work it takes to not let everything show.”

“Yeah.” Felix says heavily, the truth of it reverberating in his body. This isn’t news to a bisexual male K-pop idol. But it also goes deeper than that. He looks shyly at Minho.

“Is that why… you’ve been so careful?”

Minho purses his lips and regards him thoughtfully. “Careful about what?”

“About me.” Felix smiles awkwardly and looks at his lap. “I mean, you’ve always been pretty open about your affection for… other members.” He presses his fingernails hard into his thighs. “But you’ve never really been like that with me.” He gives a forced laugh, even though nothing he said was meant to be funny. He examines the new crescent moons marring his skin near the hem of his shorts.

Minho reaches over and takes his hand.

“Felix. I’m sorry I kept you at a distance.”

Felix just nods, breathing slowly so he won’t feel the urge to cry.

“It was the only thing I could do.” Minho sighs. “With Han and the others, it was safer to express myself, because I’m more in control with them. It’s less dangerous to be playful with them.”

Felix tilts his head. “And it’s dangerous? With me?”

Minho looks at him steadily. “Yes. A lot.”

The rigidness that had been tightening Felix’s muscles suddenly eases. “Oh. Okay.”

“Does that make sense?” Minho asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Felix says slowly, letting the truth of it sink in. “Yeah I think it does.” He heaves a big sigh. Minho squeezes his fingers hard.

“Good.” The look on Minho’s face is rueful. Felix chuckles a little awkwardly and squeezes Minho’s hand back.

“Um, sorry that’s not what you were trying to talk about.”

“No, I get why you brought it up. We can talk about it more when we have time.” Minho smiles at him fondly. Felix nods, swaying in his chair to let out his happy jitters.

They sit there for a moment, holding hands and watching a little grey bird chirp and peck at invisible bugs on their patio. Minho turns to him and coughs theatrically, making his face serious.

“So. I also mentioned being professional because I think we’ll have to tell the members.” He says in a steadier voice.

“Yes.” Anxiety over the fallout from that floods Felix’s system again. Chan. He turns his head back to the window. The bird is gone. “I’m pretty sure we can be discreet, but the members are sure to notice eventually. Binnie already has suspicions.” He says, meeting Minho’s eyes.

“And it’ll be safer if they know what’s going on.” Minho says with a serious look.

Felix nods, rubbing the skin on his leg now as if that could immediately get rid of the pink fingernail marks. “But do you think we can wait to tell them, just for a little while?” He suggests, rubbing faster without meaning to. Is he being reckless? “Not that we should keep it a secret or anything! I mean not from them. I think… I just want a little time with you. Since we’ve just started. It would be nice not to worry about that right away.”

Minho’s eyes narrow as he purses his lips. “Anything you want, baby.” He says the last word in English like he’s making extra sure Felix will understand.

A flustered smile spreads across Felix’s face, and this time he doesn’t try to suppress his shiver. Minho slowly tilts his head speculatively, but then blinks hard, like a cat that’s just noticed a dog. “Speaking of time, we don’t have much before Yi-Joon sunbae shows up.”

A glance at his phone confirms Minho is right. Staff should be arriving in ten minutes or so. Felix sighs slowly, switching from rubbing to absently massaging the muscle in his thigh, awash in the ever-present frustration of never having enough time.

Minho looks down at Felix’s restless hand, stilling it with his own and playing with the ring on Felix’s index finger. He’s speaking rapidly now. “Listen, I was thinking about this in the shower. We know each other well, so I think we can trust our instincts a lot. But we’ll still have to feel a few things out if we want to play around with dominance and spanking, and other things.” He looks up through his lashes with a small smile.

Felix bites his lip and looks at the heavy silver ring Minho’s slowly turning around his finger to distract himself from obsessing about the ‘other things’ Minho so casually mentioned.

“I’m not that much more experienced than you when it comes to this stuff. I just don’t want to blunder into another spanking session without understanding what you want. I know that much from last time.” Minho’s eyes twinkle at him. Felix has to concede the point. “I have a request for you today.”

“Yes?”

“The plan is already set to separate when we get back to Tokyo this afternoon. While you shop, I want you to send me messages.”

“Okay.” Felix says uncertainly. They text already, though more often it’s in the group chat.

“Send them when you think about me. Be specific. I want to know what you’re thinking about.”

Heat grows on Felix’s face. “Specific as in…?”

“It’s up to you, mostly.” Minho raises an eyebrow. “But if we want to play, we need to be on the same page. Last night you mentioned thinking about other things, not just spanking. I’m asking you to share a few thoughts. Give me a couple scenarios.”

Felix hides a smile behind his hand while Minho openly smirks.

“I want to know what turns you on.” His voice drops an octave. “Like, I could say: Tonight I want you to call me hyung.” Minho pauses meaningfully. “Only hyung.”

Felix’s jaw goes slack. Huh. So that’s what his ‘hyung’ likes. Interesting. As an English-speaking Australian, Felix had to learn the hard way about the nuanced use of honorifics in Korea. He hasn’t always said the right things to the right people, especially in his younger years. He’s better at it now, though the members have become completely lax amongst themselves over time, including him. ‘Hyung’ has always carried a little more meaning for the Korean members than it has for him. Looks like it has even more meaning for Minho.

Minho leans back in his chair, crossing his legs primly, a knowing look on his face. Felix nods slowly, mouth twitching into a grin.

“Okay?” Minho asks.

“Yes, hyung.” Felix replies, doing a bad job suppressing a laugh. Minho just smiles, unfazed.

“I won’t weird you out?” Felix knows objectively his fantasies aren’t even all that unconventional. But it still feels a little dangerous to finally share them with someone who might actually want to participate. He’ll have to lay his feelings bare, sending them in flat, written form, unsure how Minho will receive them.

“No. You know who you’re talking to, right?”

Felix laughs nervously. Minho bites his lip.

“And - is this something that’ll turn you on?”

“Oh yes.” Minho says in English and then switches to Korean as he leans closer. “What about you?”

“Yes.” Felix confesses quietly in English. Excitement twists tight in his belly. He rubs the back of his neck. Minho’s smile keeps growing.

“Come here.” He says, opening his arms.

Felix heaves a big sigh and scrambles out of his chair. Minho beckons him into his lap, and Felix obeys, gratefully sinking sideways onto Minho’s strong thighs and sliding his arm behind Minho’s neck. Minho tugs him in snugly with an arm around his waist and leans up for a kiss.

It’s slow and warm, as though Minho is reaching for comfort instead of excitement. Felix hums happily and melts into the embrace, infusing all his affection into his response. So much time has passed denying himself this pleasure, now that the door has opened a crack, he feels so many emotions flooding him. He wants to indulge every smothered impulse, all at once, and it’s dizzying.

Letting his fingers roam as much as he pleases, Felix slides his hand up Minho’s arm and shoulder, outlining the contours of his muscles, and delicately traces fingertips under his t-shirt collar to caress the thin skin there. That earns a twitch from the man beneath him. Minho intensifies the kiss, tongue seeking entrance, and then sliding deep. His hand gently combs Felix’s hair.

Once again, the feeling is overwhelming, but Felix is starting to acclimate now. Getting a response from his normally unflappable friend gives him a rush of power. He curls tighter into Minho’s lap, dropping a hand onto Minho’s chest and groping him there. He cups the swell of his pectoral muscle and slides his thumb across the rigid nipple.

Minho makes a high sound in the back of his throat and pulls away, hand tightening on Felix’s waist. He just breathes for a beat.

“You okay?”

“Yeah just trying not to get carried away.” Minho says. In a quieter voice, he adds “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Felix takes a shaky breath, tenderness surging in him at the vulnerability in Minho’s voice. He feels relieved he allowed himself to take this chance, as risky as it seemed. Now he knows the alternative would’ve been to never see Minho gazing at him so lovingly, his beautiful eyes shining just for him. “I was afraid to let myself want this.” Felix confesses.

“You’re not now?”

“I am. It just doesn’t seem to matter now.”

They stare at each other for a long moment before Felix goes limp, butting his head against Minho’s shoulder. Minho makes an inquisitive sound.

“Why did I decide to go shopping today?” Felix groans miserably as he looks back at Minho, who huffs his goofy laugh.

“Why do you decide to go shopping any day?” Minho asks in his normal, cheeky tone.

Felix shakes Minho’s arm. “I promised my sister I’d get her something!”

“Why do you have a sister?”

“Yah! It’s not like I had a choice!”

Minho snorts and buries his face in Felix’s chest, breathing deeply. “I’ll see you tonight. Let me know when you get in.”

“Okay.” Felix says, voice sliding softly into his lower register.

“Let’s try out one of the ideas you give me.”

Felix restlessly strokes Minho’s hair. “No pressure, eh?” He says.

Minho looks up at him again, sharp chin digging into his breastbone. At this distance, Felix can see the almost invisible fine hairs on his cheekbone, golden in the light from the window. “Hey, it’s me, remember.” Minho smiles. “This doesn’t have to be complicated. Actually, I’d rather keep things simple tonight. So don’t stress the details.” His smile twitches into a smirk. “I can help. And we always have the option to be together without playing.”

The prospect that Minho has a cache of ideas to tease Felix distracts him from his nerves. Tonight feels too far away.

A knock on the door sends Felix springing to his feet, adjusting his hair and clothes. Minho chuckles quietly, yet takes the moment to sit up straighter in his chair. He’s subtle, but Felix can tell why he’s reluctant to stand up right away. Felix shoots him a look as he unbolts the door for their manager.

The arrival of support staff pulls Felix into the comfortable flow of schedules and work, albeit with new, pent-up energy buzzing in him. Yi-Joon brings snacks and fruit, and they all dig in as assistant Sato pulls cameras from their cases to film more footage for the vlog.

Yi-Joon laughs at their photos and video in the onsen, satisfied that Stay will go nuts over them. Felix glances at Minho with a small smile, and Minho gives him a look like a kitten with cream.

They spend ten minutes filming a final segment in the ryokan. Felix and Minho hold a camera as they talk about the loveliness of the setting and their appreciation for a quiet moment after their busy tour. Minho rings the delicate chime on the little table between their chairs as they look out at the garden where they’d had their Conversation last night.

Even though Felix can still feel the repressed erotic current between them as they film, he also feels the absence of the tension that had always shadowed his interactions with Minho. He hadn’t realised how much weight that feeling had until it was gone.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Felix looks around him in a daze. The day is hot and bright, light glaring off the windows of the tall buildings around him. The city street seems unnaturally hectic after his time in the mountains; the air thick with the smell of exhaust. He’d dozed most of the hour-and-a-half ride back to Tokyo, Minho’s shoulder a makeshift pillow. Minho passed out too.

After Felix and Sato were dropped off in the city for his shopping trip, Minho and Yi-Joon drove off to pursue Minho’s “pudding tour” in Kasukabe. Felix has no doubt Minho will continue his relentless pursuit of Japanese desserts there while sightseeing. Before Felix climbed out of the car, Minho held up his phone and pointed at it, eyebrow raised. Felix blushed and nodded.

Yesterday he’d been looking forward to shopping, but now his mind is preoccupied with what will happen at the hotel tonight. Perhaps sensing his companion’s lethargy, Sato suggests getting drinks, and Felix jumps at the offer as a way to get himself moving.

After placing his order at a nearby cafe, Felix’s phone buzzes. A picture of a stray calico cat framed by a car window pops up when he unlocks it. Minho’s clearly bored on the drive.

FELIX

So cute!

But do I need to remind you cats aren’t allowed in our dorm?

The barista hands him his iced matcha tea, and Felix takes a picture of it, sending it along to Minho.

MINHO

Well maybe you’re not allowed in our dorm

Also, that looks good. Not shopping yet?

FELIX

We needed reinforcements first

Heading out now

MINHO

Have fun!

Felix sighs, a little of his stress relieved now that Minho checked on him. He should’ve known Minho wouldn’t push him for ideas immediately.

They take the subway into Ginza, Felix enjoying a freedom he hasn’t had in Seoul for years. Since their debut, public transportation hasn’t been an option in Korea. He checks the map above the train door for their destination and counts five more stops. Sato puts away the camera he’d been using to film Felix exploring Tokyo.

“Get everything you need?” Felix asks.

Sato flashes him a single dimple, tipping his head back to prevent his glasses from slipping. He’s an angular, amiable man with a long thin face that makes his age hard to guess, though his receding hairline gives Felix a clue. He’s always pushing his trendy round glasses up his long nose.

“Yes. I may try for some footage walking around or at dinner, but until then, please enjoy the city.” He says in accented Korean. He’s been a really helpful assistant and guide while the Stray Kids have spent the final days of their tour in Japan.

“Great.” Felix smiles, fully relaxing now that the camera is packed away. He leans back in his chair and indulges in a little people-watching. Many of his fellow passengers are tourists like him, festooned in bags and cameras and heading to the Tokyo shopping district in the early afternoon. A few professional-looking commuters are sprinkled throughout, distinguished by their business attire and disinterest in their surroundings.

A young woman near the end of the car catches his attention. She’s wearing a white knee-length dress in the style that he’s seen more often in Japan than anywhere else. He doesn’t know the name of it, but the dresses are very feminine, and inspired by classic Victorian silhouettes. The girl in his train has a white dress featuring an asymmetrical print of birds and hydrangeas in dusty blue and rose. The full, pleated skirt is cinched at the waist by a wide ribbon in pale lavender. She’s short and graceful, with pale purple-dyed hair that almost matches her lovely ribbon. Her delicate neck is adorned with a simple velvet choker in rose.

Felix has always had an eye for fashion, and this look is beautiful. He’s occasionally jealous of female idols for some of the ensembles they get to wear, and tries to incorporate as much of an androgynous flair in his outfits as he can, both on and off stage. When the stylists let him. The simple choker is especially lovely.

FELIX

How do you feel about chokers?

MINHO

The noun or the verb?

Well that… is not what he’d meant to ask about, but it’s not like he’s never thought of the verb. He writes and deletes several responses before reminding himself to return to the original question.

FELIX

The noun

MINHO

You sure?

You took a while to respond

FELIX

To be honest the verb sounds exciting

MINHO

Interesting. Let’s discuss later

FELIX

Yes

Now stop distracting me and answer the question

MINHO

So pushy Lee-kun

And yes, I’m familiar with chokers the noun

I own a few. Why?

FELIX

There’s a girl on the subway wearing a gorgeous white dress and pretty velvet choker

I like it

MINHO

The girl, the dress, or the choker?

FELIX

All three actually

But I was mainly thinking of the choker

There’s a pause before Minho sends his next message. Felix watches buildings zip by between flashes of sunlight outside the window.

MINHO

Buy one

I want you to wear it tonight

Felix feels his ears grow hot. It’s not like he’s never worn a choker before. Like Minho, he already owns a couple, and he’s been given plenty to wear on stage. It’s more that Minho has instructed him to get one, and wants to see Felix wear it for him.

FELIX

Yes hyung

He nudges Sato, who looks up from his phone. How can he ask where to shop for pretty feminine chokers without being obvious?

“I’m looking for a gift for my sister.” Felix whispers a silent apology to his sister Olivia in his head. “Do you know where I can find a necklace like the one on that woman?” He subtly indicates the woman in the white dress. Sato looks at her for a long moment, considering.

“I think I might know where you can find something similar.” He pulls up his map app. “It shouldn’t be too far to walk.” Felix nods gratefully.

Over the next hour, Felix tries hard to multitask while searching out gifts for his family, as well as splurging on accessories and clothes for himself. Yet despite his excitement to explore Tokyo and the satisfaction of shopping, his mind stays stubbornly on a different track.

Minho had asked Felix for “scenarios”, and in an effort to obey, his thoughts are now deep in the gutter. Every giant ad on the street, every strip of leather in the clothing stores, every cute toy with a vaguely suggestive shape has become saturated with double meaning. So many ideas are cluttering his head, which ones should he choose to share - and more importantly, commit to - tonight? Sharing all of them feels too scary. And sharing just one feels like the pin drop that starts an avalanche.

At this point in the afternoon, he’s only managed to send a few vague allusions to things he finds attractive about Minho, after much agonising over each text. Nothing more specific. Yet his mind is teeming. How do you tell a close friend you’ve known for years that you want them to watch and verbally tease you while you f*ck yourself with a dild*? Just as a random example.

If just this simple request is enough to make Felix spiral, what will it be like when he and Minho play out a “scenario”?

FELIX

I think you’ve broken me

You wanted my suggestions during the day

And now that’s all I can think about

That’s like telling someone not to think about a white bear

It’s impossible not to think about it!

MINHO

Who knew “Sunshine Felix” had such a dirty mind

I need details

FELIX

It’s your fault

MINHO

Last night you said this subject has been on your mind a lot

FELIX

Well that is technically true

MINHO

You’re being very evasive

Here’s how this works Bokie

Tell me what’s making you excited enough right now to message me

Felix rubs his sweaty hand against the fabric of his t-shirt and looks up from his phone. He and Sato are standing at a heavily crowded crosswalk across from the gaming store Felix wants to visit. A lone figure stands in the middle of the street, directing the flow of traffic.

FELIX

A policewoman

MINHO

Is it the uniform?

FELIX

No. The handcuffs on her belt

MINHO

Yongbok. How restrained do you like to be?

Felix takes a deep steadying breath and crosses the street. They arrive at the store and he seeks refuge in a back aisle. Being able to discuss such intimate subjects, when he and Minho have spent so long avoiding doing just that, is intoxicating.

FELIX

I don’t know? My hands?

Maybe just a little for now

It’s mostly the idea of being at someone’s mercy that I like

Anyway, this has all been theoretical until today

MINHO

I get it

I’d like to have you at my mercy, even just a little bit

FELIX

Me too hyung

Clicking off his phone with a shudder, Felix looks at the racks of manga in the corner of the store, covers featuring supernatural beasts, men with flowing hair, women in glamorous armour, and any number of characters paired up on the covers. He suddenly realises he hasn’t asked Minho an important question.

FELIX

By the way, I haven’t asked what your preference is?

I don’t want to assume

MINHO

My preference is you?

FELIX

You’re sweet

But you know that’s not what I’m asking

MINHO

You’re gonna have to ask baby

FELIX

Okay. Top or bottom?

MINHO

I’m fairly versatile

You?

FELIX

I think I’m probably versatile too.

I’ve topped once with a guy, which was nice

With you? I think I’d like to bottom

MINHO

Have you done that yet?

FELIX

No

But I want to try

MINHO

Tonight?

FELIX

Maybe?

Felix sidles further into the racks of books in the corner, even though no one’s nearby. Being this turned on in public isn’t a good look.

FELIX

I think I’d really enjoy hyung prepping me

MINHO

You’re killing me

As the shadows of the tall buildings grow long across the busy streets of Ginza, Sato leads him to a store full of ruffled dresses and parasols and waits on a bench outside with a pile of Felix’s shopping bags.

Felix immediately feels uneasy walking through the aisles of frills and ribbons. Minho had mentioned wanting to keep things simple tonight, and these outfits are anything but simple. They appear to be vintage-inspired, with complicated silhouettes, elaborate detailing, and theatrical flair. Which, to be fair to Sato, was what he’d asked for, though he’d been more focused on the train girl’s necklace rather than her whole outfit.

But when he looks closer, he begins to see some simpler items, like shifts, jumpers, and beautiful hats and scarves. He shouldn’t have doubted Sato’s eye for street style.

He finds a table in the back covered in jewellery, scarves, and ribbons, and runs his fingers over a selection of necklaces and chokers. Most are too embellished, too small, or the wrong material. He’d been thinking velvet, but any simple, soft fabric would work, really. There are several scratchy lace chokers, and a velvet choker in a violent shade of pink that’s sure to bring out an answering ruddiness in his face.

He’s about to admit defeat when he glances at a ribbon rack and sees a soft silk ribbon labelled “habotai” the exact shade of cool lavender that had adorned the waist of the girl in the subway. He pulls out the long length and tests it with his fingers. It’s thick, strong, not too slippery, and flutters attractively. Holding it up to his neck, he looks in the mirror. The faded purple complements the dark hue of his hair, and the raw edges are soft against his skin. It’s not exactly a choker, but the length suggests additional possibilities.

Throwing the ribbon onto his shoulder to buy later, he browses a bit longer out of curiosity. Most of the clothes are too niche for his taste, but he does find a rack of blouses that intrigues him. In particular, he finds an appealing black lace shirt with long sleeves and a boatneck collar. The lace is dense enough to be mostly opaque, with just a hint of skin showing beneath. The small darts at the sides indicate that this is a woman’s shirt, but the design is simple and oversized enough that Felix doubts it would make any difference on him.

He returns to the mirror. The fabric is heavy and well-made, and the fit is daringly androgynous. It would go well with tight pants, creating a look that’s provocative, sexually ambiguous, and pretty. There are no other decorations on it besides the lace material, giving it a classic outline. Examining it with a critical eye, he can see the slight stretch of the lace will hug his lithe frame. Will Minho like it?

The purple ribbon would be the finishing touch, contrasting beautifully against the black of the shirt. Felix carefully folds both items over his arm and pulls out his phone.

FELIX

Change of plans

I couldn’t find a choker I like, but I found a beautiful silk ribbon that’s nicer

MINHO

Interesting

Is it long enough to make a bow?

FELIX

Yes

MINHO

Would you like me to tie a bow on you tonight?

Unsurprisingly, Felix is beginning to suspect he and Minho are on the same wavelength when it comes to fantasies, or at least Minho is very adaptable.

FELIX

Yes I would

I found an outfit to go with it

MINHO

I can’t wait

Felix bites his lip at the wave of fondness that hits him, and heads for the checkout counter.

***

They stop at a restaurant Sato recommends on the way back, and the fatigue of all the walking, hot sun, late night, and emotional upheaval starts to catch up with Felix. He absently looks at the pictures on the menu and tries to focus on what to order. Eventually, he just chooses the eel dish because it reminds him of his meal at the sushi restaurant last night. He hopes the food will make him feel closer to Minho, who is over an hour away, likely getting happily overfull on entrees and puddings.

After placing their order, he pulls out his phone again, but hesitates, glancing at Sato guiltily. He’s spent kind of a rude amount of time on his phone today, messaging Minho. Sato smiles at him politely, looking a little wilted himself from all the walking they’ve done.

“Sorry, Sato-san. I’ve been juggling a lot of work emails today.” He waves his phone in the air guiltily.

That’s a lie. Felix hasn’t checked his email once in the last 24 hours. But he can’t exactly explain to his JYPE associate that he’s spent the last hour messaging his group member in an encrypted chat about the BDSM scene they’re going to try tonight. They’d been negotiating hard boundaries about skin marks, pain intensity, bodily fluids, and triggers. Felix had discovered it’s easier to talk about the things he doesn’t want rather than what he does.

“Please, Lee-kun, don’t feel like you have to entertain me during your vacation! It’s my job to make sure you have a nice time.”

Felix gives him a small bow with a smile and asks Sato about his family, resolutely putting away his phone. After a pleasant interval of friendly small talk, their orders arrive, and they both hungrily shift their attention to the food. Felix finally allows himself to take a picture of his plate and send it to Minho.

MINHO

Mmm. What is it?

FELIX

Eel with cucumber

I was feeling nostalgic for our meal last night

Putting his phone down, Felix records himself tasting the eel on the company camera while Sato enjoys his pork set. It really is quite tasty. They order a rice cake dessert, and Felix checks his phone while they wait.

MINHO

You okay?

FELIX

Yeah, just getting tired

Lots of shopping today

MINHO

Me too. I think I walked over 10,000 steps this afternoon

Do you need to rest tonight? I’d really understand

FELIX

No, please come. I want to be with you

I just may not have the energy for a lot

MINHO

Got it. Nothing too crazy tonight

Do you want to just fool around? Or should I work you up a bit?

Give me a general idea what you want

Felix shivers at the phrase “work you up”, and looks reflexively at Sato, as if the man could read his phone screen through the table. Sato is crouched over his own phone, looking up their flight details for tomorrow.

What does he want tonight? He’s asked himself that question at least fifty times today. Felix has never had anyone ask him that so deliberately before. The very few times he’s hooked up, things just sort of - happened. The only intentional conversations he’s had with partners centred on consent, protection, and the vital need for discretion. It’s surprisingly difficult to filter out all the noise of his excitement, anxiety, and need to please to try and focus just on what he wants from Minho.

FELIX

I think I’m losing my mind a little at the thought of you working me up

I don’t really know how to decide what I want to do

MINHO

Try not to think of it as what we’re going to do

More like what you want to experience

Keep it simple

Focus on just a couple of goals and break them down into short phrases

Even in text form, Minho’s instructions have the cadence he uses to teach in the dance studio, which is comforting. Maybe it’s the fatigue catching up with him, or his anticipation getting the better of his caution, but Felix takes Minho’s advice and begins rapidly typing with the resolution to send each statement immediately, no matter what.

FELIX

Ok, I’m cringing as I write this, but here it goes:

Boss me around and give me rules

Tease me until I tell you what I really want

Tell me what you like about me

Spank me until I come, and make it hurt

He pauses for a minute, then adds:

FELIX

And also please let me suck you hyung

He quickly locks his screen and hides his face in his hands. He feels like his head is a hot air balloon. Before Sato can comment, he gulps some water to try and look natural. Fortunately, the dessert arrives.

He spends five whole minutes not checking his phone, slowly eating rice cake, and definitely not obsessing about what he’d just written. That’s about as long as he can last, though. Sato excuses himself to visit the toilet, and Felix scrambles to light up his screen.

MINHO

Good boy

I don’t think I can keep my hands off you much longer

FELIX

Don’t take long

MINHO

I’ll come to your room after I get in

We’ll be on the road soon

Felix sighs, weirdly edgy and uncomfortable. Did he choose the right things to do tonight? Is it too little? Too much? It’s hard not to build up his expectations after years of half-veiled fantasies about his friend. The reality of bodily fatigue and nerves is hard to stomach. But really, those might be a blessing in disguise. As a novice, it would probably be a train wreck to tackle all of Felix’s most extreme fantasies at once, when he and Minho are just starting to figure out how to do a scene.

After dinner, they hop on a different train line to head back to his hotel. Once they’re moving in the direction of his destination, Felix becomes more and more quiet. He hopes Sato will just blame it on fatigue. Looking in the dark glass of the train window, he doesn’t recognize the wild eyes in his reflection. He desperately hopes he can calm down by the time he sees Minho.

When they arrive at the hotel lobby, he has to ask Sato to repeat his farewell twice before it finally penetrates the haze of anticipation. He pulls himself together enough to apologise and thank Sato warmly for his good help, gather up his shopping bags, and head for the lift.

He feels somewhat calmer once he’s alone in the lift, and locates his room. Closing the door with a deep sigh, he surveys his surroundings. It’s a hotel room, like so many others, with a big white bed covered in too many pillows, neutral walls, abstract artwork, modern furniture, and slate counters in the loo. He’d stayed here for their Tokyo shows, and his larger touring suitcase still sits packed in the corner. Sighing, he drops his backpack and shopping bags on the little table by the door.

Now that he’s arrived, he feels less frantic, comforted by familiar surroundings. He messages Minho to let him know, followed by a message to their manager. After some thought, he also messages Hyunjin that he’s at the hotel and heading to bed early after a long day shopping. Hyunjin messages back to ask if he wants to compare purchases, but Felix turns him down with a slightly guilty pang.

He takes his third shower of the day to wash off the sweat and dirt of the city, trying not to think too hard about why he’s cleaning himself so thoroughly. After drying his hair, he pulls his new shirt out of its bag and slips it on. The soft lace material feels cool and heavy, and it clings lightly to his body for an effect that’s casually striking. The wide neck emphasises his graceful collarbones, and the smooth tailoring makes his shoulders look wide and sharp. The sleeves are long and wide enough at the cuffs to pull comfortably over his knuckles.

He has slim-tailored pants in his suitcase that’ll look good with this shirt, but there’s still time before Minho arrives. He’s likely about twenty minutes away based on his last message from the car, and will want to shower at the hotel too. Felix can get some rest before then.

So, he slips on clean underwear and leaves his legs bare for now. Grinning at his reflection in the full-length mirror, he has to admit his lean legs look nice beneath the long hem of the shirt. The slightly feminine drape makes them look curvier, somehow. The purple ribbon will be the perfect finishing touch. He pulls the extra pillows off the bed and lays the lavender length out on the side facing the window.

Debating putting on makeup, he quickly decides against it. It feels weird to make up his face to meet a man he’s shared a flat with for years. Instead, he puts his toiletries bag next to the bed for easy access, closes the curtains, dims the light, and slips between the cool sheets.

FELIX

Room 506. I’ll be waiting for you

Knock loud in case I fall asleep

MINHO

Are you wearing your outfit?

FELIX

Yes hyung

MINHO

Good. I can’t wait for you to show me

I’ll be there soon

Felix rolls back and forth happily on the bed, trying to dissipate the ache of anticipation in his chest. He pulls up the sheet and stretches out his tired muscles, not expecting to sleep. But the sun exposure and extended time on his feet today combine to quickly tip him into oblivion.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

It’s Felix’s birthday, and a large present sits before him wrapped in white paper, tied with a big lavender bow. There’s gentle knocking coming from within, quiet but clear like a windblown branch tapping on a window. Is it a toy, clattering around inside? The sound repeats, a little louder now, and he suddenly realises it’s coming from his real-life door. Felix jerks awake and is halfway across the room before he consciously decides to get up. Rubbing his eyes and smoothing his hair, he hastily opens the latch.

Minho stands there with an amused smile on his face. He’s wearing a dark tank top and sweats, his hair is wet, his nose is still a little pink, and he’s carrying his overnight bag on a shoulder. His eyes scan Felix’s body and widen, and he quickly steps into the room, closing the door and turning the deadlock. Felix backs up hastily, briefly confused until he realises he’d forgotten to put on pants in his scramble for the door.

He really should feel more concerned that he’d exposed himself to the hotel hallway. But it’s hard to care when Minho turns around and gives him that look. The closest Felix had ever come to seeing that kind of expression on his friend’s face before was when they’d once gone to a restaurant together in the morning after working all night at a shoot that had delay after delay. Minho had said “f*ck my diet”, and ordered two giant noodle dishes for himself. His face now looks like it had then, when those big platters were set before him: starved, exuberant, and maybe a little crazed.

“Were you sleeping?” Minho asks in a deceptively sweet voice as he steps out of the doorway. He drops his bag on the floor next to Felix’s suitcase and reaches out to touch the fabric of Felix’s sleeve.

“Yeah, I guess I passed out.” Felix’s heart is still hammering with adrenaline as he watches Minho’s hand stroke the rich fabric, pinching it between his fingers before pulling to bring Felix closer. Felix comes, a little disoriented after waking so abruptly. It doesn’t help that this whole situation feels like one of his fantasies come to life.

“Um, did you have a fun trip?” Felix asks awkwardly as Minho runs his hands down Felix’s arms before tracing a finger along the hem where the dark fabric meets the top of his thigh. Felix shivers.

“Mm.” The sound Minho makes is vaguely affirmative. Clearly, he’s not interested in describing his day. “I like your shirt. Did you buy it for me?” Minho knows Felix did, but he also somehow knows it gives Felix a thrill to admit it. He nods, somewhat lost for words.

“Good choice.”

“Thanks.” Felix replies gruffly, more relieved than he cares to admit that Minho approves.

“Where’s your ribbon?” Minho is looking at Felix’s neck. Felix blinks, brain still clogged, before remembering and glancing over his shoulder at the bed. The ribbon is still draped across the pillow on the undisturbed side, gleaming coolly in the low lamplight. Will Minho like it?

“Right here!” Felix strides across the room, scoops up the long purple length, and lays it across Minho’s palms. Minho looks at it solemnly before sliding it through his fist. Watching it slither into Minho’s grasp, Felix presses his fingers against his own neck, feeling the stutter of his pulse. He’d intended the ribbon to be mostly symbolic and decorative but had also been acutely aware that it could be used for other things too, depending on how it’s tied.

Smirking when he sees the expression on Felix’s face, Minho hooks the ribbon over Felix’s head, bringing it to rest on the back of his neck before pulling. Felix stumbles forward slightly with a gasp.

“I’m not using this tonight to tie you up.” Minho says with an eyebrow raised, and Felix is dismayed by how easily his thoughts were read. Not that he’s all that subtle, really.

“We haven’t talked about it, and you haven’t earned it yet.”

Ah. Minho wants him to earn it. That - is a compelling idea. What will he have to do? Felix has always been an overachiever; though he feels a little ashamed he’d hoped for bondage without properly asking for it. He’s quickly learning Minho has strong opinions about the correct ways to approach a scene. Which isn’t surprising given his general approach to life.

“I will tie a bow for you, though. And I want you to wear it even if you take all your clothes off.” Minho runs his hands over the ribbon, down Felix’s chest, his voice growing soft and intimate. “You’ll be so pretty, and tied to me.”

Felix blushes hard at the compliment and Minho’s gentle tone. Minho’s gaze sharpens, missing nothing.

It isn’t like Felix has never been told he’s attractive, and he isn’t ignorant of the effect his looks can have on people, particularly on stage. But it feels different coming from Minho, especially as he stands here half-naked in his specially chosen shirt, waiting to be leashed by this beautiful man.

“Turn around.”

He complies; closing his eyes as Minho gently slides the cool ribbon across the front of his throat, finding the centre point. Minho ties the first half hitch at the back of his neck, below the hairline, applying a hint of pressure. Felix knows it’s not enough to hurt him. He’s danced hard in chokers tighter than this. But there’s something about the mild tension on his neck that’s comforting, like being held. Minho finishes tying the loops of the bow, making it symmetrical and neat.

Felix concentrates on breathing normally. Is this how it starts? Their “scenario”? Their relationship? He feels that old vibe coming from Minho that he’s always sensed over the years, but this time it’s so much more intense. Like his friend has finally let go of some internal restraint, a shuttered light finally blazing. And his mood is contagious.

“There.” Minho’s voice is full of satisfaction as he turns Felix around and tugs the two loose ends of the ribbon over his shoulders. Felix bites his lip as Minho stares at him. “Perfect.” He slides warm fingertips down Felix’s throat, lingering to trace the feathery edges of the ribbon. His touch is light, and shouldn’t feel intense, but it does.

Minho looks up from Felix’s neck, that same expression on his face that Felix vividly remembers from when Minho had spanked him so stunningly years ago. He’d thought of it as a tease back then, but now he sees more nuance in it. There’s tenderness in the set of Minho’s mouth that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe Felix just hadn’t noticed it then.

“Here’s the plan, baby. You’re going to do everything I say tonight.” Minho says calmly.

Felix fists his hands in his sleeves, excitement and uncertainty rippling through him.

“Remember that I’m your hyung. Address me respectfully at all times. If you don’t behave, you’ll be punished.”

Felix is nodding without really processing and stops once he catches himself. He realises this is a bad habit, one that’s particularly unhelpful in a situation like this. Because despite Minho telling him exactly what he wants to hear, he feels completely clueless about what to expect.

“Punished? How - ?”

“You know how.”

Felix draws a blank for a second; multiple factors are shortcircuiting his brain right now. Had they discussed a specific ‘punishment’ today? He casts back over their texts and suddenly remembers his ‘spank me until I come’ request. His eyebrows shoot up and he inclines his head.

“Ah, right. Spanking?”

Minho smiles, raising an eyebrow. “Yes.” His hands knead Felix’s shoulders, like he sometimes did in the early days, before they went onstage, when Felix was nervous and nauseous. “Also, before we go any further, remember I want you to tell me if you need to stop, or if you’re close to your limit. What did we agree to say if either of us needs to stop?”

“Red.”

“Yes. I don’t really know how to play games with consent, and that’s not how I want to start.”

Felix nods, but Minho puts a firm hand on top of his head. “No, answer me out loud. And if you want to stop, but can’t say it, snap your fingers. Understand?” Felix almost instinctively nods again but stops himself. Minho knows him well.

“Yes. I understand… hyung.” Felix answers, and Minho’s eyes soften. “I’ll say ‘Red’.”

And he does understand. What they’ve agreed makes sense, and reflects the advice he’s read in the more helpful resources he’s browsed. It’s become clear today that Minho has done a lot of research too, which is fortunate. Because despite Felix’s recent foray into BDSM exploration, he’s having trouble implementing any sort of plan in the face of his staggering excitement to play with his biggest crush.

“Good.” Minho nods seriously. “I have to trust you’ll stop me if you don’t like what’s happening.” Felix gulps at Minho’s urgent tone. “Don’t go along with something you can’t stand just because you think it’s what I want.”

Well f*ck, Minho knows him really well. Felix has always been a people-pleaser.

“I understand hyung.” He says again, trying to inject as much seriousness into his tone as he can. Suddenly this situation feels heavy, like he’s reviewing legal forms before being wheeled into a risky surgery. But he knew this was risky - in more ways than one - when he decided to get involved with Minho.

Felix reaches out and wraps his arms around Minho’s waist, burying his face in his neck. He smells like clean clothes, shampoo, and Minho. Minho hugs him back tightly. After a long moment entwined, Minho nuzzles his ear.

“I’d also be really happy to just make out with you in your bed tonight. I’m not kidding.”

Felix laughs gruffly and begins raining playful kisses on Minho’s neck and cheek. Minho lets out a cranky grunt but doesn’t duck.

“No hyungie.” Felix slows down his kisses, making them messier, wetter. “I wanna see what you got.” Minho hums appreciatively as Felix licks his jaw, tangling his hands in Felix’s new shirt. Felix seeks the heat of his mouth.

Yes, this is what he needs right now, Minho’s soft lips parting for him, their mingling sighs. Felix knows he often gets stuck in his head. Physical touch always pulls him out of the maze of thoughts.

He loses track of time as they make out slowly, the urgency of this morning giving way to mesmerising exploration, each drugging kiss pulling him deeper. This reminds him that he’s not touching, breathing, or playing with a faceless fantasy, but with his (more than) friend whom he’s been kind of obsessed with for a long time. Though he couldn’t admit it then. Every kiss confirms it.

He doesn’t realise Minho’s gradually guiding him toward the small table in the corner until he feels the shock of cold wood pressing against the backs of his thighs. He gasps and pulls back, blinking.

Minho grins and picks up Felix’s backpack and tosses it into an armchair, then pushes Felix onto the table, sending shopping bags awkwardly spinning and tipping. Perched precariously on the edge, Felix looks up as Minho pulls back. Minho’s lush mouth has turned an attractive shade of red from kissing and his eyes are bright.

“I haven’t had a chance to get a good look.” Minho says happily, taking a step back and brushing thick pale hair off his forehead. He crosses his arms.

Felix laughs nervously and tries to arrange himself to look sexy and aloof, but the effect is diminished by the bright blush on his face. He’s very aware of his bare legs, the translucent lace clinging to his torso, the ribbon around his neck, and Minho’s eyes on him, dark and intent. Minho’s smile fades, mouth opening slightly to let out a slow breath.

“Beautiful, Yongbok.” Minho’s face is serious as he steps close and lightly strokes Felix’s legs. The combined caress and compliment are enough to make Felix’s eyes flutter shut. He feels Minho step even closer, his warm body pressing Felix’s knees apart. When he opens his eyes, Minho is staring down at his thighs.

“Your legs are so elegant,” his palms cup Felix’s knees, then stroke up to mid-thigh, roughly. “And strong.” His fingers press, as if testing muscle tone.

Laughing breathlessly, Felix can’t tear his eyes away from Minho’s hands. “Do you like that, hyung?” He asks muzzily, thrown a bit off-kilter by Minho’s sudden willingness to talk about this. He’s never had access to this side of his friend.

“Mhm.” Minho draws the backs of his nails lightly over the tops of Felix’s thighs, leaving behind pale track marks that quickly fade. “Those short shorts you wear in the dorm in the summer might kill me one day.”

Felix’s laugh is cut off by a groan as Minho increases the pressure of his nails. “Lean back.” Minho instructs, pushing Felix’s hips farther onto the table, and pressing his shoulders back. Felix plants his hands behind him to lean on, swallowing at the deliberate coquettishness of this position.

“Keep your hands on the table.”

Felix complies as he watches Minho pull off his tank top slowly, his hyung clearly enjoying having Felix’s undivided attention. Not for the first time, Felix marvels at the symmetry of Minho’s body. His proportions are so well-balanced and beautiful. The warm light of the bedside lamp illuminates his impressive, broad torso from the side, accentuating the definition of his muscles. His nipples are small and contrast vividly against the pale expanse of his chest. His skin is smooth and flawless, except for a white scar stretching across his right side, beneath the line of his ribs. Instead of marring the smooth expanse, the scar seems to accentuate the shadowed ridges of his abdomen.

Staring at Minho greedily, Felix zeroes in on his neck, where the pulse is flickering rapidly in the deep notch of his collarbone. He wants to feel that heartbeat with his tongue. His fingers twitch against the grain of the table.

“Can I touch you?”

“No.” A wicked grin stretches Minho’s mouth. “Not until you have permission.”

Felix blows out a breath of mingled excitement and frustration. “Hyung!”

Minho laughs, “What? You’ve been very mysterious today.” He straightens Felix’s ribbon minutely. “I asked for your favourite scenarios, and you weren’t helpful. That’s very disobedient of you, especially for our first scene.”

Felix’s stomach drops. He’d sort of hoped Minho wouldn’t call him on that. He should’ve known the man wouldn’t let it slide. It feels excessive to be this ashamed of failing to send sexts that are detailed enough, but here he is. He messed up his first task.

“I really am sorry hyung!” He exclaims, wishing he could move his hands to touch Minho in reassurance. “I wanted to, but it’s just… so hard.”

“Hm,” Minho looks at him speculatively, “we’ll have to work on that.”

“Yes I’ll try!”

“Well - I guess I can forgive you, but not until you’ve kept your hands still long enough.”

Felix gulps. “I’ll do anything, hyung.”

“Yes.” Minho says with satisfaction. “Tell hyung what you’d like to do if you had your hands.” Minho’s own hands are back on Felix’s thighs, pushing up towards the edge of his shirt.

“Uh.” Felix tries to get back on track and compose his thoughts, but Minho flips up the hem of Felix’s new shirt and reveals his black briefs. There’s no secret now how much this is turning Felix on.

“I… want to put my mouth all over your body. Uh, starting with your chest.” Felix is babbling, too distracted by the dark sweep of Minho’s eyelashes as he stares at Felix’s body to be eloquent. Minho is sliding Felix’s shirt higher, revealing hips, stomach, ribs. His hand roams fitfully, smoothing over prominent abs, and grabbing Felix’s sharp hip bone. Felix grunts from the pressure of Minho’s grasp, which is somewhat too hard, but not exactly painful. It hovers on the boundary between the two, hinting at the power of his hand. Minho’s other hand slides up under the bunched fabric of Felix’s shirt, roughly caressing his chest.

“Is that all?” Minho prompts.

“I… I…” Minho is pinching Felix’s nipple, alternating hard and soft squeezes. His eyes are laser-focused on Felix’s face. Felix drops his chin to his chest, sucking in air at another sharp squeeze.

“I want to make you feel good. Whatever you want.” Felix groans, quickly losing the ability to hold a coherent conversation. Minho’s insistent plucking is unpredictable and puts him on edge. He alternates sides, varying the pressure, using soothing swipes and stinging twists interchangeably.

“Don’t worry, I know what I want.” Minho says quietly. Felix pants audibly. “I’ve never been able to forget how you responded to me back then.” A vicious twist. “So raw and needy. It makes me crazy.” Minho sweeps his palms over Felix’s chest, drawing focus to the heat accumulating there. He follows up with his tongue, pushing Felix’s shirt up to his neck and placing hot, sucking kisses on the swollen nubs.

Felix’s head snaps back with a moan, and his nails skitter against the hard surface of the table. Every time Minho confirms his mutual feelings for him, Felix feels himself losing another brain cell. And Minho is making it worse with every stinging kiss. He wants to cradle Minho’s head, trapping him so he’ll suck on his nipples in a predictable rhythm. But he can’t, he has to be good.

With a sigh, Minho pulls back, surveying his handiwork. Felix looks down at his own chest to see what Minho’s staring at, and confirms, yes, his nipples are swollen and dark, standing up starkly against his pale chest. There are small pink marks around his areolas, either from teeth or suction, he’s not sure which. Minho tweaks his right nipple, and Felix curses in English.

“Perfect.” His hyung says, eyes and lips gleaming. Felix feels weirdly flattered even though all he’s done is sit on a table. “I hoped you’d have sensitive nipples.” Minho runs the back of his hand delicately across both nubs. The sensation of spit cooling and a gentle caress combine to make Felix squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from jerking off the table from overstimulation.

“I didn’t think I did.” Felix grits.

Minho’s expression is definitely coy now, teeth gleaming in a smirk as he swipes Felix’s nipples one more time.

“Ah! Jerk!”

Minho laughs, giving Felix’s thigh a stinging slap. “Careful, or I might not touch this.”

Felix hisses and tips his head forward to see Minho cradling his narrow hips, thumbs framing the insistent bulge in Felix’s underwear, but not touching it. He bites his lip to stop a whimper.

“Please hyung.”

“Better.” Minho says with satisfaction, watching Felix’s face avidly as he runs the heel of his hand up Felix’s cotton-clad dick.

All the tension leaves Felix’s neck as his head falls backward, choking on a moan. He’s been worked up for so long - confessing his feelings last night, bathing naked and snogging Minho this morning, and thinking about his kinkiest scenarios all afternoon. A single touch from Minho sets all his muscles straining. He’s not going to last.

As he concentrates on breathing, his eyes focused on the blank ceiling above him, Felix feels Minho’s fingers gently slide under his waistband. He can’t stop his body from curling forward slightly, almost in self-defence, as Minho frees Felix’s co*ck from the elastic band. They watch it flex visibly between them.

In any other situation, Felix would’ve been mortified to be in this position, sitting half-naked on a table with his friend staring at his very angry erection. Not that he’s ashamed of the way he looks. Without vanity, he’s always thought of himself as fairly well-proportioned. Maybe a bit more than average, even. He’d just never thought he would find himself in this literal position; yet the intensity of Minho’s eyes makes any other consideration meaningless.

Minho strokes his hand over the blushing head and then wraps his warm palm around Felix’s sturdy shaft. Felix moans, and hooks his feet around Minho’s calves to stop himself from moving his hands from the table. Minho’s face is rapt as he begins to stroke Felix, holding him at a ninety-degree angle so the light from the lamp falls on him.

“So pretty, ‘Lixie.” He breathes.

Felix isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry at the idea that his dick is “pretty”. But before he can decide, Minho suddenly sinks to a kneeling position and slides Felix’s co*ck into his mouth in a single, uninterrupted motion. Felix chokes on his laugh, and his mind goes blank from the tight, wet heat engulfing him. No, he’s definitely not going to last. Eyes closed, Minho is already drawing him deeper into the pink pucker of his mouth before pulling back to tease the tip with devastating flicks of his tongue. A desperate-sounding whimper makes Felix’s voice crack, and Minho quickens his pace.

Yet despite the sharp pleasure flooding him, a thought whispers in the back of Felix’s mind that this isn’t quite right. The erotic push and pull he’d been feeling with Minho abruptly feels cut off, like Minho isn’t entirely tuned in to him.

Leaning forward stiffly, Felix peels his slightly numb hands off the table and rests them on Minho’s head. Minho immediately freezes and pulls off, eyes concerned as he looks up at Felix’s face.

“Where’d you go?” Felix asks quietly.

Colour sweeps up Minho’s neck and face, and he draws back slightly, resting his head on Felix’s thigh. He blows out a deep breath. “Yongbok-ah, I’m sorry. I got too excited.” Felix brushes pale hair off Minho’s face, and his friend closes his eyes.

“I’ve been distracted all day because I can’t stop thinking about you.” His brow wrinkles. “I lost my concentration.” Minho wipes his hand across his mouth and stands up, looking a little ashamed. Felix scoots forward, heedless of his half-clothed erection, and wraps his arms and legs around Minho’s waist, clinging like a spidermonkey.

“I mean, I don’t mind.” He shakes Minho’s waist fondly, wrinkling his nose at him. “You just felt distant for a minute.” He sways them both back and forth by force. Minho chuckles.

“Do you want to stop?” Minho combs his fingers through Felix’s dark hair.

“Hell no.” Felix grumbles in English into Minho’s sternum, his hands smoothing restlessly over the soft skin of Minho’s back. Minho lets out a sigh. Seizing an opportunity, Felix stretches and dips his tongue into the hollow of Minho’s collarbone, feeling the butterfly-soft flutter of his pulse. At the same time, he reaches between them and cups Minho through his sweatpants, his head rushing from the feeling of the hard bulge in his hand.

Minho moans softly in his sweet voice, thrusting against Felix’s hand once, twice. His face is exquisite. Suddenly, Felix feels Minho’s hand tighten in his hair at the roots, pulling until Felix meets Minho’s eyes. His hyung looks at him with a calculating expression on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands on the table?”

“What? Oh, I -”

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you? I think you want to be punished.”

Felix pauses, and then can’t stop himself from laughing a little. Because even though his disobedience had been kind of unintentional, it’s technically true that he really wants to be punished. Minho’s hand tightens in his hair, and he gasps. He won’t be able to move his head away now without causing damage.

Minho tips Felix’s head further back. “Answer me.”

Felix blinks hard a couple times, heartbeat jumping. “Yes. Yes I want to be punished, hyung. Please.”

“Okay baby.” Still using the English pet name, Minho releases Felix, smoothing his tousled locks. “I’ll help you be good. But I want you to answer everything I ask you honestly.”

Felix’s eyes fall to Minho’s chest, a little disoriented by the sudden exciting shift back onscript, and trying to figure out what questions Minho has in store for him. Minho tips his face back up with a hard finger under his chin.

“Okay?”

Felix gulps. “Yes, hyung.”

“Good.”

Minho bends down and scoops his hands under Felix’s buttocks. Felix yelps as he’s hauled off the table into Minho’s arms, holding on tightly while they spin around towards the bed. He finds himself deposited gently on the cool sheets, head on the pillow.

“Stay there,” instructs Minho as he turns to the bathroom.

Felix does as he’s told, surreptitiously adjusting his clothes and hair. Minho disappears around the bathroom door and the light flicks on. He’s only gone a moment before returning with a white bath towel in hand. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Felix and spreads out the towel on his lap.

“Come here.” He says quietly, hand indicating his towel-clad lap. Felix sits up hesitantly, unsure what position Minho wants him in.

“On your lap?”

“Yes.” Minho’s smile is tense and anticipatory. “Lie down on your stomach. And take off your underwear.”

“Okay.” Felix’s voice sounds like it’s been tumbled in a cement mixer. He gets up on his knees jerkily, like he’s forgotten how to operate his limbs. Minho watches him slowly pull off his black underwear and tuck it under the pillow for some reason. Naked from the waist down, with only a lacy shirt to cover him, he shuffles on his knees to Minho’s side and carefully lies down across his broad thighs.

Even though Felix technically asked for a spanking tonight, he really was not prepared for the reality of crawling half-naked across Minho’s lap and settling his raging hard-on into the cradle of his friend’s thighs. This position is so exposed, embarrassing, oddly sentimental, and terribly, terribly exciting. The ribbon around his neck feels a little tighter now that he’s lying down. He crosses his forearms on the bed and presses his forehead against them, breathing into the little dark space to calm down.

Minho doesn’t move, likely waiting for Felix to adjust. Or maybe he’s just staring at Felix’s half-exposed ass laid out like a tribute on his lap. Felix swallows a bubble of nervous laughter.

Finally, he feels Minho’s hands on him, gently pulling and pushing his body, centring his hips across his thighs, straightening his shirt, nudging his legs to lie straight and slightly spread. Felix keeps breathing.

“Turn your head.” Minho’s command is soft and light in his bright voice. Felix complies, letting Minho see his burning ear, red cheek, and bitten lips. Minho doesn’t ask if he’s okay, just strokes the hair off his face.

His hyung slowly pulls Felix’s shirt past his waist, and Felix squirms to free the hem under his belly. The fabric slips up and bunches under his armpits, and he shakes, feeling his whole body bare to Minho’s eyes.

Can Minho feel him tremble? How well can he see him in the soft lamplight?

Minho sighs, running his hands over Felix’s skin in long strokes, lingering on the arch of his back, the sweep of his ribs, the curve of his thighs. He’s avoiding Felix’s prominently displayed butt in favour of caressing everything else in reach. It feels sensual and intimate, and Felix relaxes into the touch.

“I’ve wanted you here, like this, ever since we started working together.” Minho palms the small of Felix’s back. “You were so sweet, but surprisingly cheeky every time I teased you. Like you knew what you were doing to me.”

Felix chuckles, thinking back to the period before The Thing happened. All those times Minho had pulled Felix into his lap, carried him like a princess, teased him to provoke blushes, or jokingly spanked him when Felix got sad and quiet in the dorm.

“I had a feeling.”

Minho’s hand strokes down Felix’s spine. “Did you?”

“Yeah. It just took me a while to figure out it was for real.”

“I guess I’ll forgive you.”

Felix laughs painfully. “Thank you, hyung.”

Minho hums.

“Well, since we’re on the same page,” Minho grabs a handful of Felix’s ass, making him gasp, “you should know that your ass is mine now.”

Felix swallows, aware of each vivid finger pressed tight against his achingly bare butt.

“Really?” It comes out of Felix’s mouth in a rising tone, sounding more sarcastic than he means it.

“Mmhm. I’m the only one who gets to touch it. Spank it. Lick it. Or f*ck it.” Minho underscores each statement with a sharp slap to Felix’s naked ass, and Felix jerks in surprise, even though he’d been anticipating this. He feels the blood surging to the surface of his skin as a slow burn.

Yes, that’s the rush he’s been chasing! It had been long enough that he’d started to doubt his memory of The Thing. Had it really been that intense? Now he knows the answer, and they’ve only just begun tonight.

It takes a minute for the heat of his skin to recede enough for Felix to register what Minho had said. When he does, he approves all four things Minho listed and hopes they happen soon. Though he knows it’s a tall order for Minho to expect the other members to never touch Felix’s ass ever again. Butt-touching is practically their default greeting these days. But the base, primal side of Felix’s brain sits up and purrs at the idea of being owned by his hyung.

Hiding a smile against his arm, Felix wiggles his hips a little, enjoying the friction of the towel against his neglected dick. “Hmm, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop our members from spanking me, hyung.”

That earns him a spank harsh enough to draw a groan.

“Doesn’t matter.” Minho delicately rubs the light finger marks that must be blemishing Felix’s skin. “As long as you remember who this belongs to.”

“I will, I belong to you naekkeo.”

“Yes.” Minho says in English.

“How’s the pain, Yongbok? Can you take more?”

Felix blushes more, which feels kind of redundant at this point. Maybe in the future, he’ll get more accustomed to this kind of play. Although a part of him will be a little sad when he does.

“Um… yes, hyung. You can go harder.” He tells the rucked-up sheet in front of his face.

“You’re so needy, Bokie.” Minho says with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” There’s a pause as Felix feels Minho adjust his position slightly under him.

“Count for me.”

“Wha- ?”

Minho begins methodically spanking him, and after a pause, Felix complies, his voice becoming more strained as the number increases. His skin sings with needle-sharp heat as Minho hits him with quick, stinging strikes that aren’t enough to bruise, but sharp enough to make his skin blush and swell. He hears the roar of blood rushing in his ears and is aware of every bounce and jiggle of his ass with each hit. It should be embarrassing, but instead it feels voluptuous and lewd.

“What a sweet little ass.” Minho murmurs, spanking him heavily.

Felix groans deep in his throat. “Eight.”

“I can’t wait to f*ck it.” Minho spanks him again.

“Ah! Nine. Please.” Felix chokes, simultaneously embarrassed and aroused by the praise. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to relax despite the strikes, but it feels impossible.

At fifteen, Minho pauses. Felix hears loud panting and realises it’s coming from himself. He shifts his hips a little to accommodate the fierce throbbing in his backside, surreptitiously dragging his aching co*ck against Minho’s leg. A hand locks on the back of his left thigh, gripping him so tightly, he can’t move.

“I didn’t say you can get off yet.”

Felix gasps and bites his knuckles, caught at a level of arousal that makes him dizzy without the relief of direct stimulation.

“Hyung, please.” His voice sounds small.

“Tell me what you were thinking when you found this ribbon.” Felix feels Minho pulling gently on the loops of the bow, straightening the knot.

“Ah- I thought about you tying it on my neck.” He breathes, trying to gather his wits. He feels almost drunk. “Belonging to you.”

“Yes, you do.” Minho murmurs, fingers stroking the silk. “What else?”

“I wanted to look… nice for you,”

“Nice?” Minho lightly pinches Felix’s hot right butt cheek, making him jolt in surprise. “Or did you want to look pretty for me?”

Felix closes his eyes, “Pretty.” He admits softly. “I- wanted you to dress me up.”

“You do look so pretty to me. If you’re good, I might let you suck me off wearing only your ribbon.” The image of Minho slowly f*cking his mouth while Felix lies on the bed, naked and aching and clad only in a sweet purple bow overwhelms him for a moment. Moaning, he squirms.

Minho laughs. “So hungry, pretty. What else?” He says again, strong hand stilling Felix’s hips with ease.

Felix buries his face into his arm. “I- I wanted you to tie my hands.”

In response, Minho casually presses down on Felix’s hip, moving him enough to drag his erection across Minho’s thigh. Instead of relief, the touch just frustrates Felix more.

“And if I didn’t tie you up? What then?”

Felix breathes hard. Why is it so difficult to admit these things? It’s not like sex - or even kinky sex - is an off-limits topic for the members to talk about, Felix included. Hell, in their early years, the group’s private off-colour jokes and flirting were practically constant. Most of them were barely out of their teens at the time and had few other outlets.

But now, Minho sincerely wants to know what Felix wants. And most of what he wants doesn’t align with the kind, angelic, fragile image people see in him most of the time. Even his members - who know him best - fall into thinking of him that way sometimes. It’s not that the image is a lie; it just doesn’t reflect the whole truth.

Besides, the longer he works as an idol, the more he sees that this persona, which is a mix of his genuine self, his stage presence, and the person stitched together in videos by the careful editors at JYPE, keeps him safe. Would that person shatter if he admits all of the messy, silly, crude, needy, violent desires that terrify and excite him?

But Minho wants him to, he likes it, and that part of him has been begging to be let out.

Minho spanks him again, hard.

“Ah! If you won’t tie me up… I want you to choke me with the ribbon while you f*ck me hard from behind.” The words rush out of him. “I want you to hold me down and make me take it.”

With this admission, Felix feels Minho’s right hand reach and cup the front of his neck, fingertips caressing the soft strip of silk. He isn’t squeezing or pulling, just holding his hand there. Felix swallows. Minho’s other hand is delicately stroking the hot skin of his ass. Instead of being soothing, the feeling is a goad.

“That’s really dangerous, Yongbok-ssi. Don’t you know breathplay needs to be carefully practised?”

Felix winces at the rebuke, the truth of it making his heart sink. Yet he can’t help but feel a little frustrated too. Minho was the one who put those ideas in his head today! All those texts. Embarrassment, frustration, and arousal create a heady mix of feelings in his gut.

“I know, hyung. But the idea made me so excited.” He whispers.

The hand on his ass is slipping lower now, caressing the crease where cheek meets thigh. Felix squeezes his eyes shut. Who is he kidding? It isn’t Minho’s fault. Those thoughts were already there. That was one of his tamer fantasies.

“I’m sorry.”

Minho hums, stroking insinuatingly. “You did the right thing. Thank you for telling me the truth.” Felix nods desperately before he can stop himself.

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

“But.” Minho grips his inner thigh hard. “I think you need a lesson in basic safety. Count for me again.”

“Okay.” Felix gasps, fresh sweat breaking out on his skin.

The next hits zing across Felix’s senses, his tender skin immediately igniting with fire. These spanks are much more difficult for him to count, and Minho seems to be going slower this time, drawing it out. Hitting harder. He also throws in random spanks to Felix’s thighs, before returning to his sore cheeks, keeping him guessing.

The roaring in Felix’s ears is back, and the fire in his skin is spreading through his whole body, electrifying him. His mind clears. Embarrassment, anxiety, and unease flare up and dissipate, replaced by heat. It takes all his concentration to hold still and submit to the pain of the strikes without jerking away. Yet at the same time, he’s so hard it feels like all the blood in his body is concentrated in his co*ck.

At twenty, Minho stops, and Felix releases a broken whine, feeling giddy from the rush of endorphins flooding him. This time, the panting he hears is coming from Minho. Rolling slightly onto his left shoulder, Felix cranes his head to blearily look back at him.

The colour is high in Minho’s cheeks, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and glassy. He’s breathing hard, expressive eyebrows crooked as though he’s thinking deeply. Felix can feel his hard co*ck pressing against his hip and desperately wishes he could touch it to give Minho some relief.

Instead, Minho meets his eyes and grits “Where’s your lube?”

They’d coordinated supplies over text today, and Felix had volunteered his little travel bottle of lube he takes on tour. An early tour when he’d used up the rest of his expensive face balm during a night of sexual frustration had taught him to grow up and pack lube like an adult.

“In my bag, on the bedside table.” Felix says in an uneven voice, wishing he’d just laid it out next to the ribbon earlier, but that had seemed presumptuous. Stretched out naked across Minho’s lap, that idea strikes him as ridiculous now. Minho leans over, shifting Felix in pleasurable ways, and manages to snag the little bottle from the bag without dumping everything out.

“You’ve been so good, love.” Felix hears the click of the bottle cap. His heart beats faster. In anticipation? For the compliment? He’s too keyed up to know the difference.

“You deserve a little break.” Felix flinches as cold liquid drips between his burning cheeks, and groans from the bottom of his belly. Minho spreads him wide while Felix squeaks, and distributes the slick all over him.

“Are you going to f*ck me, hyung?” Felix asks around the knuckles he’s biting, shifting his position to allow his thighs to fan open wider, horribly excited and nervous.

“Mm, no.” Minho says lazily, and Felix feels a finger circle his entrance, slick and insinuating. He moans loudly.

“This is your punishment, remember? I’m going to spank you ‘till you come.”

Felix cries out and jerks automatically as Minho’s fingertip slips inside. The sensation is intense, and he breathes deeply to try to relax. It’s not like he’s never played with his ass before - it’s kind of his favourite thing to do when he has some rare time alone in the dorm. It’s just so much more vivid feeling Minho’s blunt finger instead of his own.

Suddenly, a sharp spank jostles his left cheek. “f*ck!” Felix cries in English.

Minho hums, and pushes his slick finger all the way inside. Warm wetness blooms beneath Felix as precome coats the towel. It’s a shock, and even this little bit of stretch drives him higher.

“God, hyung! I don’t know if I can take it. This feels…”

“You can take it, baby.” Minho says soothingly, while also thrusting his finger relentlessly. “You’re already taking it so well. Say ‘Red’ if you really need to stop.”

Oh, Felix is definitely not going to say ‘Red’. He lets out a dark moan and collapses on the mattress, surrendering to the invasion.

“No? Needy Bokie.”

Minho takes a long moment to work his index finger against Felix’s slick, fluttering muscle before withdrawing, pouring what feels like a ridiculous amount of additional lube onto his ass, and then adding the tip of his middle finger.

Felix tries his best to relax while also anticipating another spank. Instead, he grunts in confusion when Minho runs the nails of his right hand across Felix’s raw buttock, over his hip, and up his back. He’s using the rounded backs of his fingernails again, not exactly enough to break skin, but it feels like long lines of fire across Felix’s skin. And it’s enough of a distraction that he doesn’t realise Minho has two fingers fully seated inside him until he starts thrusting.

Felix bites his lip hard at the movement inside. The pressure is still blunt and unfocused as Minho works efficiently to open him up. But he continues to run the nails of his other hand over Felix’s skin in long swipes, making him twitch and jolt against the motion of the fingers spearing him. It’s maddening, unpredictable, and terribly exciting.

“Hyung! Hyung, please!” Felix clutches at the bed sheets, his hips stuttering and bucking from the conflicting stimuli of Minho’s hands. Why did the man have to be so damn ambidextrous?

“What do you need, love?” Minho asks sweetly as the fingers of his left hand slowly scissor inside Felix, and his right rakes Felix’s thigh, keeping the marks on his skin high to hide beneath his clothes - one of Felix’s boundaries. Despite loosening Felix up, Minho isn’t angling his fingers enough to reach his prostate. The slick stretch is winding him up tortuously, but giving no relief.

“I need - I need, oh. Please hyung! Let me come!”

“Okay Bokie, let me help you.”

The fingers inside him crook, and stir deeply, tagging the bundle of nerves there with devastating accuracy. Felix’s moan cracks loudly in the middle. He’s beyond caring.

“That’s it.” Minho begins a steady thrust that Felix is aware is going to take him apart completely. He does his best to rock into it, the towel beneath him damp and galling on the sensitive head of his co*ck.

“You love it, don’t you? Laid out for me, your cute little ass is as pink as a rose.” Another mean slap. Felix groans desperately, surrendering further to this vulnerable position, this man, and the insinuation of his fingers.

“You’re so tight, love.” Minho’s voice is high and strained, fingers stirring deeply. “It’s going to take me a while to f*ck you next time. It might hurt.” His hyung reaches with his right hand to press against the slippery strip of skin behind Felix’s balls, making him wail from the double onslaught.

“Oh please! I love it! I love it, Minho! I can’t wait for you to f*ck me.”

Minho’s hands suddenly still. “I told you to call me hyung.”

The abrupt stop makes him feel like running down a staircase and missing a step. Felix grinds his teeth hard enough to make his jaw pop.

“H-hyung. I’m sorry, hyung.” He says in a broken voice.

“I forgive you.” Minho’s slick right hand slips up his crack, tickling past where Felix is stretched around the fingers of his unmoving left hand. He caresses Felix’s flaming left butt cheek with a maddeningly light touch.

“I think we’ll need to train you a little better for next time.”

Felix grinds his forehead against his knuckles, chest tight from the conflicting desire to please, and the overwhelming need to come. “Yes, I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s good.” Minho brushes his hand over Felix’s hair. “Well, you know how important stretching is.” Minho’s left fingers stir slightly, and Felix shudders. “I think your punishment will be to wear a plug the next time you play video games since you like them so much. I’ll play 2-player if you’re good.”

“Oh -”

“Have you tried a plug before?”

“N- No.”

“That’s okay, I’ll get you one.”

The images flooding his brain are overpowering. Felix whimpers.

“Oh hyung, that’s so -”

Felix’s voice cuts off as Minho suddenly withdraws his hand before slipping a third finger inside, the stretch seeming to cut off his vocal cords. Resuming his thrusts, Minho also reaches between Felix’s legs with his right hand and captures his balls, squeezing gently and making Felix aware of how tight they’ve grown. Felix claws at the mattress, trying to hold onto something solid because it feels like Minho is setting him adrift on a chaotic sea.

“It’s okay, Yongbok. You can take it.” Minho lets go of his balls and spanks Felix’s ass heavily, his left hand thrusting without missing a beat. The wires in Felix’s brain must be crossed now, because the pain registers as relief, something to hold onto in an ocean of raw sensation. His body feels electric, nerves attenuated to the burn and stretch and pleasure Minho’s wringing out of him. Just the idea of Minho spanking him in his lap as he makes Felix fall apart with his strong fingers makes that odd mixture of pleasure and humiliation in his belly drive him higher. What must they look like right now, if someone walked in? A part of him secretly longs for an audience just for this.

“That’s right.” Spank. “You’re doing so well. You’re made for this Lixie.”

Minho’s words shoot straight to his heart, and Felix finds himself weeping quietly. It feels like his heart is being pulled apart like a flower, the petals loosening and uncoiling into a fragile bloom.

“So beautiful.” Minho spanks him again, and Felix squeezes his wet eyes shut, moaning at the bottom of his range. He imagines what they look like. He’s looking down at his naked body, rocking erratically in Minho’s lap. His face is vivid red against his dark hair, the purple ribbon around his neck askew, eyes shut tight against the onslaught of pain and pleasure. Cheeks glistening with tears. He sees the top of Minho’s bright head as his hyung leans over him protectively, the fingers of his left hand buried deep between red cheeks, and his right hand spanking his skin a deeper scarlet.

“Lee Felix.” Minho says in a clear, urgent voice, cutting through the confusion of Felix’s senses. The conflicting stimuli of pain and pleasure have kept him on the edge so much longer than he would’ve lasted if he’d been playing with himself. It’s like his body is confused, the pleasure too broad to build to a crest. Felix snaps back to himself at the sound of his name and feels Minho lifting his hip. A hot hand loosely fists his weeping co*ck, and even just that light grip sends a breathtaking shock of pleasure through him.

“Felix, come now.” The fingers in his ass crook devastatingly

Some instinct in his body makes him fill his lungs with air, and then Felix’s vision fades as a terrifying wave of pleasure pulls every muscle of his body as tight as a guitar string.

“Oh no!” He cries as it hits, grabbing Minho’s knee, the bed, anything in reach.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. Let it out.” Minho croons, slowly thrusting his fingers to pull Felix through the climax, the other hand milking his co*ck. Hot spurts of come coat the towel, Minho’s hand, and Felix’s convulsing belly as the aftershocks start to hit him, wringing him out. Time slows down until the tension in his body finally eases; and Felix releases a held breath in the longest, most heartfelt groan of his life.

When he finally comes back to himself, he’s lying bonelessly across Minho’s lap, like a stunned bird after flying into glass, his face smothered in the tangled sheet. Well, if he ever needed an answer to the question: Will I like to be dominated? He has it now.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Felix pants into the bedsheets, feeling like an octopus that got stranded on the beach by a tidal wave, wet sand sucking his limp limbs deep and holding him immobile. Minho’s fingers slowly slip out of him and brush against the towel. He whimpers at the loss and turns onto his side facing Minho, curling his body around his stable torso. Minho holds him there, and Felix can feel him breathing hard, ribs expanding fast against Felix’s hold.

The quiet hotel room feels like it’s been flung into outer space. The feeling is vaguely familiar from the last time Minho spanked him, fuzzy and strange. Was this how it felt when Minho floated in the hot spring in the pitch dark last night? Felix can’t hear the usual hotel sounds of people walking down the hall, toilets flushing, or the ding of the lift over the loud rasp of his slowing breath. He’s not sure how long he lies there wrapped around Minho because time has stopped. Eventually, Minho stirs and begins shifting Felix, but he stiffens and clings.

“No! Wanna stay here. Please.” Felix is aware he’s speaking English instead of Korean, but can’t be bothered to translate. Minho understands more English than he lets on. Everything around him is soft and vague, and moving is disorienting. He wants to stay here, floating in space while plastered against Minho’s warm body; or maybe just never move again.

“I’m not going anywhere, yeobo.” Minho’s voice says gently above him, hands drifting over Felix’s back and thighs in long strokes. “Just let me move you up the bed. You’ll be more comfortable.” The thighs beneath Felix’s hip bunch and tremble, and it occurs to Felix distantly that he’s been on Minho’s lap for a long time. His legs must be dead by now.

“‘-K.” Reluctantly, Felix unfurls, and Minho shifts his body in his arms, moving him onto his back on the mattress and placing his head softly onto the pillow. Felix extends his arms to him, and Minho comes, crawling stiffly up to lie beside him.

They jostle a bit for position as Felix tries to cuddle while Minho tries to wipe both of them down with the clean side of the towel. Felix wins in the end, of course.

Finally damply entwined, Felix burrows his head underneath Minho’s chin and holds on. His heart is slowing down, and the heavy tide of blood in his limbs is receding, leaving behind a chill. Minho tightens his hold when a tremor passes through Felix’s body.

“Cold?”

“Yeah.” Felix’s voice sounds like he swallowed rocks. Exhausted rocks. Minho pulls the blanket over them. With a sigh, Felix presses his ear to Minho’s chest and listens to the quick murmur of his heart. It gradually slows as their pocket of blankets warms up. Minho strokes Felix’s hair with a weak hand.

“You were amazing Bokie.” Minho’s voice purrs against his ear. “So responsive, and you behaved so well for me.”

“Was I good for you?” Felix whispers.

“Yes baby, so good.” Minho says quietly. “So obedient, so sweet, so f*cking sexy. Seeing you come like that was… incredible.” Minho’s chest jerks beneath Felix’s cheek as he hitches a sharp breath, like he’s reliving the moment. Felix clings harder, overwhelmed by tenderness for his hyung who’d played into his passions so beautifully.

“Thank you. For taking care of me, hyungie.” Felix gushes, nuzzling his nose into Minho’s neck. He ought to be more specific in his praise, but his brain is lost in space right now.

Minho hums, stroking Felix’s arm slowly. “So… was it okay?” He asks with unusual hesitation. “Was I too rough?”

Felix smiles loopily. “Um, no. I think you can actually go harder towards the end next time.” He covers his grin with his hand at the thought of a ‘next time’.

“Yeah?” Minho’s tone rises in wonder.

“Yeah. I liked how you started kinda easy, then ramped it up when you were… um, fingering me.” Minho laughs, and Felix giggles too, then blows out a breath, shuddering slightly. “I think I’m in erotic shock.”

Minho squeezes him. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think it’s shock. You’re probably just calming down now. That was intense.” He rubs his chin on Felix’s head.

“Yes.” Felix sighs. Minho’s warm body feels so good against him, solid muscle and smooth skin cradling him. He raises a trembling hand and brushes dark hair out of his eyes. Suddenly, his stomach squawks in the silent room. Minho’s chest shakes with a laugh.

“Hungry?”

“Yes?” Felix replies, bemused.

“I brought you something. Let me grab it.”

His world tilts as Minho shifts him off his chest, and Felix whines unselfconsciously in protest.

“Stay! Comfy.”

Minho cruelly disengages himself from Felix’s clutches but softens the blow by kissing his clinging fingers.

“I’ll be right back.”

Felix grumbles, but falls back onto his pillow with a sigh, wrapping the duvet over his head as he watches a topless, messy, gorgeous Minho grab his discarded bag off the floor. He returns to the side of the bed and pulls out two big bottles of water, pushing one into Felix’s cocoon. He sets the bag on the bedside table and watches Felix greedily drink. He’s smiling, probably at what a mess Felix is.

“Savory or sweet?”

“Hm?” Felix asks around his bottle before taking another gulp.

“Your snack.”

“Oh! Um, sweet.”

A thick chocolate bar is placed in his hand before Minho turns and disappears into the loo. The light in there flicks on, making Felix blink.

The faucet rumbles, and Felix unwraps his snack, listening as Minho washes his hands. He has to admit he feels less woozy after several bites of the overly sweet milk chocolate filled with chunks of almond. He washes the rest of it down with some water as Minho emerges again, more towels in his hands.

The light from the bathroom makes Minho’s skin glow against the gloom. He hasn’t bothered to find his discarded shirt, and his hair is damp again from running his wet hands through it after washing. Watching him, there’s something unbearably attractive to Felix about Minho’s quiet self-possession, like there’s always something interesting on his mind. That stoic quality, paired with his expressive body language, creates a strange mixture that’s endlessly fascinating to him.

Even now, after playing a devastatingly effective first scene and giving his partner the most mind-blowing org*sm of his life despite claiming inexperience dominating anyone, Minho is calmly fetching food, water, and towels. Like today is just a normal day. At least there’s still a distinct bulge outlined clearly in Minho’s thin joggers. Felix’s mouth waters. He swallows and sits up slowly, loosening his hold on the blanket.

“It’s okay, don’t get up.” Minho smiles and sits next to him, putting his neatly folded towels on the bed. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pouch of crisps, tearing it open with a pop and stuffing several into his mouth at once. Felix watches him chew with satisfaction, sharp jaw accentuated by the motion. His face is strangely defined yet mutable, sometimes masculine and sometimes feminine - both aspects equally beautiful. It’s so strange Felix gets to kiss him now, touch him, and stare at him as much as he’s always wanted to.

He must be staring now, because Minho meets his eyes with a brow raised, suddenly leaning close enough that his hair brushes Felix’s forehead. “What’s on your mind?” He asks before leaning back and taking a long drink from his bottle.

“Just thinking about how beautiful you are.” Felix answers honestly.

Minho freezes momentarily, and then finally swallows his mouthful of water. “Thank you.” He says, eyes scrunched as he tries to hide a smile behind his water bottle.

“Also,” Felix lets the blanket fall off his shoulders, releasing some of the trapped heat now that he’s warm again. He looks down at his crumpled shirt. Hopefully, he didn’t ruin it. “I’m thinking I feel sticky.”

“Yeah, I figured. Here.” Minho hands him a tightly rolled hand towel that’s damp and hot to the touch.

“Thanks.” Felix holds the towel, debating going to the bathroom for a full wipe-down. But there’s something important about tonight that’s unfinished, and he suspects Minho will try to distract him from it.

So instead of taking the cloth and crawling out of bed, Felix kicks off his covers. He gets up onto his knees slowly, cautious of the new twinges of discomfort from his buzzing, plundered ass. Minho watches him with concern. Felix smirks at him and pulls his wrinkled shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor.

Minho’s water bottle pauses halfway to his mouth as he stares.

“You know,” Felix remarks as he unrolls the towel, “there’s something I might ask you to do more next time.”

“Yes?” Minho asks absently, eyes following Felix’s hands as he slowly cleans his torso with the cloth.

“Mm.” Felix smiles, being a little more thorough than he needs to be as he wipes down his crotch. Then he pauses a moment to carefully dab at the lube drying on his oversensitive ass. Finally, he sits back on his haunches and pins Minho with a look. “I liked it when you acted surprised and scolded me for my fantasies.”

Minho’s gaze sharpens. “You want me to call you out for your dirty thoughts?” Felix smiles and nods, but Minho glances away for a second.

“I mean, I don’t want you to if it makes you uncomfortable.” Felix says quickly. Minho shakes his head ruefully.

“It’s not that.” Minho reaches out and strokes Felix’s arm. “I just don’t know if I can call you names.”

“Oh no!” Felix throws the cooling towel on the floor and scoots closer, putting his hands on Minho’s shoulders. “Not degrading talk exactly. I just meant I like it when you act shocked after I tell you what I want you to do to me.” Taking his chance, Felix slowly reaches down and cups Minho’s half-hard dick through his pants, and takes a deep breath. “Like if you said ‘I can’t believe Angel Felix is so insatiable, he’s begging me to f*ck his mouth after I made him come his brains out with just my fingers in his ass.’”

The flesh under his hand stirs, and Minho’s eyes narrow. “I think I get it.” Minho places his hand over Felix’s and presses down firmly. “I can do that if sweet angel Felix wants me to.”

“Mm, yes hyung.”

Despite the graphic drift of their conversation, Minho is looking at him with such clear adoration that Felix’s heart gives a painful squeeze. He withdraws his hand, smooths Minho’s hair out of his face, and leans in for a long kiss. Minho’s lips are salty and delicious. Strong arms come up around him.

“But can I really, Minho-yah?” Felix murmurs cheekily in his ear.

“What, really?” Minho pushes him back a little, eyes restlessly scanning Felix’s body like he can’t find a safe place to look. “I think you should probably take it easy, you’ve had an intense scene tonight. The flight might be uncomfortable tomorrow.”

Indeed, the flight might not be fun, but it’s distinctly hard for Felix to care about that right now. He thinks over his upcoming schedules. Fortunately, since their Japanese tour is done, and they’ve finished recording for ‘Maxident’, he might as well seize his chance. Felix slides his hands over Minho’s shoulders and begins massaging his trap muscles slowly. Minho often carries stress in his neck. Minho sighs. And maybe Felix presses his naked body closer to Minho’s side than he technically needs to.

“Please hyung.” Felix whispers, “I can make you feel so good. I promise. Let me do this for you.”

Minho shudders and runs his hand up Felix’s side, fingers mapping every dip and swell of muscle and bone, and lingering sensually on his skin. When he replies, his voice is pained.

“I’m not gonna last. I don’t think I can play with you again without blowing it.”

Felix grins and nudges Minho back into the pile of pillows and blankets at the head of the bed. Minho makes an inquisitive sound but doesn’t resist.

“Not play.” Felix says, crawling up to straddle Minho’s hips, and leaning down to look him in the eyes. Minho returns his gaze with breathtaking vulnerability on his face.

“It’s comfort.” Felix elaborates and kisses Minho with steady intent. Minho moans quietly and returns the kiss, letting his mouth fall open in response to Felix’s questing tongue. It’s becoming clear that Minho likes deep kisses, sighing and groaning when Felix explores his mouth aggressively. How lovely.

Taking his time, Felix kisses him thoroughly, letting his hands explore Minho’s arms and chest to his heart’s content. Minho always looks more muscular when his clothes are off. His solid, masculine torso and his sculpted thighs have always been a not-so-secret obsession for him.

It doesn’t take long before Minho starts twisting and shifting, arching his body into Felix’s touch. Felix scoots back and slides his fingers under his waistband. Carefully freeing the fabric, he pulls both pants and underwear down as Minho raises his hips, throwing them onto the growing pile on the floor.

Looking up from the foot of the bed, his eyes are met by the tableaux of Minho lying naked on his bed, completely unselfconscious and staring steadily at Felix. Felix suddenly feels an absurd wish that Hyunjin was here to paint Minho exactly as he looks right now.

He suppresses a ridiculous impulse to laugh at the thought and focuses on absorbing the details for himself to savour later. Minho’s eyes are soft, but one side of his mouth is curled in a smirk that signals danger. In the slanting yellow light of the bedside lamp, his body is beautifully shaped with prominent veins lacing his arms and legs. Minho raises his eyebrows at him in a silent tease for Felix’s obvious ogling, and Felix just raises his eyebrows back impishly.

Crawling up his body, Felix strokes the firm planes of Minho’s thighs and focuses on his goal. Minho’s dick rises straight and proud from the sparse patch of hair at his crotch. Just like the rest of him, it’s neat, broad, and attractive. He’s starting to understand why Minho had called Felix’s dick ‘pretty’ earlier tonight. His mouth waters again in anticipation.

Felix meets Minho’s eyes. “Can I?” He asks, sweeping his hands up Minho’s hips.

Minho takes a deep breath and tilts his head away with a torn expression on his face. Based on the angry pink colour of his erection, Felix can tell he’s very interested, but he still seems hesitant. Felix sits back a little on his heels and adjusts the wrinkled bow on the back of his neck, which is the only thing he’s currently wearing. Maybe he’s posing a little.

“Why don’t we just cuddle? You can touch me all you want. I really don’t need much at this point.” Minho says with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“You said you’d let me if I was good.”

Minho bites his lip.

“I promise you’ll love it.” Felix smiles, “blowj*bs are kind of my thing.”

Minho huffs a startled laugh. “Are they?”

“Mm, yes.” Felix answers, looking down at his own body and tracing four pink scratch lines that curve rather attractively over his right ribs and down his side. A souvenir from Minho.

He looks up again and catches a glint of hunger in Minho’s eyes. Hmm, looks like teasing works. “You probably don’t know this since you weren’t a trainee for long, but there was a little rumour that went around about me.” Felix says, “Only if you hung out with a certain crowd.”

“What about?” Minho asks curiously as his fingers inch forward to caress Felix’s thighs.

“Well, I kind of went through an irresponsible phase when I was 17. Nothing crazy!” He assures Minho, who doesn’t seem disturbed at all.

“There was a trainee at the agency who was my age from America. I don’t think you met him. He struggled with staying in the closet to train, and we got pretty close.” He strokes Minho’s hand on his thigh. “Eventually we started messing around, and I found out I really like to give blow j*bs.”

Minho’s right eyebrow twitches.

“After that, I became a little too eager to practise my new skill, and we got caught by a dorm mate.” Felix explains. Minho nods sad understanding.

“Fortunately, that guy didn’t turn us in, but he didn’t always keep his mouth shut around other trainees.” Felix squeezes Minho’s hand. “Fooling around like that was stupidly risky, but I got lucky and was never found out by the agency. I think most people assumed it was just a mean rumour spread around to target foreign trainees.”

Minho smiles sharply. “What a naughty rebel trainee you were.”

Felix shivers. “Yeah.” He says hoarsely. That makes him sound so much edgier than he felt at the time. He’d mostly vacillated between overwhelming excitement and desperate terror back then.

“Only Chris and Binnie knew about it from me, later. And I’m pretty sure Hyunjin and Han heard the rumour back then. I don’t know about Seungmin or I.n - they usually don’t pass around gossip. Though they probably pieced the hints together.”

“Well, nobody let it slip to me.” Minho sits up and strokes Felix’s cheek next to the corner of his mouth. Felix leans into his touch.

“Should I let you show me?” Minho asks breathlessly.

“Please.” Felix nuzzles Minho’s hand and takes the tip of his thumb into his mouth, sucking gently. This close, he can actually see Minho’s pupils dilating in the gentle light.

“f*ck, ‘Lixie. Just don’t expect me to last.”

Felix smiles around the finger in his mouth and lightly grazes the length of it with his teeth. When he reaches the tip, he delivers a sharp little bite.

“Ow.” Minho says fondly. Felix leans back, placing Minho’s hand on the bed.

“Get comfortable. And tell me what you like.” He smiles conspiratorially. “You know I like a pushy top.”

Minho grunts sarcastically, but follows Felix’s instructions without hesitation, reclining against the piled bedclothes. Felix happily settles to his task and positions his body between Minho’s magnificent thighs.

His confession about his secret relationship with Alex is true. What he hadn’t mentioned was that even though they’d been able to skate by without getting in trouble, Alex had quickly lost heart for the training. The terror of being found out had been a wake up call. Within weeks he’d broken his contract and returned to America. His departure was painful for Felix, and he’d thrown himself hard into preparation for the Stray Kids survival show. But despite the chaos of that time, he feels so grateful for Alex’s uncomplicated and open appreciation for Felix’s sexuality.

As Minho stares down at him now with clear desire and trust written in his expression, Felix whispers a silent thanks to Alex for giving him confidence in his ability to please a partner.

Minho’s thighs are warm on either side of him, and Felix rests his head against Minho’s hip. Slowing his breathing, he takes the broad head of Minho’s co*ck into his hand and smoothly caresses it, increasing the pressure as he strokes down the shaft. His skin is supple, and the flesh underneath hardens noticeably. Above him, Minho lets out a long groan.

Now that the urgency has drained from his body, Felix happily allows himself to enjoy the moment. Minho’s body cradling him, his earthy scent, deeper here, and the soft sighs floating down from above as he steadily strokes the warm shaft in his hands. This is what he’d gotten addicted to years ago with Alex. Timing his breathing and movements to the rhythms of his partner, and the hypnotic feeling of giving someone else pleasure.

He shifts closer and takes the silky head into his mouth, tasting it and feeling the shape of it with his tongue.

“Ohhh.” Minho pants tightly, clearly trying to control the erratic movements of his hips. Mmm, Minho likes it when you play with the head, he notes distantly. He sinks lower, testing the length of the shaft. The tip brushes his throat, and Felix backs off a little, wrapping his fingers around the base to control the depth. From experience, he knows he has to work up to anything deeper than that.

Minho doesn’t seem to mind, clutching the bedsheets and staring down at Felix as he rises and slowly sucks the length of Minho’s co*ck back down. Minho’s colour is high, and there’s a look of stunned intoxication on his face. Felix feels the warmth of an answering flush in his cheeks.

Yes, this is what he likes. He falls into a steady rhythm, relaxing his jaw to allow the shaft in his mouth to slide smoothly. He feels like he’s slowly sinking into a deep pool, his breath and heart slowing, his limbs growing heavy from the weight of the water. Minho’s gasps and groans sound both far away and incredibly close. A hand cups the back of his head, not pressing, just gently caressing his hair, holding him steady.

“God, Yongbok. You’re too good at this.” Minho’s voice is high and breathy. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real.”

Felix moans and sucks harder. His dick twitches painfully, much too soon.

“Ahh - I’ve pictured you like this. But you’re so much more beautiful than I could imagine.” Minho has sunk to a whisper, words spilling rapidly like they’re being pulled out of him against his will. Maybe they are, Felix thinks with fierce satisfaction.

“Oh yeah, like that.”

Felix had slowed his movements, taking his time when he felt the head swell in his mouth. He moans softly in acknowledgement. Something told him Minho would prefer slow and intense. And maybe he also wants to hear a little more about what Minho thinks.

Minho obliges him.

“f*ck Yongbok, your mouth is so pretty, especially with my co*ck in it.” Minho is staring at him, barely blinking, his pink lips pulled tight in a grimace. “I can’t stand it. I want you all to myself.” He whispers intensely, gasping. “I want everything you can give me. And I want to give you everything. I can’t stop myself anymore!”

Minho’s voice cracks and he throws his free arm over his face, thrusting erratically now. His fingers have become tangled tightly in Felix’s dark hair. Felix’s eyelids tingle as fresh tears gather in his eyes. Hearing so clearly how much Minho wants him feels enormous. He whimpers and lets go of the base of Minho’s co*ck, sucking clumsily as he caresses Minho’s body everywhere he can reach. He can’t get close enough.

Minho looks at him from under his arm, pulls his hand out of Felix’s hair, and caresses his cheek.

“Sweet Yongbokie.”

Felix blinks slowly in acknowledgement, and a tear slips down his cheek. Minho sighs and smooths the wetness away.

“You’re so wonderful.” Minho’s voice sounds stronger now like he’s regained his balance. Both hands cup Felix’s cheeks.

“Come on love.” Minho’s voice thrums and Felix can see the rosy flush of his face has washed all the way down his chest. “Suck me deep.”

Felix trembles, ignoring the too-sensitive pulse of his own rapidly swelling dick, and takes a deep breath through his nose. He feels spit slipping past his lips, but he doesn’t care. Minho’s co*ck is so hard in his mouth, and he steadies the base with one hand. Minho gasps loudly as Felix sinks down rapidly and swallows the head, nose brushing Minho’s pubic bone.

“f*ck!” Cries Minho in a broken voice. His hands tug Felix’s head reflexively, but Felix only draws back a little to let the head slip from his throat, groaning in his lowest voice to send vibrations up his dick while staring Minho down. Minho’s face contorts in something like pain.

Maybe Felix should feel guilty he hadn’t disclosed his little knack for deep-throating during their scene negotiation today. Maybe a part of him wanted to impress Minho with his rarely-used skill (thank you, Alex). Minho had always seemed to him like such an experienced, confident man compared with Felix’s history of furtive, infrequent hookups. He can’t deny feeling Minho fall apart with his co*ck wedged in Felix’s throat isn’t a special thrill. Besides, they had, in fact, covered some of this in their unusual text chat about boundaries and bodily fluids today. Come had been a green light.

“Yongbok, I’m gonna...” Minho moans in warning, but Felix just hums happily before swallowing him down again. The hips beneath Felix’s arm snap and the hand in his hair tightens dangerously, but Felix rides it out, surrendering to the pressure on his head.

He hears a quiet cry cut off above him before Minho silently comes down his throat in several powerful spasms. Felix squeezes his eyes shut and swallows strenuously before pulling back a little, catching a spurt on his tongue. It’s hot and tastes slightly bitter, but somehow also satisfying.

He pulls off and coughs as he gets his breath back, stroking Minho steadily through his last savage aftershocks. Minho has pulled the pillow askew to cover half his face, and he’s panting heavily into it, a high whine involuntarily escaping with each exhale.

It takes a while for Minho’s breaths to stop pumping his diaphragm like an overenthusiastic accordion. Felix keeps caressing his softening dick gently, hungry eyes drinking in the sight of this lovely man utterly undone in his bed. Minho’s flushed face is stunningly raw when he finally looks at Felix again.

“Thank you, love.” He says simply, a galaxy of feeling in his wide eyes.

“You’re welcome, hyung.”

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Minho’s phone alarm wakes Felix the next morning. He hears the unfamiliar beeping behind him before the warm body next to him shifts and the sound stops. The room is twilight-grey from the hotel blackout curtains, but his internal clock suggests it’s well past dawn. Minho shifts back closer behind him and presses his nose into Felix’s hair.

Their shared body heat is too warm for the duvet, but nothing short of a natural disaster can make Felix climb out of their soft haven yet. He knows he really should get moving. His day has started without him. Their plane leaves at noon. Felix has to do his final pack-up. He should move around to test for soreness and bruises from last night. His email hasn’t been checked in too long. He has a meeting later tonight. They need to get updates from their manager. Hyunjin is probably awake by now, and will eventually wonder where they are, and more, and more…

Despite the necessity of all these things, they still feel distant to him, like the bright sunshine outside the window. Minho’s arm and heavy leg are wrapped around him. They just had the most mind-blowing encounter last night. Everything is completely different, but exactly the same.

He suspects Minho hasn’t fallen back asleep, but he hasn’t moved since shutting off his phone, either. Felix strokes the forearm resting against his belly, slowly tracing the lines of definition in the fine muscles there. Today they have to go back to real life. To friends who know him too well to miss the shift Felix already feels in his understanding of himself. To cameras. To the complicated thrill of performing with a persona that feels slightly smaller now. With a man whose hold is relentlessly tightening on Felix’s heart.

The feeling is bittersweet and terrifying.

In the pearly grey light of the room, Felix can see their pale towels folded into a neat bundle next to the wall by the dark rectangle of the bathroom door. Minho must’ve gathered them up from the floor last night. He doesn’t remember him doing that, though his recollection of the rest of their evening is pretty fuzzy.

He’s not sure how long the two of them had sprawled limp and depleted on the bed last night, limbs carelessly tangled. He does recall Minho slowly untying the ribbon around Felix’s neck, the soft fabric loose and tickling as it cascaded past his bare shoulder. Minho placed it carefully in a coil on the bedside table. Felix can see the dull sheen of the little pile of fabric now, next to his head.

Last night Minho had insisted Felix roll onto his stomach so he could apply icy disinfectant on the long, pink scratch marks crossing Felix’s skin. This was followed by a soft application of thick lotion over most of his back, butt, and thighs. By the end of it, Felix had fallen into a light doze.

He vaguely remembers Minho rousing him and chivvying him to the too-bright sink to brush his teeth, drink water, and pull on a shirt and soft pants before collapsing back into bed. Sometime later, the mattress dipped, and Minho climbed in next to him, straightening the blanket and allowing Felix to completely wrap himself around the left side of his body. Nothing at all after that, not even dreams.

Minho stirs behind him, stroking Felix’s stomach softly.

“It’s time.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Maybe only a natural disaster could rouse Felix, but he hadn’t accounted for his bladder. Suddenly that urgency fills his whole body, and he just really needs to get out of this bed right now. Carefully moving Minho’s arm, Felix slides out underneath his leg, pushing back the hot covers.

“Call of nature.” Felix says quietly as he dashes to the loo, not looking at Minho in the bed.

He closes the door and jumps when the first switch he finds turns on the loud ceiling fan instead of the light. Frantically flipping switches to cut the noise, he avoids the large mirror as he makes a beeline for the toilet to empty his bladder. Once relieved, he leans against the raw stone counter and finally looks at himself.

Nothing has changed. He has the usual wild bedhead he gets after a full night of sleep. Maybe his wide lips are a little redder, making his Cupid’s bow more defined, but it’s hard to tell. Standing straight, he pulls off his shirt and turns around to look at his back.

Just a hint of scratch lines mark his skin. There are no cuts anywhere on the lean triangle of his back. He pulls down his pants and turns his back to the full-length mirror in the corner to awkwardly look at his ass. Just a light rosy, mottled shadow mars his cheeks. There’s a slight puffiness in his skin, and a single reddish bruise - the size of a fingertip - on his left inner thigh. That’s all.

Felix pulls his pants back up and gingerly sits on the toilet seat. Ow. Okay, that hurts a little. His achy skin is strangely reassuring. Cradling his head in his hands, Felix takes a deep breath.

He ought to be thrilled by his amazing first D/s scene after such a long time speculating about what it would feel like. He should be overjoyed to have such an intense emotional and physical connection with Minho. And he can tell those feelings are there, somewhere. But the overriding sensation he feels right now is dread.

He f*cked up. He’d been so focused on what it would be like to finally try out BDSM with someone he loves and trusts that he hadn’t taken into consideration how absolutely devastating it would be, after. He should’ve paid more attention to his instincts. Some part of him must’ve sensed that if he acknowledged his feelings for Minho, he would be completely flattened by them. That’s probably why he’d pushed them down in the first place. He’d known Minho’s tree in his life had grown roots so deep, it would be impossible to rip them out now.

Sitting alone in this bathroom, his feet cold and his butt beautifully sore, it’s suddenly hard to breathe as a tidal wave of love, obsession, tenderness, and desperation crashes down on him. Irregular tremors begin shaking his body and he presses his eyes into his hands.

Minho had been everything he’d dreamed of, and more. Felix had never felt so completely secure and so wildly driven to please as he’d been last night. Minho’s hold on him had been so complete, especially towards the end, Felix had gotten completely lost in the freedom of his punishment. His head had gone empty and light, body charged by Minho’s touch. The intense pleasure of the experience is hard to fathom.

And after, when Felix sucked Minho, the way Minho… f*ck, he’d never seen Minho like that. Like he’s really in love…

Felix gulps and his mind shies a little from the thought, instinctively changing direction.

Practically speaking, he’s nowhere near as prepared for all this as he assumed yesterday. If he’s honest, it hadn’t felt real then. And he can’t seem to calm down. How is he supposed to function knowing Minho likes to f*ck Felix’s mouth languidly and slow, with intimidating eye contact? How is he supposed to forget the high whine of Minho’s breath after he came? What is he supposed to think about besides the look of anticipation on Minho’s face when Felix crawled half-naked across his lap? How can he go about his day normally knowing Minho’s going to buy Felix a plug, and has specific plans for using it? How can he unsee the devotion in Minho’s eyes when he thanked Felix?

He’s so utterly f*cked.

The intensity of his passion for Minho is a little shocking. He wants Minho to look at him all the time, feed him, choose his outfits, praise him, and whisper all the craziest things he wants to do to Felix in his ear. When Felix struggles in practice, he wants Minho to punish him. When Felix skips a meal, he wants dire consequences. He wants rules, and he wants to break them. He wants Minho to be as obsessed with him as he is with Minho.

Felix wraps his arms around himself tightly and tips his head all the way back. God, he can’t let Minho see him like this. His feelings are all wrong. He should be happy and excited and fulfilled. Probably nervous about the future. This is too extreme.

He can’t fall apart right now. He’s supposed to be a professional idol, not a teenager. He shouldn’t need Minho to coddle him and profess undying devotion. He shouldn’t want Minho’s strong body wrapped around him for the next 24 hours, murmuring encouragement and endearments in his ear. Felix promised Minho he would be professional. They have to work! Sure, aftercare and tenderness are expected. He’d read about that. Minho did that. But this…

A gentle knock on the door makes him straighten stiffly with a gasp.

“Hey ‘Lixie, you okay?”

Felix wipes his eyes frantically.

“Uh, yeah man.” Felix says, grimacing at the fake casualness of his tone. For once he’s grateful for his hoarse morning voice. “I think I’m gonna wash up now. If you need to start getting ready I can meet you and Hyunjin in the lobby.”

There’s a silent pause on the other side of the door. “That’s okay. I'm already packed. We still have time. I’ll tidy up a little and check in with Yi-Joon if that’s okay?”

“Yeah sure!” Felix says brightly, digging a knuckle between his eyebrows. “I’ll take a quick shower.”

“Great.”

More silence. Felix gets up, slides open the glass door of the stall and turns on the showerhead. The hiss of the water and steam that billows out feels like a much-needed break in the atmosphere. Minho doesn’t ask anything more. At a loss for anything else he can do right now, Felix strips and steps into the spray, zoning out when the hot water makes the sensitive skin of his butt flame up. He shakes himself and turns down the temperature.

He needs a plan, he thinks as he lathers his hair. He’s learned this from the hours of variety television and SKZ content he’s filmed over the years. When he’s nervous and unsure of himself, make a plan. Improvisation isn’t his favourite, so if he knows much about what he’s expected to do, he’ll plan out some moves ahead of time, like a game. Nothing too complicated. Performing always works better if he doesn’t fight his instincts too much.

So, a plan. First, if he can calm down, he’ll be able to leave the bathroom and face Minho again. He should be able to be attentive and affectionate without seeming pathetic if he keeps things brief. Fortunately, they’ll probably need to get moving soon.

Second, if he focuses on Hyunjin and staff, he’ll be able to find his equilibrium. He won’t need to avoid Minho, exactly. Felix can distract himself just enough so Minho won’t see him struggling to contain his feelings. Felix will be an adult. He’ll figure out how to claw his way out of this funk soon.

Third, once they’re home… Well, maybe if he can get a little time to himself, he can settle, think things through, and turn down the volume of his feelings. Some solitude is probably all he needs. He’ll figure out the rest then, before reconnecting with Minho. He has to remember this isn’t one of his overheated trysts, fueled by a spike in lust and maybe a little desperation. He doesn’t want to lose this connection with Minho, and he’ll do whatever it takes to try to have a real, adult relationship. He won’t tank their careers. That requires not melting into a needy puddle every time Minho looks his way.

The faint sound of Minho’s voice talking to their manager on the phone brings Felix back to himself. He discovers he’s been scrubbing his chest for at least five minutes as he’s been plotting. He can’t stay in the shower forever. Sighing, he rinses and shuts off the water.

At some point last night, Minho brought Felix’s toiletries bag into the bathroom. Probably when he made Felix brush his teeth. He pulls all his tubes, travel jars, and ampoules out now and starts his full skincare routine, taking a little longer than he normally would. His depleted bottle of lube stays buried in the bag.

Fully dried, styled, and moisturised, Felix pulls on his t-shirt and heaves a deep sigh. He can be normal, not at all embarrassed about his behaviour last night, or desperately obsessed with his hyung.

Minho is reclining against the headboard when Felix emerges, typing on his phone. He’s changed into black jeans and a black Mahagarid logo t-shirt. His hair is still ruffled and he looks well rested and completely normal again. Like he hadn’t spent last night spanking his dongsaeng until he cried. Felix glances at Minho’s hand cradling his phone and shivers. He looks away.

The room is spotless, and even the bed is made, which Felix never bothers to do at hotels. Felix’s suitcase is on the table, his discarded lace shirt folded next to it, and his shopping bags are consolidated into one bag. Felix’s heart sends a throb of inexplicable pain through him.

“Hey hyu-, uh Minho hyung.” He trips over his greeting. Calling Minho ‘hyung’ feels provocative now.

Minho looks up from his phone and smiles beautifully.

“Hey pretty.” He says quietly.

Felix blushes and blows out a breath. “Stop! How am I supposed to act normal in public when you say things like that!”

“We’re not in public right now.”

“Ha! True!” Felix laughs like Minho just cracked a hilarious joke, and then abruptly stops himself. He hasn’t made a very good start.

Minho looks at him, left eyebrow fully raised near his hairline, and stands up. Felix holds his breath as Minho walks right up to him and pulls him in for a kiss.

Well this isn’t helping at all. Minho’s hands on his body are warm and his lips are insistent. Felix’s limbs go weak like he’s been pricked by a tranquiliser dart. Minho holds him tight and kisses him like he thinks he’ll never see Felix again. Felix’s body reacts in kind, and he feels himself losing grip on his composure insanely quickly. Like everything Minho did to him last night had primed him to fall at the slightest provocation.

He really does fall a little, body listing to the side, but Minho tightens his hold and jerks his head back. Felix clutches Minho’s shirt and steadies himself.

“Am I really that good?” Minho’s worried tone contradicts the joke.

“You wish.” Felix scoffs weakly.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy right now. I think my blood sugar’s crashing.” Felix says, reaching for the first plausible thing that comes to mind.

“Oh, okay.” Minho says, clearly worried. “Come sit down. I’m not sure we can get room service in time, they’re really slow here. But I have more stuff you can eat. Yi-Joon said the agency will provide food on the way to the airport. Can you wait a bit?”

Felix nods, allowing himself to be prodded over to the armchair, and sits down gratefully. He runs a hand over his forehead to shield his face. Minho kneels next to him.

“You seem off, Felix.”

“It’s really nothing to worry about!” Felix says cheerfully. “I got kinda thrown like this last time, so I guess it’s normal for me. Give me a day, and I’ll be fine.”

“Thrown?” Minho’s face looks graver than ever. Well this isn’t working. Maybe a half-truth?

“I guess it’s sub-drop? I mean, that’s what I’ve read about.” Minho doesn’t need to know how bad it is, if that’s even what’s going on. Sub drop feels like too simple a term for the way Felix wants to hide in a corner and not talk to anyone until he can operate like a human again. He’d sort of imagined sub-drop as a vulnerable reaction to having your more complicated, maybe shame-filled, desires fulfilled. Not fear of falling into obsessive love with your dom. If that’s even what’s going on?

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Minho says slowly. “Are you feeling - down?”

Felix smiles at the subtle effort it takes for Minho to try to have this conversation. Ironic coming from the man who’d goaded Felix to confess his filthiest sexual fantasies last night.

“A little, I guess. I’m mostly just tired.” Felix hedges. Asking for more comfort and devotion after everything Minho did for him last night isn’t right. But the clear confusion in Minho’s eyes makes Felix a little panicked. Surely he can do something to reassure Minho? So Felix takes a deep breath and caresses Minho’s slightly bristly cheek, finally looking him in the eyes. It’s like staring at the sun. “Don’t worry, hyung.” He says quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Hm.” Minho mutters, the look on his face doubtful. He’s about to say something else when Felix’s phone starts ringing.

“It’s Yi-Joon.” Felix says apologetically, and Minho backs off politely, face pensive.

“Hello Lee Yi-Joon-ssi!” Felix says, still struggling to modulate his voice correctly. He sounds so bright and cheerful that anyone would suspect Felix had just murdered someone.

“Uh, hi Felix-ah.” Manager Lee’s mild voice says after a small pause. “Just wanted to let you know we’re going to meet up in about an hour. A driver from the agency will be coming by at ten to pick us up. Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

Felix feels his head droop a little. Asking if he’s eaten has become a permanent mantra asked by members and staff alike. Not without reason, Felix can concede.

“Not yet, but I have a stash of stuff to eat, and I can grab lunch with you.”

“Right. I was told lunch will be delivered to us when we’re picked up for the airport.”

Felix bares his teeth in a grimace, remembering he’s not supposed to know about lunch plans yet. “That sounds great!”

Minho glances at him curiously before picking up his backpack and pulling out several crinkly pouches.

“Alright. Also, Yoon Ari-ssi asked me to remind you to check your email. She’d like to hear back from you about signing off on the SMART photo spread. She needs to get back to them today.”

“Oh yes! Yeah, I’ll do that now. Thanks sunbae.” Felix replies, pinching his arm. Serves him right for going so long without checking his email. His publicist has been waiting for his reply for at least two days.

“And FYI, I updated your calendar this morning to reflect changes in your upcoming schedules, but there’s nothing new for today.”

“Thank you Yi-Joon. I’ll check that today.” Felix says, finally recovering his normal voice at the end of their conversation. Yi-Joon thanks him and says goodbye.

Felix taps off and sighs. His email icon has a big red notification badge listing 72 unread messages. Back to real life, indeed.

A bag of Cheetos inserts itself into Felix’s field of vision. “Eat.” Minho says.

Felix accepts the bag with a chuckle, giving a little bow of thanks. He peels open the package and puts several Cheetos in his mouth, chewing mechanically. Minho puts a gleaming green apple in his lap. Felix nods, eating more cheese puffs to keep his mouth full.

After watching Felix chew for a minute, Minho sits down on the edge of the bed nearby and shakes the hair out of his eyes. “How’s your ass?” He asks deadpan, without preamble.

Felix swallows and smiles despite himself. “A little sore, but otherwise I’m fine. No serious damage.”

“Hmph.” Minho mutters, looking like he’s contemplating something devious. Felix tenses, expecting Minho to demand Felix submit to a visual inspection, but he seems to resist the impulse. Felix unclenches.

“You’ll tell me if you’re still in pain later today.” Minho says it like there’s no question about Felix’s cooperation. Felix’s instinct to please makes him instantly nod his head. A part of him maybe hates himself a little for that.

“Good.” Minho reaches into his well-stocked bag and pulls out a little blister pack of paracetamol, and slowly pushes two tablets out through the foil. Felix watches him competently go about these tasks, both charmed and frustrated by Minho’s practicality. He accepts the pills and his quarter-full water bottle from last night without comment. Minho watches him swallow them, unblinking.

“I don’t really know what you mean by ‘thrown’, Yongbok.” Minho’s eyes are boring into him. He always looks angry when he’s actually very upset. “It doesn’t sound good. Is there something bothering you? Something about last night?”

A knot is forming in Felix’s throat. The last thing he wants is for Minho to think he didn’t like anything they did. Quite the opposite. He loved it too much.

He gets up from his chair, letting the food tumble onto the seat behind him, and sits down on the bed next to Minho. Felix takes his hand in his own, marvelling at how perfectly matched their fingers are.

“Last night was so incredible.” Felix says quietly, and takes a moment to breathe. If he says too much, he’ll break down in tears, and they’ll never leave this hotel room on time. “So good - that I just need some time to recover. You kinda blew my mind, hyung.”

“Oh.” Minho says softly.

“Yeah. And we need to work, right?” Felix sniffs and straightens, trying his best to smile naturally. Maybe some of his repressed, desperate adoration bleeds through because Minho’s face abruptly softens from frightened angst.

“As long as I… didn’t do something wrong. I don’t want to scare you away.” The corner of Minho’s mouth twitches, and Felix bites his lip, hard. Minho so rarely lets himself get emotional, Felix will never survive that today.

“You don’t scare me, naekkeo.” He leans into Minho’s shoulder, letting himself feel the warmth. “More like I’m afraid of myself. I’m just wobbly like soft tofu, and I have a meeting tonight. I’m sure you have something too.”

“Mm.” Minho says noncommittally.

“So… Let’s get back to work today. Can we just press pause for a little while? I need to get my head on straight so I don’t blow everything up at work. I promise I’ll be fine.”

Minho’s eyebrows tense as he stares at Felix’s door, his shoulders a little slumped. “Define ‘pause’. How long?”

“Just today, hyung.” Felix bumps their shoulders together a few times. When that doesn’t elicit a response, he pets Minho’s back restlessly, trying to exude reassurance.

Finally, Minho nods.

“You’re not having second thoughts?”

Felix makes a frustrated sound and pulls Minho’s face away from the damn door. His mouth is tight, so Felix kisses it.

This time, instead of immediately surrendering, he tries to focus more on soothing Minho. It helps that Minho’s a little stiff and tentative. Felix cups his cheeks and brushes their lips together sweetly, humming under his breath. In a little while, Minho finally starts to soften, leaning in and returning Felix’s gentle caresses.

This is okay. This is fine. Felix’s heart is only racing a little. Minho’s lips are so lavish and dreamy. He can keep it together. Minho’s sigh is a triumph, not at all arousing. The light tease of tongues is comforting. Felix’s bones aren’t turning into liquid gold.

Finally, Felix’s moan brings him back to himself. His hands have somehow ended up beneath Minho’s shirt. Minho has messed up Felix’s carefully styled hair. Felix chuckles softly and scratches Minho’s ribs lightly, gratified by the renewed gleam in his eyes.

Minho licks his lips and narrows his eyes. “Alright, we’ll pause. But I want you to let me know if you’re still struggling after today. Whatever it is. And message me back if I text you.”

“Yes, hyung.” Felix lingers on the last word with an eyebrow raised. Minho gives him a lopsided smile, at last.

“Um, okay.” Minho checks his phone. “I should probably go shower and catch up on stuff. If you’re okay, I’ll head down to my room, and then we can meet up with everybody later.”

Felix tries not to crumple with relief. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. I’m so behind on emails it’s not funny.”

Minho nods and squeezes Felix’s hand before turning and putting a small pile of snacks on the bedside table. He zips up his bag with conviction. Felix nods to no one in particular, then gets up and retrieves his apple. He takes a bite and sweet juice floods his mouth, reviving him a little. Warm arms snake around his waist and Minho softly kisses the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Felix. For last night. It was really special to me.”

Felix’s eyebrows tighten convulsively, and he takes a shaky breath, caught off guard and hanging onto his control by a thread. “It was so special to me too.”

“Good.” Minho breathes into the skin of Felix’s neck for a heartbeat and then releases him. Walking toward the door, he abruptly pauses and struggles to pull out lumpy objects stuck in his pocket, finally handing something to Felix.

“You left that under the pillow.” Felix looks down at the twist of dark fabric in his hand. He blinks when he suddenly recognizes his underwear from last night, and blushes.

“Didn’t want you to forget the important stuff. The housekeeper might’ve sold those on a fansite.” Minho jokes as he unbolts the door. He looks up and winks at Felix seductively, but his smile doesn’t quite match his eyes. Then he’s gone.

The warm spot on Felix’s nape seems to linger much longer than it should. He stands frozen in the middle of his room until Minho’s footsteps fade away. Then he collapses face down on the bed with an unhappy whimper, underwear clutched tightly in his fist. How had he managed to f*ck everything up so soon? Why do his emotions always betray him? Why can’t he just function like everyone else, and show tenderness and appreciation to his lover instead of panicking? Why couldn’t he tell Minho that last night was the most heart-rending encounter of his life? That he feels forever changed? Minho must think he hates him now.

Felix bounces his face against the bed, letting his whole body violently undulate against the mattress. The bedding is too soft.

When he finally stops vibrating with frustration, face hot from fabric friction, Felix stares at the little mountain range of duvet wrinkles in front of his nose for a long time. He messed up Minho’s tidy work. For some reason, that’s what clicks his brain into gear and gets him moving. If crying about his feelings for Minho is too dangerous to indulge, so is wallowing in self-pity.

He abruptly stands and straightens the bed, and draws back the blackout curtains to dispel the gloom. Then he rushes to change into an oversized black t-shirt and black pants for the airport. He’ll complete the outfit with his Dior shoulder bag, knowing he’ll be photographed. He’s been aiming for a brand ambassadorship with a luxury fashion house like Dior or Louis Vuitton, ideally. Then he clears out his toiletries from the bathroom and throws his dirty clothes into his suitcase without looking at them.

Once packed, he opens his red-badged email account and searches for his publicist’s name, pulling up three recent emails politely asking for his response in gradually more strenuous language. Felix approves the magazine photo spread and copy without opening the attachment and apologises for his tardy reply. He scans through the rest of his unread messages but doesn’t see anything that looks immediately critical. The subject lines start to blur together, so he exits out. He’ll have time to get to this at the airport.

Next, he opens Bubble because it’s low-stakes and comforting, and uploads pictures Sato took of him in the subway yesterday, adding a quick caption. After, he considers pulling up his social media accounts because he hasn’t updated in days, but decides against it. He’s not really in the right frame of mind to describe what’s going on in his life right now. And for once he’s not eager to see what anyone else is doing either.

Looking up from his phone, Felix stares blankly at the door like Minho had. He’s unexpectedly out of things he can actually make himself do right now. The room is blue from the shadows of the tall buildings outside, and the sounds of people moving around through the walls invade his body with restless energy.

FELIX

Tell me about your Monet paintings Jinnie. Can I come over? I’ll show you what I bought

HYUNJIN

I thought you’d never ask

Felix wheels his suitcase over the soft carpet of the hallway to Hyunjin’s room on the sixth floor, feeling relieved to be up and moving. To prevent sentimentality, he’d done a very quick scan of his room before leaving, resisting the temptation to assign a lot of importance to the place where he and Minho finally consummated their relationship. He’s relatively confident he didn’t leave behind anything scandalous. If a hotel housekeeper finds his charging cord, they’re free to sell it online.

Hyunjin answers the door on the second knock, his shoulder-length dark hair styled in a graceful sweep away from his face, but still wearing a hotel robe over designer track pants. Half his slender forearm and his knobby wrist are exposed by the too-short sleeves. The bulky blue splint he’s required to wear on his right hand to stabilise the hairline fracture he got on tour is very visible.

“You’re not even dressed yet?” Felix asks in mock dismay as he crowds the door with his suitcase. Hyunjin purses his generous lips and serenely ignores Felix while sitting down on the bed. His suitcase is open next to him, and he’s surrounded by several piles of objects shifting precariously on the mattress. He returns to tightly arranging his belongings to fit in the case. Hyunjin never worries about how much room he has in his bag when he goes shopping.

Felix parks his stuff by the door and flops onto the messy bed, avoiding the piles by aiming for the spot where the pillows ought to be. He winces a little when his butt dully protests.

“Nooo!” Hyunjin groans as he tries to rescue a precarious pile wobbling by his knee. Small colourful paint tubes slither past his leg and patter on the floor.

Felix automatically straightens to help him pick everything up, but Hyunjin stops him with a look.

“You’ll just knock more things over.” He says sternly. “And I have a system, it’ll get mixed up.” Jinnie creeps off the bed with exaggerated care so nothing else will shift, and bends over to collect the little foil tubes off the carpet. He examines each one minutely.

Felix looks around the bed at the jumble of art supplies, books, electronics, and folded clothes with tags still attached. If Hyunjin has a system, it’s far too advanced for Felix to decipher.

“If these paints leak on the plane I’m blaming you.” Hyunjin says with a slight grin.

“If those leak on the plane, it’s because you packed them too tightly.”

“I’m still blaming you.”

“Okay.” Felix says complacently, grinning. “Those are really nice colours.” They are. The tubes he can see cradled in Hyunjin’s elegant hand feature labels with vivid hues like sky blue, a creamy orange that almost glows, and deep carmine.

“Thanks!” Satisfied the well-sealed paint tubes hadn’t been damaged by the tiny fall onto the floor, Hyunjin carefully wraps them in a pair of his underwear before placing the bundle back on a pile. He apparently doesn’t care if his new paints destroy the high-end boxer briefs.

Felix shifts uncomfortably. He’s suddenly reminded that he’d been so intoxicated by anticipation last night at the prospect of crawling into Minho’s lap that he’d reverted to forgotten childhood habits, and tucked his underwear under a pillow. Just like he used to tuck his folded pyjamas under his pillow in the morning when he got ready for school.

The thought isn’t particularly welcome right now, so he pulls out the granola bar Minho left him and watches Hyunjin quietly resume squeezing clothes into the bottom of his suitcase, making sure to fill every crevice.

“Those paints didn’t come in a box?” Felix asks idly, mouth full.

“I wanted to get the whole set, but it was big, and I thought it wouldn’t fit in my luggage with everything else I got. So I just picked out the colours I really needed.” Hyunjin checks the time on his phone and picks up his pace, placing two books somewhat randomly now.

Felix laughs fondly, politely refraining from pointing out that Hyunjin got too much stuff anyway.

“What’s so special about those paints anyway? You already have pretty much every colour known to man.” Felix says with fake indifference.

Hyunjin throws back his head, making his dark hair fly, and gasps at him. Like everyone should already know the pros and cons of different brands of oil paints. Felix shows his teeth in an apologetic smile, inwardly satisfied when Hyunjin launches into a lecture about the ancient method Japanese paint makers have used for centuries to painstakingly extract and mill the finest pigments. Felix nods politely, not really listening. He just lets the excited chatter wash over him, comforted by Hyunjin’s steady presence.

In the end, they run out of time to look at Felix’s purchases because Hyunjin has to rush to get dressed and finish packing. His ‘system’ is quickly abandoned. Felix helps him load up a large shopping bag with the rest of his non-fragile stuff to give to one of their bodyguards to pack in his bag.

“How was your ryokan?” Hyunjin asks as they manoeuvre their bags down the hall to the lift.

“Indescribable.” Felix says honestly, moving to the side of the hallway to let a mother and daughter pass. Both women stare at them surreptitiously as they go by. Hyunjin flashes them a white smile, and Felix hears excited giggles drifting off behind them. He pulls out his face mask from his pocket.

“Yeah? You didn’t send me any pictures.” Hyunjin presses the button for the lift.

“Crappy signal. And the ryokan just had ethernet.”

“Really?” Hyunjin quirks a neatly groomed, expressive eyebrow down at Felix, regarding him from the corners of his long eyes. He’s clearly surprised Felix would choose to stay somewhere without readily available internet.

“Yup.” Felix replies loudly, a little too proud of himself for staying somewhere without relying on his phone. It’s not like he always needs it! He’s done it before!

The empty lift arrives, and Felix pulls up his camera roll to show Hyunjin pictures. As his friend scrolls, exclaiming softly, Felix suddenly freezes, trying to remember if he’d turned off preview notifications for messages from Minho on his phone. Yes. He already did that yesterday. He clutches the lift handrail to steady himself.

“Where was this?” Hyunjin holds up a picture of Minho leaning over the side of a tiny white boat, staring into clear water. The sunlight reflecting diffusely off the boat makes his messy hair look very blonde.

“Lake Ashi.” Felix says distractedly, heart still beating erratically. He takes the phone and stares at Minho in the picture. “We got a swan paddle boat.”

“Really? Cute!” Hyunjin exclaims excitedly.

“Mmhm.” Felix nods. Hyunjin shoots him a weird look, and the lift bell dings, doors sliding open. Felix pockets his phone.

“I’ve always wanted to try those swan boats.” Hyunjin says as he strains to wrestle their cumbersome bags out the narrow elevator door with his braced hand.

“They’re fun, but actually super hard to steer.” Felix replies quietly, taking a moment to scan the lobby while Hyunjin struggles. He spots Minho sitting on a tan couch in front of a large bank of windows at the far side of the lobby. He’s looking at his phone, surrounded by their milling staff members. Unlike Felix, he hasn’t changed, wearing the same outfit he had when he sat on Felix’s bed this morning. His hair is styled smoothly, and his pose is completely ordinary. But Felix can’t stop looking at the way Minho neatly crosses his legs.

Hyunjin grunts. Blinking hard, Felix belatedly comes to his aid, taking the big shopping bag off his friend’s arm; and they wheel their way slowly across the shiny pale granite floor of the lobby. Felix automatically picks out Lee Yi-Joon’s head above everyone else in the scrum of people standing around Minho. Two bodyguards meet them halfway to grab their bags.

He really shouldn’t, but Felix finds himself watching Minho as he and Hyunjin approach their staff members - about 10 people who’d stayed in Japan following their tour. His hyung remains still as a statue. Behind Minho, a short line of suitcases parade like little multicolour soldiers along the large window facing the front of the hotel, waiting to be packed into a JYPE van. His brain briefly registers a small knot of STAYs standing outside in the bright sun, kept at bay by a large bodyguard named Nelson stationed in front of the hotel entrance.

Finally, Minho looks up from his phone as the staff call their greetings to Felix and Hyunjin. His face remains still and impassive above his mask as he watches them wave, so Felix looks away. Something about looking at Minho’s blank face makes his head hurt.

“Annyeong haseyo.” A new assistant manager Felix thinks is named Nabi approaches them with a deep bow, her carefully styled dark waves sliding over her shoulders in shiny clumps. She hands them their plane tickets, her eyes staying at the level of their knees, and gestures for them to join the group. “May I get you anything? Masks? Water?” She asks in a barely audible murmur.

“Thank you, no, we’re good.” Felix assures her, shuffling sideways with a polite bob, trying to look busy. New employees always make him feel tired.

“Do you remember what she’s called?” He asks Hyunjin quietly, tipping his head towards the small woman’s pastel-coloured back as she walks away. Hyunjin glances at her.

“Nali maybe?” He shrugs and plops down next to Minho, long limbs sprawling, invading his space.

“Lixie told me you went boating without me, hyung.” He says in Minho’s ear.

“Mm, we wanted to look at scenery without anyone rocking the boat.” Minho says, rubbing his ear irritably without pausing his scroll.

“I like scenery more than you do.” Hyunjin retorts, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder, not even trying to pretend he isn’t looking at Minho’s phone. “At least I can swim.” Hyunjin must be feeling salty today to jab Minho about his weak swimming skills.

“For now.” Minho says mildly, slapping Hyunjin’s hand away as he tries to poke Minho’s screen. “Can you swim without hands?”

“Probably.” Hyunjin snatches his one good hand back and gives Minho space.

Felix turns away from the couch as the two members continue comfortably bickering. “I got back to Yoon Ari.” He tells Lee Yi-Joon when the big man looks at him. The manager nods with satisfaction, hands buried deep in his ever-present summer windbreaker.

“Great! I know the folks over at SMART get real antsy about their super early deadlines. Ari’s complained about them before.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve replied to her first email.”

Yi-Joon’s expressive brown eyes crease warmly, and his soft chin doubles beneath his mask, which means he’s smiling. “Don’t sweat it. Even idols are allowed to have time off.”

Felix chuckles painfully and knocks Yi-Joon’s arm gently with his shoulder. It’s like jostling a boulder. “Don’t lie.”

“Believe what you want.” Yi-Joon rests a heavy hand on Felix’s shoulder. “You know I only ever promote agency policy.”

Felix snorts, now that’s the biggest lie. Yi-Joon has come to their rescue with the agency numerous times. It’s why he’s their favourite. Comfortably assured of his place in Felix’s regard, Yi-Joon begins chattering about upcoming schedules while sprinkling in little bits of industry gossip.

Felix nods along, but he isn’t really listening again. Minho is still on the couch, showing Hyunjin something on his phone, making him laugh loudly and slap his leg. Minho hasn’t said a word to Felix yet, which isn’t exactly unusual, but Felix’s bleeding heart is telling him this is a tragedy. He angles his body away so he won’t be tempted to keep looking, but Minho’s presence continues to plague him, like a fireplace blasting heat. He can feel where Minho is no matter which way Felix is facing.

“Felix?” Yi-Joon asks.

He snaps back to himself. His manager was asking about lunch? “Um, sorry. What was that?”

“I just wanted to know if you prefer chicken or beef for lunch.”

“Oh, chicken is fine.” Felix says, unsure what dishes they’re talking about. It doesn’t matter.

“Gotcha.” Yi-Joon’s phone rings. He bows to Felix and answers, wandering off towards the door. Felix stares at his shoes. There’s a white scuff on the toe of his black runner. He should clean that. He doesn’t move.

“Cars are here!” Yi-Joon calls from the front door. Felix breathes a sigh of relief and follows the crowd to the door, adjusting his face mask.

Nelson ushers him into the blast of humid air outside, and Felix climbs into a gleaming black SUV, taking the middle row by the window. Outside, a faceless onlooker silhouetted by the sun points a cell phone at him through the tinted glass, and Felix watches impassively. He hears a door open and catches a glimpse of Minho’s dark shirt as he climbs into the row of seats behind him. Hyunjin follows.

Silence descends in the car after Yi-Joon and an agency driver settle into the front seats, and Felix stuffs his earbuds into his ears. He picks the loudest, most repetitive music he has that doesn’t have lyrics, and sets the volume high. The sound floods his ears, and Felix closes his eyes, letting music fill his head instead of Minho.

The car starts to move, and Felix stares at the back of the driver’s head. He’s unfamiliar, someone from the Japanese JYPE division. He must’ve gotten a haircut recently, Felix thinks idly. His barber gave him an excellent fade. Felix wonders if the guy got a trim just for this drive today, and smiles.

The buildings outside blink by in irregular intervals, sometimes matching the incessant beat of his music. The rhythm works for a while to keep Felix’s heavier thoughts at bay until Yi-Joon hands him their food. Felix passes the little boxes back to Hyunjin, and eats chicken, trying not to think about Minho sitting right behind him. The imaginary heat is still there, stronger now, prickling the skin of Felix’s back in lines like the fingernail trails Minho left there.

Setting the uneaten half of his box on the empty seat beside him, Felix leans his head against the headrest and closes his eyes, buried beneath a blanket of sound. Like this, it’s easy to imagine Hyunjin and Yi-Joon aren’t here, just Felix and Minho, and the anonymous driver with his precise haircut.

Instead of music, the car would be filled with just the susurration of tyres on the road, he thinks. How easy it would be for Minho to unbuckle his seatbelt and lean forward with a faint rustle of fabric. Felix can almost feel the hot breath on his ear as he imagines Minho slowly wrapping his arm around Felix’s neck from behind, forcing his chin up.

“Stop being obvious.” Minho’s voice is barely audible.

“You’re ignoring me.” Felix breathes, his head knocking back against the headrest with every word from the pressure beneath his jaw.

“I’m not. I know how to behave.” Minho’s arm tenses dangerously. “And you clearly don’t.”

“That’s not true!” Felix mutters weakly.

“It is. You’re deliberately provoking me.”

Felix feels himself breathing harder, the sound amplified by the buds plugging his ears. He shouldn’t be indulging in fantasies in a car full of people.

But that’s the point, isn’t it? He thinks desperately. He likes the idea of that driver happily accomplishing his task for the famous idols in his car, while those idols whisper forbidden secrets to each other in the back.

Felix opens his eyes. He can only see the driver’s suit-clad shoulder in the rearview mirror. Haircut wouldn’t be able to see them behind him. He wouldn’t know Minho would be clamping his sharp teeth around the tip of Felix’s ear, clenching a little too hard. Felix would have to bite his lip to stifle a whimper.

“Put your hand in your pants.” Minho hisses, close. “Let me see.”

“Not here!”

“Yongbok.”

“He’ll see.”

“He won’t.”

Felix closes his eyes again. Minho’s arm would prevent him from seeing his lap, so he’d have to seek out the soft band of his pants by feel, pulling aside the bunched t-shirt. He’d reach inside.

“Yes.” Minho says in English, the sibilant “s” making Felix flinch, and causing his dick to stir in his hand.

An answering twitch in his lap makes Felix shift forward in the fully occupied car, and cross his legs. But what else would Minho do?

Minho would tell him, “Touch yourself. Slowly.”

Felix would, because how could he not? He’d pull his co*ck out of the confines of his briefs and stroke the stiffening length, the movement in the front of his pants obvious and obscene.

“Keep going.” Minho instructs, watching over Felix’s shoulder while he traces the shell of Felix’s ear with the tip of his tongue.

Would Felix be able to stay quiet? Oh, it would be hard. He rubs at a phantom itch in his ear, careful not to dislodge the earbud.

Minho would have no mercy.

He’d watch Felix slowly jerking himself. Felix knows he’d be smiling, even though he wouldn’t be able to see him. He’s seen that secret smile before and often wondered what was on Minho’s mind.

This. In Felix’s fantasy, it would only be this. Minho would breathe hard into Felix’s ear and force his head higher, so he’s staring at the generic beige fabric of the SUV roof as he touches himself. Minho’s breath would be deafening, like the music pounding in his ears.

Minho would wait until Felix is fully erect and aching.

“Stop.” He whispers, briefly flexing enough to cut off Felix’s breath completely before relaxing his arm. Felix would squeeze his eyes shut so tight that starbursts spark behind his lids. And then he’d peel each sweaty finger away from his throbbing dick.

“Good.” Minho would slide his arm away until his hot hand cups Felix’s jaw like he did yesterday in the onsen. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself again until I’m satisfied you can behave professionally.”

Felix would give a tiny nod - he does it now as he looks out the window, biting both lips - and Minho’s hands would ghost away without a word. But Felix would still be able to feel Minho's eyes on him, like a laser burning hot between his shoulder blades. Just like Felix feels now.

His music pauses abruptly, and a bell rings in his ear, making Felix jump. His message notification. He unlocks his phone.

MINHO

I’m very interested to know what you’re thinking about right now

Felix freezes, caught. He stares at his phone screen, skin prickling hard with alarm.

FELIX

Can’t say

MINHO

Boo

You’re lucky we’re “pausing”

Felix nods and takes a slow breath, straightening in his seat. He needs to stop. He can’t do this. His manager is sitting right there! Shame surges in his chest, and his music seems deafening. He turns it off and zips his phone and earbuds into his shoulder bag.

Is this how it’s going to be now? Now that the floodgates are open? He’ll spend all his time distracted, playing out silly fantasies in his head at inappropriate times while Minho watches, cool as a cucumber? The thought distresses him. And yet… he can’t deny the shame of being observed and caught out by Minho is inescapably exciting.

Minho is still sitting there, out of sight but directly behind him. Hyunjin is close next to him, staring contemplatively out the window, but within visual range of Minho’s phone. Minho’s fully aware Felix is having fantasies about him. It’s almost unfair that Minho knows him so well. But would Felix want it any other way?

Would he? If he really thinks about what he just imagined, and bleeds all the excitement out of his fantasy, the scenario almost feels depressing. Does he really need Minho to help him behave like he should? He must be incredibly f*cked up to get such a charge out of needing someone else so badly.

He was supposed to be professional, and he couldn’t even hold it together for more than a couple hours. His nerves feel stretched thin. Everything’s getting to him today.

Felix leans his head against the window and watches the cars and motorcycles pass on the highway. The touch of Minho’s warm hand on the back of his neck is so similar to his fantasy that Felix jumps a little. Looking back, Minho has a concerned expression on his face. Felix gives him a smile, hoping that will suffice.

Haircut turns on his indicator with a mechanical click, and they take the exit to Haneda airport. Felix sits straighter and puts his mask back on. He can see a small crowd of people behind a few makeshift barrier fences at the door to their airline in the departure terminal, penned in by a couple airport security personnel in reflective yellow vests. Seeing the shifting, unpredictable crowd clears Felix’s head a bit, and he switches into airport mode. Getting through security is always a circus.

The urgent roar of passing buses enters the car when Yi-Joon opens the door, and Felix readies himself for the ritual of airport departures, pulling a hat out of his bag. Minho stands by the curb with his backpack over his shoulder, bucket hat low and a black mask on his mouth. His dark eyes quietly watch Felix climb out of his seat. Felix adjusts his beanie down his forehead and pulls his mask high as they wait for their bodyguards.

Once assembled, they make their slow procession through the crowd at the door, politely pretending they don’t notice the people jostling each other with cameras and cell phones and keeping their heads low to avoid the glare of flashes. Felix waves occasionally and crinkles his eyes so it looks like he’s smiling. The departure terminal is huge, with a towering ceiling built to resemble undulating waves. It takes a long time to cross.

They pass security as a group with relatively few interruptions, and their procession continues at a slower pace through the concourse until they reach the airport lounge. This is where Felix usually gets some rare quiet time while travelling. So he commands himself to stop brooding and takes the opportunity to be productive.

Accepting a bottle of water from a passing JYPE intern, he sits in a large blue armchair facing wide windows that look out on the tarmac. Pulling out his phone, he dutifully combs through emails. The vibes he’s giving off must be prickly because everyone keeps their distance. Glancing up occasionally, he sees Minho talking to Nelson by the coffee bar, an iced americano in his hand. This is normal and correct.

He actually makes good progress in the time they wait, bringing down his unread email badge to 26. The rest are messages that don’t require much attention. Their plane to Seoul will begin boarding soon.

When he looks up again, he sees that Minho is sitting in an armchair directly next to him, watching Felix calmly, almost-empty coffee on the little table between them.

“How long have you been there?” Felix asks, blinking.

“Not long. About five minutes.”

“Sorry. I was just trying to make some progress on these emails. I don’t know why everyone always cc’s us on every schedule request. I mean, I get it. But it’s a lot to wade through.”

“Yes.”

Felix leans against the creaking backrest of the seat, stretching out a cramp in his lower back. It’s also been too long since he’s gone to the gym. Add that to his rapidly filling agenda for the week.

Minho waits until Felix finally meets his eyes again, and leans closer to put his hands around his drink cup. “I don’t mean to keep bugging you. But you still seem down. I want you to know you can talk to me. If you need to.” He looks around the lounge. “It’s hard, right now, to say anything. But I’m here.”

Felix nods slowly, caught between feeling frustrated that he’s been behaving weirdly enough to be noticeable, and reassured that Minho isn’t ignoring him like Felix feared. He can’t keep making Minho worry.

“Hyungie -“ Felix swallows, “I really appreciate that. I guess I’m realising I’m not as professional as I thought. When it comes to this. I’m mostly just annoyed with myself for being distracted. It has nothing to do with you.” He lies.

“Mm.” Minho purses his lips and looks at his cup. Felix can’t tell from his neutral expression if Minho believes his explanation. “Well, Hyunjin just asked me if something went wrong on our vacation. I said we had an amazing time.” Minho says, playing with the straw in his cup lid. “I guess he’s a little worried about you too.”

“Really? Crap, okay.” Felix straightens his spine, glancing over at Hyunjin talking with Yi-Joon. “I’ll try to do better, hyung.”

Minho’s face softens. “I’m not trying to criticise you. We all know each other well. He’s just concerned. And I wanted you to know that you're not alone.”

“Oh.” Felix’s eyes slide off Minho’s face. Sweetness still feels deadly. He clamps down on the surge of panic in his throat. “I know. Thank you, hyung.” He replies with a crooked smile.

“Yeah.” Minho is smiling too, but his usually mobile eyebrows are frozen. He picks up his drink and walks away from the line of chairs, nodding like Felix does when he doesn’t know what to say.

Felix resists the urge to lie down on the floor and just give up. Minho doesn’t know, but every time he tries to reassure him, he just makes everything worse. Felix’s ‘pause’ isn’t working.

The shy staff member whose name starts with ‘N’ - Naeun? - pulls him out of his dark reverie by summoning him to get ready to board.

“Thank god.” Felix mutters as he slings his bag over his head. If he doesn’t make it home soon, he might just hide in a bathroom and completely shrivel up from self-loathing.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Felix definitely made a mistake. It’s Sunday, a day after they returned to Korea post-vacation. He’s absently staring at the white peace lilies in the corner of the well-appointed reception room at his dermatologist’s clinic. It’s 7 o’clock in the morning, and he’s waiting to be admitted for an overdue quarterly consultation.

He’d scheduled this too-early appointment on a whim while he waited for his flight yesterday, responding to the reminder email without thinking. Maybe he’d been making an unconscious attempt to keep himself as busy as possible.

Or maybe he’s just addicted to suffering, he thinks bitterly. The evidence is piling up. Even cheerful Tae, one of the agency assistant drivers, had looked a little surly this morning when Felix climbed into the car for a routine appointment that could’ve been scheduled at a decent hour. Now Felix is sitting in a cushy chair, regretting his impulsive decisions, and wondering if the damage from his scene two days ago will still be visible on his skin. How could he forget about Minho’s marks yesterday? Besides, he’s still a little sunburned.

No matter what, he’s going to get a lecture. Or at least a Look. Dr. Seok is an expert at giving Looks. Felix isn’t exactly in the right mood to withstand those. Especially if it’s in response to what he and Minho did. He might get found out - by the dermatologist of all people! It just hadn’t occurred to him to avoid Dr. Seok. Out of anyone, he’d expected to be most cautious around the ladies from the costume department, who help him change and adjust his fit. Though he’s pretty tight with those noonas. He doesn’t have the same relationship with his dermatologist.

Should he just leave? Claim a last-minute idol schedule emergency? A forgotten guest spot on a live radio show… this early on a Sunday? But this appointment has been postponed twice already due to conflicts with their tour. And he’d stupidly requested a Sunday time slot, which the clinic only does on a limited basis. Better to just get it over with. Right?

He’s still inwardly debating when a sleepy-looking nurse in light green scrubs beckons him to the door. Too late.

They pace through a maze of hallways, and Felix turns into the impeccably clean exam room the nurse indicates. Once inside, she starts pulling objects out of drawers and cupboards, reciting instructions to wash his face and take off his shirt in a practised monotone. She hands him a folded exam gown monogrammed with the clinic logo. The tired cast of her eyes above her face mask displays her disinterest in idols. This dermatology clinic is so popular in the industry that his agency has had a longstanding contract with Dr. Seok for years. For Felix, the nurse’s apathy is rather comforting.

As soon as the door latch clicks behind her, Felix leaps out of the exam chair and rushes to the long mirror on the wall. Whipping off his t-shirt, he turns his back. The lights in this room are designed to be brutally honest, and he’s relieved to see no obvious lines on his back. Maybe his skin is still slightly pink in a couple spots? But not much. He listens for a second to check for footsteps in the hallway, then pulls down his pants. No swelling. The little bruise is still there on his thigh, darker now, but that can be easily explained away.

Felix shrugs on the gown, pulls off his mask, and washes his face at the sink before sitting back down with a sigh. He takes a moment to neatly fold his shirt. At least he doesn’t have to come up with lame lies about scrubbing his back too hard in the shower or falling on his ass repeatedly in dance practice. Anyway, Seok always assumes the worst and would see right through Felix’s lies. And give him a Look.

Felix’s butt had stopped being sore by the time they’d arrived at Haneda airport yesterday, thanks to Minho’s care and medications. The two-and-a-half-hour flight back to Seoul was as comfortable as any these days. Felix had rested his cheek on Hyunjin’s shoulder, passively watching him page through the thick catalogue he’d bought at the National Museum of Western Art in Tokyo. Hyunjin had stared long at every impressionist landscape that had depth and contrast, and let Felix play with his long fingers most of the flight. There was no reason for Felix to feel sorry about losing the ache in his skin.

The door opens with a bang, snapping Felix back to the present with a jolt, and Dr. Seok enters without knocking. He’s a rail-thin man about Felix’s height, with glossy salt-and-pepper hair and smooth skin visible above his mask. It’s hard to guess his age due to his luminous complexion, but Felix would peg him somewhere in his fifties, just by how long he’s worked in the industry.

Seok pulls up a rolling stool and looks at Felix.

“More freckles.” He says without preamble.

Felix just nods and bows. He knows from experience it’s useless to give excuses. And they’ll always have differing opinions about Felix’s freckles.

“Hm.” The doctor makes an ambivalent noise in the back of his throat, gesturing to the nurse. She hands him some nitrile gloves and a flashlight. He gloves up and pulls a pair of heavy glasses from the pocket of his long white coat. Felix straightens as Dr. Seok rolls close and grabs his jaw with chilly, plasticky fingers. He leans very close and shines his bright flashlight, holding Felix’s face at multiple angles.

“You’re still using your toner and serum?”

“Yes sir.”

“Moisturising twice a day?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Felix narrows his eyes as Seok pulls Felix’s nose to one side, and then to the other. The doctor’s breaths puff out his white mask.

“You’re not drinking enough water.”

“Okay. I’ll try harder, sir.”

“Good.” Seok looks at Felix’s neck. “Still taking hot showers.” It isn’t a question.

“Um, sometimes.”

“Hm.”

Felix submits to a further examination of his scalp, ears, and neck while the doctor mutters medical jargon for the nurse to enter into her tablet. Seok gestures for him to stand, and Felix clenches his teeth as he feels his gown pulled aside and the man’s cold touch on his back. He isn’t asked to remove his pants, much to his relief. Seok does give him one of his patented Looks, direct and sharp, when he finds the slight tan lines left by his t-shirt on Felix’s arms.

The awkward examination finally comes to an end. Dr. Seok wheels his stool away and removes his glasses, making his large black eyes suddenly appear smaller. Felix sits back down and watches the doctor warily.

“You’ve damaged your face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve talked about sunscreen.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we need to talk about it again?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Your nose is still inflamed, and we’ll need to keep an eye out for the development of broken capillaries there.” Seok says, arms crossed, his eyes slightly narrowed over his mask as he stares at Felix.

Felix nods, not very alarmed by this ominous statement. Seok likes to mention skin conditions to scare his patients. It used to terrify Felix after his debut. Now, not so much. He’s heard too many stories about Seok’s exaggeration from other idols for it to faze him anymore. He knows he just got a minor sunburn on vacation. It has already mostly faded to tan. An Australian dermatologist would barely bat an eye (though Felix would still get a lecture about sunscreen).

“Your back is inflamed too.”

Felix stiffens. “Is it?” Maybe he’s not completely immune to the fear.

“A little.” Seok uncrosses his arms. “Probably just surface irritation from an abrasion.”

“Hm.” Felix unintentionally mimics Seok’s inscrutable mutter. Fortunately, the doctor doesn’t elaborate.

“In any case,” he pulls off his gloves, “you’ll need red light therapy for the burn, and I recommend our intensive moisturising treatment for your face and back. Miss Park will go over the details with you.”

“Great! I’ll do that sir.” Felix nods, eager to wrap things up.

“Hm.” Dr. Seok looks intently at Felix’s face again, his arched eyebrows angling more than normal. “Your skin…” He trails off.

Felix breathes in through his nose, staring at Seok with a frozen expression. The last thing he needs this morning is to have another disagreement about skin-lightening Glutathione injections. It’s a sore subject between them, one that always seems to come up in the summertime when Felix gets darker. Perhaps sensing Felix’s mood, Dr. Seok’s eyebrows relax.

“We’ll get your skin fixed up in no time. Any other concerns you’d like to mention?”

“No sir.”

“Alright. Take care of yourself, young man.”

Felix relaxes, giving a deep bow. “Thank you, I will sir.” Dr. Seok leaves as abruptly as he’d entered.

Forty minutes later, Felix walks out of the clinic intensively cooled, toned, moisturised, and repeatedly lectured by the esthetician for allowing himself to get sunburned. Not exactly how he’d normally choose to spend his Sunday, but at least he’s out of the dorm.

When he steps onto the street, he notices driver Tae has regained some of his usual cheer. He can’t see Tae’s wide grin beneath his mask, but he looks much more relaxed as he leans against the agency sedan with a paper coffee cup in hand.

“All done?” He asks as he opens Felix’s door.

“Yeah all done.” Felix sighs, climbing in. He buckles his seatbelt and checks his phone. No messages from Minho. He’s probably doing the sane thing and sleeping in, Felix thinks. He’d checked the group calendar yesterday and hadn’t seen anything official scheduled for Minho this morning. There had been nothing listed for Felix either, but he’d taken care of that.

“Where to?” Tae asks as he settles into the driver’s seat, glancing at Felix in the mirror.

He should probably head back to the flat to unpack and do his laundry. Or go to the gym. Or maybe grab a nice breakfast, though his anxiety is telling him he’s eaten too much this week already. Or just talk to Minho and clear the air like a big boy.

Felix had taken advantage of his meeting yesterday evening to stay at the agency much longer than he needed to. Though he’d been relatively productive. He spent the extra time catching up on a few projects and touching base with some of the SKZ team he hadn’t seen in weeks while on tour. He wasn’t being irresponsible, Felix defends himself to no one in his head.

When he arrived home at ten thirty last night, Minho was already in his room with the door closed, no light peeking out of the bottom. Felix had caught up a little with I.n and then went to bed himself. And didn’t sleep until one.

He’s not sure why he always thinks solitude and reflection will help him when he’s conflicted about something. Maybe because he really wants it to. He’s seen it work so well for other people, like Hyunjin and Han. If only he had the clarity of mind to be able to take a step back and calm down. If anything, being alone makes Felix’s bad thoughts and feelings condense like storm clouds. They had last night.

But the sleep helped, a little. At least he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of ruining his life every time he opens his mouth, like yesterday. He should probably just go home and talk to Minho, even though he still has no clue what he wants to say.

To the dorm, then? He can’t keep putting this off. Felix’s phone buzzes, and his heart stutters.

“Sorry, Tae. Can you hang on a sec?”

“Sure sunbaenim.”

CHANGBIN

Hey you. Wake up and come to the gym

FELIX

Wake up yourself. I’ve been up since 6

Just finished at Seok’s clinic

CHANGBIN

Cool. Come to the gym

FELIX

I haven’t had breakfast yet

CHANGBIN

We’ll get something after you come to the gym

FELIX

Or I can go home and get more sleep

CHANGBIN

You need to warm up your arms and core today

With me. AT THE GYM

ISAC is tomorrow

FELIX

We’re going to practice with the archery guy this afternoon

CHANGBIN

That guy? He knows nothing

FELIX

Are you a secret archery guru?

CHANGBIN

Yes

Also, I haven’t seen you since Wednesday

FELIX

Okay. I’ll meet you there

It can't hurt to put off his talk with Minho just a teensy bit later, Felix thinks as the glass door to the JYPE building buzzes open to his thumbprint in the reader. It’s still early, and Minho’s probably still asleep. Plus he’d resolved to get back to the gym after vacation. His physiotherapist would be proud.

Felix greets the reception desk and takes the elevator to the bottom floor. Most of the hallways and offices are dark on the way. Other people have enough sense not to come to the office before 9 am on a Sunday if they don’t have to.

He changes into his workout clothes in the empty locker room and finds Changbin adjusting the lat machine in the back corner of the gym. He’s wearing his usual high-performance shirt and shorts combo, the thin black fabric stretched tight over his muscular shoulders. His black hair is unstyled, and the hectic waves fall into his almond-shaped eyes. He’s wearing his elbow braces, which means he’s working arms today too.

“Hey.” Felix pulls out a yoga mat from the rack to work through his stretches.

“Hey.” Changbin abandons his machine and grabs another mat for himself, though Felix suspects he already warmed up. “It’s been a while.”

“So long!” Felix exaggerates, smiling and throwing his arms wide. It’s been less than a week. “How’s your family?”

“Pretty good.” Changbin mirrors Felix’s pike position on the floor to stretch his hamstrings. He’d spent his vacation at his family’s home in Seoul. “My Dad had a new theatre system installed, and we watched a bunch of movies way too loud because he wanted to show off his surround sound. It drove my aunties crazy.”

“Nice. Was your sister there?”

“Yeah, she took some time off too. But she still didn’t bring her boyfriend. At this point I think she’s intentionally avoiding it.” Changbin looks at his gym shoes. “I guess my Dad can be kinda intimidating, in his way.” He lies down on his side and copies Felix’s clamshell knee lifts, working the opposite leg so they’re facing each other. He doesn’t need to carefully warm up his hips and back after a recent back injury like Felix does. Which means he’s not that focused on his own fitness today.

Felix laughs, charmed by Changbin’s thoughtfulness and his willful misrepresentation of his sister. And his Dad. “I think she’s more concerned about you going after the poor guy.”

“I do not ‘go after’ people! I just need to make sure he’s not a jerk.”

“Your sister is tougher than you. I don’t think she needs your help.”

“I’m tough!” Changbin bellows playfully, his powerful voice echoing off the white walls of the empty gym. His awkward posture - lying sideways with knees butterflied out on a bright pink yoga mat - contradicts his words.

Felix chuckles and shifts onto his knees to grab Changbin’s left shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “I didn’t say you weren’t tough! Just that your sister is tougher.”

“Well that’s true.” Changbin immediately concedes with a smile in his voice, sitting up and leaning closer so Felix will work on his right shoulder instead. “But she can’t hide him forever.”

“No.” Felix agrees happily, digging his fingers into Changbin’s deltoid.

“Agh!” He groans when Felix finds a knot there.

“I guess you haven’t skipped arm day like me.”

“I was just playing around with a new machine my Dad has in his gym.” Changbin groans as Felix follows the stiffness down to his impressive bicep. Felix pictures the gleaming equipment in the personal gym at Changbin’s big family home.

“Uh-huh.” He knows Changbin never ‘plays’ when he needs to relieve stress on weight machines. And Changbin tends to go to the gym even more often when his aunties visit.

“Anyway, stop that!” Binnie says cheerfully, batting Felix’s hands softly. “We’re here to prep you for archery today.”

“Fine.” Felix concedes with one last affectionate squeeze. For some reason, he always feels okay when touching Changbin. Like he’s Felix’s personal Buddha statue. It’s hard to stop. They resume their stretches.

“I’m surprised you still go to Seok’s clinic.” Changbin says, standing up and pulling his arm across his chest.

“Why? We’ve all gone there forever. And he’s helped me a lot with skin problems over the years.”

“Yeahh.” Changbin draws out the word. “But didn’t you tell me he pressures you to get injections?”

“Not so much anymore.” Felix says reluctantly, not sure why he’s defending Seok.

“Which means he still does.” The edge in Changbin’s voice sharpens.

Felix gets into a deep horse stance and slowly rotates his upper body, his hands braced on his knees to stretch his tender lower back. “Occasionally. But it’s no big deal. I just turn them down. He’s supposed to be the best.”

Changbin copies Felix’s stretch again, but he keeps his eyes on Felix, his strong chin jutting stubbornly beneath his black face mask. “The ‘best’ can be overrated. And I remember when you used to come home crying after seeing that guy.”

“When I was seventeen!” Felix looks at Changbin reproachfully. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his tough early years. He’s come a long way since then.

“Still.”

“Anyway, I don’t need him for anything major these days. Plus the agency wants us to go there.” Felix doesn’t need special treatment.

“Sure, but that’s not in our contract anymore when we passed the three-year mark. We’re allowed to go somewhere else.”

“Oh.” Felix straightens. He hadn’t remembered that detail. He’d just assumed he would have to put up with Seok until their contract renewal.

Changbin nods smugly, admirably sculpted arms folded over his chest. “That reminds me, Jihyo-sunbae told me a while ago that most of the girls in Twice have switched away from Seok to a new doctor at a clinic that opened up in Gangnam.”

“Really? What’s it called?”

“I don’t remember, but I can ask. She says they’re a lot nicer there. Think about it. No more Seok and you don’t have to get lymphatic massages done by that cranky lady with sausage fingers anymore.”

“She does not have sausage fingers!”

“Fine, but she always goes too hard.”

“It’s supposed to be hard! I like it.”

“Yeah you do.”

Felix can’t see because of the mask, but he knows Changbin’s crooked little grin is fully sideways now. “Shut up.” He says amiably. Changbin knows too many of his secrets. But not all.

“You know I’m right! So anyway, stop seeing that guy. I’ll go with you somewhere else.”

“Eh.” Felix mutters evasively. It feels like Changbin’s making a big deal out of something pretty minor. Seok is only one voice in a chorus of powerful people in senior positions pushing for changes in every idol’s appearance. Besides, Seok hadn’t technically mentioned injections today anyway.

Changbin bends his arm over his head, leaning to the side and pulling on his elbow to stretch his triceps as he watches Felix. “Did I ever tell you Seok used to pressure me to get face fillers?”

Felix’s head whips around. “What! When was that?” He can accept criticism of himself, but criticism of Changbin is different.

“Around debut.”

Felix stands straight, abandoning his stretches, and stares at Changbin’s masked face. He’s gotten so used to the fuller shape that it’s easy to forget the hard road his friend had travelled to get where he is now. Changbin had been the definition of a late bloomer when they debuted - nineteen years old and struggling to gain weight. He’d withstood a barrage of critiques about his visual from the agency, other trainees, teachers, and people in the industry who liked to give ‘helpful’ advice.

He’d been picked apart. His short height, his skinny body, his long face and square chin - so unlike the v-shape K-pop ideal. Too many people wouldn’t focus on anything besides his (already extremely attractive - Felix thinks) appearance to appreciate his insane talents as a rapper, singer, dancer, and producer. But Changbin had weathered it all. He’d gone to the gym as he always had, took up weight training, ate food with relish, and joyfully put on weight. And didn’t waver even when he started getting the opposite pressure for gaining ‘too much’.

“Well that was a bad call.” Felix says, which completely downplays what a mistake it would’ve been if Changbin had given in to the pressure to get fillers. All he needed was time to grow into his strong features. His cheeks had filled out anyway, which means he would’ve looked kind of bizarre from cosmetic intervention that early.

“Right?!” Changbin exclaims, his eyebrows curving like black punctuation marks above his eyes. “So c’mon, let’s drop Seok!” He knocks his hip against Felix’s, his denser bulk sending Felix staggering.

“Okay okay! Ow!” Felix laughs.

“Good.” Changbin steadies him and then turns to grab a set of resistance bands, nodding his head with satisfaction. Felix stares at his broad back, still a little stunned. Not that Seok had been pressuring a member about fillers. He’s surprised Changbin never complained about it, and he finds himself impressed for the millionth time by Changbin’s unshakeable belief in himself.

“Why did Seok’s clinic make you go in so early this morning anyway? Were they that heavily booked?” Changbin asks.

“No.” Felix says distractedly as he accepts a red resistance band. “I scheduled it because it had been a while. I decided yesterday I wanted to get an appointment today since we’re booked tight all Monday. And that was the only time they had available.” Felix pauses, thinking about it. “To be fair, I might’ve been the only person they saw today.” He frowns. That hadn’t occurred to him earlier. Good thing he hadn’t bailed.

“Really.” Changbin looks at the floor in confusion. “Why the urgency?”

“Well, I just wanted to get out of the house and get some stuff done after vacation. To get moving, you know? That’s all.” Felix says breezily. He gets into position.

“Ok.” Changbin’s quick eyes flash at him.

“Mm.” Felix starts his band sequence, concentrating on working his arms and chest. Changbin leaves him to it and goes back to the lat machine. They work out contentedly for a while, the silence only broken by the clang of the weight machine, and Changbin’s explosive grunts.

It feels so good to move his body. Felix’s tension begins to melt away as he does bicycle crunches on the mat. Changbin eventually wanders over and makes him do medicine ball leg lifts while correcting his form. Felix shoots him a cranky look and Changbin just laughs evilly.

Felix has to consciously slow down as sweat starts forming on his skin and his muscles strain hard. The goal today isn’t a full workout, just get ready for the archery event at the Idol Star Athletics Competition tomorrow. They haven’t done this show since 2020, and he hasn’t touched a bow at all in the two years since then due to the pandemic.

It feels like an eternity has passed since they went head-to-head with other idols in athletic competitions. Like he’d been a child the last time they did that show. Plus, he’s captaining the 3-person archery team again with I.n and Minho. I.n’s already nervous because this is his first time competing in the event, and Hyunjin can’t participate like he had in previous years due to his broken hand.

Now that Felix has a chance to think about it, it’s clear the ISAC games are going to be a mess for them tomorrow. Rule changes and agency interference have resulted in the Stray Kids members only competing in the archery event, which is a big change from the 4-5 events they usually participated in annually. Everyone in the group is going to be pent-up, bored, and jittery. Maybe it’s a blessing Felix was too preoccupied lately to make himself nervous about it.

“You have to be kidding!” He groans in frustration as he pulls on the weight machine lat bar. It doesn’t budge. He should’ve checked the setting before using it after Changbin was here. Changbin giggles and steps away from the free-weight bench to pull the pin on the machine’s stacked weights. He resets it to a much less ridiculous load.

“Thanks.” Felix sighs, able to pull the bar all the way down in a fluid motion. He efficiently works through a set of twenty, then takes a moment to rest and watch Changbin. His form is perfect. The clean line of his back is perfectly level, like a table, as he leans parallel to the bench, pulling up a heavy kettle weight to work his back and left triceps. The position does wonders for his ass.

It really is lucky for Felix that Changbin is so stubbornly heterosexual. Felix is already far too hopelessly entangled in his obsession with one group member to have an added temptation. But damn, Changbin is a beautifully masculine man.

He shakes his head at his own absurdity and begins another set of 20. Changbin finishes at the bench and comes up behind him, placing a finger on each shoulder to keep them in the proper low position as Felix pulls.

“Your posture has improved.” He comments.

“Thanks!” Felix grunts, pulling the bar again. “All it took was a herniated disk.”

“Well, physiotherapists are good at improving your alignment. Are you still going?”

“Yeah, when I can.” The machine clangs as Felix lets out the bar for the twentieth time.

“One more!” Changbin shouts.

“I hate you!” Felix strains but completes the pull-down.

“You love me.” Changbin replies happily.

“Gah!” The weight stack clicks to rest and Felix stumbles back to his mat, lying down and breathing hard. Changbin sits next to him again. Felix can hear metal doors banging in the locker room, which means the building is coming back to life.

“How was Hakone? Hyunjin said you and Minho had a nice time.” Changbin asks quietly as Felix pants humidly into his mask while staring at the ceiling.

“Fantastic!” He gushes, conscious of Minho’s warning about Hyunjin’s concern for Felix yesterday. Hyunjin and Changbin might’ve talked about that at their dorm last night. Those two are like a couple of mother hens when they get together, always clucking over their brood. Felix really needs to not be weird about this subject anymore.

“I spent way too much time in the onsen, the heat almost made me faint! You would’ve loved it.” It wasn’t just the hot water that made Felix lightheaded.

“I would’ve loved almost fainting?” Changbin scoffs playfully.

“Yes.” Felix hits Changbin’s leg. “You would’ve loved the onsen. It’s a stone pool in a wooden hut that’s open to the garden so you can look outside while you bathe. And the ryokan was really beautiful. Plus the food was great.”

“That does sound amazing. I can’t believe you went without me.” Pouts Changbin. “Did Minho like it?”

“Yeah.” Felix says, voice carefully casual. “He actually spent more time in the onsen than I did. We went in together, and filmed it for the vlog.”

“Kinky.” Changbin playfully pushes Felix’s arm with a limp wrist.

“You have a dirty mind.” Says Felix, with maybe a little too much fervour. Changbin has no idea how correct he is.

“Yes I do. That vlog will be popular.” Changbin says with satisfaction. “When will it go up? I’d like to see it.”

“Not sure. Probably after they post the tour footage. And it depends on Iseul’s turn-around time.” Felix remarks about their lead editor.

“She’s usually pretty quick.”

“Mhm.” That’ll be weird to watch, Felix thinks ruefully, knowing everything that happened off-camera.

“Well, next time you want to faint from the heat, let me know, and we can visit a jjimjilbang in Seoul. I know some really good ones, and I’ve been meaning to go for a while.”

“I’d love that.” Felix says truthfully. It would be nice to enjoy a bathhouse without leaping straight into a complicated romantic entanglement with a co-member, he thinks wryly.

He and Changbin run through their cool down as more people trickle into the gym. The space slowly fills with the sound of a treadmill and clanking weights. Felix’s skin begins stinging from the sweat on his freshly treated face, so they head to the locker room to rinse off and change. He vetoes going out for a big breakfast, preferring a small meal at the cafe upstairs, and Changbin obliges him.

Afterwards, he kind of regrets turning down an elaborate, time-consuming meal when he watches Changbin step into the elevator to head down to Chan’s studio. Felix had done everything he needed to do in this building yesterday, so there’s no reason to linger. He should go home. If he doesn’t do his laundry from their tour now, he knows he won’t get around to it until he has to pack up again in less than a week. He has no food at home, and he needs to make a shopping list. He also needs to get ready for archery this afternoon.

He needs to talk to Minho.

His feet start walking him in the direction of the garage before he’s aware he made a decision, so he pulls out his phone to text Tae for a pickup. After sending it, he switches over to look at his chat records with Minho. Still no message from him.

It shouldn’t bother him so much. Felix hasn’t sent anything to Minho either, and this ‘pause’ was Felix’s idea in the first place. Minho’s probably just waiting for him to pull himself together. His hyung has never been one to push for a resolution, preferring to let time and space do the trick. Felix’s instincts are exactly the opposite.

Twenty minutes later, he discovers his stress about coming home was overblown. Seungmin tells him Minho left over an hour ago.

“Oh. Okay.” Felix sighs, the blush on his cheeks making his skin irritation flare. “Did he say where?”

“Nope.” His flatmate pulls a carton of eggs out of the fridge, and checks on something crackling in a pan on the stove. “Did you need him?”

That’s an uncomfortably accurate turn of phrase. “It’s nothing urgent. Just archery stuff.” He replies vaguely, sitting on the sofa backward with his arms resting on the back cushions so he can watch Seungmin cook. “Whatcha making?” He asks in English.

“Spam and eggs.” Seungmin pokes at the contents of the pan as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, making his luxurious bangs stand up in spikes. Seungmin has the most gloriously thick hair, Felix thinks. The things he could do with that much hair!

“Yum.”

“Want some?” Seungmin looks over at him, and Felix can see just a hint of a shadow on the friendly curve of his upper lip. It’s strange how a little detail like that can make his friend look so much older.

“No thanks, I already ate.” Felix scans the apartment. Minho’s door is closed, which is normal. There’s a pile of boxes in front of it, which is also normal. Those are probably recent deliveries for I.n or Seungmin, brought up by the security guard and left near the entrance. Minho’s backpack is gone from the line of hooks by the front door.

Seungmin ambles over to I.n’s open bedroom door. He’s wearing thick blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt that hangs squarely on his tall slender frame. Felix has no idea how he can sleep in such heavy pants in the summer.

“Coffee?” Seungmin calls through the door, wooden spatula held high next to his ear as he waits for a reply.

“Please.” Says I.n faintly, his silvery voice tarnished with sleep. Seungmin nods and shuffles happily back into the kitchen, opening a bottom cupboard to pull out two coffee pods, one blue and one silver. Felix watches fondly as Seungmin fills a pitcher with water and pours it into the reservoir of his sleek little coffee machine. He snaps in the silver pod. After placing I.n’s red mug beneath the spigot, he presses the glowing button on top and glances over at Felix quizzically. He points at the rapidly filling mug with his eyebrows raised.

“No thanks.” Felix says again with a smile, laying his cheek on his arm. Seungmin knows Felix doesn’t like coffee, but he always offers anyway, which is sweet. He hears a footstep, and I.n appears in his bedroom doorway, platinum blonde hair flat on one side and pillow creases visible on his cheek. His grey shorts are sagging, and he’s wearing one of Chan’s old black tank tops. He slumps over to join Felix on the couch.

“Sleeping beauty.” Felix says warmly as he ruffles I.n’s hair, trying to get the flat right side to match the left. I.n must still be pretty sleepy because he submits to the admiration docily. He does emit a grumble, but it’s just for show.

“Why are you so awake?” I.n complains to Felix, narrowing his sharp eyes and leaning his cheek against his hand as Felix brushes fingertips through his eye-catching bright locks.

“Dermatologist appointment.” Felix answers. Playing with I.n’s hair gives him the itch to bleach his own again. But he really should wait to let it grow out.

“On a Sunday? You’re committed.” Seungmin says with satisfaction, beating eggs in a bowl with chopsticks.

“I’m a committed guy.” Felix switches from petting I.n’s hair to massaging his scalp. I.n’s eyes droop shut and he appears to fall back asleep, his high cheekbone still charmingly creased. Seungmin dumps the egg mixture into the pan with a juicy sizzle, and pauses, humming a jaunty tune Felix can’t quite catch.

“You guys don’t have much time to train before ISAC this year. You nervous?” Seungmin starts scrambling the eggs, releasing steam that flutters his wild bangs.

Felix sighs, pulling his hand out of the tangle on I.n’s head. “I’m always nervous at ISAC. Archery is so much more a mental game than a physical one. It’s not like running the 60 metres.”

“Chan’s so pissed he can’t run the 60 metres.” I.n says without opening his eyes, though his arched lips quirk devilishly. Felix jumps, not expecting his sleepy massage recipient to be alert.

“Yeah.” Felix agrees. “He’s going to be practically buzzing while he watches everyone else compete in his favourite events.”

“So is Hyunjin.” Adds Seungmin sadly. “He loves the archery event.”

“Jinnie doesn’t buzz. He pines.” I.n says, finally opening his eyes and slowly rising to his feet. He meanders into the kitchen to grab the coffee mug Seungmin prepared for him. Seungmin turns around and laughs loudly with a wide mouth.

“You should let Felix style your hair more often!” He says, pointing an eggy spatula at I.n’s head. Felix’s massage left his hair in an awkward dome shape, still somewhat flat on one side.

“Sure.” Agrees I.n with a grin, taking a sip of the coffee and wincing at the heat.

“Wait! I need a picture of this.” Seungmin pats his pockets, trying to find his phone.

“No, you don’t.” I.n replies lazily. He blows on his drink.

Felix hears a suspiciously loud crackle emanating from the pan. “Your eggs are burning.”

“Gahh!” Seungmin abandons his phone search to make a dive for the pan spatula-first.

“Did you not sleep well?” Felix asks I.n, who’s dodging out of Seungmin’s way while yawning over his mug.

“Yeah not great.” He sighs. “I spent hours watching Olympic archery videos in bed, trying to figure out how they’re so good. All it did was stress me out.”

“Have you seen ISAC, Innie? You’re not going to be dealing with Olympic-level shooting! Just do your best. That’s all anyone expects.” Seungmin says as he scrapes out the contents of his pan onto a plate. He managed to save most of the eggs from browning.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying. But it’s the most popular event, and I keep getting conflicting advice about shooting!” I.n hisses and shakes off his hand after sloshing hot coffee. “How am I supposed to keep it all straight?”

Felix nods his head in understanding. He and I.n have the same problem when it comes to learning new skills. They usually need to break it into parts and then put it back together again. Like a puzzle. It makes Felix feel like everyone else starts with larger puzzle pieces than him when they speed past him in the beginning. He used to think that meant he had less talent, though he couldn’t bring himself to believe that about I.n. They’ve both gained a lot of confidence since then. In most things.

“We’ll tackle that today with the trainer. Until then, maybe stop watching Olympic archery?” Felix suggests tactfully.

“Yeah, take a break. Eat.” Seungmin piles rice from the cooker into two bowls then adds the crispy spam and eggs, followed by a splash of soy sauce from their overflowing drawer of condiment packets. He hands one to I.n., who takes it graciously. Some of the tightness in his jaw has softened.

“We can watch the baseball game that’ll be on soon…” Seungmin says hesitantly with wide eyes. His braces twinkle as he smiles hopefully in I.n’s direction, and even his slippered feet turn inwards like an excited ten-year-old. I.n silently returns his gaze, smile wide like Seungmin’s, but one eye is completely scrunched shut.

“I can’t watch any more sports today.”

“…Or we can go back to one of the dramas we started.” Seungmin suggests with a dimmer twinkle. “We never get all the way through any of them.”

“Thanks hyung.” I.n says in a quiet voice, dimpling a more genuine smile this time.

“Yeah, it’s okay. The Lotte Giants are doing terrible this season. You’re saving me from a bad mood.”

“Your team does terrible every season.” I.n replies without fear as the two of them wander into I.n’s bedroom.

“Wow. That’s your team too! I’m not the one from Busan.”

“Still true.”

“I’m gonna tell your dad your real feelings about his favourite team.”

“Hey!”

Felix smiles and waves them off when they gesture at him to join. He wanders into his room and stares at the large silver touring suitcase still standing abandoned in the middle of his rug. Well. Time to start dealing with some things.

He’d left his room mostly tidy before heading out on tour. Only the white and blue gingham duvet is rucked up by his restless night. He switches on the set of LED lights strung up around the ceiling and makes them a warm yellow. Opening the window blinds lets the sun in, even with the sheer white curtains drawn. Then he turns on the large gaming PC on his desk. Not because he feels like playing, but because he likes the rainbow lights he installed on the CPU tower, monitors, and keyboard. Finally, he levers the cumbersome suitcase onto his little twin bed and pulls open the zipper.

The chime of the Netflix app opening travels faintly through the open door of the shared bathroom connecting his room with I.n’s. Felix relaxes a little. Seungmin and I.n’s loud voices debating which drama to watch make him feel less alone than he had last night.

Most of the contents of his bag go straight into a hamper. He hadn’t packed dirty clothes separately, so he’ll just have to wash them all. He pauses when he spots a slip of gauzy black fabric tangled in the corner. A tug reveals the new shirt he’d bought to wear for Minho, and it’s horribly creased. It must’ve gotten compressed into a ball in transit, but a closer look doesn’t reveal any major damage. There are no embarrassing stains either, which is a relief.

He fetches a hanger from his wardrobe. They have a steamer somewhere in the flat, so he can probably revive it himself. For now, he hangs the sadly wilted shirt on his wardrobe door, and rubs the fabric between his fingers. The grainy mesh of the lace brings back a visceral flash of that night with startling clarity: Minho’s confident hands roughly pull this shirt up to scrape against the skin of Felix’s neck as Minho leans down to bite Felix’s aching nipples…

Felix shivers and sits on the bed. All the turmoil of the last few days is bubbling up again, like a kettle steaming at the edge of a boil for a long time. It just takes a bump of heat. But unlike yesterday, he doesn’t feel like he’s about to explode from the pressure.

The music next door does a comedic swoop, and he hears I.n’s boisterous laugh. The world isn’t ending. Neither is his career. Yet. It will be if he keeps avoiding his problems.

He should’ve just talked to Minho yesterday when all this came up. Despite being wrung out after a mind-blowing scene. Even if it meant risking blubbering at him all the way back to Korea. Now, not only do they have to navigate the huge challenge of engaging in an unsanctioned relationship in a rising popular K-pop group, but he also has to undo the damage of his immature reaction to Minho’s unfiltered feelings.

Also, he should’ve folded the shirt.

Felix rubs his face hard. He really needs to do damage control. But how? Maybe it would be best to address this tangle when Minho is ready, right? They’ve never fought before, but from what he’s seen of Minho’s conflicts with other members, he knows Minho doesn’t like to dwell on hurt feelings. So Felix should avoid being needy and wait until Minho returns and seems receptive. Until then, he needs to stop moping because it just makes everything worse.

He rolls to his feet and forces himself to keep moving by sorting and loading the laundry. He’s about to press the start button on the washing machine when he suddenly realises he hasn’t seen his purple silk ribbon anywhere.

His heart clenches, and he abruptly jerks open the door to pull everything out of the washer, spreading each article of clothing on the wooden floor of the kitchen. No ribbon. He checks all the pockets. No ribbon. He looks in his shoulder bag. No. He goes back to his room and scoops everything out of the suitcase. Nothing. He empties the crumpled shopping bag that carried all his other purchases from Tokyo that day, but it isn’t there.

f*ck. Where had he last seen it? Minho had taken it off his neck before they went to sleep that night. He remembers that. Had it been sitting near the hotel bed? Or on the table? Did he put it somewhere else while he got ready that morning? Is it lying abandoned under that bed?

Of all the things he could’ve mislaid, it had to be that ribbon! Tears well up in his eyes, and he checks everything again, though his hope is dwindling that he missed a hidden pocket somewhere. Remembering Minho’s joke about forgetting his underwear in the hotel room makes him wince. At this point, he’d gladly donate a pair of his grossest underwear online if it meant he could get the ribbon back. Why did he run off in such a hurry without checking the room carefully?

He’s actually crying now, silent tears that burn his cheeks. He can’t even tell if it’s from sadness or frustration. This is a perfect reflection of how he’s handled this entire situation. Ignoring the wetness on his face, Felix numbly walks back into the kitchen and sits on the floor. He checks each piece of clothing one last time before throwing it back in the washer.

“Um, hey. You okay?” I.n asks, frozen in his bedroom door with a pile of empty dishes in his hands.

“Not really.” Felix swipes his face with the shirt in his hand before throwing it in the washer and closing the hatch. “I think I might’ve lost something.”

“Really? I’m sorry! Was it important?” I.n crosses to the sink and deposits the dishes with a clatter.

“No, it just had sentimental value.” Felix says with a shrug, standing up and pressing the start button.

“Can I help you look for it?”

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure it’s back in Japan.”

I.n’s dimples wink in a sympathetic grimace. “Do you know where you lost it? Maybe we can get Yi-Joon to contact the hotel or the venue. If you’re that attached to it, we should get it back.” He leans against the sink. “What is it?”

Felix shakes his head and tries to explain, realising too late he’s managed to back himself into a corner, but unable to quickly formulate a way out. “It’s not like my passport or anything expensive. Just sort of a… token.”

“Felix-ah!” I.n’s jaw goes slack. His surprise is meant as a tease, but Felix can tell it’s a little genuine.

He immediately backpedals. “It’s not like that! I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. It’s not important.”

I.n just looks at him for a minute, conflicting impulses written on his face. He’s still standing motionless by the sink, like he’d planned to do dishes but forgot why he’s there. Felix leaves the rumbling washer and awkwardly squeezes his arm.

“I’m just tired and stressed. I got up way too early this morning! And I hate losing stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

I.n closes his mouth with a click and nods. It’s clear he’s choosing to take the courteous route instead of prying. “Yeah okay. Just let me know if you want help.”

“Thanks mate.” Felix says heartily, “I’m gonna rest until it’s time to go to the range.”

“Sure. Do you want me to wake you up?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Felix says, already turning towards his door.

Felix curls up on his side on the bed and stares at the shirt. The lights on his computer cycle through the rainbow. The whole spectrum from red to violet, then violet to red, over and over and over and over. He pulls out his phone.

FELIX

I’m still struggling, hyung

He anxiously taps the display screen against his nose. Minho doesn’t make him wait long.

MINHO

Yes

Thanks for telling me

FELIX

Can you come? I’m at home

MINHO

Yeah. I’ll be back in about an hour

FELIX

Thanks hyung

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

“I wanna take my clothes off.” Felix hears Bang Chan say in English. “I actually wanna take my clothes off so bad!”

Seungmin and I.n’s gales of laughter echo hollowly through the bathroom, followed by the telltale whump of someone falling off a bed.

“He might die.” I.n gasps between hiccups. He doesn’t sound worried. Seungmin’s belly laughs pile up until all Felix can hear are faint throat clicks.

Felix slides the frozen gel mask off his face and looks around in confusion. The gauzy rectangle of sunlight on his wall hasn’t disappeared completely, so it isn’t noon yet. He hasn’t been out long. Crying always drains him, so he must’ve nodded off after lying down with a cool mask to soothe his face.

The hectic spurts of laughter next door continue with only brief gurgling pauses, and beneath it, Felix can hear panting and moaning noises. He climbs to his feet slowly and follows the sound, not entirely convinced he’s awake.

Through the open bathroom, Felix enters I.n’s room to see Seungmin crumpled half on the floor, leaning against I.n’s bed to watch the open laptop. I.n is sitting against his pillows, rubbing his eyes as he snickers blearily.

“This doesn’t feel so good.” Chan’s voice mutters unsteadily from I.n’s computer.

Felix stands, puzzled, in the middle of the room. “What?” He asks the bed. I.n can only gesture wordlessly toward the screen.

“Wait wait!” Seungmin lunges at the laptop. “Let’s go back.” He scrolls left with the cursor while chuckling in anticipation. Felix scoots in next to I.n and watches the screen. On it, he sees the familiar green wall and black sofa of Chan’s studio. The vlive logo is in the corner, and the red bar at the bottom shows Chan’s Room is live. There’s a pink paper ramyeon bowl on the desk in the foreground and Chan’s swivel chair sits empty. But Felix can hear the sound of someone panting.

“Where…?” He asks, feeling like he’s playing a game of twenty questions.

“Just wait.” Seungmin murmurs.

Felix waits. The panting intensifies. He jumps when Chan’s head suddenly appears in the bottom left corner from below the level of the desk. He’s crawling. Chan’s usually sunny face is pinched and blotchy beneath a Stray Kids beanie, and his wide-set eyes are rolling strangely. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and his expression is one of deep preoccupation while he holds onto the chair like it’s a life raft.

“Is he drunk?” Felix asks.

“Not exactly.” Seungmin replies

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing.” Chan comments to no one in Korean as he slowly climbs back into his chair like a feverish man who’s not quite sure where he is. The situation becomes clear to Felix when Chan grabs some chopsticks and pulls up a big tangle of red-stained noodles from the bowl on his desk. He looks at it with obvious trepidation.

“He’s actually doing it?” Felix says, covering up a big smile with his hands.

“I think it’s his way to protest getting shut out of competing at ISAC.” Seungmin squeezes back onto the tiny bed, crushing Felix and I.n’s legs.

“Oh my god!” Felix groans in English, torn between amusem*nt and exasperation as he watches their fearless leader flail his muscular arms helplessly when the next mouthful of spicy ramyeon hits him. Naturally, Chan would pick torture by spicy food as a protest. He always takes out his frustrations on himself first.

“Yesterday he kept talking about wanting to do it, but I reminded him that he keeps backing out.” I.n shakes his head with wide, innocent eyes. “So of course he took it as a challenge. We got the notification that he was live, so I checked.” He shrugs and indicates Chan on screen, who’s standing now and shadowboxing with his chair as he desperately forces air in and out of his mouth to cool the heat.

“I don’t envy Changbin tonight.” Seungmin says ominously. Changbin shares a bathroom with Chan. Felix laughs against his will, thinking about the day-long shoot they have to do at the gymnasium tomorrow. Protest indeed.

They all watch with amusem*nt as Chan’s distress magnifies. His lips become bright red, vivid even in the pixelated video feed. He starts slurring and swaying drunkenly in his chair from the discomfort, getting progressively more punchy and unguarded. He’s also laughing constantly, but Felix recognizes it as the compulsive laughter Chan falls into when he’s desperately uncomfortable. And he’s still trying to answer fan questions, which seems both admirable and inadvisable at this point.

“I might need to go to the hospital.” Chan finally snickers to the camera loopily, looking like he finds the idea hilarious. Seungmin slides halfway off the bed again, dissolving in chuckles.

“Yahh!” Minho’s sharp voice carries loudly through I.n’s open door. “Who left these packages here? Again?”

All three men sandwiched on the bed jump, and Seungmin and I.n look at each other apprehensively. Felix hears the soft thumps of cardboard boxes toppling over in the next room.

“Sorry hyung!” The two say in chorus, scrambling into the living room. Felix follows at a slower pace. His heartbeat is kicking up even though he’s pretty sure none of the packages are his. He finds Minho standing in gym clothes in front of his bedroom with his backpack on one shoulder, surrounded by strewn boxes. Minho doesn’t move as I.n and Seungmin grab their orders.

When they moved into this flat less than a year ago, Minho volunteered to take the room at the front of the building, which no one else wanted. It had two windows that faced the busy street five stories below, making it more exposed, and it was closer to the loud elevator. Plus, a third disadvantage was revealed not long after they settled in: the door to Minho’s room, located next to the front entrance, is also the most convenient place to put deliveries.

They get a lot of deliveries.

Felix can see at least two rectangular boxes that look suspiciously like new shoes in the pile I.n’s balancing in his arms. Another bulky box with the logo of Seungmin’s favourite coffee pods is being wrestled away by the offending owner.

“Sorry. Sorry hyung.” I.n and Seungmin repeat as they clear the mess, but Minho’s face stays locked, his aristocratic nostrils flaring. I.n retreats back to his room with his stuff, shooting a look that says ‘Watch out! Minho’s in a bad mood,’ at Felix as he passes him. Felix lifts his head in acknowledgment.

I.n and Seungmin’s doors close in tandem and Felix finds himself standing alone in the living room with Minho.

“Hey.” He says quietly, biting his lip in sympathy for Minho’s frustration. Packages block his bedroom doorway too often. Some of them are Felix’s. Minho finally looks at him, and the irritation melts off his face, leaving behind an odd weariness.

“Hey Bokie.” He says, turning and opening his door. “You wanna come in?”

“Yeah!” Felix’s casual stroll into the room is more like a spastic sprint.

Despite the inconvenient location, this room feels like a haven to Felix, which is probably a reflection of its owner. Minho values comfort and quality over style, so his little bed is covered in thick white bedding, he has a comfy loveseat, a smooth wool rug laid over the wood parquet flooring, and two floor lamps that lend a warm ambience. He mounted a small television on the wall facing the foot of his bed, while the front wall features two windows that let in a lot of light, even with the dark green curtains closed. Plus, it just smells like Minho, like clean cotton and mint gum and lingering cedar from his favourite cologne.

Minho throws his backpack in a corner before shutting the door to the bathroom he shares with Seungmin and then settles into his loveseat with a sigh. Felix closes the bedroom door behind himself and awkwardly lingers there. Minho didn’t bother turning on the lights, so the room has the murky green cast of the curtains.

Minho looks at him. “C’mere.” He says softly, indicating the bed near him.

Felix nods and hurries over to sit stiffly on the corner of the bed, unsure what to do with his hands. He picks up Minho’s giant squid stuffy he uses for a body pillow and puts his arms around it, holding on tight.

“Where did you go today?” It really isn’t Felix’s business, but he can’t quite stifle his curiosity.

“Jisung. Then my trainer.” Minho says simply.

“Ah, okay.” Felix nods slowly. An awkward silence creeps between them. Minho grabs a remote off the arm of the chair and the TV next to him lights up. He clicks through to a nature documentary with panoramic shots and swelling orchestral music, and increases the volume. A small lizard on screen is being watched by a chequered snake on a rocky beach.

“I brought Jisung some breakfast.” Minho finally elaborates, turning away from the screen.

“That’s nice.” Felix replies, then pauses before asking, “Did you need someone to talk to?”

“We didn’t really talk about anything in particular.” Minho says, then pauses to reflect. “I guess I didn’t want to be alone this morning.”

Felix squeezes the squid hard. The lizard on screen finally falls prey to the ambush in a dramatic shot of the long smooth snake coils enveloping its flailing body, constricting tight.

“Because of me?”

“Because of a lot of things.” Minho answers. Felix stares at him, probably a little too intensely. “Including you.” Minho admits.

“Yeah.” Felix absorbs this information. The snake on the screen draws his wandering eyes. He watches it creep into a small rock grotto where it lays long, soft, white eggs. A low voice with a clipped British accent explains in English that they will hatch in two months. “I’m sorry.” Felix murmurs.

Minho shakes his head dismissively. “Um...” he starts, regarding Felix with an odd mixture of tenderness, frustration, and yearning on his face. “How about you? What’ve you been up to?”

“Nothing, really.” Felix says seriously. Despite what he’s been telling himself, he knows everything he’s done in the past 24 hours has been a thinly-veiled attempt to avoid his problems. “Some meetings and appointments.” He rubs his cheek against the fuzzy squid. Be honest. “I’ve been hiding.”

Minho looks down at his lap and the left side of his mouth tips up sardonically. “Mm.”

”Not because of anything you did!” Felix loudly assures him.

“I get it.” Minho says hastily, then makes a silent shushing motion. Felix pats his mouth with his fingertips to remind himself where he is. The walls here aren’t as thin as they were in their old dorm, but they’re not soundproof. Minho turns up the volume on the TV again. Dark clouds blow across the beach on screen, releasing thick curtains of rain. Water trickles into the snake’s cave and the music swells.

Muffled by a dramatic drumroll, Minho gets up and sits next to Felix on the bed, pausing to stroke the squid in his arms. Felix’s face heats and he has to remind himself that Minho isn’t even touching him.

“Can you tell me what you’ve been hiding from?” Minho asks quietly, still caressing the doll.

Can he?

“How do I explain?” Felix says, not sure if he’s asking Minho or himself. Minho just looks up at him with his large eyes. “I’ve been hiding because I don’t want you to see me.”

Minho blinks hard. “Okay.”

Felix leans back a little, digging his fingers into the squid’s soft belly. “I’m afraid you don’t realise what you bargained for.” He explains faintly. “It’s one thing to be friends. You already know that I take things way too seriously, and I’m high maintenance…”

Minho’s brows crease, and he makes a pacifying gesture.

Felix shakes his head vigorously. “You know it’s true. I’m a sponge, and I’m always dry, no matter what!” His tense whisper grows quieter despite the urgency in his tone. “Playing out a scene with you left me bleeding everywhere, and I don’t want to- to suck you dry.” Felix stutters to a stop, reaching the limit of his comparison.

“I’m afraid I’ll scare you away.” He finishes lamely.

“How could you scare me away?” Minho’s expression is genuinely concerned, and Felix experiences a pang of trepidation for disillusioning him.

“Seriously?” He asks in English, then switches to insolent Korean. “Have you met me? Do you have any idea how much I want you? No, not that. Everything I want from you?”

Minho stares at him for a solid ten seconds before his face finally crumples in frustration. “How can I know when you won’t tell me?” He looks away at the ceiling, his eyebrows deeply furrowed. It feels like someone’s stabbing Felix’s belly, in some fundamental organ he can’t survive without.

“Okay okay, look.” Felix whispers anxiously. “Here it is.” He takes a deep breath. If he can’t explain, this whole thing with Minho is going to implode before it even starts.

“I kinda want you to wreck me.”

Minho looks back at him, his face tipping to the side in a manner that’s exactly like an old tabby cat staring at a hairless cat for the first time in confusion. Felix sighs and tries to elaborate.

“Like, invade every part of my life. Boss me around, slap me down, keep track of me, make crazy demands. Mould me into any shape you want. I mean, change me fundamentally!” Felix knows he’s begun to ramble but he can’t stop. “Just… take care of me in every single way. Make me yours. I want you so much! Do you get it?” Felix asks in a rush, squeezing Minho’s thigh hard. He senses the cork has been pulled on his feelings, and they’re all fizzing out messily now. “Everything I keep wanting is so dumb and impractical and sappy and - and probably unhealthy. Plus all that stuff would add up to a second full-time job on top of everything else we do. It’s ridiculous!”

The awful, strange, insecure look on Minho’s face finally cracks and he laughs, painfully.

“What -”

Minho’s hand grabs Felix’s face in a bitingly hard grip, fingers clutching his mouth so Felix can’t complete the question. Felix is too surprised to make a sound. He just looks at Minho, who’s still smiling.

“Yongbok.” He tilts his head further and speaks steadily into Felix’s ear. “That’s. Exactly. What. I. Want.”

Felix lets out a breath in a rush through his nose. Minho can’t be serious.

As if sensing Felix’s doubt, Minho grabs the back of Felix’s head with his other hand, holding him like a vice. He pulls Felix closer until the only thing separating them is the bulky, eerily-smiling squid.

“You wanna get wrecked?” Minho asks in a laidback voice that’s also somehow deadly serious. “Sure. I can do that.” Felix trembles. He can see Minho’s full set of teeth, and his eyes have gone hot. “I can probably break you down in minutes. What do you think I’ve been imagining all these years while you tease and touch and flirt with everyone? Why do you think I kept my distance?”

The air Felix is currently sucking into his nose doesn’t seem to have oxygen in it. It’s hard to doubt Minho when he phrases it like that and holds Felix’s head like it’s a favourite bowling ball he’s about to roll directly into heavy pins. Felix makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“I thought you couldn’t take it.” Minho huffs a sharp laugh. “But I guess we’re both discovering I was wrong about that.” He licks his lips. “Do you agree?”

Felix tries to speak and fails. He blinks his eyes slowly at Minho instead.

“Yes.” Minho confirms for him and holds Felix locked in place. There’s nowhere for him to hide. He stares at Minho as an unholy mix of alarm, excitement, and affection makes his guts knot. Minho’s eyes scan Felix's face closely, and his sneer softens.

“If you would trust me.” His fingers finally release their deadly clench and delicately trace Felix’s lips. “Hyung will do anything you want. Anything.”

It’s a good thing Minho’s still holding the back of Felix’s neck because he feels like the floor and ceiling have switched. All he knows is Minho is staring intensely at him like he wants to either snuggle or strangle him. Probably both.

Felix touches his buzzing cheek absently. “You want. To get involved that much? And take care of me?” He says every statement like each one is less believable than the last. “I figured most people in our situation wouldn’t want a relationship that intense. I thought I was being naive.”

Minho’s smile is genuine. “You thought wrong.”

“Oh.” Felix says weakly, staring at Minho’s mouth as he tries and fails to assimilate this new information. Maybe because this sort of vulnerability is incredibly dangerous in their line of work. Minho’s clear eagerness continues to mystify him.

Ever since Felix came to Korea alone as a teen, he’s held himself back. Not professionally, but in other ways. When his doubts about his ability to pull off a debut overwhelmed him too often, he’d stop himself from snuggling his beleaguered roommates as much as he wanted. When his rap instructor constantly insinuated Felix was too soft and queer to rap properly, and he’d been forced to ask another trainee about the strange Korean phrases the man kept using, Felix had just bowed and apologised. On holidays when the dorms emptied and he hadn’t managed to talk his way into someone else’s family visit, he’d play it off like he’d been yearning to have the dorm to himself. When the constant lectures and criticisms in training became too much too often, he’d push it down instead of confiding in anyone.

Because this is the career he chose. And he was hellbent on succeeding. He did succeed! But somewhere along the way, he’d absorbed the message that Felix is just too much.

He always finds it kind of ironic that his friends praise him so highly for his emotional honesty and vulnerability. They don’t know Felix is only showing them maybe half the deep abyss of need inside him at any given time.

“Bok-ah.” Minho’s finger presses Felix’s bottom lip down, then releases it. Like he just wanted to watch it bounce. “I love the way you are. You’re not a ‘sponge’.” He draws out his pronunciation of the last word to express distaste. “You’re the only person I’ve met who gets such a contagious thrill out of me pushing them around.”

Felix blinks, then abruptly pulls his head away from Minho’s hands, hiding his chin behind the triangle top of the squid. “Am I that obvious?”

Minho laughs. “No baby. It’s only clear to me because I’m twisted enough to keep looking for it.”

Felix leans his cheek against the stuffy. “I guess we’re both twisted.” he says quietly. And a f*ck up. Minho doesn’t even know yet that Felix lost their ribbon.

“Fun, isn’t it?” Minho smiles at him askant.

Felix laughs hard, pressing both hands against his mouth to keep the sound in, his eyes round. The gasps escaping his mouth grow sharp. “Yeah. Maybe a little too fun.”

Minho looks at him seriously. “Is this too much? You said our scene was ‘too good’, and it left you ‘bleeding’.” His steady voice falters. “I don’t want to mess you up.”

That’s a question Felix has been spending the last 24 hours torturing himself with. But despite the luxury of time alone to consider it, he doesn’t feel any closer to an answer.

“Yes and no? I’m feeling much better today, but I don’t know what the future will bring.” Minho nods and slumps a little, clearly relieved. A tightness in his chest Felix hadn’t been aware of suddenly eases.

“Right now I’m more worried about how we’re going to make this work with the group. Because I’m not the best person to ask about the ethics of workplace romances. I’m already on thin ice.” Felix sighs heavily, his mind shying away from the ramifications of his teenage escapades. No, don’t worry about that yet. “We made a promise to be professional. But I guess I’m struggling, which is a surprise. I thought we'd be pretty good at this since we did so well after The Thing.”

Minho, who’d been nodding along, stops and looks at him blankly. “The Thing?”

“Uh, I mean after you spanked me back then.” Felix explains quickly, cheeks pinking. “But it feels different this time. A lot more intense.”

“It is.”

“Yeah. And I probably freaked out a little.”

“Yes.”

They sit in silence. Tiny baby snakes on the TV behind Minho’s ear burst wetly out of their elastic eggs and slither towards the light.

“Should we stop?”

Felix’s eyes snap back to Minho’s face. Once again, he looks unnaturally calm. Like he’s asking Felix’s opinion on a tricky choreography sequence, not the future of their entire relationship. Felix can still feel the hot imprint of Minho’s hand on his mouth. Why is it always on Felix to make the important decisions about their relationship? The weight of all these choices feels so heavy.

Confusion and aggravation surge in him for the hundredth time today, and he can’t quite bring himself to push it back down. He knocks the cumbersome squid onto the floor.

“I dunno, Minho.” Felix quietly emphasises the lack of honorific while casually shrugging his shoulders. He feels sickly pleased when Minho’s eyes narrow at him. “I have major concerns no matter what we choose.”

Minho’s head snaps back at Felix’s tone, and Felix is gratified to see his front teeth flashing in annoyance beneath his upper lip. Not so cool now.

“Care to share?” Minho asks sharply.

“Mmm…” Felix crosses his arms and makes a show of considering the question before shaking his head. “I think it’s your turn to go first.”

He really shouldn’t bait Minho like this in the middle of an important conversation. But something inside him has been craving an emotional outburst from his hyung ever since Felix woke up yesterday to a calm, mature, reasonable Minho who’d packed thoughtful snacks and provided medication. And agreed to Felix’s ‘pause’ without a fight.

It’s completely unfair, but deep down he’d been disappointed Minho agreed so easily to Felix’s request for space. He’d needed Minho to stay. But instead of being honest, Felix had bottled up his feelings again and used his knowledge of Minho’s caring nature to deter him. And then blamed Minho in his heart for respecting Felix’s boundaries.

Chalk it up to his burgeoning perversity, but the contradiction in what he wants from Minho doesn’t stop Felix from being difficult on purpose. In fact, it makes it better.

“Yongbok.” The warning is clear in Minho’s voice.

“What?”

“I asked you an important question.”

“And I guess I don’t have an answer for you.” Felix says lightly. He boops Minho gently on the nose, like he would a child, and smiles broadly at him.

Minho’s face jerks back with comedic surprise at the unexpected gesture. And then he laughs loudly before pushing Felix backwards onto the bed.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” He whispers.

“Yeah?” Felix breathes.

Instead of answering, Minho crushes Felix with his body and kisses him hungrily. The sonorous voice from the television explains that the first few days of life for a baby snake are the most dangerous, there are many hazards to face, most of them deadly. Minho’s hand pulls Felix’s knee up around his hip with ease, slipping his tongue past Felix’s softening lips.

His effect is just as overwhelming as it’d been yesterday, but Felix’s lack of control barely disturbs him now. Maybe because he’s been stuck in repressed turmoil for hours. This just feels like relief. So he takes the hint and wraps both legs tightly around Minho’s hips, and lifts his arms above his head, resting them against the pillows. Minho raises his head.

“Sorry.” Felix murmurs with a smirk.

“How sorry?” Minho’s right eyebrow is rising, and he reaches to hold down Felix’s slim wrists with his hand.

“Mm, how sorry do you want me to be?” Felix tests Minho’s grip. He tightens it.

“Very.”

Felix smiles. “Oh hyung, I’m very. Very. Very. Sorry.” He rocks his hips up against Minho with every ‘very’, letting his eyelids grow heavy. Minho grunts involuntarily, letting go of Felix’s wrists to slide his hand behind Felix’s bent left knee, pinning Felix’s left foot in Minho’s armpit in an old-fashioned leg lock. His face is expectant, as if bracing for a fight.

Felix could break Minho’s pin if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Though he has to consciously resist his old taekwondo training to stop himself. Sensing Felix’s leg twitch, Minho’s eyes flash at him dangerously.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Bokie.” He warns.

Felix pouts dramatically, “Am I?” he asks. Minho has Felix’s leg and hip immobilised, so he arches his back instead, gripping his own hair in frustration.

“Stop that.” Minho hisses sternly, but the edges of his mouth are rising, and his eyes map Felix’s face closely.

“What? This?” Felix reaches for Minho’s cheeks, and Minho doesn’t resist at all when he gets pulled down for a kiss.

They’re in Minho’s room, making out, and their members are quite near. The TV is droning on about the incredible senses of snakes which allow them to begin hunting on their very first day out of the egg. This is so stupid.

It’s fantastic.

Minho’s weight is anchoring him perfectly. Felix has been off-kilter for days; only now does his equilibrium return as Minho kisses him with slow deliberation. Minho’s hands have abandoned their leg lock, opting to slide Felix’s knees over Minho’s shoulders instead. The stretch in Felix’s hamstrings is wickedly sweet, and his mind melts at the intimacy of the position.

He groans faintly when Minho pulls back.

“Shh baby.” Minho whispers, turning his head and biting Felix’s knee through his jeans. Felix nods silently, cursing his low voice that carries so easily.

“You know, this doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook.” Minho murmurs as he kneels upright, pulling Felix’s legs higher on his shoulders.

“You’re not?” Felix asks, not entirely following the thread of the conversation as Minho slowly presses his shorts-clad dick against Felix’s ass. What hook?

“If this is going to work, you have to tell me what’s going on with you.” Minho begins a slow grind. “That means everything. Not just the fun stuff.” His voice is serious, but Felix is losing focus due to the hard bulge chafing between his cheeks. This move should be illegal.

“Like when I’m freaking out about my feelings for you?” Felix has a terrifying suspicion Minho has already figured out that sex is basically truth serum for Felix. It’s so hard for him to mask his feelings when being intimate with someone. Especially Minho.

“Exactly.” Minho’s eyes are intent on Felix’s face as he pulls Felix’s hips in tight. “Is that what happened to you?” He grinds against Felix hard, forcing his legs into a more acute angle.

“Mm, f*ck. Yes.” Felix closes his eyes, tensing his thighs to stay in position. “Didn’t want you to… ah! Think I’m pathetic.” Constant dance practice has made Minho’s hips fluid and snappy. Felix bites the skin of his wrist. The friction between them is going to shift from exciting to frustrating soon.

Minho suddenly stills. “Look at me.”

Felix’s eyes flutter open.

“Wanting domination and praise and comfort isn’t pathetic.” Minho says breathlessly, hugging Felix’s thighs to his chest. “And neither is wanting to give those things to you.” The tone of Minho’s voice sounds like he’s not only trying to reassure Felix.

“N-no, of course not!” Felix whispers sincerely. It should’ve occurred to him sooner that Minho might have his own major insecurities about their scene. Felix is so stupid. This is why he should never mope around on his own. Looking up at Minho’s warm brown eyes, he feels ashamed.

This time Felix does take advantage of his martial arts training by abruptly hooking his left leg behind Minho’s neck and twisting them both to the right. Minho grunts in surprise as they roll in an ungainly tangle of limbs until Minho lands on his back on the bed with Felix upright, bracketing Minho’s neck with his knees. The bed is so small, they’re both pressed tight against the wall. Minho blinks up at Felix in confusion, pearly hair falling in his eyes, until he registers their position. Then his eyebrows shoot out of sight.

“Sorry!” Felix hisses, shifting his weight to swing a calf out from under Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s hand grabs his thigh.

“Don’t.”

“Hyung!” Felix squeaks. Minho just smiles and tips his head up to rub Felix’s balls with his mouth and chin.

Okay, this is getting out of hand, Felix thinks as he feels himself get fully hard in an instant. Yet it’s beyond his strength to pull away as Minho stares up at him unblinkingly, soft red lips crushed against the harsh fly of his jeans. Minho’s hands are clutching Felix’s ass tight, holding him in place. All it would take is a flick of the wrist, and Felix’s fly would be down. Then a quick fumble and his dick would be out, lined up perfectly with Minho’s pouty mouth…

“f*ck.” Felix gasps and uses his last ounce of willpower to pull himself out of Minho’s clutches. He lands on his butt on the floor next to the bed, absently holding Minho’s dangling ankle.

Above him, Minho sits up abruptly a moment before the floorboard creaks outside and a knock sounds on the door. I.n swings it open, his phone cradled against his cheek.

“Thirty minutes until the car comes to pick us up. Yi-Joon sunbae wants to know if you want lunch at the range, hyung.”

“Yeah, sure.” Minho says easily, eyes focused on the television, which is showing an undulating octopus in a kelp forest now.

“Ok. Felix?”

“Oh, uh yeah.” Felix says slowly, pretending he has to think about it. Even though his brain is completely hollow right now. “I don’t have any food in the house.”

“Got it. So that’ll be three lunches, sunbae.” I.n tells his phone as he turns away, shutting the door behind him.

Minho and Felix sit in silence for a long time.

“In the ocean, the octopus is a master of camouflage.” The voice from the television explains. “Chromatophores, tiny specialised organs filled with pigment in the skin of many cephalopods, allow them to change colour and pattern in an instant. They can match the colour of almost any substrate, making them nearly impossible to distinguish against a busy background.”

Felix adjusts himself, still holding onto Minho’s ankle. It doesn’t need to be said, but he feels compelled to anyway. “Too close.”

“Yeah.”

“That was dumb.”

“Yup.”

Felix stares at Minho’s foot in its clean white crew sock. Out of nowhere, he feels an intense desire for his hyung to step on him. “Can I be with you? Sometime soon?”

Silence above him. The pale octopus on-screen creeps across the seafloor, bumpy tentacles brushing the rocky bottom like the fingers of a blind person reading.

“Yes.”

Felix releases the lip he didn’t realise he was biting.

“There will be rules.” Minho says.

“I understand.”

“And we’ll need to decide on punishment.”

Felix swallows. “Okay?”

Minho’s hand lands on Felix’s head, caressing softly. “You pushed me away yesterday. And you weren’t honest about why.”

Felix’s chin drops. “Yes.”

“So we need to deal with that first, right? I’m not sure we really understand each other.”

Felix nods. “You’re right.”

“Will you be good for me? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Minho’s level voice tips into a rasp. Felix angles his head up to stare at him.

“Oh yes, hyung.”

“I want you on your knees tonight.” Minho’s face is tense and shadowed, hair curtaining his eyes.

“Can we?” Felix asks breathlessly.

“Let me see what I can do.”

***

Archery didn’t feel this awkward, before. But Felix anticipated a change in his performance today. Ever since his back injury in February, he’s had to work hard to regain his mobility, essentially relearning his body’s movements to prevent injuring himself again. He’s much more aware of his body’s limits now.

The stance to aim and shoot in archery, called the anchor position, requires engagement of all his core muscles, and a delicate balance between the pull of his right hand on the string, and the push of his left hand on the bow. Done correctly, the heavy weight of the draw is not transferred to his muscles, but to his skeleton as he rotates his shoulders to form a wedge between the bow and string. This requires his skeleton to be sound.

Felix knows the herniated disc in his lower back is almost entirely rehabilitated, and he’s not in pain. The medical staff at JYPE had been very careful to test him yesterday at the agency during their meeting before they would clear Felix to compete at ISAC. But he’s still very aware of every tiny twitch and shudder of his body to hold the correct form.

Their archery instructor, Kyung, seems very aware of Felix’s injury as well because he keeps hovering, making Felix nervous. It wouldn’t bother him so much, but I.n seems really anxious to get more instruction.

Felix releases his string, the speed of it humming near his ear, and feels the large recurve bow jolt forward in the cage of his grip. His arrow hits the red eight-ring on the target. He’s frustrated by the sudden drop his left shoulder made when Kyung crept into his peripheral vision again. But there’s no point blaming distractions. He’ll have plenty more at the competition tomorrow.

“Your stance is stable, but your bow shoulder dropped at release.” Kyung explains, unnecessarily. “Focus on holding your position all the way past follow-through. Don’t look for the arrow.”

“Yes sir.” Felix says quietly, not bothering to explain he hadn’t been looking for the arrow. He’d been thrown by Kyung sneaking up on him for the fifth time in half an hour. He sets the bow down on the stand and walks to the side of the range, to the table where a JYPE intern and Nabi, the new assistant manager (Felix confirmed her name today), are sitting quietly with snacks. Maybe if he takes a break, Kyung will notice I.n trying to get his attention.

“Hi.” Felix says cheerfully to Nabi as he breaks the seal on a water bottle.

“Hi.” Nabi says faintly, dipping her head and looking away at the shooters.

“Kinda repetitive, isn’t it?” Felix says, resolutely ignoring Kyung staring at him.

“Oh no, sunbaenim! You all shoot so well!” Nabi breathes, the blush on her cute round cheeks evident even with a face mask on.

Felix laughs, “Thanks, but we’re pretty average. It’s fun, though.”

“Not average.” Nabi mutters, shaking her head vigorously enough to make her high ponytail swing. Kyung finally gives up and wanders over to I.n.

“Did you do archery in school?” Felix asks. He’s always been jealous of the popularity of archery in South Korean high schools. He’d never had the opportunity to pursue it in Australia, and certainly not during idol training.

“Yes! I was on the girl’s team in year twelve.” It doesn’t surprise him that the SKZ staff has more archery experience than any of the members. He chats with Nabi about her school team for a little, gratified she’s begun to relax slightly. Working with male idol groups can be challenging for female employees in her position, especially when they’re new.

I.n is finally loosening up on his bow in the next lane when Felix resumes his practice. Ever the perfectionist, I.n tends to muscle through his shots, which can lead to greater inconsistency. Archery is sort of counterintuitive in that the more relaxed the shooter, the better the shot.

“Why do my arrows keep grouping in the upper right?” I.n asks Kyung after shooting a fourth arrow into the same high quadrant of the target.

“It’s actually good that you’re grouping, but you’re right that you’re pulling to the side.” Kyung says, “It could be a couple things. To me, it looks like you’re over-drawing, which is pulling your aim up. And you need to always allow your bow to release freely. It’s better to let the bow jump forward instead of trying to hold it perfectly still after a shot. Like this.”

Kyung demonstrates with the bow, his motions practised and precise. I.n watches with intense concentration as Kyung’s stocky body holds anchor position like a rock, then shoots an unwavering arrow at the yellow ten ring in the centre of the target. He finishes the shot by allowing the grip of the bow in his left hand to swing down over his thumb in a graceful arc, propelled by the heavy stabiliser bar attached to the front. Felix knows this move is typical of archery pros, but isn’t a requirement for the short-distance shooting they’re doing. Kyung is just proving a point.

It really is a shame they’ll never have enough time to master archery anywhere near Kyung’s level, Felix thinks. The MBC producers of ISAC tend to care more about how they all look on camera than the skill they bring.

“Yes! Okay.” I.n eagerly reclaims his bow.

“Now, your colleague here has excellent bow release form. Too bad he grips it too much when he aims sometimes.” Kyung jokes and all three of them turn to watch Minho set his stance and pull into anchor position. Minho’s right eyebrow is raised wryly as he releases the string and allows the bow to swing down with an unnecessary flourish, ending the motion in a very theatrical, very not-archery kneeling position. The bow spins out of his fingers to clatter on the floor, and his arrow barely makes it inside the target.

“Don’t do that.” Kyung tells I.n, who snorts.

Minho laughs loudly, retrieving the bow and standing up straight again.

“Seonsaengnim, there was a bee on the wall! I saved us all.”

“This is the indoor range, Lee Know-ssi.” Kyung sweeps his hand to indicate the colourful targets lined up on the far wall of the twenty-metre range inside the Fivics Archery Centre. The humid drizzle outside prevented them from using the archery club’s impressive rooftop range.

“Well…” Minho grimaces and rolls his shoulders nonchalantly, “There was definitely a bee!”

“Of course.” Kyung says with a chuckle. Minho laughs sheepishly and adjusts his mask before pulling another arrow from his quiver. He glances up out of habit to check for a camera, but seems to recall there are none. So he winks at Felix instead.

Felix smiles inside his mask. Another Covid surge in Seoul this summer has changed the filming protocol for this year’s ISAC. No MBC cameras are here with them to film background fluff pieces of the idols training. And the JYPE staff have been too busy with the SKZ tour to coordinate Talker or vlog footage. It’s kind of a disappointment if Felix is honest, but the last two years of the pandemic have taught him to get used to this flavour of disappointment. The upside is that he doesn’t have to be constantly aware of cameras as he trains.

I.n and Kyung return to practice, but Felix takes a moment to watch his hyung. There’s a reason the archery event is the most popular in ISAC. Sure, it’s a fun skill to showcase, and it’s a great way to show multiple members of an idol group working together. But the real reason is that it looks so f*cking cool.

Felix isn’t checking to see if Minho’s using the proper grip as he watches him prepare to shoot. He’s never met someone as centred in their own body as Minho is. When Felix trains, his awareness of himself naturally shifts from part to part: arms, hands, then legs, then head, switching as he moves through drills. Watching Minho, Felix gets the sense that he just is his body, inhabiting every part at once. Because of this concentrated possession, his body also tends to reflect what’s going on inside. Embarrassment, joy, anger and excitement speak in every movement if you know how to look for it. Felix can admit it now, he looks a lot.

He can see Minho’s happy this afternoon, but maybe a little edgy too. His movements are exaggerated as he draws, putting unnecessary force into it, looking like a bold Korean Robin Hood. His back is ramrod-straight, and the chest guard clipped around his shoulder accentuates the pleasing line of his chest and waist. The stillness of his face and his sharp gaze when he aims is eerily similar to the way he’d looked when Felix crawled into his lap…

Felix shakes himself hard and pulls his next arrow from the quiver, focusing on his target. He doesn’t know Minho’s plan for this evening. There hasn’t been any lengthy text exchange in advance of a scene like before. Minho made it clear he’s holding the reins tonight. That is, if they even get a chance to meet, which isn’t guaranteed. So, Felix has had to make peace with a lot of uncertainty today.

That’s likely just the beginning of his punishment. He shivers.

“Don’t shoot until you’re steady.” Kyung murmurs encouragingly behind Felix’s left ear. Felix sighs and drops his arms.

They practise for another half hour, then take a break, Kyung insisting that training through fatigue leads to the establishment of bad habits. Felix thinks that concern would be more relevant if they were training consistently over multiple sessions, but he doesn’t argue.

Nabi fetches them hot beverages from the club cafe downstairs as the archers rest and discuss strategy. They’ll be going up against Atee*z in the archery quarterfinals, which means they don’t know what to expect. This will be Atee*z’s first time competing in the event, and have no prior experience. Felix heard through Yi-Joon that Yeosang will be captaining their team, which is interesting. Based on their joint time in the Kingdom competition, Yeosang struck Felix as lovely, but he did have a reputation for random clumsiness. Well, Felix knows better than to make assumptions. Yeosang and his group were amazingly hungry during Kingdom. It feels strange to go up against their old Mayfly teammates again.

“I.n-ssi, normally I wouldn’t advise this, but I’m thinking we might want to adjust your bow sight a bit farther.” Kyung says as they head back to their lanes for a final shooting session. “Your stance and follow-through are looking good, but you’re still consistently pulling right. We can move your sight more to the left to compensate for that in the short term.”

I.n nods quietly, handing his bow to Kyung, who begins fiddling with the t-shaped sight device mounted on the grip.

To prepare, their intern follows them with a phone to get them used to the position of the cameras at the competition tomorrow. The idols take off their masks and try to envision the huge gymnasium around them.

Felix sets up his shot again, running through the cycle in his head. Shoulders back, establish position with eyes on target and stabiliser on the ground. Apply tension to the string while raising the bow and set sight above the target. Rotate shoulders and maintain stable tension on elbow to begin drawing, then push forward and down with left shoulder to bring the sight picture to the centre of the target. Rotate drawing arm back to form a straight line from shoulder to shoulder. Don’t overdraw because it looks cool! Anchor right hand firmly against jawbone and take final aim, keep movement fluid and don’t hold too long! Now release. Hold arm position and keep hips steady before checking the target.

Get a bullseye!

Felix sighs when he spots the neon green fletching of his arrow in the middle of the yellow ten ring twenty metres away. He feels his old comfort with shooting creeping back, the intense preoccupation with his spine finally fading. He hears Minho laugh happily to his left.

”Good.” Kyung says quietly nearby. This time Felix doesn’t jump.

Next to him, I.n has gotten into a groove, grouping arrows in the eight to ten rings. Their intern is on the floor, filming I.n from a low angle to hype him up and make him look even more impressive.

Beside I.n, Minho shoots like a machine, running fluidly through the cycle to set and shoot in a steady rhythm, racking up yellow rings. His smile keeps growing, and his eyes develop a shiny, crazed look.

Finally, Felix begins to feel optimistic again. Despite injuries, crammed schedules, and the switch in their lineup, they might have a chance to make it to the ISAC finals again this year. Riding high on a surge of adrenaline, he watches Minho’s red arrow thwack loudly into the bullseye. He’s so f*cking fierce. Felix desperately hopes they’ll be able to meet tonight.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

ISEUL

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME????

Iseul’s message pops up as Felix is finalising his grocery order. It’s followed by a gif of a goat fainting. Then another notification with several still photos. He laughs when he sees they’re a collection of Felix and Minho’s selfies in the Japanese onsen.

FELIX

Yes?

He checks the time, 6 pm on a Sunday. Iseul has a habit of working unconventional hours (not that anyone on the SKZ team works typical business days). But she’s talented, efficient, and a good lead editor, which grants her a lot of leeway to make her own schedule.

ISEUL

Well you’re paying for my funeral because I’m stone cold at this point

Warn a girl before you send nudes

Iseul contacts Felix occasionally when she works on Racha logs, Talker videos, and especially their personal vlogs. She usually needs context info, though over the years they’ve gotten comfortable enough to just chat. He appreciates her brusk personality.

FELIX

They’re not nudes!

ISEUL

Semantics

Thought you might want those for Instagram

I uploaded everything to the department server too

FELIX

I do. Thanks!

ISEUL

Really great footage from Hakone

I think I might take my husband there on vacation

FELIX

Do it! You won’t be sorry

ISEUL

Well you’ve given me inspiration. Have a good night!

FELIX

You too!

Felix stares at the photos. The onsen looks brighter than he remembers it, and the camera angle makes the pool look bigger than it was. A familiar pang of surrealism he gets whenever he looks at footage of himself from really emotional moments in his life hits him. The images seem so flat and… wrong somehow. Like looking at a mirror image in which everything is identical but pointing the opposite way.

For all Iseul’s hype, these pictures aren’t that salacious. They’d be unusable otherwise. Provocative, maybe. As pictured, neither he nor Minho is exposed below their shoulders in the deep pool. They’re posing, making a fist bump, giving a casual thumbs-up, doing aegyo. Felix has done more revealing photo shoots. Hell, he’s looked more naked on stage than in these pictures.

But… he has to admit he can feel a strong echo of the tension he’d felt then as he looks at the images. The suspense between them had been so profound in that pool, that he and Minho had stepped wholeheartedly into a dangerous frontier. The same pressure is here, now, behind Felix’s breastbone. He blows out a slow breath, then switches over to his private chat room with Minho and reads the last messages again.

MINHO

Here’s Ha-ru’s address, he and his partner are on vacation. I told Tae we’re meeting friends, so get him to drive you there at 8

Wear your black hoodie and grey denim, and keep your mask on

No underwear

I want you ready for a scene. We’ll be working on communication

No spanking tonight

Felix had agreed, of course. Next to him on the bed, he’d already laid out his black hoodie and the grey skinny jeans he hasn’t worn in a long time. They’re unfashionably tight.

Minho had left on an “errand” shortly after their training session at Fivics. He hadn’t given Felix any details. Since then, Felix occupied himself by folding his laundry and cleaning the bathroom ferociously enough to make I.n retreat to the living room. Minho’s texts arrived after Felix finished scrubbing the shower, and he’d spent the last half-hour just trying to make a grocery order whilst zoning out every two minutes.

He’s been stuck on the check-out page for five minutes because he doesn’t have enough in his order to meet the minimum for fast delivery. Partly because he can’t concentrate enough to do maths, and partly because he only needs food for three days before they fly back to Japan for their live appearance on Asahi Music Station. His shopping cart has some fruit and vegetables for smoothies, yoghurt, and some nonperishables in it. He legitimately can’t think of anything else to add as he scans absently down the short list. His eyes land on the Cheetos he’d thrown in on a whim, and is reminded of the snacks Minho gave him the morning after their scene. He bumps up the quantity to meet the fast delivery minimum and hits Submit on the order.

The task is complete. Felix stands and paces his room; it’s 6:08. Time is standing still. He sits back down and tries for a while to get interested in his SNS feeds, but it’s useless. Out of desperation, he throws himself into the hallway and begins rummaging for I.n’s professional garment steamer. He finds it behind the housekeeper’s vacuum and drags the unwieldy tank, steamer wand, and hanger-on-a-pole apparatus into the kitchen.

The tank is empty, so he fills it at the sink, then sits on the floor to figure out the instructions written on the side of the machine. They’re unhelpfully vague.

“sh*t.” He mutters when the now-full tank sloshes water over his socks and the kitchen floor as he tries to wheel the contraption into his room.

“Oh my god, just stop.” I.n laughs as he gets up from the couch.

“Jeongin-ah!” Felix does a little dance of discomfort in his soggy socks. “Hhheeelllppp.”

“You filled the tank too much.”

“What? Where does it say you fill it to?” Felix peers down at the tank.

“The giant black line?” I.n points.

“I thought that was decorative.”

“Heh. No.” I.n disengages the tank and empties half the water into the sink while Felix peels off his socks and cleans up the spill.

“What are you steaming? I can show you how to do it if you want?” I.n offers after fiddling with the tank and hose.

“Um… yeah. Thanks!” I.n doesn’t need to know the history of this particular garment. Felix fetches the lacy black shirt from his room and smooths it out on the hanger.

“Pretty.” I.n murmurs as he holds a sleeve in his hand, instinctively trying to smooth out the creases. “What did you do to it?” He sounds like a prize-winning dog breeder interrogating the groomer after his champion golden retriever came out with a poodle pom pom haircut. I.n takes fashion very seriously.

“Luggage mishap?” Felix says guiltily.

“More like packing mishap!” I.n protests. “Are you sure you know how to fold?”

“I was in a rush.” To run away.

“Hm.” I.n slashes him with his sharp eyes before focusing back on the shirt. “Did you get this in Japan? I don’t recognize the brand.”

“Yeah, I saw it while shopping in Tokyo. I thought it would be nice for special occasions.”

“Yeah.” I.n holds the shirt up to the light, revealing the transparency of the unique lace weave pattern. “What sort of ‘special occasions’?” His light voice swoops low and breathy.

Felix shakes I.n’s arm playfully. “Shut up! This isn’t the craziest thing I’ve worn. We’re all adults now.”

“Okay! You’re right.” If anyone doesn’t need a lecture about wanting to be perceived as an adult, it’s the youngest member of Stray Kids. I.n snickers and hangs the shirt straight, then turns on the steamer. He shows Felix what to do, and the wrinkles melt out of the fabric under the gentle flow of steam from the wand. It’s kind of mesmerising.

“Have you started seeing someone?” I.n quietly asks after a meditative silence, his face shrouded in steam.

“Uh…” Felix rocks backward on his heels and goes mute, completely unprepared for the directness of I.n’s question. He rubs at a wet spot on his shirt from cleaning.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want.” I.n adds quickly, glancing over at him.

Felix feared this would happen. They all know each other too well. “It’s complicated.”

“When is it not?” I.n jokes awkwardly. He carefully runs the wand over the crinkled hem of the shirt, then asks, “Are you happy?”

I.n seldom pries, so he must have a compelling reason to ask. Felix has to think about the question for a minute. He’s not entirely sure of the answer. But something in him feels compelled to respond even though he knows it’s stupid.

“I think so?” His voice sounds small, and he can’t stop himself from adding, “It’s new, and I might’ve already messed it up.”

“I kind of doubt that.” I.n says firmly, lifting the wand away from the damp, newly-smooth shirt.

“Don’t be so sure!” Felix hugs himself and laughs. “I’m kind of a lot to handle. I’m guaranteed to scare them away.”

I.n turns off the steamer and hangs up the wand, then turns to Felix with an unusually solemn expression on his face as he hands him the pressed shirt on a hanger.

“You’re not. And you don’t have to tell me anything, but if he can get scared away by you, he doesn’t deserve you.” I.n bends down to release the tank from the machine and dumps the rest of the water in the sink. Felix just stands there frozen.

“What?” I.n asks when he turns around and sees Felix’s face. “You said it yourself, we’re all adults. Take the maknae’s advice.” He looks at Felix meaningfully, and then picks up the steamer, carrying it easily back to the hall cupboard.

Felix stares at I.n’s back. It isn’t that he’s shocked I.n would give him good advice about romance. He’s much more level-headed about relationships of all kinds than Felix.

I.n said ‘he’.

Did he discover Felix and Minho’s relationship already? The thing in Minho’s room had been a close call. Or did I.n just assume he’s seeing a guy? Felix never kept his orientation a secret from him, so it’s a safe assumption. But I.n knows Felix’s last fling was with a female idol…

Three loud knocks on the front door make Felix jump hard. He opens it to their security guard carrying a shopping bag and a large red box to deliver. After putting them on the counter, Felix checks the receipt on the bag and confirms they’re his groceries. I.n wanders back into the kitchen.

”Why did you get so many Hot Cheetos?” He asks, standing by the red box.

”What?” Felix looks up from his grocery bag.

“You got 50 bags.”

“No.”

“Uhh…” I.n sweeps his arm eloquently above the box like a game show host unveiling a grand prize. It’s covered in pictures of flames and the Cheetos logo. Well crap.

Felix laughs breathlessly. He must be even more distracted than he realised. He grabs the box, making excuses about nostalgia for childhood snacks, delivery costs, and wanting to share with his roommates, then hastily stashes it in his room. I.n just shakes his head indulgently and returns to his room.

It’s 7:10, and Ha-ru’s flat is a 20-minute drive away. Felix steps into the gleaming clean shower to prepare for… he has no idea what. He lifts his face to the spray and holds his breath. Calm down. He needs to do better tonight. Neither he nor Minho can afford another dramatic sub-drop when they have a competition tomorrow.

Towelling dry, he stares at the clothes on his bed. Minho had been very specific about Felix’s outfit tonight. His suspicions about why are confirmed when he pulls the slim pants up his legs and struggles to zip the fly over his naked crotch. It’s an uncomfortably tight fit.

Felix waits for Tae’s arrival while sitting on the living room couch, hood up, face mask on, his legs jiggling uncontrollably. Meditation and breathing exercises aren’t working to calm him down. Not just because he’s anticipating their scene tonight. He still hasn’t gotten up the nerve to tell Minho he lost their ribbon.

He’s actively contemplating grabbing his yoga mat to run through some poses in a desperate bid to calm down - tight pants be damned - when Tae’s text finally buzzes his pocket.

***

Ha-ru’s building is nondescript, a blank white apartment complex nearly identical to the other buildings on this block, a neighbourhood typical of most working adults in Seoul. The setting sun gives the plain walls of the building an attractive blush. The slow drizzle of this afternoon has finally tapered off as the day ends, leaving behind ragged cloud tatters that catch the light like torn pink curtains clinging to the stark buildings of the city.

These days, venturing beyond the sphere of work, away from their dorms and the familiar presence of managers, instructors and staff feels unnatural, like crossing an invisible boundary into a strange, lawless country. There is freedom, yes, and beauty, but also the possibility of recognition flashing in the faces of strangers. Felix knows not everyone wishes him well.

Is it paranoia when you hear a strange voice in your apartment, and security gets called to wrestle out the strident woman ranting about being married to all eight Stray Kids members? Or when you get detailed death threats online? Felix knows the vast majority of their fans have his well-being at heart. But it only takes one…

He shifts compulsively in his seat as Tae slowly circles the block in search of a parking spot. This is taking too long, and he’s desperately uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Felix has plenty of experience with tight pants. But tonight he’s completely unable to ignore the fabric pinching him in intimate places.

Or the fact that Minho intended him to feel this.

“Tae-yah, just let me out here. It’s okay.”

“You sure sunbaenim? I can probably find a spot if I go a block over.”

“Don’t bother, everyone’s home and parked for the night. I can find my way if you drop me on the sidewalk.”

Tae’s eyes glitter at him doubtfully in the dim mirror, but he seems to gain reassurance from Felix’s anonymous hood and mask. Or probably the buzz of Felix’s chaotic energy is contagious.

“Yeah okay. I’ll circle again after I drop you in case you can’t get where you need to go. Text if you need anything.”

“Thanks man. We’ll contact you when we’re ready to head back. Are you on call all evening? Ok great.”

Felix steps out into the fuzzy pink evening air and checks his phone to confirm the address. Tae follows him with his headlights on, which isn’t ideal, but fortunately this street doesn’t have much foot traffic. He only needs to pass four entrances under the misty glare before he arrives at the right number. He pushes the button for Ha-ru’s flat.

“Yes?” Minho’s voice crackles at him.

“It’s me.”

“Come up.” Minho buzzes him in, and Felix finally escapes Tae’s judicious headlights. He blinks for a minute, adjusting to the chlorine-coloured fluorescent lighting in the spare, clean lobby. The elevator here is slow, and he can feel a rivulet of sweat sliding intimately down his spine as he waits. This hoodie isn’t ideal for a humid summer night, but Felix wouldn’t dream of taking it off.

The empty elevator finally arrives with a whine and a clatter, and he takes a vibrating, ponderous ride up to the fourth floor. The close air, the tight clothes, the heat and breathlessness of his jumper and mask, and the rattling elevator combine to create a delirium of discomfort. Why, then, does it feel so right to be suffering like this?

By the time he arrives at apartment 415, his face is hot and streaming, and he can tell his hair is sticking to his head in places beneath the hood. Yet Minho greets him after Felix’s first knock with such a satisfied look, he forgets to be embarrassed.

“Come in.” Minho opens the door wide and waves him inside.

Ha-ru’s apartment is neat, a one-bedroom with a small living room and kitchen. Unlike the typical efficient, spare decor Felix has grown accustomed to in many Korean dwellings, Ha-ru and his partner have decorated with a lot of colour and flair. There are bright paintings on the walls, flourishing house plants, and a botanical theme throughout the flat.

Minho’s hand lands on his shoulder, and Felix allows himself to be turned around. His dark hood is pushed back and Minho slides the elastic loops of Felix’s mask off his ears. Felix takes a deep breath of the cool apartment air.

“Good.” Minho says cryptically with a grin, turning and dropping the mask on the coffee table. He steps into the kitchen and picks up a foggy glass of ice water and a tea towel from the bench. He hands both to Felix silently and watches him drink. He’s wearing a dark red apron over jeans and a black graphic t-shirt. The apron crosses cleanly over his back and is decorated with delicate green vines. Probably Ha-ru’s. Is Minho baking? Are they not doing a scene?

The icy water is sublime, and Felix drinks it greedily. He doesn’t stop until the ice cubes rattle freely in the bottom of the empty cup.

“Better?” Minho asks as he takes the glass from him, returning it to the kitchen.

“Much.” Felix sighs, bunching his hands in the towel. “That elevator is a furnace.”

“I know.” Minho replies with a smirk. He sits down on the narrow grey couch, indicating the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Felix toes off his shoes and sits, self-consciously pulling at his jeans to prevent the tight fabric from riding up and pinching him. Minho’s smirk grows wider.

“This is a cute place.” Felix comments. “Ha-ru’s your friend from school, right? What does he do again?”

“Software design, and his boyfriend Minjun is a teacher. He teaches music.”

“That’s cool. I think you introduced me to Ha-ru a while ago, but I don’t remember Minjun. How long have they been together?”

“About four years. They’re in Busan visiting Minjun’s sister.”

“And they know we’re here?” Felix asks. The last thing they need is to have someone else walk in on them.

“They do. I talked to Ha-ru about it today.” Minho smiles.

“Great!” Felix says a little too brightly. Ha-ru likely knows more about what’s going on today than Felix does. The discomfort of the unknown - and these brutal pants! - keeps mounting.

“So…” Felix clears his throat as Minho just stares at him. He’s beginning to recognize the hallmarks of Minho in a dominant mood. He’s quieter, and less distracted than usual. And far more intimidating than when he’s brash and loud. There are times Minho’s gaze is so clear, Felix would swear he can see beams of light emanating from his eyes, like a lighthouse at night. Felix certainly feels like he’s in a spotlight. “You wanted to talk about communication?”

“Yeah.” Minho inclines his head.

“And do a scene?”

“Yes.”

“Then… should we do that?” Felix asks, his voice tinged with nervous urgency.

Minho nods and finally looks away. Felix sighs internally.

“I want to focus a little more on discipline tonight. Not -” Minho glances at him meaningfully “- the kind of discipline that involves spanking. I think we both know that’s a little too fun for you, and we can’t risk injuries before the competition tomorrow.”

“Yes, okay.” Felix already knew spanking was off the table tonight, but still feels a little disappointed to have it confirmed. Now he has no clue what to expect. They’re in uncharted territory. Again. “Um, then should we start?”

“Why! Slow down, Yongbok. I want to know a few things.” Minho leans forward in his seat, eyes spotlighting Felix again. “You said you like it when I act surprised when you tell me what you want.”

The warmth of Felix's sweatshirt migrates higher into his cheeks. “Yes.”

“How far does that go? Are we talking degradation, and how much?”

It’s a fair question. And also really hard for Felix to answer.

“Oof, okay.” Felix rubs the towel around the back of his neck to stop the tickle of sweat. “I think I’d like it if… you act like you don’t know me personally at all. Like you just think I’m the most innocent person alive, and you’re shocked when you find out I’m not.”

Felix is staring at the damp tea towel in his hands which has a cross-stitched border of yellow sunflowers on it. If he isn’t careful, his constant wringing will mess up the neat stitches.

“Mm, I like that.” Minho says quietly.

“Really?” Felix’s eyes dart back to Minho’s face, which has a faraway look on it. He reminds himself that he’s allowed to ask Minho more now. “What do you like about it?”

“Well, I was afraid you might want me to call you hardcore dehumanising names, which isn’t really my kink. Though we could probably work out a compromise.”

“Dehumanising? Like what?”

Minho looks uncomfortable for the first time tonight. “I don’t know, ‘cum-bucket’, ‘scum’, things like that.” Felix takes a second to make sure he’s translating Minho correctly. He’s never heard such phrases come out of his hyung’s mouth before. Minho’s face is turning red now, which is cute.

“You thought of those quick.” He can’t resist needling him.

Minho chuffs an embarrassed laugh, “Don’t test me, cheon-sa.”

Felix bites his lips to keep himself from smiling. Cheon-sa means ‘angel’.

“Anyway, I can work with that.” Minho says, almost to himself.

“Great.” Says Felix again, wondering when this sort of thing will feel more natural. Why does their long friendship make a scene negotiation harder? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Familiarity creating ease? Felix has never considered himself a prude, but something about Minho’s constant presence in his thoughts makes it hard for him to breathe, let alone share his most intimate fantasies starring his hyung. Instead of negotiating a scene, this feels like he’s having a weirdly awkward meeting about stage-blocking a performance. Should they discuss costumes next?

“How about nudity? Is it okay as punishment?” Minho asks.

Felix can’t stop his smile now. He wipes his face with the towel to cover it up. How does Minho always predict the direction of his thoughts?

“Yes? I guess it depends on the context.”

“Not public nudity, obviously.”

“Then it’s probably fine. I haven’t really considered it.” Felix says. He’s considering it now. Minho’s watching him and nodding slowly. “Have you?”

“Yes.” Minho replies readily but doesn’t elaborate. They stare at each other for a minute. Felix squirms in his seat. He thought this apartment was much cooler than the elevator, but he’s still sweating. On top of everything else, if he keeps holding things inside, he feels like he might have a stroke.

“Uh, speaking of punishment.” Felix starts. He may as well get this out of the way. “I think I already messed up, hyung.”

Minho’s head tilts. “Tell me.”

“I lost the ribbon.” Felix’s voice breaks on the last word, and he pulls on the towel hard enough to pop a thread.

Minho doesn’t respond. Felix looks up to see his brows knotting in confusion. “You mean the silk ribbon from our last scene?”

Felix nods unhappily. “I’m not sure what happened. I packed everything after you left yesterday, but I guess I wasn’t being careful. I couldn’t find it anywhere when I unpacked today. I think it got left in the hotel room.” He finishes miserably. “It’s my fault. I just left the room without checking. I guess I wasn’t feeling like myself.”

He doesn’t dare look at Minho so he stares at the sunflowers. They look hand-stitched.

“Felix! I took the ribbon.” Minho says loudly after a pause. Felix looks up as Minho pulls something purple out of his jeans pocket. It’s the ribbon, coiled tightly in his square palm like a miraculous little pinwheel.

The relief and embarrassment that sweep over Felix makes him sweat harder in his jumper. Minho has it. It’s absurd it never occurred to him that Minho might’ve taken it. Hopefully one day this relationship will stop scrambling his brain.

“Oh.” He says weakly. “I thought it was lost forever.”

Minho’s face falls into a flustered moue. “I… wanted to hold onto it. I guess because it felt like my responsibility.” His mouth tilts a hesitant smile. “I thought I showed it to you? When I gave you back your underwear.”

It’s funny Minho thinks Felix was alert enough that morning to notice Minho flashing him a ribbon at the same time he was handing Felix sex underwear.

”Hyung!” Felix blurts, lurching out of his chair and awkwardly shoving Minho in the chest. Minho doesn’t block him. “I was so upset! Jeongin saw me crying over my laundry! I thought I made an awful mistake.” He sits down abruptly on the couch next to Minho, pressing the little towel against his eyes. Some of the anguish he’d felt earlier today pushes back up his chest, closing his throat.

“I’m sorry baby.” Minho murmurs gently. His fingers pull at the towel. “I should’ve told you.”

Towel stripped away, Felix blinks rapidly. Minho tries to nudge his chin up, but Felix sniffs and throws himself into Minho’s arms instead.

“Oh Lixie-yah. You’ve been going through it, huh?”

“Yeah.” Felix breathes unevenly. A burning tear slips free and cements his cheek to Minho’s neck. Minho squeezes him and leans back a little, making more room for Felix to drape himself against his chest.

They sit like that for a minute, Minho smoothly stroking Felix’s back. It feels so good. This is the side of Minho he’s always craved, but couldn’t allow himself to enjoy, before. Minho’s quiet care and concern. The paradoxical strength and gentleness of his hands. The deep softness beneath all the layers of thorns. Felix sighs heavily, surrendering to the irresistible pull of his feelings.

“I didn’t want a ‘pause’ yesterday.” He whispers low into Minho’s collarbone. “I wanted this.” He tightens his arms around Minho’s shoulders.

“Me too.” Minho whispers back. His cool lips feather against Felix’s ear.

Felix slowly raises his face out of the sultry hollow beneath Minho’s jaw and kisses him. He takes his time, seeking a balm for the roil of havoc in his chest. Minho’s mouth is soft and achingly sweet, responding readily to every move he makes. Minho’s hands cup Felix’s cheeks, delicately rubbing the wetness away with his thumbs. Felix could almost cry again with relief, but Minho’s lips are too captivating for that.

The soft moan Minho makes when Felix teases him with his tongue is tantalising. There are so many things Felix wants to do. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts forward out of his twisted, semi-reclined position, seeking closer contact. But the sharp creases of his pants bite deep, making him gasp. He breaks away, pulling angrily at his sweat-stubborn trouser legs to get some relief.

Minho laughs. “Uncomfortable?”

“God, Minho hyung! This is diabolical!” Felix throws his head back as he leans over to tug his pant cuff back down to his ankle. “I haven’t worn these in years. I think the seams might leave permanent marks!”

“I’ll check for you. Later.” Minho gets up from the couch, and Felix swallows down a pang of disappointment. It’s always been easier for them to joke around the tenderness between them rather than sit with it.

“Good!” Felix tosses back with sass. “This was your idea. It’s driving me crazy, hyung!”

Minho doesn’t respond, silently watching Felix straighten out the seams of his jeans. The gathering sweat is bothering Felix worse than ever, making his clothes feel tighter. Moderately relieved of the pinching, he dabs his forehead with a sleeve and looks up.

The expression on Minho’s face is vivid, a heady mixture of desire, affection, and something else. Something akin to The Look from the old days, except more complex. Under that spotlight, every nagging discomfort of Felix’s body floods his awareness at once. His distracting sweat, the waistband of his pants like a garrote wire across his stomach, the heavy jumper suffocating his torso, and the lack of underwear making his skin sensitive. Minho wanted this for him, so he has to endure.

That special something in Minho’s eyes pricks him. Felix finds himself sliding off the couch to his knees on Ha-ru’s nubby green rug. He looks up at Minho.

“It hurts, hyung. But I’ll do it for you.”

Minho breathes in sharply through his nose. “Will you?” He steps closer until Felix has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. Minho’s eyes have gone dark and calculating. Felix gulps. The proximity of Minho’s crotch is distracting, but he must behave.

Minho cups Felix’s sharp chin in his hand, forcing his head farther back. “I’m glad you’re willing. Because you’re mine, and you need to learn to ask hyung for help.”

It feels like the blood is draining out of Felix’s head in this position. Or maybe he just really, really wants Minho to teach him a thorough lesson. He sways a little against the hand under his chin. “Yes hyung.”

“That’s good, cheon-sa. I’m surprised someone like you needs the reminder. But we’ll sort you out.” Minho lets go brusquely, and Felix has to catch himself from falling over. “Now put your hands on the back of your head and lace your fingers together. Don’t move until you have permission.”

Felix does as he’s told, watching as Minho returns to the kitchen and pulls a water pitcher out of the fridge. He refills Felix’s glass and drinks deeply.

“Don’t let your butt touch your heels.” He says without looking at Felix.

“O-Okay.”

Felix exhales slowly, trying to release the tension in his chest. Of course, he knew this scene was coming, but didn’t expect it to start so abruptly. He didn’t have time to adjust his clothes or position before he was given the command, so he’ll just have to deal with the bunched-up fabric cutting into the soft skin behind his knees, and the uneven rug beneath his kneecaps. His arms and core are stable, so he can probably hold this position for a while. Though a subtle burn is already starting in his thighs.

He deserves this. He pushed Minho away yesterday.

Minho’s still in the kitchen, pulling an opaque plastic bag filled with mysterious objects out of the fridge. There’s something green in there, and he thinks he can make out a wedge of cheese. Minho turns back and pulls out a mixing bowl next, placing it on the counter. It’s covered in a cloth, like rising bread. He checks the contents of the bowl and smiles happily, replacing the cloth.

Sweat is collecting on Felix’s temple, he can feel it tickle every tiny hair as it drips. The sensation is maddening. So is Minho’s casual ease. Nothing makes Felix feel smaller than when he’s ignored or left alone.

Not that long ago, his advanced Korean language lessons at the agency involved sitting in the corner of his instructor’s office and working through mind-numbing pronunciation drills at tongue-tied speed to improve his diction for interviews. A giant list of words would be pinned to the wall and each word had to be repeated flawlessly five times. It was so mind-numbing, he’d have elaborate fantasies in his head while speaking, the focus of his eyes his only indication of where he was on the list. But if he got one wrong, well… His seonsaengnim was very quick with a ruler, and she had a firm hand.

Sometimes he got it wrong on purpose. Out of boredom, or maybe because he got tired of the sound of his own voice. Sometimes the room was too quiet and he couldn’t withstand the invisible presence of his teacher any longer. He never knew what she did during those drills because Felix wasn’t allowed to turn away from the wall. Sometimes he just needed to make sure he wasn’t alone. She caught every mistake.

He made a lot of progress that year.

Minho is looking at his phone now. Felix closes his eyes and tries to centre himself. Who knows how long he’ll have to stay here like this.

He has counted to 892 in his head when he hears a flute begin to play. He opens his eyes and sees Minho still standing in the kitchen, cutting something on a cutting board. The sharp scent of fresh garlic tickles his nose. But there’s quiet music coming from somewhere. He shifts subtly, exhaling hard when his knee grinds painfully against the rug. Minho looks up at him.

“Debussy?” He asks, his accent twisting the French vowels slightly.

Felix blinks, jerking in place a little to maintain his position. His arms and thighs are on fire and it’s taking all his concentration to stay calm. “What?”

“Do you like the music?”

“Oh.” Felix closes his eyes again to listen. It’s a symphony, lovely and languid and rich with wind instruments. “Yes?”

“Great. I think it’ll go well with dinner.”

“Dinner.”

“Yes. We’re having aglio e olio. I had it when we were in France. And turns out it’s really easy to make.”

Felix sways a little. He might be hungry, it’s hard to tell. He just kind of feels delirious at this point. This position is going to be bad for his knees soon. The pain in his kneecaps against the uneven rug is becoming impossible to ignore. And the fabric squeezing the hollows of his knees is like knives. He grimaces deeply and stares at a scuff on the linoleum in the kitchen in front of him. Maybe he should keep counting. He can’t let Minho down.

Minho’s red apron fills his vision. Felix didn’t hear him approach. There’s a sudden weight pushing on his right elbow. He grunts and strains hard to hold his pose. After a long moment, Minho lifts his hand off Felix’s right arm, then pushes down Felix’s left elbow.

“Ah! Hyung!” Felix looks up at Minho beseechingly.

“How’s your back?” Minho’s voice sounds bored, but he’s watching Felix hungrily as he applies more pressure, making Felix’s whole torso judder and shake with the effort to stay in place.

“F-fine.” Felix grits. It is, actually. No twinges in his lower back. The rest of his body, on the other hand…

“And your knees?” Minho jerks Felix’s arm meanly.

His first instinct is to lie and say his knees are dandy. He used to have to hold planks on a single knuckle in taekwondo, competing with his fellow students to see who had the most bravado - more like the most masochism. His time as an idol since then has taught him to be more wary of joint injuries. Yet it feels wrong somehow to admit how much this hurts. He can take more.

He deserves more.

The struggle must be evident on his face because Minho lets go of Felix’s elbow and pokes Felix’s calf sharply with his toe. Felix doesn’t react. The sensation is vague, making him aware his legs have gone numb from the cut-off circulation at his knees. Damn these tight pants.

“Time to get up. Answer me faster Yongbok.”

“Yes hyung.” Given permission, Felix loosens his fingers and lets his arms drop in slow motion, groaning with sweet relief. Next he needs to figure out how to unbend his knees. That’s quickly solved when Minho stoops and loops his arms under Felix’s armpits, lifting him easily.

“Ahhh!” Felix cries in Minho’s ear as his stiff, leaden legs straighten painfully. He holds on and breathes hard while a wave of heat signals the return of feeling to his feet. His knees creak angrily.

“Easy.” Minho whispers, holding him up. Felix whimpers as Minho sets him down on the couch. The tingles are starting in his calves. This is gonna suck.

“On your stomach.” Minho instructs and Felix nods, breathing rapidly as he complies, his body not keeping pace with his intentions. He makes it to a prone position, gingerly hooking his prickling feet over an armrest, and presses his face into the cushion.

“Yes, just like that, cheon-sa.” Minho murmurs, moving Felix’s creepily dead legs, and then a weight settles in behind him. Felix grins secretly as Minho rests Felix’s knees on top of his thighs. He’s begun to sense a pattern in the ways Minho prefers to position him. But the smile quickly dies when he feels hands grip his calves.

“Oh f*ck f*ck!” Felix swears in English as Minho starts massaging the pins-and-needles feeling in his legs. He’s always been crazy sensitive to the eerie pain of circulation returning, ever since he was a kid. Pretty much all the members know to stay away from Felix when his arm or leg falls asleep. He can’t always control his reaction when touched. Felix punches the armrest but does his best to hold still.

“Language.” Minho warns, a smile in his voice. He slides his thumbs down the centre of Felix’s right calf.

“Hahh, sorry hyung.” Felix says brokenly, fighting the urge to kick. He shouldn’t bite the couch cushion, this isn’t their flat. Despite how much he wants to.

“Mm. Numbness means no circulation, which means you’re risking nerve damage if you hold the position too long. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that.”

“I- didn’t realise - Oh!” Minho’s hands are firm and insistent as he kneads Felix’s calf like stubborn bread dough. The rushing ache and sharp needling sensations are rapidly intensifying. “I didn’t realise it’d gotten that bad.” He explains haltingly, digging his fingers desperately into the cushion gap to prevent retaliation. His whole body is lurching erratically against Minho’s insistent ‘help’. A well-placed squeeze of Felix’s ankle sends him writhing, and Minho chuckles. It doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to suspect Minho’s enjoyment.

“Are you sure spanking is completely out of the question, hyung?” Felix asks urgently. Both his legs are exploding with kaleidoscopic tingles now. Every hapless jerk of his muscles in response to Minho’s prodding just makes it worse.

“Definitely out of the question.” Minho says with satisfaction, thumbs moving in efficacious, relentless circles. Leave it to Minho to make a caring gesture ruthless. Felix guesses there’s an element of revenge in this - he’s given Minho plenty of painful massages in the past.

Unable to bite the couch cushion, Felix buries his face in it instead. Slowly, the wild ache in his legs begins to recede, making Minho’s massage start to feel genuinely therapeutic instead of tormenting. His hot breath collects in the foam padding as his legs still and the needling prickles fade from his toes like dying embers in a fire.

Sensing a change, Minho slows his hands, applying pressure more deliberately now and focusing on the places Felix gathers tension. The soles of his feet, the strong Achilles tendon behind his heel, the fullest curve of his calf. In each place, he carefully tugs and smooths Felix’s jeans, pressing out the wrinkles and rubbing the raw indentations beneath.

Felix mustn’t make a sound. The careful pressure of Minho’s hands is heaven now, but instinct is warning him Minho will stop the instant Felix gives away his enjoyment. This is supposed to be a punishment, right? So he closes his eyes and tries his best not to lean into the touch like a stray kitten desperate for attention.

“You really are silly, Yongbok.” Minho chides. “You take a simple lesson and push it too far. I can’t take my eyes off you for a minute.” His thumbs are doing something sinful to the backs of Felix’s thighs.

“I’m sorry hyung.” Felix finally turns his face enough to breathe the cool air, risking a tiny shimmy to venture farther into Minho’s lap. “I’m trying to be good, I promise.”

“Hmm.” Minho’s thumb digs painfully into the tender pit behind Felix’s knee in warning, and Felix stills with a gasp. “You’re so sneaky. This might be harder than I thought.”

Felix is at a loss for how to respond, so he just settles deeper into the couch without a word. This doesn’t phase Minho, who resumes kneading Felix’s hamstrings with careful pressure.

The quiet flute in the background has been joined by swelling strings, and Felix breathes slowly. Minho’s concentrating both hands on his left thigh, taking double handfuls of flesh and squeezing slowly, working his way higher in tiny increments. He wishes he could take off these stupid pants, especially when Minho’s hands reach deeper between his legs, achingly close to where Felix is dying to be touched.

The fact that Minho’s doing this on purpose doesn’t reduce the effectiveness of the temptation at all.

“Numbness, tingling, sudden sharp pain while holding position should always be reported to your hyung.” Minho says quietly, slowly tracing Felix’s inseam. “Especially if it’s your back. There are other positions, cheon-sa.” His hands squeeze both thighs hard. “I won’t stop the scene. Or your punishment. We’ll always go until I’m satisfied.”

Felix nods against the cushion with a hitching sigh. “Thank you.” He relaxes deeper into the couch. Is it too soon to start crying? “How should I let you know? Should I beg?” His voice comes out unstable and low.

Minho hums, fingertips idly dancing over his calves. “Yeah. I like it when my Bokie begs sweetly. Tell me how much it hurts.”

“Okay.” Felix squeezes his eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to keep his composure. Minho is rubbing his legs in long strokes now, taking his time, accompanied by the swelling symphony. How can a massage accompanied by lovely music be so soothing and frustrating at the same time? They make it all the way through to the end of the movement, last notes dying in silence.

“I think my butt is still a little numb, hyung.” Felix finally suggests in a small voice when Minho’s hands sweep glancingly past his neglected buttocks for the second time in silence.

Minho snorts and abruptly rolls Felix off the couch onto the floor. Felix laughs breathlessly and looks up as Minho stands and straightens his apron. He looks down at Felix.

“Let’s make dinner. Take off your clothes.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

1 August, 2022

The rain returned sometime in the small hours of the night. Not the kind that falls heavy and fast. This is a soaking, slow, drought-quenching rain. The type to saturate the very air, making fingers tacky, curling hair, and causing the giant gymnasium halide lights to buzz from the extra particles in the atmosphere. Felix could hear the electric hum above as he’d shuffled out of the predawn darkness into the bright Goyang gym forty minutes ago to queue for a Covid antigen test.

The long deluge shows no sign of easing even now. An assistant offers Felix a hand-held fan, which he accepts with a nod. Despite the early hour, the humidity is already making them all sheen. Cho-hee, one of their stylists today, pauses her comb in Chan’s hair and reaches for the extra-hold hairspray in her belt. Chan’s neck hunches in un-asked-for apology for his curls.

Felix waits his turn for makeup and hair, idly blowing air down the neck of his t-shirt. Their dressing room isn’t actually a ‘room’, it’s just a section of the main hallway on the visiting team side of the gymnasium complex. The lack of privacy doesn’t matter because they arrived wearing their ISAC royal blue tracksuits already. Each idol group was assigned an area to prepare in separate sections of hallway marked off by strips of black gaffer’s tape stuck to the floor. Covid restrictions likely prevented the use of the crowded locker rooms Felix recalls from previous ISAC events. He can see a half-dozen other groups stationed down the curving hall, but he misses the hectic insanity of all the different agencies clowning around behind the scenes while harried MBC interns run back and forth with call sheets trying to organise the chaos.

There are wall-to-ceiling windows here that look across at the imposing open-air Goyang Stadium, and Felix can hear the rain hitting them with a hiss like sand falling through an hourglass. His back is against the window, absorbing the faint coolness of the water soaking the world outside. The sun briefly breaks through the gloom as it struggles to crest the horizon below the line of dense clouds, lending much-needed colour to the tired faces of the Stray Kids members as they sprawl in the hallway. ISAC filming will begin at 7 am.

No singing today, so everyone’s quiet without vocal warmups to run through. I.n seems to be the only one besides Felix who’s fully awake, tipping his chair back while watching something on his phone. Hopefully not archery videos. Nearly everyone else is dozing wherever they landed; they’re all old hands at snatching sleep whenever they can.

Something’s wrong with Minho. The thought enters Felix’s mind conversationally, like someone’s sitting in the empty chair beside him, mentioning the idea to him to drum up small talk. It registers that way too, absently, like the imaginary person had pointed out an oddly-shaped stain on the carpet. But instead of saying, ‘Huh, that stain over there looks like a lopsided donkey.’ They said, ‘Huh, something’s wrong with Minho, and it’s probably important.’

Felix’s eyes sharpen on Minho, who’s standing at the catering table down the hall with a paper cup in one hand and the other hand resting on the nozzle of an insulated boxed coffee container without opening it. He continues to stand frozen for another ten seconds before blinking and completing the motion. Felix can barely discern the sound of liquid filling the cup over the endless sigh of rain behind him. Minho grabs a lid and absently wanders over to sit next to Han, who’s fast asleep against the far wall, blue track jacket draped over his face. Minho slowly takes several sips, blank face registering neither the heat nor the flavour of the drink.

He’s tired, Felix thinks, even though they’d managed to return to the dorm before midnight last night. That doesn’t mean Minho slept. Despite everything, Felix managed to have his most normal night of the entire week, waking easily with his alarm at 5 am. And ever since opening his eyes, a feeling of weightlessness has followed him everywhere, lending ease and a slight numbness to all his movements. He’s feeling well, definitely less tense than he’s been for days. But that conversational voice in the back of his head asks if maybe things shouldn’t feel this easy?

Well, that question can wait too. He’ll take numb and easy over stressed and reckless today. It’s going to be a long one. Idol Star Athletic Championship filming will last all day, and then they have a livestream scheduled to celebrate Stray Kids’ 4th birthday right after. The work never stops, so he’ll just remind himself that last night went fairly well. He and Minho understand each other better now. They’d arrived home calmly and on good terms. If anything, Felix is the one who should feel pent up, but he doesn’t. He just feels… nothing.

Nothing is good. He can work with nothing. His name is called, and Felix slaps Chan’s wide shoulders good-naturedly and drops into the makeup chair. Settling into Chan’s residual body heat, he looks in the mirror. Minho’s staring at him. Felix closes his eyes as cool primer is dabbed on his nose.

Surprisingly, his detachment persists even when he walks into the crowd of idols in the big main gym twenty minutes later. The space is dominated by a red 100-metre oval track with thick white lines marking the running lanes laminated to the wooden floor. The walls marking the edge of the playing space - usually reserved for advertisem*nts - are plastered with signs depicting the many idol groups in attendance today. Above these, the stands surrounding the arena are steep and hold a capacity of 6,000 people.

Only about half that number have been allowed inside due to Covid, but the audience makes up for their reduced number by cheering at the top of their lungs. As soon as the Stray Kids members appear, the STAYs who woke up earlier than them to attend this filming jump up and shriek happily through their face masks. Yet even as Felix’s heart beats faster with excitement, the part of him that keeps track of these details continues to hang back.

Without irony, he informs himself that he’s doing pretty well. He is Normal Felix. He greets friends and acquaintances playfully while the group follows Yi-Joon through the crowd to the far side of the gym, where the idols are wearing blue tracksuits like theirs. The blue team will compete against the white team today.

What do you call a gathering of idols, Felix wonders. Not a herd, surely. A charm? Maybe a glamour? Enclosed in the middle of the pack as the group forges a sea of attractive faces, Felix watches Chan make his rounds, hailing everyone around them by name. Felix’s arm is linked with Hyunjin’s, whose body is reacting to all the energy in the room by taking rhythmic shuffling steps like he has to actively prevent himself from dancing. Within minutes, he breaks from Felix’s grasp and runs exuberantly to greet a large contingent of STAYs in the stands cheering and waving at them. Felix laughs.

Yes, this is good. A huge part of him had been terrified that everything about himself would be suspicious today. Especially after last night. It’s his first big schedule with the whole group in front of fans, cameras, and staff after beginning this affair with Minho. He’d been afraid he would look obvious, like a giant neon sign would be visible above him, flashing ‘I’m in love with Lee Know’ over and over for the whole world to see.

Near him, Minho has regained his stride, laughing with Han and Changbin as they gesticulate to the crowd. Han is bouncing with chaotic energy, his bright eyes flashing, all traces of sleep evaporating as soon as he hears the sounds of the crowd. They reach their appointed spot in the glamour of idols and prepare themselves for the arduous hours of waiting that accompany a big shoot like this one.

Felix rides out the floaty feeling for a long time. He participates in the opening ceremony. He mugs and throws hearts to the fans, he distracts Hyunjin so he doesn’t succumb to a dark mood because of his broken hand, and he discusses what to expect in the archery shoot with I.n and Minho.

ISAC this year feels strained, though Felix can’t really put his finger on why. Is it the fault lines that run seismically between the idol agencies? But those are always present. Or all the grumbling he hears about the new rules for event qualification? He can easily blame some unease on Covid, or the rumours circulating lately that this showcase has become too difficult for MBC to produce.

Perhaps the strain is more personal, like the fact that the SKZ members aren’t rookies in this competition anymore. It could just be the simple fact that they’re only participating in one event - so many hours of waiting for thirty minutes of amateur archery. Chan has barely stopped socialising all morning in an attempt to distract himself from his favourite events.

The real test of Felix’s strange composure arrives in the form of Yi-Joon, who emerges from the crowd halfway through the day with an MBC 2nd Assistant Director carrying a heavy clipboard to hustle the group back across the gym to the archery arena. Before filming, they have a limited amount of time to warm up, review the rules, consult the broadcast director to memorise camera placement, and shoot a few practice arrows.

As team captain, Felix is called up first. The 2nd AD and the archery line judge stand with him as he adjusts his arm guard and toes the line marking the shooting boundary in front of the two competition targets. He tries to listen to the instructions, but he’s done this before, and the numbness that’s been a blessing all morning has suddenly evaporated.

Frozen, Felix stares at the large stationary camera angled down in front of him. The light on top is off to indicate it isn’t recording. He can see his face reflected back in the deep lens, and it looks scared.

Behind him, he hears Changbin bellowing a challenge as greeting to Jung Wooyoung over on the Atee*z side of the arena to Felix’s right, prompting a louder shout back. Friends for years, those two can’t resist goading each other. Cheers rain down from the stands as the rest of the Atee*z members wander into the shooting gallery. To his left, Han is calling Minho ‘Legolas-san’ in a loud sing-song voice to tease him, but Felix doesn’t hear any response. I.n laughs nervously.

Focus. This isn’t a big deal. The AD is watching him expectantly, waiting for Felix to warm up on the bow. He does, setting his stance and breathing deeply, hoping muscle memory will guide him through these first strangling nerves. It works. He snaps two arrows into the nine-ring, one after the other. Then one more in the eight-ring. Hyunjin and Han cheer loudly over the crowd. Felix turns around to see his members nodding in satisfaction, but the look on Minho’s face is vague.

“Great! Please send Lee Know-ssi up next.” The AD shoos him away, marking something on his clipboard. Felix points at Minho, who stands up from the front row of plastic chairs behind the shooting line and bends over slowly to pick up his bow. He checks his quiver for arrows - Chan had stolen them earlier as a joke that didn’t go over very well - and takes Felix’s place.

Back at the chairs, I.n claps Felix’s back to commend him for his warm-up, and Felix dips his head in thanks. Then he cautiously rotates his shoulders, wondering if maybe his back has begun to hurt again. Is that a twinge? Did he go overboard with the obedience last night? Or is he just holding himself too stiffly? His muscles have gone rigid. Why can’t he remember how he normally stands?

He shakes his head gently, mindful of the garland of pretty white flowers Cho-hee pinned in his dark hair this morning. The flowers have been a Stray Kids trademark since their first ISAC appearance three years ago. Just nerves, he reminds himself, searching for a distraction from his intense self-awareness. They all turn to watch Minho warm up.

Minho shoots a six first, looking slightly abashed and moving slower than he had in practice yesterday. Seungmin and Chan hoot loudly. But that’s quickly followed by another arrow in the nine-ring, and a third in the ten-ring. They cheer, relieved to see Minho’s smug little grin when he turns around.

I.n is called next. He’s wearing his frozen Jeongin perma-smile as he gathers his equipment, a sure sign he’s truly nervous. Felix watches the back of his friend’s blonde head, adorned with pale pink and gold flowers, as he leans close to listen to the line judge’s instructions. He bends low in thanks, and lifts his large recurve bow with the deliberate movements of someone who’s not convinced their body will cooperate.

I.n’s anchor position is okay, his left shoulder is co*cked a little high, and fine tremors are vibrating his arms and shoulders. Not as confident as yesterday. But he shoots an eight, planting the arrow in the left side of the target for the first time in a while. He usually pulls right. Well, I.n always goes all-out when it’s time for the real performance, it’s not unusual for his practised delivery to change on the day. I.n shoots another eight and then a nine, looking relieved when he turns and acknowledges the applause. The Atee*z members cheer him too.

When it’s time to watch their competition warm up, Felix can’t resist carefully analysing their shooting despite the fact that there isn’t much they can do to influence it. Like Felix, Yeosang is captaining the Atee*z team, and approaches the shooting line first. His white track pants and t-shirt representing the white team make him look very straight and elegant, the clothes contrasting vividly with his dark hair and highlighting his clean profile. His natural centred movements lend themselves well to archery. He manages to make the anchor position look effortless by drawing smoothly, keeping his upper body admirably still, and then pauses only briefly to aim and shoot. He racks up two nines followed by a ten.

Minho, sitting next to Felix in the plastic chairs, releases a held breath in a silent sigh as he claps slowly. Felix nods his head in agreement without meeting his eyes. Yeosang is good. So much for their vague hopes that he’d somehow be clumsy or absent-minded! Deep down they’d all known that was empty hype.

The Atee*z warmup flies by too quickly, Yunho and Jongho follow up Yeosang and land consistent shots. The sudden loss of numbness makes Felix’s senses rush at him in fits and starts. Out of nowhere, the 2nd AD appears again and gives them a five-minute warning, causing the three Stray Kids archers to abruptly stand and prepare their already-prepped equipment.

Perhaps sensing the strain, Han pops out of his chair and begins making up a chant on the fly for Minho. He punches his arms into the air and stomps arrhythmically like a manic cheerleader.

“Lee! Legolas-san! Lee! Legolas-san!

Defeat these guys with a huge bow drawn!

Yo!… Yo!… Lee Know’s the baddest elf in the… shire?”

Han’s voice dwindles comically when he runs out of elf lore, but he makes up for it with enthusiastic kicks and arm swings, his mobile mouth grinning wide and light brown hair flying. Minho’s still face finally cracks a smile as he watches Han’s antics. Felix laughs gratefully, the sound graduating to a cackle when he glances up to see Han’s flailing blue figure projected on the gymnasium’s huge central screens. He gestures for Han to notice the cameraman recording him, causing Han to stop and stare up at the screens in horror, both hands covering his mouth.

This is the last thing Felix can recall before filming begins and he’s swept into the fast-moving archery competition. Time speeds up and he can barely keep his equilibrium as events engulf him in a dizzying sequence.

The three of them are led to a platform and the steadicam operator presses in close to film introductions. The sound and movement around Felix seem like a jerky, badly-cut movie as he waves and poses for the audience. Then they’re hustled back to the shooting gallery to begin. The broadcast director relays instructions to the assistant director’s radio in jargon that sounds like an alien language to Felix’s staticky ears. Unable to sit, Felix stands and shifts his weight, watching as Minho takes the mark as their first shooter.

The flowers in Minho’s grey-blonde hair are pure white, accented with green leaves and silvery pearls on tiny wires that quiver gently when he moves. He’s removed his blue track jacket so he can wear a shoulder guard clipped over his white t-shirt; and his quiver is cinched tightly at the waist. Han’s right, Felix thinks, to call him Legolas. He looks elfishly beautiful.

He’s also stressed. Felix can tell by Minho’s exaggerated ease as he prepares to step into the shooting gallery. Felix’s restless eyes flit back and forth over his hyung’s familiar figure, focusing on features like they’re still photographs: the tense mouth, the swinging arms, the restless feet. They’d chosen Minho for the first round because he’s a consistent shooter, and rarely lets nerves trip him up. Felix shoves down a sudden doubt.

The horn sounds, startlingly loud to Felix’s ears, and Minho draws. He shoots an eight, the arrow landing just inside the boundary. Felix thinks of Kyung’s comment about Minho gripping his bow too hard sometimes. Minho turns away from the target and cheers for himself despite his evident disappointment with the shot.

Next to Minho, Yeosang quietly takes his stance, draws smoothly to anchor, and lands a nine. The Atee*z members explode with cheers, and Minho purses his lips, shaking his head ruefully as he prepares his next arrow.

The Stray Kids’ hopes are realised when the horn blares again, Minho stills, draws, and shoots a nine. They all scream in relief, and hyped-up Minho points at Yeosang, their old dance partner from the Mayfly team, who smiles easily and pulls out his next arrow.

Yeosang quickly has his revenge, however, when he comfortably scores a ten for his second shot in the round. The speed with which he’d aimed and landed such a steady shot makes everyone on the Stray Kids side go ominously quiet.

Or maybe Felix’s ears have decided to stop working. All he can focus on is Minho’s lopsided posture as he tries to recover his composure. Or rather doesn’t. Instead of pausing and setting his stance again, he just seems to be waiting for the horn. When it blares, he immediately draws, teeth clenched in an angry smile, and pulls the string to his chin. Like Yeosang, he only takes a brief moment to aim before shooting. Unlike Yeosang, he buries his arrow in the two-ring, just a few centimetres from the outside edge of the target.

Behind Felix, Chan bellows in shock before he can stop himself. Felix automatically claps loudly and I.n glances at him and follows suit. In characteristic fashion, Minho covers his embarrassment by celebrating his score with exaggerated cheer, turning and pumping his bow above his head like he scored a bullseye. But the damage is done. A ten-point gap opening up between the teams so suddenly is a major blow.

Maybe Minho’s strange performance throws Yeosang a little, because when he takes his last shot of the round, he scores a seven. Felix hopes that’s enough to encourage I.n as he moves into the gallery for the second round. Minho sits down heavily in his chair. It takes all Felix’s self control to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder instead of kissing the dejected look off his face. He focuses his attention on the archers in front of him with a sickening lurch.

Instead of smiling, I.n’s eloquent face grimaces as he takes his mark, and rolling unrest ripples through the audience. Felix futilely wishes he could take this round to shift the pressure off his teammate, but there’s no changing the shooting order in the middle of competition. Felix must anchor the team by taking four shots in the final round.

Stray Kids got first place in the shooting order by coin toss before filming, so I.n will go first. Yunho from Atee*z moves up to take his mark next to him, his tall frame in flowy white track pants making I.n look delicate by comparison. The flowers in I.n’s hair enhance the vision of him as a diminutive character from a fairytale.

To I.n’s credit, he moves through his shooting sequence just as he had in practice: breathing deeply, setting his stance and pulling into anchor position. He broadcasts the strain of the draw a little with quivering arms, but he takes a good moment to aim fluidly, then release. His arrow hits the four-ring on the far left side of the target.

Felix sees a look of confusion flicker across I.n’s face on the huge screen above. He and Minho clap loudly for him, trying to buffer the disappointment they can see radiating from their teammate. I.n turns and smiles with his head tilted to the side, like a child that spilled milk all over the table at a fancy dinner party.

A stifling weight settles in Felix’s stomach as I.n and Yunho quickly alternate shots to finish out the round. Yunho lands a steady seven and then two eights. I.n groups his last two arrows in the two- and three-rings on the left side of the target, exactly opposite the right side where he’d been grouping arrows yesterday. It quickly dawns on Felix that perhaps the adjustment Kyung made to I.n’s bow sight is throwing him off.

The irony of I.n improving his shooting so much in the final performance that he throws off the modifications made to help him is brutally unsurprising. It’s also galling that none of them are confident enough in archery to adjust the sight again in the middle of competition. The round ends with a score of 29 to 49, Stray Kids trailing badly. Unless Jungho from Atee*z falters completely, the last round will be a matter of salvaging dignity more than anything else.

Minho thumps Felix’s back hard when it’s time for his turn, but doesn’t smile. Felix’s vision is stuttering worse than ever, unable to rest on anything as he readies his equipment. The crowd sounds echoey. It’s too late to wonder why his nerves have gotten so strained by filming a holiday sports special - a show he’s appeared on three times already. The only thing he can do is stand at the line with his bow, adjusting his posture over and over as he waits for his signal.

It all comes to a stop when the AD raises his hand and the camera in front of Felix lights up. A horn sounds to indicate his shooting timer has begun. Felix’s quivering vision narrows on the target 20 metres away, all the details in his periphery fading. Just shoot straight down this sight tunnel, and everything will be fine! The shooting sequence that always plays in his head is absent today, but his body moves anyway. Pre-anchor, anchor, aim, shoot. His arrow vibrates in the nine-ring of the target.

Cheers burst hollowly around Felix. He barely registers Jungho scoring a six next to him. In a series of disjointed events, Felix is staring at his own arrow in the five-ring, then the nine-ring, then another nine. At some point Yeosang stands and takes Jungho’s place for the final shot of the competition. He easily scores a ten.

It’s over. Atee*z won handily with a score of 81 to Stray Kids’ 61. Felix’s hearing and vision finally settle as he stands with I.n and Minho and apologises to the camera for their lacklustre performance.

It might be melodramatic, but their performance today feels like the end of an era, Felix thinks. Like their unequivocal drubbing in archery is just a symptom of the group moving on from a younger phase of their career. They simply have more important things to focus on. Something tells him they won’t be competing in ISAC again in the future. He’s not sure how guilty he should feel about that, especially since his gut is saying that his personal drama with Minho played a small role in the loss.

Bereft of adrenaline now, Felix tiredly joins Atee*z to congratulate them on their win. The rigidity of competition filming has passed, allowing him to hug Yeosang warmly and compliment his amazing performance. Next, he clings to Wooyoung and doesn’t object when he teases Felix mercilessly for their loss.

The day grinds on. Without a looming competition to preoccupy him, Felix sags, and the afternoon comes to a screeching halt. His body feels like he ran a marathon. The track events fail to hold his attention, and Minho is casually avoiding Felix’s eyes. Everyone’s bored, and there’s nothing to distract Felix from his confusion about what’s causing Minho’s loss of composure today. His anxiety, freed from the unnatural calm of this morning, churns. He runs through the events of last night over and over in his mind, but his panicked brain refuses to construct a reasonable theory.

Han turns to him halfway through the relay race and says, “I need to pee. Come with me?”

Felix is so deep in his thoughts, Han’s words don’t penetrate. “Huh?” He asks blankly.

“U-rin-ate.” Han pronounces the syllables in English with exaggerated care, eyebrows quirked. “Water the lilies? Empty the tank? Excrete??” He laughs. “Wanna come?”

Felix doesn’t need to go, but he smiles and nods anyway. Han doesn’t like to be alone in a crowd, and Felix is itching for a change of scenery. He lets Han steer him through the throng of bored idols to the staff exit.

It’s a relief when the heavy fire doors slam behind them, dampening the cacophony of cheers to muffled rumbles and hoots. A scattering of staff and talent greet them as they make their way deeper into the maze of hallways behind the gym. Felix glances at his companion, who’s striding confidently around corners, but looking around with a pursed mouth.

“Do you know where you’re going?” He asks Han, who’s leading him in the opposite direction of the bathroom near the press room Felix used earlier today.

“Sure.”

“You don’t, do you?”

“No clue.” Han laughs sheepishly, slowing his pace. They pause and look around, and Felix hears a locker door shut somewhere down the wide hallway to his right. There should be a bathroom near it. He tugs Han’s hand. Sure enough, a door propped open with a heavy trash bin leads to an echoey locker room big enough to accommodate a full basketball team. A man wearing a white tracksuit finishes tying his shoe and shyly waves at them. Felix doesn’t recognize his face, but returns the wave cheerfully.

An open passage in the corner leads to a large grey and white tiled bathroom equipped with stalls, urinals, sinks, and a ramp leading into a dark shower room. Han makes a beeline for a stall, and Felix turns to the row of sinks and washes his hands. His face in the mirror looks normal enough, though his hair is dishevelled from the garland. He smooths it down with damp hands. Footsteps squeak away faintly as the man in the locker room wanders off.

Briefly unobserved, Felix watches himself and rubs his chest hard, the twinge of pain reassuring him last night was real. He doesn’t need to look to know the marks have almost completely faded.

“I don’t think ISAC is going to happen for us again next year.” Han says quietly from his stall, echoing Felix’s thoughts from earlier.

“No.”

“I can’t say I’m devastated.”

“I - think it’s for the best.”

“Mm.”

The toilet flushes and Han emerges and turns on the tap next to Felix. Felix watches him in the mirror. His bleached, wheat-coloured hair brushes his lovely rounded cheekbones. The frenetic energy that animated him earlier today has dissipated, leaving him quiet and withdrawn, his lithe body noticeably still. He sees Han’s expressive mouth is pale and stiff, and he’s keeping his gaze downcast, avoiding eye contact.

Mixing in a large crowd all day with nothing to do gets on everyone’s nerves, but Han’s always been more susceptible. He can tell by the lack of twinkle in Han’s quick brown eyes that he’s approaching his limit. Felix fumbles for a topic of conversation, something unrelated to today’s schedule, and especially not the trainwreck of the archery competition. Han beats him to it.

“How was Hakone?” He asks, sluicing water over his soapy hands slowly and watching the bubbles dissolve away.

Felix is starting to worry about the marked interest his members have shown in that trip. But he can’t decide if the questions are more pointed than normal, or if he’s being paranoid for obvious reasons.

“Good.” He says, unintentionally more brusque than he means to be. Han turns off the tap. Silence settles uneasily between them.

“Really?” Han looks up from the sink.

“Yup. It was really good.”

“K.” Han says softly. He targets Felix with a suspicious side-eye as he waves his hands in front of the hand dryer, which apparently isn’t working. Felix pulls tissues from his pocket and offers them.

“Thanks.” Han pats his hands dry. “You sure?” The question comes out as a forced laugh, like Han isn’t sure whether he’s teasing or asking seriously. Probably because Felix’s tone is so odd.

“Why? Did Minho say something?” Felix asks, remembering too late Minho already answered this question for him.

Han’s eyebrows knot and his lower lip becomes more pronounced in a confused pout. “Uh. No man. He just said you guys ate well.”

“Oh.” Felix laughs, “For sure. The food was amazing!”

Han wads up the damp tissues and shoots the ball at the bin in the corner. He misses spectacularly. Felix laughs and bounds forward to pick up the little ball, returning to Han’s side to try his hand. The wad rebounds against the wall and plunks satisfyingly in the trash.

“Pshh.” Han scoffs, “Where was this talent earlier?”

“Oi!”

“Aw, sorry! Kinda sh*tty of me to blame you. Minho’s the one who’s been acting weird.”

“Hmm.” Felix replies vaguely, desperately curious for Han’s perspective, but terrified to ask. He pulls out more tissues to make a couple more balls, reluctant to return to the roiling gym.

“We all have off days. Poor Jeongin actually improved his form during the competition, but he got thrown by his bow sight.” Felix says, shooting again - his soft ball glances off the bin rim. He hands another to Han, who makes a show of rolling his shoulders back and raising his arms in anchor position to aim like an archer.

“Is that what happened?” He throws hard, his ball bouncing erratically off the wall and landing in one of the sinks. “Bullseye!” He declares with a big grin.

“Ten points!” Felix agrees, fetching the damp ball out of the drain. “Yeah. Our instructor adjusted his sight yesterday because I.nnie kept pulling right.”

Han blows out through his teeth. “Phew. Crappy luck.” He shrugs, plucking the wad out of Felix’s hand. He tries again, but this time the ball makes an odd bounce and hits Han on the side of the head as he tries to duck. Felix laughs hard.

“Well, I.nnie still did better than I ever could!” Han declares sheepishly, picking up the unravelling tissue ball and taking baby steps to the bin to deposit it with dramatic care.

“Mm.” Felix’s last throw lands his ball in the bin over Han’s shoulder, and he brushes his hands together nervously. “You think Minho’s acting weird?”

“You don’t?” Han leans against a sink and looks at his nails. He’d removed his black gel polish recently.

This question is a trap, whether Han realises it or not. Yet Felix finds himself constitutionally unable to avoid it. Of all the members, Han has the most access to Minho’s innermost thoughts, despite his jokes that he and Minho never talk about anything important. Han just gets Minho in a way that’s almost instinctual. Felix supposes he ought to be jealous of that - now more than ever - but he can’t seem to muster up the feeling. The only thing he wants is to understand what’s gone wrong.

“Yeah I guess so.”

Han nods, testing the smoothness of his thumbnail. “He’s been off - not just in archery. Yesterday, he woke me up out of a dead sleep to give me breakfast, and asked to hang out. Which is fine. But then he barely said a word - just sat in my room and didn’t even look at his phone. I’m not sure why he bothered.”

“Oh.” Felix’s heart tugs. He’d suspected Minho needed comfort yesterday during their ‘pause’, but it feels much worse to have his suspicions confirmed. Normally, he’d let this sort of observation pass to avoid gossip, but the temptation to confess is too strong to resist. “It’s probably my fault.” He says quietly.

Han’s face when he finally looks up at Felix isn’t surprised. Just thoughtful. And he alarmingly doesn’t ask Felix why.

“Hakone?” He says simply.

Felix reaches out a hand and tightly holds onto the sink next to him. Han’s easy guess that something happened between him and Minho in Hakone is a little devastating. His belief in his own professionalism has been taking a massive hit lately.

He feels a million words building up in his chest. Descriptions of what he’s been feeling, explanations for his behaviour, unsolicited justifications for his decisions clog his throat. And beneath it all a silent, childish wail for comfort. He swallows hard.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

They both stare at Han Jisung’s hands. Felix has always thought his are the most shapely hands in the group, the most well-proportioned and smooth. They’re attractively tan, though his nails are looking a little ragged today. This porcelain-lined box of a room is silent. Felix yearns for the screaming in the gym.

“How -” No, that’s not what he should be focusing on right now. “Is it okay? To talk about this?”

Han smiles at his hands, “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

What is there to say, really? Ideally some kind of explanation. “It’s just been there. Between us. For a while.” Felix stares at the floor, words spurting out of him in fits and starts. “It’s kind of hard. To explain. How he affects me.” The phrases peter out.

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.” Han says softly.

“You do?” Felix finally glances up to see Han watching him with a pensive look in his eyes.

“Yeah I think I can fill in the blanks.” Han’s mouth pulls into a half-grin, “And Lee Know-ssi isn’t the dark horse he thinks he is.”

Felix smiles sharply. Han has always had a talent for saying a lot with just a few phrases. His ease with this subject is a staggering relief. Felix relaxes his deathgrip on the sink a little.

“I’m not sure I agree.” He admits. “I feel like Minho’s pretty mysterious right now.” He hesitates, but decides to share anyway. There’s not much point being coy now that he’s confirmed Han’s suspicions. “He - He gives such an impression of being stable, like he can handle anything. I feel like I can lean on him and tell him everything. He says he’s fine. But…”

“But?” Han thrusts his head forward, his penetrating gaze searching out Felix’s. Felix looks away.

“But… Maybe I can’t tell him everything. Because today…” Felix pauses, trying to decide what’s appropriate to share.

“He’s giving you space? Acting like everything’s fine, but being super awkward?” Han supplies for him.

“Yes! And he’s never been like that with me!” Felix staggers forward a few steps, irresistibly drawn to the look of amused exasperation on Han’s face.

Han laughs, but it sounds a little sad. “Don’t let him fool you. It doesn’t happen often, but he can really tie himself up in knots - no pun intended.” He winks at Felix, who blushes hotly. “Anyway, he’ll make a big show of acting fine. But the reality is he’s really bad at asking for help. When he’s - you know, emotional.”

“Oh.” Help. The answer is so blindingly obvious, Felix has to swallow painfully to keep the bitterness of his own stupidity down in his gut. Maybe Minho doesn’t want to break up, which Felix had been fearing all day due to Minho’s cold shift in behaviour. He can remember now that the release of his emotional confession during their scene last night had been a big catharsis. For both of them. Felix assumed that catharsis meant the same thing for Minho as it did for him. And didn't question if Minho’s feelings might be different. Again.

It’s becoming clear to Felix that the strange, heady pull of power play between him and Minho has caused Felix to behave in a way he never anticipated for his first D/s relationship. His assumptions about how little a Dominant would need from him, emotionally, and his accustomed hyung-dongsaeng dynamic with Minho have resulted in an immature, unbalanced relationship on his part. It’s desperately disappointing to realise how much he’s fumbled in just the last few days. Felix’s face twists.

“Oof. You’ve got it bad, huh?” Han says, nudging Felix playfully.

“That’s an understatement.”

Han’s broad grin fades a little. “Good.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and turns away to look at himself in the mirror. “You know the twisted thing? I’m happy. I don’t think I could’ve handled Minho finding a sub outside the group.”

Felix winces instinctively at the word ‘sub’, something about it being said out loud by another member makes his situation feel so much more concrete than it has until now. He also thinks Han’s implied claim on Minho should make him uncomfortable, but his gut is telling him the claim is legitimate. The only feeling he can recognize right now is relief to have his peculiar situation acknowledged by someone who can understand him.

“I’m flattered?” He laughs awkwardly, meeting Han’s eyes in the mirror.

“No, man. I just mean, it’s sappy, but I love you both a lot.”

The temptation to collapse from relief hits Felix so suddenly, he reaches out and hugs Han from behind instead. Han laughs, struggling to turn around so he can hug him back. Felix sighs, and Han ruffles his hair.

“Should I say I’m proud of you? You’re all grown up!”

Felix groans into Han’s shoulder, “You’re literally one day older than me.”

“Still.”

“Thanks hyung.” For everything.

Han giggles. “You’re welcome.” He pets Felix a little gentler now.

“Don’t be too proud.” Felix says after a pause, his tone low. “I think I just made life a lot harder for all of you.”

Han squeezes him. “Don’t underestimate us.”

The desire to argue briefly grips Felix, but passes with Han’s warm arms around him. “Okay.”

Han holds him for a long moment until a quiet cough in the corner makes them jump.

“Nabi!” Felix blurts, pulling away from Han. He tries to cast back over the last few minutes to figure out if he heard her come into the locker room. And whether he should be worried about what Nabi might’ve heard.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you.” Nabi murmurs, difficult to hear even in this empty room. She stands so only half her body and face is visible around the edge of the bathroom entrance, as if wishing she could talk to them from out of sight instead. Felix wonders how she got her position when she seems almost painfully hesitant to interact with the idols in her charge. “Yi-Joon sunbae asked me to fetch you. Closing ceremonies are starting.”

“Ah! Okay.” Felix replies with forced cheer, shooting a meaningful look at Han. Han nods, and heads out of the room. At the door he pauses and looks at Nabi.

“Next time please send a text first.”

“Of course sunbaenim!” The bow she gives them nearly folds her body in half, and she scrambles to lead the way out of the locker room and back into the chaos of the glamour.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

An hour later Felix settles into the back of the company SUV, peeling the soaked shoulders of his t-shirt away from his skin. Another wave of rain pushed in while ISAC filming wrapped, resulting in an intense downpour and flood warning as the members were released from their day-long confinement in the noisy gymnasium. Just taking the fifteen steps from the building to the car felt like swimming. Seungmin, Minho, and Changbin pile in behind him, shouting and laughing as they scramble out of the downpour. Seungmin throws himself onto the seat next to Felix, and shakes his hair up close to him like a dog.

“Nooo!” Felix shields his face, but there’s no point. They’ll all have to submit to the hairdryer again before going on live when they arrive at the company building. “Bad puppy!” He waves his finger in Seungmin’s face, who just smiles and barks obediently.

Yi-Joon climbs into the driver’s seat and shakes out the umbrella that was absolutely no help keeping them dry on the way to the car. He looks like a grumpy drowned mule. “Seatbelts!” He yells back at them, and they all obediently buckle up. Yi-Joon gets cranky whenever he has to transport them in bad weather, and drives slower than an ajumma.

Seated in front of Felix, Minho brushes his wet hair back, flicking droplets at Changbin to annoy him. Changbin wisely ignores the bait. The car starts moving, vibrating from the force of the rain cascading all around, and they quiet down out of respect for the difficult driving conditions. The raindrops pummeling the car are so loud, talking feels impossible anyway.

The drive back will be Felix’s last interlude of the day before they film their evening SKZ birthday live. He takes a deep breath and watches Minho’s silhouette appear and disappear in the passing headlights of the cars outside. He thinks about Han’s comment. Help, yes. Out of the chaos of that gym, and calm now in the darkness of the car, Felix can finally think back over their scene yesterday with more objective eyes.

***

31 July, 2022

Felix laughs, lurching to his feet on rubbery legs.

“My clothes?”

“Yup. Take ‘em off.”

Felix stares at Minho, unconsciously pulling on the hem of his hoodie. “What does that have to do with dinner?”

Minho smiles. “Nothing. Everything. I want you naked for the rest of the evening.”

“Oh.” It’s not like Minho hadn’t warned him this was coming. “Yes hyung.”

Minho leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are sparkling. Felix shuffles his feet.

“Uh, did you want me to give you a show…?” Should he be making this sexy? Contrite?

“I want cheon-sa to be naked right now.”

Felix’s stomach flips at the urgency in Minho’s voice. He nods, quickly stripping off his clammy sweatshirt without ceremony and laying it on the couch so it’ll dry. Next, he carefully undoes his fly. Hesitating, he opts to sit on the couch to pull off the tight pants and socks plastered to his skin. Not a very sexy manoeuvre, but neither is falling over. The long pause he takes to pull the pant legs right-side-out is intentional.

When he looks up, Minho’s face is unreadable, though his eyes are intense. Meeting his gaze, Minho abruptly turns and grabs another sunflower tea towel out of a drawer next to the sink, wetting it under the faucet.

“Come here.”

Felix comes, sighing when his hot feet touch the cool linoleum. He’s always felt relatively comfortable nude, and all these years spent with his members have broken down whatever barriers he has left about them looking at him. They’re practically an extension of his own body at this point. He wonders idly if Minho maybe miscalculated his punishment tonight.

“There.” Minho says when Felix reaches some invisible spot in the middle of the kitchen. Felix glances at the windows above the sink, relieved to see they’re covered by white curtains printed with golden leaves. He might not be embarrassed by nakedness, but none of them can afford a picture of him in this situation leaking online.

Minho approaches with a serious expression, touching Felix’s shoulders lightly, then silently runs the moist linen down his neck. Felix smiles shyly at him, but Minho’s eyes are focused on his task. He gently cleans Felix’s arms from shoulder to fingertip, sponging away the film of sweat, lingering on his hands. He cleans Felix’s skin with measured strokes, neither rushing nor insinuating provocatively, and continues down his torso.

Felix blinks slowly. It’s an odd feeling, reminiscent of medical care, or worship, or both at once. His heart is in his throat looking down at the top of Minho’s pale head, tipped close. He’s sweeping the towel down Felix’s right thigh. Felix’s impulse is to stop him and say this isn’t necessary. He can clean himself. But he knows Minho would be insulted. So he holds still, biting his lips and trying to prevent himself from getting aroused when Minho, kneeling directly in front of him, slips the cleaning cloth over his dick and balls, glancing up coyly.

He’s not pulling any punches tonight. A strangled laugh falls lamely out of Felix’s mouth. The man at his feet resumes like nothing happened.

It’s better and worse when Minho steps behind him, cleaning Felix’s back with broad strokes. There are no more provoking glances now, but there’s nothing for him to focus on besides Minho’s firm hand on his hip and the soft cloth following the lines of his back, lingering barely perceptively on his glutes. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, leaning slightly into Minho’s free hand, focusing on the presence behind him and reminding himself to trust his hyung.

“Good.” Minho finally says somewhere at the level of Felix’s knees, administering a final scrub to his left foot, then throws the cloth in the sink.

Ha-ru’s poor towels, Felix thinks ruefully, and gasps when Minho stands and nips his left shoulder.

“Ya!” He protests with a smile, rubbing his shoulder and blinking slowly from the trance he’d fallen into. Minho just gives him a sharp smack on the butt before stepping around him to the sink. He’s fighting a grin as he rinses the cloth, then washes his hands. But he gets his face under control by the time he turns to the kitchen island and pulls the plastic shopping bag squarely in front of him.

“Uh, I want you to wash these green beans. Then take the stems off.” He finally meets Felix’s eyes calmly, holding the bag of green stuff out to him. Like this is the logical next step after giving your naked guest an impromptu sponge bath.

“Oh. Okay.” Felix takes the bag and steps slowly to the sink. They’re really going to make dinner. He’d sort of assumed Minho meant the food as a pretence to get him relaxed. Like inviting a potential lover to your place to ‘eat ramen’. But instead of focusing on Felix, Minho reaches for a small bag of flour and sprinkles it on the bench surface.

Felix looks down at the plump green beans in the bag. His perception of his own nakedness shifts from something sexy and preliminary to a more vulnerable mood. What had seemed like a pause in the scene hadn’t been that at all. Minho’s plans for the evening are more sophisticated than he imagined.

Tiny drops of water splash his bare stomach and arms as he runs the tap over the beans. After draining, he turns to Minho, who’s tossing thin strands of some kind of dough in the flour on the counter. “Where do you want these?”

Minho grabs a bowl from the bench and gives it to him with a floury hand. Felix stands awkwardly at the other side of the island, shoulders hunched, and begins snapping the stems off the beans and tossing them in the bowl. “Should I do all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

They work silently, only the quiet symphony accompanying them on Minho’s phone. This situation feels completely alien to Felix. After all, he’s never stood stark naked preparing dinner with Minho in a stranger’s kitchen. Granted, he’s done a lot of bizarre things in his career. But nothing with this strained erotic flavour. Yet Minho’s quiet presence somehow makes it entrancing.

Minho fills a pot with water and puts it on the small stove, setting the burner on high. Then he retrieves the wedge of cheese from the fridge and starts rummaging for a grater, spotting one hanging on the wall by the microwave.

He’s in his element, Felix reflects as he watches his hyung consult a recipe on his phone with a satisfied purse of his lips. Watching Minho cook is like watching him dance. He exudes simple pleasure, and moves with the calm, sure gestures of someone well-versed in technique, who’s certain of himself even if he’s unfamiliar with the recipe. They’ll eat well tonight.

The last bean stem snaps with a flick of Felix’s fingers and he drops the plump pod onto the pile in his bowl. Across from him, Minho’s raking a hard block of cheese across the grater, shaking dry, fluffy shavings onto a plate. He taps the grater expertly to shake loose the last crumbs and looks up at Felix with a satisfied smile.

“All done?” He asks.

“Yes.” Felix hands over the bowl.

“Perfect.” Minho lines up the beans, the pile of cheese, a tangle of fresh noodles, chopped garlic, a bottle of olive oil, a salt cellar, and a jar of red pepper flakes on the island. Like a television chef preparing an insert shot of all his luscious ingredients. Felix smiles.

“Before we cook, we need to do something else.” Minho rinses his hands and reaches into his jeans pocket. The lavender ribbon unspools from his fingers and undulates softly between them. “You need this.”

Felix nods, walking around the corner of the counter. “Yes hyung.” He says reverently, turning away to face the island. Minho gently caresses his arms from shoulder to wrist.

“When this ribbon goes on, I’m going to be very strict with you. We’ll have the same rules as before.” He says behind Felix. “I want you to answer all my questions honestly. Really try. If you don’t answer fast enough, you’ll be punished. And if you can’t answer a question, that’s okay. But I will stop the scene.”

Felix suddenly has an impression of himself walking naked into an interrogation room. How ridiculous that the thought is more arousing than terrifying!

“Something’s blocking you from negotiating with me, Yongbok-ah. Sharing your hangups is the only way this is going to work.” An automatic denial dies in Felix’s throat. He knows Minho’s right. “Until you do, I’m going to focus on what I want. You’re my dinner guest tonight, but you should know I’m a demanding host. I want you to be a perfect guest. It’ll be uncomfortable, so let me know if I push too hard.” Minho explains. “Understand?”

“Yes.” Felix breathes, eyes half-closed and chin pressed against his chest. “I want that.”

“I thought so. Do you agree to be honest and follow my commands?”

“Yes hyung.” Felix says again.

“I want you to serve me well.”

“Oh I will!”

“Good boy.” The ribbon flutters vividly past Felix’s face, making him jerk his head up, and he feels the fabric settle silkily at the base of his neck. A tug, and the first knot snugs against his skin, followed by a second tug to secure the bow.

The feeling of the silk around his neck is so subtle, it shouldn’t really affect him. Yet the gentle pressure of it feels profound, like stepping into a costume made of the most brilliant materials, custom-made, designed to reflect a part of himself he never gets to show.

Soft lips press his skin below the bow, and Felix shivers.

“You look so good.” Minho whispers in his ear. “I wish I could keep you naked and compliant every time we’re home.”

“Me too.” Felix groans. Firm hands turn him around, and Minho’s kissing him. His skin flares hotly. Minho crowds his space, tongue spearing his mouth, making Felix grip his shoulders for balance. He immediately surrenders to the hands roughly gripping his face, conscious of the gentle constriction of the ribbon with every turn of his head.

So this scene involves kissing, Felix thinks stupidly. He wonders if Minho always makes out with his dinner guests. His host traps his head at the perfect angle by holding his hair. Felix’s out-of-context nakedness makes his skin come alive, overloading him with information about Minho’s slick lips, the residue of flour on the apron dusting Felix’s stomach, the rough denim scratching his legs.

A loud hissing sound turns both their heads. The pot of water is boiling over. Minho lunges for the stove.

“Watch out!” He pins Felix against the island hard with one forearm as he lifts the pot spitting bubbles off the burner. Felix cringes away while Minho carefully places the pot in the sink. He laughs ruefully and checks the dial on the stove to make sure the burner’s off.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“You have quick reflexes.” Laughs Felix breathily. He rubs the small of his back where the counter caught him. Maybe his temperament has been permanently altered by these scenes because all he can focus on is the sensation of Minho throwing him around. Is that normal?

“Did the water get you?” Minho grabs Felix’s arm and scans his body. Felix flushes.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Minho sighs, eyes finally taking in what must be a silly, dumbfounded look on Felix’s face. They narrow. “I was getting you ready for a gift.”

“Gift?”

Minho fixes him with a serious look, yet his lips are twitching.

“A host must set the tone for the evening,” his turn of phrase is more formal, vowels rounder, “so I have something to put you in the right frame of mind.” He reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out something metallic. Felix blinks and steps closer.

It’s shaped vaguely like a small daikon, with a tapered end and a flared stem. The metal is bright and shiny and it looks heavy. Felix bites his lip.

“You got this for me?” He asks in a strained voice.

“Technically, it’s mine. I didn’t want to be spotted at a local shop, and there wasn’t enough time to order online.” Minho’s posh accent fades. Perhaps he’s nervous. “But I sterilised it, and we’ll use a condom.”

A cascade of images flow through Felix’s mind like a p*rnographic stream. Minho fingering himself for this butt plug, sliding it in, stroking himself. It’s overwhelming. He stares at the toy nestled in Minho’s palm. Minho wants to put his toy in Felix. Felix actually got one for himself last year while visiting Sydney. An artsy clear glass plug with blue swirls. It doesn’t have quite the same girth and is probably half the weight.

“Will you wear it for me tonight?”

Felix has been staring too long. Minho probably thinks he’s reluctant.

“Please hyung!”

At first he thinks Minho’s leaning in for another kiss, but feels his hair yanked instead as Minho steers him away from the island towards the small dining table against the far wall.

“Here.” Minho spins him and abruptly shoves him down until his cheek and upper body are pressed against the polished mahogany wood. Felix grunts, caught halfway between surprise and excitement. Minho’s hands are replaced by warm weight as he drapes his body over Felix’s back. His breath stutters as Minho bites his left shoulder blade, hands roughly grabbing both his butt cheeks, pulling them apart.

“Have you ever had a toy up your ass, cheon-sa?” Minho asks, biting a path from one side of his back to the other. “I bet you haven’t.”

“I - I have a toy.” Felix admits.

“What? Our Bokie has a toy?” Minho pinches a cheek, making him jerk. “I didn’t realise you had such a greedy ass. Did you play with yourself in the dorm while we watched movies next door?” Another bite, “Were you opening up your ass when you said you were gaming?”

Felix closes his eyes. Minho’s accusations edge a little too close to the truth. He can’t deny there’ve been days he’d been too pent up to wait until his roommates were out of the flat before he lubed up his toy. Especially when Minho was the only one home. He can be very quiet when he needs to be. It’s crazy the level of denial he’d achieved about his attraction to Minho. Fingernails bite into his butt cheek in warning.

“Mnn! Yes hyung… I used the toy when you guys were home.”

“Did you get so hot you couldn’t resist?”

“Yes.” Felix pants.

“Did you think about me?”

“f*ck. Yes, hyung. I tried not to.”

“Mm, I like that. You’re so bad.”

“I know.” It comes out as a wail.

“Don’t worry. We can fix that.” Minho’s weight disappears, replaced by a hand on his head, holding him firmly to the table. Minho’s solid thighs are wedged tight against his bum. Felix hears a dull clack as something metallic rolls on the wood beneath his cheek. The toy.

“Is your plug the same size as this one?”

“Not. Quite. As big.” Felix’s breathing isn’t working correctly.

“Hm, I guess you’ll have to work extra hard to take this, then. It’s going in no matter what.”

“O-o-okay.” Arousal shocks through Felix, followed by shame for being excited by the threat of force. He knows taking something much bigger than he can handle would be objectively awful, but his body doesn’t agree.

“So brave.” The hand eases off Felix’s head, and he hears the rustle and squeak of a latex glove followed by the flick of a bottle top. “Hold still and tell me you want something big up your ass. Say you’re dying for it, cheon-sa.”

Felix squeezes his eyes tight. “I want it, hyung. I want it so bad. I want you to push it deep.” It’s shocking how easily the words come out.

“Oh yes.” Slick gloved fingers slide between his cheeks, circling his hole, pressing experimentally. Felix’s eyes open wide and he groans. There’s so much lube it’s dripping down his inner thigh. They’re going to make a mess of the table. Minho’s finger slips inside easily, spearing him deep. Felix jerks, issues of cleanliness falling from his mind.

“My dinner’s waiting, so you’ll have to be quick.” Minho says breezily, like his dinner guest is talking to him in the kitchen, rudely distracting him from important tasks. His strong hand works his ass, massaging his crack and thrusting slickly inside. Felix whimpers, grinding his forehead into the wood.

“I’ll try, hyung…”

“Good. Now relax.”

“Ah!”

A second fingertip joins the first, and Minho pauses there for a minute. Felix gasps and breathes hard, trying to accommodate the burn of sudden intrusion. Both of them hold completely still, as if in suspended animation, and Felix senses how closely Minho’s observing him. Some of his panic from the rough play starts to ease.

His body’s iron clench on Minho’s fingers softens, and he’s able to take a full breath. Minho doesn’t hesitate, thrusting both fingers inside fully, finding Felix’s prostate and rubbing him there, eliciting a broken cry.

“I need to sauté the green beans.”

“O-of course.” Felix stutters, trying to shift his hips to free his erection from the table, but Minho just leans against him harder, thrusting now with an even, brutally insistent rhythm.

“We’ll get you plugged, then you’re going to clean this table. You’re getting it dirty, and I’m serving dinner here.” How can he talk so normally? “There’s cleaning spray under the sink.” Minho’s thrusting hand is making that obscenely wet noise, his tempo increasing. Felix has begun to sweat again, unsure if he’s supposed to come from this. He doesn’t want to make Minho mad, but the man is being ruthlessly efficient. A third finger slides inside him and begins thrusting before he has a chance to moan from the stretch.

Fortunately, Minho doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer to his demand, focusing instead on the smooth thrust of his hand. Felix will do whatever he asks, especially when he’s massaging his prostate so generously. He slides his braced feet out from under the table, instinctively spreading, unconcerned about his trapped dick now. If Minho continues like this, it’s not going to matter.

“There you go.” Minho murmurs appreciatively.

The abrupt halt of Minho’s hand isn’t a surprise, but Felix can’t help slapping the table in frustration when it happens. Minho grabs his wrist with his free hand and holds it to Felix’s side. Then he slowly slips his other fingers out of him. Felix whimpers.

“Manners, Yongbok.”

Felix has to pant before answering, “I’m sorry hyung.”

“That’s okay.” Minho releases his hand. Foil crinkles as he unwraps a condom. Entranced, Felix stares blankly at the surface of the wood against his face. An inlay of dark diamond-shaped wood pieces decorate the surface below his cheek. A warm hand positions his ass higher on the table, followed by another big dollop of cool lube between his cheeks.

“Are you going to put it in me now?” He asks in a tremulous voice. Of course he knows what Minho’s up to, but the surging energy between them is telling Felix that Minho really wants him to ask.

“Yes.” Minho’s voice has deepened, and his hand pulls Felix’s ass cheek wide. Cold lube- and latex-covered metal touches his skin and Felix flinches. He hadn’t expected the temperature difference. Minho laughs. “Take it.”

Felix doesn’t have time to answer before the blunt metal begins to push. He hisses through his teeth and focuses on relaxing his whole body from the waist down. His legs hang limply off the table. Slowly, slowly. The stretch is pleasant until it’s not, and Minho pauses when the toy sinks in close to its fullest girth. A small whine escapes Felix’s lips.

“Yes, it is a little bigger than yours.” Minho says, his voice rapt. Felix nods, unable to speak. A hand appears next to his face, and warm, soft lips kiss his shoulder. “Come on cheon-sa. I know you can do it.”

The slick pressure in his ass increases as Minho wiggles the plug gently, making Felix groan. A sharp bite on his shoulder blade, and the toy abruptly pops inside, the flared rim snugging against his hole. He jerks convulsively and Minho holds on with his teeth.

“Oh oh oh!”

“Yeah.” Sighs Minho, stroking Felix’s rump sensually. “All the way in. Good job.”

Felix knows the toy is modestly sized, but it feels massive inside him, and the solid weight makes it move independently, feeling more alive than his own toy. The sensation is electric, raw, and all-encompassing. God, what will it be like when Minho finally f*cks him? He squeezes his thighs together and moans when the icy plug shifts.

“Easy Yongbok.” Minho chides happily, pulling away and leaving Felix’s back cold. “Don’t get distracted.”

“What?” Felix asks the table in a daze. How is he supposed to function like this?

“Get up and clean your mess.” The faucet turns on behind him as Minho de-gloves and scrubs his hands.

The command floats in Felix’s mind for a second before he can identify it. He stares at the barely perceptible seams in the surface of the wood table, marking where the carpenter cleverly placed the inlay. Minho wants him to move. With this leaden toy in him, making him ache with icy fire. He pushes himself up with his hands, breath hitching with every subtle shift of the toy. A glance locates Minho standing by the stove, watching him closely. Felix blushes.

“Keep going.”

Felix bites his lip and nods. His first few steps are a shuffle. The weight in his ass makes him walk with his feet spaced apart, like a shambling orangutan. There’s no way for him to do this gracefully, at least not at the start. He’s not sure if the toy is in danger of falling out or getting trapped in him forever by his anxious ass muscles. A mix of humiliation, arousal and exhilaration makes him whimper quietly as he nears the sink.

Next, there’s the problem of the cupboard. Minho said the cleaning spray is under the sink. Holding the edge of the counter tightly, he sinks to a crouch, breathing hard. Oh god, this position gives the illusion of the toy growing in size as he folds his body down. Opening the cupboard doors, he stares at the contents without seeing anything.

Denim-clad legs step next to him. “The blue spray bottle.” Minho prompts, stroking Felix’s hair.

“Okay.” Felix croaks, grabbing the only blue bottle in the jumble of supplies, not bothering to confirm if it’s cleaning spray or harsh oven cleaner.

It takes a long time to stand again.

“Good.” Minho hands him another towel from the well-stocked drawer next to the sink. “Now go clean up.”

“Yes.” Felix says faintly, gasping when Minho gives him a parting spank. It feels like his insides are being rearranged. Minho’s laugh rings in his ears.

Somehow, he cleans off the table, and even stoops to wipe up a couple drops of lube on the floor. He feels dreadfully self conscious as he moves around the kitchen, much more aware of his nakedness now, and trying not to think about the glint of the toy between his cheeks, or the lube drying in tracks down his legs. Minho hadn’t instructed him to clean himself yet, so he resists the habitual impulse to make himself presentable.

Assured of Felix’s compliance, Minho puts the pot back on to boil, adding a generous pinch of salt, and sautés the beans in olive oil in a pan on the second burner. Then he throws the noodles into the simmering water.

“Clean off the bench too.” He says over his shoulder at Felix, who’s standing in erotic paralysis in the middle of the kitchen with a spray bottle in hand. The request is a relief.

Scattered flour comes off the grey Formica counter with a few satisfying swipes of the towel, and Felix goes over the surface again with heavy strokes to make it gleam. Moving is getting easier as his body adapts to the toy inside, the ache and jolt of intrusion morphing from something uncomfortable to sexually exhilarating. The metal has warmed to his body temperature.

“What! These noodles cook fast!” Minho says excitedly as he fishes the long strands out of the rolling water with tongs, placing them to sizzle loudly in the pan he used for the green beans. Felix totters closer to watch as Minho adds a dollop of oil and chopped garlic to the slurry of noodles. Just a few expert shakes of the pan over high heat, then he adds a pinch of red pepper followed by a splash of the pasta water. Minho sighs happily when the mixture thickens.

“I need two plates.” He tells Felix as he tosses the noodles in a cloud of savoury steam. “In the cupboard to your right. Chopsticks in the drawer beneath.”

Felix moves to comply, breathing a little hard as he puts away the cleaning supplies and fetches two elegant, gold-rimmed porcelain plates from the cupboard. Minho plates the noodles, then adds a small pile of green beans to each. “Cheese?” He asks, holding up the little pile of grated romano.

“Yes.” Felix says dreamily, aware he’d probably agree to anything in his current state of mind. Minho nods with satisfaction and sprinkles generous portions of cheese onto both servings of pasta. He stares at the finished meal for a moment with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I should’ve gotten a garnish.”

Felix laughs, charmed by Minho’s desire to please despite acting like a pushy host all evening. “It’s beautiful.”

“Well, set the table. And don’t forget napkins.” Minho rinses out the pan. Felix carries the laden plates to the table, adding lovely ebony chopsticks and some sky blue napkins he finds in the rapidly-depleting towel drawer.

Table set, Minho sits and pulls the second chair close to him. “Sit.” He says with a smirk.

Hugging his elbows, Felix lowers himself onto the seat, gasping a little as the toy is forced deeper in him. The chair is cold on his naked skin. He looks up to see Minho watching him, one hand clenched in a fist on his thigh.

“How’s my toy feeling?” He asks, just a hint of strain in his voice.

Felix swallows. “It’s starting to feel… really good, hyung.”

“Good. I want my guest to feel welcome.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Minho picks up his chopsticks and plucks a noodle from the tangle on Felix’s plate. “Eat.” He says, holding the glistening noodle close to Felix’s lips.

The smell of garlic and pepper fills Felix’s nose, and he watches Minho’s face - his expression is intent, lips parted in anticipation. Felix opens his mouth.

“Wider.” Minho insists.

Felix slowly opens up much wider than necessary, staring at Minho, whose smile glitters. It’s awkward - the homemade noodle is long and irregularly-shaped - but Minho carefully places the entire length in Felix’s mouth, loop by loop. Tipping in the last curl, he withdraws his chopsticks, watching as Felix chews the big mouthful.

It’s divine. The noodles Minho made are perfectly tender, their texture somehow softer yet more resilient than machine-made pasta. The level of garlic is just right, and the heat of the pepper adds a much-needed kick to the richness of the cheese and oil. Felix closes his eyes and lets his head fall back as he chews, fully enjoying the experience. String instruments swell in the background of the quiet kitchen as Minho watches him.

“Wow.” Felix sighs after swallowing, opening his eyes. “Splendid.” He says in English.

Minho ducks his head excitedly and eats a mouthful from his own plate, slurping the noodle ends into his mouth greedily. He hums as he chews. “That’s crazy.” He says with satisfaction. “It’s so simple, and yet…” He laughs and takes another big bite. Felix watches him, chest aching with affection.

Dinner proceeds quietly, Minho insisting on feeding Felix every bite. In a different setting, he would’ve been embarrassed or frustrated by this treatment, but tonight he surrenders. Relaxing against the chair back, he lets Minho feed him succulent green beans and long runners of noodles, accepting the food with a passivity that feels like a drug.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” Minho offers him a final green bean, which Felix accepts, the tender pod popping juicily in his mouth. “That first time you baked in the dorm after we all moved in. I came home from a voice lesson and you fed me a warm cookie.”

Felix laughs, giddy. “I won your heart with baked goods?”

“It was a good cookie.” Minho shrugs, “And you were so cute waiting on the couch for me to come home.” He stuffs a last big knot of noodles into his own mouth, chewing with pleasure. His luscious lips glisten with oil, and a solitary red pepper flake is stuck to his cheek, like a beauty mark.

The man can even make messy eating look gorgeous, Felix thinks. He leans forward and places both hands on the tops of Minho’s thighs.

“Hyung, you have oil on your lips. Can your guest help you clean it?”

Minho pauses in the act of picking up his napkin, glancing at Felix with a gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, cheon-sa. That’s thoughtful of you.” He leans forward a little, “Clean it off with your tongue.”

It’s weird. Despite the happy floaty feeling of being in this scene with his hyung, Felix can still feel the pull of their normal rhythms. Out of scene, Minho loves to flirt in outrageous ways, like suggesting a naked frolic in a public fountain in Paris, or proposing a circle-spank involving all eight members as choreo for their comeback stage. Felix’s conditioned response is to laugh and wave it off despite a hidden desire to give those things a try. They always sound fun.

Now, he has the pleasure of ignoring his knee-jerk caution in favour of easy compliance. He nods gravely and pushes Minho’s legs apart, lowering onto the floor between them. The movement makes him aware of the toy again, but it’s good. A grace note in the slow-building melody between them. Minho watches him with half-lidded eyes and allows Felix to pull his face close. Felix licks Minho’s lips with careful swipes, using the flat of his tongue.

He tastes faintly of garlic and green things. Minho’s breath puffs against his face, speeding up. Felix keeps licking until all he can taste is Minho. He pushes forward, licking and kissing his way down Minho’s jaw and neck, always seeking the faint scent and taste of his skin. He keeps the licks small and delicate, like a kitten, so Minho won’t make him stop, noting every hitched breath, every sigh. He could do this for hours.

Minho won’t, though. He grabs Felix’s hands as Felix tries to pull down the collar of his t-shirt, seeking skin.

“That’s enough.”

The mew of protest Felix makes is disturbingly like a cat. He knows he should probably be embarrassed, but can’t remember what that feels like. He looks up at Minho, whose eyes are smouldering, though his face is a little pink now, especially around the mouth. Felix grabs the abandoned napkin and carefully pats away any dampness he left behind.

“Thank you.” Minho says softly.

“My pleasure, hyung.” Felix dabs gently at Minho’s neck. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes. Take off this apron.”

Felix nods, reaching around Minho’s waist to pull at the buckle in the small of his back which is holding the apron on, and slips the yoke over his head.

“Pull the belt out.”

He examines the apron, noting that the vine-striped belt passes through several loops at the waist and neck. He pulls it loose. It’s made of leather, supple and worn with age.

“Give it here, and clear the table. It’s time for dessert.”

“Okay.” Felix’s eyes unfocus as he stands. He thought he’d gotten used to the plug, but it keeps reasserting itself. He hands the apron and belt to Minho and carries their empty plates to the sink. Turning around, he sees Minho pulling a fistful of what looks like small pieces of wood out of the apron pocket.

“You keep some odd cooking tools in your apron, hyung.” Felix jokes, trying to dissipate the sudden nervousness clenching his stomach.

“It’s important to be prepared.” Minho says with a secret smile. He looks at Felix’s face. “For dessert, get on the counter.”

“Ah.” Felix should’ve known they weren’t going to enjoy a nice digestif. He uncertainly approaches the island in the middle of the kitchen. Just jump on? Bend over? Stand on top like a table dancer? Minho strokes his back.

“Lie on your side like you’re modelling for an art class.”

Felix laughs. “Are you going to draw me like one of your French girls?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you ever watch Titanic? Leonardo DiCaprio?”

“Oh right.” Minho raises an eyebrow. “You definitely don’t want me to draw you. So stop stalling.”

Chuckling quietly, Felix complies. The counter is slightly taller than the table, so he hops, gasping when his hip hits the surface, toy scrambling his insides. The island is long enough to support him from head to knees, so he gets on his right side, head propped on his hand and knee co*cked. He doesn’t exactly feel like a renaissance painting.

But Minho doesn’t seem to care because he steps close with a smile. The apron belt is slung around his neck and he drops a pile of the little wood pieces on the counter by Felix’s elbow. They’re clothespins.

“Like I said, no spanking tonight. For dessert, we’re going to experiment with some other sensations.”

Felix stares at the pins. He used to use clothespins like these to hang the wash every week in Sydney. He hasn’t used them since the agency upgraded the group to large-capacity washers with dry cycles years ago. He remembers trying to use a clothespin to clamp his nose as a kid when he was cat sitting and had to clean litter, but it hurt too much.

Looking at the clothespins now, they seem simultaneously too painful and not painful enough. The wrong kind of pain? And that apron belt lacks enough weight to do more than tease.

Maybe the reserve shows on his face, because Minho says, “Feel it.” He holds out the long thong.

Felix takes it in his hands. The leather is old and worn shiny in spots, but somewhat heavier than it looks. It’s firm yet supple, and not very wide. Not exactly an imposing instrument, but it’s pleasant to the touch.

“Are you going to hurt me with this?”

“Hurt? No, not exactly. We can’t leave marks.” Minho takes the improvised whip back, wrapping the slack around his fist before slapping the end across Felix’s thigh. The sound it makes is strangely hollow, and Felix feels a sting as warmth blooms on the surface of his skin. It’s rather pleasing. He smiles.

“Close your eyes.” Minho says.

Felix does, listening intently as Minho steps around the island and pauses somewhere behind him. He flinches in surprise when the tip of the belt lightly touches his ankle and traces up his outstretched leg, slowing expressively on his buttocks to draw lazy circles. Felix’s breath hitches, the feeling is halfway between a tickle and a caress. The vivid leather whispers up his back and Minho carefully traces the ribbon around his neck before sliding it up to his face, touching him softly. The belt pauses on his lips.

“Kiss it.”

Felix presses his lips to it, the faint scent of leather lingering in his nose.

“Good.” Minho withdraws and paints a bright stripe of sensation across Felix’s left butt cheek with the whip, hitting slightly harder than before. Maybe not enough to draw a welt, but enough to pull warmth to the surface. Felix hums with pleasure.

“Does the idea of being whipped turn you on?” Minho asks, slapping his butt again, making sure not to hit the same spot twice.

“Yeah.” Felix replies, voice soft and low.

“Like this?” Slap on his upper thigh, where leg meets butt. But still so careful.

“Mmm, maybe?”

A long pause. “Not good enough, cheon-sa.” A sudden slap snaps his left pectoral, on the nipple. Felix gasps, that stings a lot. He hadn’t heard Minho circle him.

“Well… I might have a fantasy about a riding crop.”

“Tell me.” A sharp flick to his right nipple, for symmetry.

Felix dips his head and breathes hard. “So, I had this random fascination with polo when I was a kid. There was a club near my school. You could see the pitch and horses from the playground.” He hesitates, shocked that this is the fantasy he chose to share, but he knows this is what Minho wants from him. Besides, his reserve seems silly as he lies naked in the middle of a strange kitchen getting teasingly whipped. “I might be a little fixated on the riding crops.”

“Are you the horse? In the fantasy?”

Felix blushes hard, glad his eyes are closed. “Sort of.”

Minho doesn’t comment, thankfully. “What happens?” He’s running the leather down the centre of Felix’s chest, lightly flicking his abs. Felix tightens his belly.

“I pictured - maybe you and I would be watching polo in my room someday. And maybe you get a little bored.” He pauses, listening for the sound of Minho’s breathing. There’s nothing until a faint whistle, and the belt smacks the inner part of Felix’s propped-up thigh, making him grunt. A warning. He continues faster, “So I say something about the skill of the riders, and how well the horses listen. To get you interested, you know?” Minho doesn’t reply, just runs the belt slowly down Felix’s arm. “Well, it works, because you ask me how the horses are trained to play like that.”

“Do I?” Minho’s voice sounds amused. He kisses Felix’s shoulder while hitting his thigh again in the same spot as before. The searing sting takes a moment to process. That one might leave a mark. Felix sighs happily.

“Hmm. Um, yeah. And I mention that polo players use special crops in training to communicate when the horse is doing something right or wrong.”

“Really?” Felix stifles a grin at the genuine curiosity in Minho’s tone.

“Mhm. And then you say you think that’s a little cruel.”

“I do.” Minho chuckles, amused by Felix’s accurate representation of him. “Lie down on your stomach.”

“K.” He carefully rolls forward, eyes closed. Minho’s hands guide him to his stomach. It’s not very comfortable. His legs project awkwardly off the end of the counter, the skin of his thigh is tingling from the belt, and he suddenly feels very high up without being able to see his surroundings.

Warm hands caress his butt sensually, stroking and outlining the shape of it. They pull his cheeks apart, revealing the bright plug between. Felix groans, the voluptuousness of being exposed is amazing. Fingers jiggle the toy a little, and he gasps, arousal spiking.

“Keep going.”

“What?” Felix asks.

“I say the riding crop is cruel.” Minho reminds him firmly, letting go of the plug, and Felix moans. This teasing is what’s cruel.

“Uhhh, then I say the crop is an excellent tool. It’s not as bad as it looks, when used properly.”

“I see.” Minho starts carefully whipping Felix’s butt with the belt. Ten even slaps. Felix falls silent, concentrating to parse out the light sting and flush of the whip. The growing ache of the toy. His desire for stronger sensations gnaws at him.

“And then?” Minho prompts, running a hand over the skin he struck, making the ghostly sting disappear, leaving behind heat.

“Then you ask me how I know that. Have I ever felt a crop?”

“What do you say?” Minho repeats his ten slaps on the other side. Clearly a man who values balance.

“Mm, I say I own one, that’s how I know. And you ask to see it.”

“I would want to see it.”

“I know.” Felix giggles, feeling tipsy. “So I take my riding crop out of the wardrobe and show it to you.”

“What colour is it?” Minho slaps the soles of both his feet at once as he passes the end of the island, making Felix jump. The skin of his soles is surprisingly sensitive.

“Black, with red thread.”

“Nice.” Minho says in English. He whips the back of Felix’s thigh again. Felix flinches, the buzz of his skin suggests Minho increased the length of the thong, making it stingier and driving up the heat.

“And then what?” Minho asks.

“Then you ask me why I own a riding crop. Do I play polo? I say I’ve never played polo in my life.”

“Hmm, so fantasy me knows your crop isn’t for real horses?” The other thigh now. Yes, the belt is longer.

“Yeah, you get it right away. And then you start teasing me, saying I want to be a horse. Asking me what kind of horse I am.”

“That’s not very considerate.”

“It gets worse.” Felix hesitates. His fantasy had taken a dark turn here, one that made him so guilty and excited at the time, he had to press a pillow over his face to stop the whimpers as he jacked off. Responding to the pause, Minho plays with the plug again. Felix moans.

“Keep going.”

“Oh f*ck. Okay. You can see I’m really turned on by the teasing, and you start to get into it for real. You push me onto the bed and tell me to strip because real horses don’t wear clothes.”

“That’s true.” Minho delicately works the backs of his calves with the strap.

“Uh huh. So I strip, and you tell me to get on all-fours on the bed, like a horse. You tell me I have too much spirit and need to be broken in a little.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes! I want to be a special horse for you. I can tell you’re getting into it.”

“How could I not if you want it so badly?” Minho’s voice has raised in pitch, becoming more strained. “Do it now, Yongbok. Get on your hands and knees.”

Felix nods silently, slowly pushing into position. The overlap of fantasy and reality jars him, pumping him fully erect.

The room is quiet for a minute. The music has fallen silent and Minho’s probably staring at him perched so preposterously on the kitchen island. But before he can get self conscious, he feels Minho’s hand on the small of his back, petting him gently, almost like Felix is a frightened horse. He shivers, imagining the way a horse’s flank twitches in surprise.

“Go on.” Minho says quietly.

Felix swallows. Sharing this side of himself feels much more dangerous than anything Minho could do to him physically.

“So… you start to hit me with the crop, asking if it hurts.” He says slowly. “I say it does, and ask you to be gentle because it’s my first time. But you won’t stop.” He pauses, head drooping, heat twisting his stomach because he’s portraying Minho as nonconsensually violent. Will he understand this is just a fantasy? The hand glides across his flank, and he sighs. “You’re insistent, saying I should be able to take it because I have a thick horse hide.” His breath hitches. Is he really saying all these things?

“I see.” Minho says slowly, voice rising. In curiosity? “Where do I hit you?”

“My butt… mm. My thighs, my back.” Minho whips him in those places, gently. “The longer it goes, the harder you hit.” Felix continues, wishing Minho would do the same. “Then you start hitting other places.”

“What other places, Yongbok?”

“M-my asshole, my balls. You put your hand over my mouth so I won’t scream.”

“Oh cheon-sa. Is a whipping all you want, or is there more?” Minho’s hits seem to be getting more random now, but not any harder. And he’s staying away from the vulnerable bits in Felix’s description.

“More.” Felix moans.

“Tell me.” His rhythm with the belt is quickening.

“You won’t let up, even when I beg. So I think maybe I should distract you…” No, don’t say it, “I tell you I’m your mare, and I’m in heat.”

“Poor Yongbok-ah.” Minho’s voice is level, without judgement.

“Yeah.” Felix croaks, swallowing hard. “But it works. You stop whipping me and pull my head up by my hair. You apologise for hurting me and tell me I’m a precious, beautiful mare.”

“You are.” Minho hums, kissing Felix’s shoulder while giving his aching, hanging dick several strokes. “I can imagine you as one of those silver Arabian desert horses. Shining and beautiful.”

Hearing Minho cooperate with one of Felix’s most embarrassing fantasies is terrifying. His breath is coming faster, stuttering every time Minho hits him with the too-soft whip. Yet it’s the terror of the roller coaster, like he’s about to plunge down the first steep hill, trapped by forward momentum and convinced he’s about to die, but loving every second of it.

“Thank you, hyung.”

“You’re welcome. So do I help my beautiful mare who’s hurt and aching for a stallion?”

“Yesss.” Felix says, the English word sliding into a groan when Minho grabs his balls and pulls. He’s quickly losing whatever eloquence he once had. “You f*ck me on the bed while I’m on my hands and knees with the polo match still playing. You don’t even prep me, hyung.” He can hear his voice breaking into a plaintive accusatory note, but can’t muster the energy to control it.

“I’m so mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me more. How do I do it?”

A drop of sweat slips off the end of Felix’s nose. He’s said this much already. Surely a few more details won’t hurt? “Well, you pull off my pillowcase and say ‘every horse needs a bridle.’ Then you put it in my mouth and tie it, like a gag. You grab my lotion on the nightstand and pour it all over my ass...”

“Mmm.” Minho plays with the plug again, making Felix cough and moan. “And do I take my mare right there? Do I f*ck her long and deep?”

“Yes hyung.” Felix groans, more of the fantasy falling out of him in a clumsy rush as Minho works him with the soft strap while playing with the plug. “You push right in, and the gag muffles my scream. I can’t hold my arms straight, and fall on my face, but you keep going anyway. You pull on the gag, telling me to ‘stand up straight!’”

“That’s right. A prize mare should stand tall. Do you?”

“Yes. It hurts, but you can tell I love it.” God what is he saying?

“Mm, yeah you do.” Minho pushes harder on the plug.

“Ohhh! You won’t let me touch myself because ‘All mares love deep f*cking.’” He should really stop talking. “You f*ck me so hard, I come by surprise, which makes you laugh and go even harder.” He’s going to regret this. “Then you come deep inside me. You don’t use a condom, hyung.” Felix’s words peter out in a whimper as he rocks to the steady rhythm of the plug and Minho’s hits, deep excitement and shame making his blood rush.

“Does my mare like being full of come?”

Felix moans, but doesn’t answer. Is he a horse? Is this an interrogation? The lines are blurring and he’s not certain what else is going to come out of his mouth now.

“Come on cheon-sa, be a good girl.” Minho says, whipping Felix’s ballsack gently. Felix winces, and feels himself getting close to org*sm even though Minho’s barely touched his dick. At least, he thinks that’s what the juddering waves of tension shaking his body are. Or maybe it’s just masked panic that his fantasy slipped out so easily with just a few gentle taps of leather.

“f*ck hyung.” Felix gasps, hanging his head, aware that tears are leaking out of his closed eyelids. “I… can’t…”

“You still with me Felix? Do you need to safe word?”

“Still here, I’m okay.” Felix pants. “Can I open my eyes?”

“Yes. Open your eyes and sit down.”

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking and cringing from the brightness of the kitchen. Had the overhead light been this harsh before? He falls back on his haunches and wipes at the moisture clogging his eyes. Looking down at his thighs, he sees an attractive blush from Minho’s improvised whip.

Minho stands at his elbow and Felix can tell his dominant persona is slipping. His mouth has gone tight, and the gleam in his eye is dimming. He’s worried.

Felix takes a deep breath, straining to focus, but it’s like trying to read in the dark. All he knows is he’s not ready for the scene to end. Which means he has a choice to make. So he looks down at Minho and tells him the truth.

“That’s all I can say. I want to tell hyung more, but it won’t come out.” He grabs Minho’s arm. “Can you help me?”

“You need me to make you talk?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Alright.” The look of approval on Minho’s face is stunning. “Are you ready for your punishment?”

Felix gives him a wobbly smile. He’s never been more sure of anything. “Oh yes.”

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Calm in the twilight of the company car, it’s clear to Felix this was the point he went off the rails last night. It hadn’t been intentional, but he’s now certain he’d usurped their scene. And turned it into his own little confessional. Why hadn’t he warned Minho they were stepping onto dangerous ground? Probably because he’d desperately wanted to continue. All his wants had been overwhelming last night.

Does that mean he ‘topped from the bottom?’ This was a frequent complaint he’d read about on the BDSM message boards he lurked. It never occurred to him before how difficult that is to avoid. That’s what happened, right? No wonder Minho was upset.

Come on, stop making excuses! Felix admonishes himself impatiently. Hiding behind chatroom buzzwords isn’t going to help him shine a light on the hard turn their scene had taken.

Riding through an almost solid wall of rain on the freeway, Felix closes his eyes, surrendering to the motion of the car as it carries him through the prolific storm. At first it had been easy to surrender to the punishment last night - Minho’s excitement and pride in him had been an incredible catalyst.

No, don’t. Not that part. He’s afraid to think too hard about the rest of the scene. Come on! This is too important!

Felix envisions Minho’s face as it was when Felix agreed to the clothespins, the corner of his mouth twitching up and the tension in his expressive brows smoothing away.

“Come here.” In his memory, Minho steps in front of him as Felix sits perched on that silly little kitchen counter, and extends his arms. Felix slides down to them with a sigh, allowing himself to be guided back to the couch.

“Lie down. On your back.”

He settles onto the couch cushions, relieved to be on a soft surface. Minho grabs a large blue throw pillow and covers it with Felix’s hoodie.

“Put this under your hips.”

When he does, Felix finds himself propped up, legs bent and splayed. He wonders absently if he looks ridiculous. The renewed gleam in Minho’s eyes is reassuring.

There’s a pause when Minho fetches his clothespins from the counter, and Felix closes his eyes, relaxing fully into the cushions. How odd to look forward to pain, he thinks absently. His stint on the counter makes this whole situation feel unreal, like the room is an illusion. Yet his body feels more alive than ever, tingling at the edges of his awareness, primed and straining for a different kind of release.

The couch creaks when Minho sits next to him on the edge of the cushion. Felix opens his eyes and looks at the wooden clothespins Minho piles on the coffee table. Minho’s face is calm when he gazes down at Felix, warm brown eyes tipped up at the corners with unusual tenderness. He takes a moment to brush a lock of hair off Felix’s forehead.

“You’re going to take at least ten of these tonight.” His voice is soft, like he’s confessing devotion instead of threatening pain.

“Yes.”

“Good. Take a deep breath.”

Felix slowly breathes in, watching as Minho caresses his right leg, pushes it wider, then attaches two clothespins firmly to the tender skin of his inner thigh, near the heavy tendon that attaches the robust muscle there to his crotch.

Unlike what he anticipated, the pinch isn’t horribly sharp. Just a steady firm tweak at first. Felix locks eyes with Minho and they stare at each other, curious what’ll happen next. A searing ache begins, just to the right of his crotch, and builds. It isn’t awful, just increasingly irritating. Felix slowly lets out his breath, waving the leg experimentally. The ache wriggles urgently, growing faster. He frowns. Soon that’ll become hard to ignore.

Minho pushes Felix’s left leg wider. “Two more.” He murmurs, and another big pinch grabs him at the base of the thigh, near the centre of him. The pulling ache on both sides forces him to keep his legs wide. He and Minho watch Felix’s co*ck bob uncertainly against his stomach. Minho leans down and places a soft kiss on the kowtowing tip.

“Huh!” Felix releases the rest of his breath in a rush, caught up in an intensifying wave of pain and arousal all jumbled together. “Oh it’s hurting!” His breaths are coming in pants now, and he wonders if the building ache of the pins is ever going to stop, or if it’ll continue until he goes mad.

“You can take it.” Minho rests his hand on the centre of Felix’s chest. “Slow breaths. Don’t panic.”

Felix nods and tries to control his breathing, feeling his eyebrows knot tightly as he concentrates to let the sensation flow through him without locking up. Warmth blooms on his chest as Minho kisses his nipple, hot tongue teasing the stiffening nub.

Oh yes, that’s it. Felix groans, feeling the pain in his crotch accentuate the pleasure of Minho’s slick, roving tongue. “Wow, that's confusing.” He laughs, cradling Minho’s head to his chest, then laughs again when he notices the ache of the pins is starting to equalise, no longer building to a screaming climax. Just holding there, tugging at his attention.

“Yes?” Minho asks, chin propped on Felix’s breastbone as he looks up at him with a smirk.

“Oh yes.” Felix answers, biting his lip, watching satisfaction dawn on his hyung’s face.

“That’s my good boy.” Minho leans in for a kiss, and Felix loses himself in the sweep of his tongue, surrendering to the sensations pulling at him.

“Here comes two more.” Minho prompts later after kissing him breathless, and Felix nods, watching nervously as Minho caresses his chest with broad strokes. His warm, calloused hands are heavenly, but Felix is on guard for the next pin. Sure enough, the fingers start plucking at his nipples, stroking and flicking until the small nubs stand stiffly at attention.

“Deep breath again.”

Felix obeys, sucking air as Minho clips a pin onto one nipple, then a second pin on the other. The ache builds faster this time as the sensitive flesh immediately protests the mistreatment. Felix groans and writhes, trying to escape the inexorable pressure of the clamps, inadvertently knocking the pins on his inner thighs enough to send jolts of fire through his nervous system. Oh god, they’re worse when they’re moved! He arches his back as agony washes over him.

“That’s it.” Minho says soothingly, palming Felix’s flagging erection. “You look beautiful like this.” His face looks astonishingly open and vulnerable.

A sob escapes Felix’s mouth as he thrusts into Minho’s hand, letting his body move as it wants to, surrendering to the insistent pain and pleasure warring for his attention. There’s a terribly intoxicating relief in submitting to whatever Minho wants, and he can feel himself gaining equilibrium as he’s pushed high on a wave of excitement that’s only partially connected to the hand stroking him back to hardness.

He keeps riding that feeling when Minho places two pins on the skin of his scrotum. After working through that, Felix nods, and Minho forms a ladder of three pins up the underside of his penis, pulling the skin taut. Felix stares at his crotch, aroused and appalled by the sight of his dick trapped tight by Minho’s clamps. But thought quickly erodes and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, moaning repeatedly through a loud crescendo of pain as the clamps do their work.

Minho stays glued to his side, hand working the plug between Felix’s legs, helping him ride the wave without drowning in it, murmuring uncharacteristic endearments and admiration. When Felix opens his eyes again, the look on Minho’s face is raw: scared, intensely excited, and locked on him. There’s a pain in Felix’s chest, so deep, so much worse than anything Minho’s done to him. He grabs Minho’s hand and starts talking before Minho even gets a chance to pose him a question.

“Thank you, hyung. I’ve been so bad.” He says fervently, feeling like he’s seventeen again. His thoughts are scattered by the pain and the rush, yet he’s compelled for some reason to explain himself.

After a pause, Minho nods as if this statement makes sense. “Yes you have. But you’re taking your punishment really well.”

Felix shakes his head stubbornly, lightheaded, fighting tears. He hurts so much, but nowhere near enough. “No, no. I’m sorry. I need more. You don’t even know!”

Minho regards him with confusion, gaze sweeping over the quivering pins already decorating Felix’s skin. He smooths Felix’s sweaty hair back.

“Not until you tell me.”

Felix feels his head rolling back and forth. He’s caught, skin stretched tight like a drum. “I- I- Oh hyung, please!”

“Wait, okay. I’m gonna take a couple off.” Minho holds Felix’s jaw so he’ll meet his eyes. “They’re worse coming off. Get ready.”

He doesn’t wait for Felix to respond before reaching down and snapping the first two pins off his right inner thigh.

Unlike going on, the pain begins immediately when the pins come off. Felix realises the clothespins that have been attached the longest have become mostly numb. He gasps and holds Minho’s arm tightly as wildfire accumulates in his skin, both like and unlike the pain of circulation returning he felt earlier. He wheezes as Minho croons at him.

The adrenaline high returns as the pain peaks, making Felix squirm against the plug inside him, shaking the remaining pins festooning his skin. Minho leans down to his ear.

“Why are you bad, Felix?”

“Ha! Ah! Oh hyung. I deserve this. It’s always me. I’m going to ruin the group!”

Minho’s eyes are boring into him. He doesn’t immediately contradict Felix, which is a relief. Felix stares pleadingly at Minho’s face. A certainty hardens his hyung’s features.

“Yes. You do deserve this. You’ve been so bad, cheon-sa. But you’re gonna be so good.” He strokes Felix’s cheek. “I’m going to take more pins off, then you’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve done.”

“Okay. Yes!”

The pins come off his left thigh, and Felix keens. Minho pushes on the plug hard, causing Felix’s body to seize in a confused paroxysm.

“Tell me!” Minho says loudly.

It’s hard to control his breathing enough to talk, but Felix tries. “I keep doing it, hyung.” He gasps. “Remember that trainee I told you about? The one I got caught with?”

“Yes I remember.”

“I told Chris about him. About Alex. I was afraid the story would come out later, and didn’t want him to be disappointed I hadn’t warned him from the start.”

Minho’s gaze turns contemplative. “When was that?”

“A few weeks before debut. Everyone kept lecturing us nonstop about doing everything we can to protect the group. I felt so guilty.”

“So you let Chan-hyung know.”

“Yeah.”

Minho nods and flicks the clip on his right nipple. Felix jerks, trembling from the aftershock.

“What did he say?”

“Um-” Felix looks away.

“Okay, here come the nipples.”

“Wait-” Minho doesn’t wait, unclipping both nipples at once.

It hurts. God it hurts. Felix wails, and Minho puts his hand heavily on his mouth, muffling the sound. Keeping him from flying apart. Felix shudders and kicks as the sensation peaks. But as he comes down, desperation floods him alongside the endorphins. He claws Minho’s hand away from his mouth.

“Chan’s right. And it’s my fault for always wanting the wrong things. For being such a freak!”

“Felix, tell me what Chan said.”

“I can’t! It’ll make you mad!”

“I don’t care.”

Felix shakes his head, hands covering his mouth.

“Fine. Your balls are next.” Minho says warningly. Felix nods, and the clips snap off.

Minho helps him cover his mouth as Felix shouts, and holds him tight in his arms. By the time the storm passes, Felix feels wrung out. Minho removes the hands from his mouth.

“He said-” Felix hiccups, staring at Minho’s face, “He said he’d kick me out!”

Minho’s expression freezes, “What?”

“He said if I have another relationship with agency talent or staff, he’ll kick me out. That I have to be extra careful since I’m not straight.”

Darkness clouds Minho’s face. “Did he really say that?”

“Well, not exactly in those words, but that was the gist of it.”

Minho doesn’t reply, running his fingers over the red grooves left by the clothespins on Felix’s nipples.

“Please hyung. More.” Felix requests in a small voice when Minho’s attention seems to wander. He wants Minho to shout at him. Scream. Make him pay for not revealing Chan’s stance on relationships. But Minho’s eyes when he looks back at him are soft, full of pity.

That look is so much worse than anger. Anger feels clean, Felix wants to be scoured by it, let it purify the parts of himself he hates. Pity is just a musty blanket that smothers, making him swelter in the shame of his mistakes. He pushes Minho back and sits up, the parameters of the scene forgotten.

“Jagiya, wait. I don’t think Chan meant it like that.” Minho says hastily, grabbing Felix’s arms. “Do you remember how stressed he was in those days? He was under insane pressure and was convinced we would be dropped by the agency for the smallest things. They really messed him up. A lot has changed.”

“That doesn’t matter. You know he’s right about me. But I just. Can’t stop!” Felix lets out a shaky breath, not wanting to be comforted. Without thinking about it, he pulls off all three pins tugging painfully on his softening erection.

Startled, Minho jumps and makes a strangled sound. Felix tackles him against the far side of the couch before burying his face in his stomach, screaming into his body. All thoughts dissolve under the force of that pain, and this time Felix can’t ride it out. It pummels him and drags him under.

The stabbing throb builds more and more. For a minute? Five? Longer? It’s both a profound relief and a pity when the blind paroxysm finally eases off. He finds himself panting into Minho’s belly, the shirt beneath his face damp with saliva and tears. Minho rocks him gently, stroking his hair.

The sound of his breath is loud and crackly in the little cave he’s made. Tremors shake his body as he comes down from the dreadful high he just put himself through, and he struggles to make himself think clearly. Teenaged Felix is so close to him now, he can feel his old panic at breaking the rules, the crushing uncertainty about his future, and his overwhelming despair at disappointing Chris - the leader who chose him. His younger self is convinced Minho will leave now that he knows the consequences of Felix’s actions. He mustn’t leave!

Pushing Minho’s damp shirt up, he presses his cheek against the hot skin beneath. He kisses every bare patch he can find and licks the indent of his scar from end to end. Minho doesn’t stop him, resting his hand on the back of Felix’s head, likely letting him do whatever he wants out of pity. Felix will take that permission, even if it’s pathetic.

He pushes the shirt higher, finally looking up with a silent plea. Minho’s face is flushed and two spots of colour are riding high on his cheekbones, giving his eyes the gleaming lost look of someone suffering from sun exposure. His soft mouth has fallen slack in an ‘o’ of confusion and his head is tipped forward to complete the curve of his shoulders to shelter Felix. He meets Felix’s eyes and blinks hard, then tugs the t-shirt over his head.

Yes. No more teasing and confessions, just Minho’s body, here, offered up to him. Shirt out of the way, Felix crawls up Minho’s torso and slots his face into the crook of his neck, letting his hands roam everywhere. Oh god, Minho’s skin! It’s so smooth and warm, and there’s so much of it. He loses himself in the textures beneath his hands and face, barely aware that he’s rubbing his head all over Minho’s torso like a maniac. All he cares about are the soft sighs and moans that shake the ribcage moulded beneath Felix’s hands.

“So pretty… oh your skin is so soft here… you’re so beautiful I might die… never want to stop touching… please don’t leave, never leave… I’ll do anything… Minho love…” The string of words unravel from his mouth without registering. He can hear them but wouldn’t be able to say what language he’s speaking if asked. He doesn’t want to know, he just wants Minho.

“Felix?” Minho finally asks when Felix undoes the first button of his fly. A hand holds his wrist in warning. Felix looks up guiltily.

“I’m so sorry sunbaenim. I’m messing up our scene. Messing up everything. I know we should stop but I just can’t.”

“What do you need?”

Felix takes a big shuddering breath and just says it before he can think. “You.” His voice cracks, “I need you to come on my face, come all over me. Put your mark on me. I - can’t explain.”

The hand on Felix’s wrist lets go and cups his cheek, thumb softly brushing the delicate skin below his eye. Minho’s expression resembles what he looks like when he’s been injured but is trying to hide it. Felix swallows bile and doesn’t look away.

“Okay.” Minho looks away. “Sit there.” His hand indicates the coffee table next to them.

Felix nods silently and begins the process of climbing off the couch. His skin protests loudly in six distinct spots, and his dick is still one massive burning throb, though when he looks, the angry red clamp grooves on his body are already fading. He gingerly sits on the table, testing for sturdiness, and it holds him without a creak.

Minho sits up and swings his legs in front of Felix, resting elbows on knees and staring at him. Felix can almost see the thoughts racing through his head, but has no clue of their contents. He doesn’t want to know. It’s a relief when Minho stands and steps in front of him so his legs are hemming in Felix’s knees, groin directly in front of Felix’s face.

“Pull it out.”

Felix doesn’t reply, just unbuttons the rest of Minho’s fly and pushes jeans and boxers down to the tops of his thighs. Minho’s co*ck springs free and flexes against Felix’s hand.

“Mmm, kiss it.”

Felix does, head empty of everything except Minho’s simple orders. He places passionate kisses all over him from base to tip, flicking his tongue out to taste. The velvety skin beneath his lips heats up.

“Good. Now let go.” Felix’s hand is replaced by Minho’s as he steps closer, crowding Felix’s face. Felix looks up and watches Minho’s expression as he feels Minho’s co*ck softly trace his cheek and chin. He leans into the sensation, watching Minho’s eyes burn hotter.

“Is this what you want? My co*ck all over your face?” Minho’s voice has grown sharp.

“Yes hyung.” Felix can’t force his own voice past a whisper.

“You love it, don’t you? Tell me.”

“Yes I love it. Rub it all over my face. Make me dirty.”

“Here.” Minho says gruffly. Felix closes his eyes as a hand grabs his hair painfully, forcing his head further back. Minho’s co*ck slides slowly across his forehead and down his nose. It sweeps softly over his right eye and then prods his mouth. “Open up.”

Felix lets his mouth fall all the way open and Minho runs the tip around the ring of his lips, again and again. Felix chases it with his tongue, but Minho doesn’t thrust inside, just circles and sighs.

“Easy, I know you want it, but you can’t have it yet. Oh your mouth is so pathetic,” Minho’s breath catches, “I’m gonna paint it.”

Felix is back in that lagoon again, the one he’d been thrust into when Minho confessed his desire to dominate him an eternity ago. He feels himself suspended, dumbstruck, at the mercy of tidal forces pulling at him. He opens his eyes and watches Minho’s face, which seems impossibly far away.

“Stick your tongue out.”

He does without thinking, blinking owlishly as Minho uses his tongue like a cushion to rub against. Some part of him notes the saliva slipping down his own chin, but the nice thing about this lagoon is it doesn’t matter. Nor do any of the other voices warning him he’s being too weird, or reminding him to be manly, have a little pride. Nothing matters except for the hitch of Minho’s breath as he guides his co*ck shallowly into Felix’s mouth.

“Oh Bokie, what am I gonna do with you?” Minho gasps, thrusting a little deeper. “You’re such a twisted little twink. Never stop being bad.”

Felix gurgles and coughs, trying to express devotion with his eyes. Minho stares at him with a deeply troubled expression, turned on almost to the point of looking angry. The fevered blush beneath his eyes has darkened to a colour Felix has only seen on Minho once or twice when all the members got very drunk together.

At the sound of Felix’s cough, Minho shakes his head and throws it back, his Adam’s apple working, sharply defined from below. His fingers loosen in Felix’s hair and he pulls away, eliciting an involuntary cry from Felix.

“No! Please. Oh please hyung!”

“No, I…” Minho gasps with an open mouth, face as bright as bubblegum. “Not your face! You. You haven’t earned it yet!” He says, his hesitant inflection bending up like a kid trying to act tough. Felix blinks. “So… stand up and turn around.” Minho pulls Felix to his feet and he reluctantly complies, feeling like a freezing man turning away from a bonfire. Minho steps around him and kicks the coffee table half a metre away.

“Bend over and put your hands on the table. Spread your legs so I can see my toy.” Minho’s voice gains a little strength back with each order.

Felix nods shakily and complies. This isn’t what he hoped for, but he’s already pushed Minho a lot tonight. He can do this. The table is low so he bends far, accepting the awkwardness of the position. Two hands delicately cup his buttocks and then slide together to trace the plug still stuck in him.

“Hold still.” One hand disappears and there’s silence for a long minute. Felix lets his head hang down to check what’s happening but only sees Minho’s jeans-clad legs between his naked ones. He waits, blood thudding in his head, and gradually becomes aware of fast rustling behind him and Minho’s quickening breath. Felix closes his eyes.

He can sense heavy thoughts waiting for him just beyond the veil of his scene-induced stupor. Facing away from Minho, waiting for him to come, he has to fight himself to stay calm. Maybe he should feel ashamed. He’s certain this isn’t what Minho planned for this evening. He ought to feel guilty for hijacking his hyung’s careful preparations, and for not safe-wording when he felt himself losing emotional control. But mostly, he probably ought to feel mortified that this is what he asked Minho to do.

Fortunately for Felix’s growing awkwardness, Minho starts talking. “If you’re a freak, Felix, I am too.” His voice is high and unsteady. “You’re so filthy I can’t stand it. God you’re perfect.” His left hand is knocking against Felix’s ass as he strokes himself, knuckles glancing across the plug. His right hand is holding Felix’s hip shakily. “Oh, I’m gonna get you so dirty, love.” Minho moans, “Do you want it?”

It’s hard to speak around the bubble of shame and adoration blocking Felix’s throat. “Please,” is all he can say.

Minho lets out a strange, forlorn laugh and grips Felix’s hip hard. Hot moisture paints his back in long stripes, and Felix sighs, awash in too many conflicting feelings to name.

***

He sighs again as he sits in the darkness of the agency car, the sound immediately diluted by the roar of the drumming rain. No, he really doesn’t know how Minho feels about their scene, especially the way it ended. Felix decides he definitely topped from the bottom, but that phrase is too simplistic to describe everything that happened. A lot more was going on besides a thwarted power exchange.

It’s hard to get a clear picture of the rest of that evening. The storm of emotions he experienced caused the aftermath to seem hazy and disjointed. But there are certain details that come back to him now.

He can see himself and Minho as they crouched there silently in Ha-ru’s living room, trying to wind down from the abrupt, heavy end of their scene. Minho stayed draped over Felix’s back for a while, panting hard. Felix supported him, mind empty of anything else. He wasn’t the one who had an org*sm, but his brain was scattered like the climax was his.

It couldn’t last though. A cooling drip of come slid down to the edge of Felix’s armpit, and he shivered, suddenly cold. Minho felt it and slowly peeled away, but didn’t let Felix move.

What had Minho said then? He can’t remember. At some point he helped Felix release the plug, a process that’s mercifully vague in his memory beyond how bizarrely hot the toy felt coming out. And then the aching emptiness afterward. Minho cleaned him off with the last of Ha-ru’s towels and gave him comfortable trackies to wear to stop the shivering.

“Are you ready for the ribbon to come off now?” He’d asked.

Felix nodded, ready for the ribbon, but not ready to talk yet, and turned his back. The loss of tension on his neck when the knot loosened made Felix’s whole body slump. Like that silk was the only thing keeping him upright.

They made tea and washed the dishes together without either of them suggesting it. That just seemed like the logical next step. After the dishes, Felix dumbly stood at the sink holding his drying towel as Minho cleaned the butt plug, vaguely wondering if he should be embarrassed. But Minho simply handed the scrubbed toy to him and said, “I want you to keep it.” So he did.

Afterwards, they sat at the table with warm mugs of green tea, and Minho looked at him with an obvious question in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I should’ve told you what Chan-hyung said from the start.” Felix began, because it needed to be said.

Minho leaned back in his chair, watching him curiously. “How did it happen? What did Chan actually say?”

That was a difficult question. What had Chan said back then? Felix spent years trying not to think too hard about that particular conversation, which made the details painful to recall.

“Well, at the time I couldn’t stop feeling guilty about getting caught with another boy. Remember that manager we only had for a little while? Kang?” God, Kang Hyun-ki. He hadn’t been a great manager. Sure, he said and did all the right things when the Division One agency seniors were around, but he made it clear to the SKZ members he hated managing a young group with zero reputation. Thank goodness his tenure hadn’t been long. Felix suspects Chan had a hand in that.

“He liked to tell me story after story about idol scandals, saying it’s only a matter of time before everyone gets caught. And if you don’t get caught, people just make up stuff instead. Like I didn’t already know that. Maybe he thought I needed extra reminders because I’m from Australia, or something.” That was the other thing. Kang liked to treat Felix like a dumb kid because he hadn’t grown up in Korea. “But he got me so paranoid, Changbin started pestering me until I told him what was up. He convinced me to tell Chan since I was so worried about it.”

Minho nodded solemnly.

“So I found Chan alone in a rehearsal room after dinner one night, and I just… let it all out. Came out to him formally, explained about Alex. I told him I’d been a stupid, lonely trainee, and didn’t want to betray his trust in me.” Thinking about that awkward conversation with Chan now, Felix knows he hadn’t exactly been coherent at the time. All his confessions had gotten tangled in the telling. Despite his guilt, he’d wanted to defend himself a little too.

He can recall Chan’s vulnerable, 20-year-old face at that time: his warm skin colourless, kind eyes swollen small from sleep deprivation, smooth aquiline nose red from rubbing. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply as he tried to make sense of Felix’s jumbled confessions, and his curly brown hair was a tangled vertical mess, like Chan’s laboured thinking was making it stand on end. He sat with his long arms resting heavily on the muted keyboard because sitting straight took too much effort.

“He looked so exhausted and I felt so bad. Because I was dumping another problem in his lap instead of helping lighten the load.” Felix shuddered, the grief of his younger self lingered close.

“And he- he told me to stop apologising. That my orientation doesn’t change anything between us.” He sighed. Even that early in their relationship, Felix hadn’t thought Chan would see him any differently after coming out, though the situation with Alex represented a significant problem, from a professional idol standpoint. That was no mystery.

“But then he got that worried look on his face and said he’ll help me with the company, that he knows who to talk to about covering our asses with NDAs if it comes to that. I think he was kind of figuring it out as he talked because he wasn’t prepared for what I told him. I said I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. That Alex definitely wouldn’t talk - he left because he couldn’t stand being in the closet to perform, so he knew what was at stake. And there was only the old rumour from the trainees, but they got drilled in the same PR courses as us.”

Minho grunted ruefully at that, clearly reflecting on the tedium of countless hours of media literacy lectures the agency put them all through.

“And, you’re probably right. I think he panicked a little.” Felix paused, frowning. He’d never really thought of Chan’s reaction from that angle before, preferring not to think of it at all. “He looked really upset and said I have to be careful not to make any more mistakes. Even though it’s really unfair, I’ll become a target if our numbers aren’t good and word gets around that I’m bi. He said it’s his job to protect the group, but he can’t protect me from everything. He said…” Felix swallowed, “It would break his heart, but he won’t stop them from breaking my contract if I get involved with someone at work again and things go south.”

He and Minho sat at the table in silence for a minute after that, the invisible presence of Woojin between them. It didn’t need to be said that Chan had been capable of letting a member go when their reputation attracted the company’s ire. Felix had witnessed that first-hand just a year after his confession to Chan. Woojin’s contract had been broken, forever changing Stray Kids from a 9-member group to 8. Felix had also seen the incredible pain it caused Chan to do so.

“He was right. I was being selfish then. I’m… I’m being selfish now.” Felix looked up at Minho’s blank face. The full reality of this relationship - which he’d been running from without acknowledging it - crashed down on him hard. Even now, the pressure of panic builds in Felix’s chest as he thinks about it. He stares at the shadow of Lee Minho in the seat in front of him. It feels impossible Minho can’t sense the intensity of Felix’s attention like claws in his scalp.

Last night, in the luxury of privacy, Felix could lean across the table to try to break through the emptiness of Minho’s gaze.

“I want you.” His voice was clear and strong. “I’ve always been hung up on you, Lee Minho. Even if we can’t continue, I think playing with you has changed me forever, and I want to thank you for that.” He blew out a breath, bracing himself for the worst. “I’d understand if you want to stop now that you know everything.”

In the silence that followed, Minho’s expression hadn’t changed, and Felix’s heart plummeted. But then Minho seemed to make a long journey back to himself with a jerk. His eyes focused on Felix’s face, and he reached across the table to take his hand.

“No. I don’t want to stop. And I don’t think loving another boy when you’re seventeen is a mistake. Chan shouldn’t have said that.” Felix shook his head vigorously in defence of Chan. Minho smiled at him fondly, and squeezed his hand hard. “Playing with you has changed me too.” He added softly.

Felix took a deep unsteady breath and smiled back, heart still pounding from the possibility of Minho rejecting him. Despite his attempted bravery, he knew losing Minho so soon after experiencing a closeness he’d craved for years would be completely devastating.

The fear must’ve shown on Felix’s face, because Minho kissed his hand and held it against his cheek. “Let’s figure out the situation with Chan-hyung later. Neither of us are thinking clearly right now.” Felix nodded. “Speaking of which,” Minho’s brows furrowed deeply, “I shouldn’t have made you talk about difficult personal stuff in a scene. That was my fault.”

Felix laughed helplessly at the idea that Minho forced him to do anything. His ‘interrogation’ in-scene had involved placing a few clamps on his skin, and then Felix spilling his guts with zero prompting.

“No hyung! You gave me exactly what I needed.” He tugged Minho’s hand back with both of his. “You were right that I was holding back. I guess I pushed that conversation with Chan so deep, it was hard to think about until our first scene pulled all that stuff to the surface.”

“Well, I still think a conversation would’ve been better. I haven’t handled myself very well.”

Felix obstinately shook his head again and spread Minho’s fingers apart, tracing their contours. It was much easier to let Minho take responsibility for Felix’s kinks rather than his insecurities. Though he had to admit those things are more closely linked than he’d care to admit. “We’ve both been very bad boys.” He joked with an awkward laugh.

Minho laughed too, “Yes. We have.” Then he squeezed Felix’s hand one last time. “So be good now and help me remove all evidence we’ve been here. I want to be able to look my friends in the eye later.”

Felix nodded immediately, consciously pulling himself together. “Let’s maybe get them new tea towels.” He suggested guiltily. “…and an apron?”

Minho smirked. “Sure.”

Was that it? Yes. An amicable end to an intense night. They’d cleaned up, laundered towels, and gotten a ride with Tae, sitting in companionable quiet all the way home. Felix had felt relatively certain they’d work through any bumps in the road in the days ahead - maybe even tackle the problem of confessing their relationship to Chan together. Until ISAC happened, and the archery competition, and the solid closed door of Minho’s expression all day long.

Ringing silence engulfs the car as they drive out of the rain into the JYPE parking garage. Han is right, Felix decides. Minho needs his help.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

“I know. You know. Lee Know.” Felix whispers, staring at the flickering ceiling. He shoves down his blanket, unable to find a comfortable temperature. His room had been too empty and dark when he lay down an hour ago, so he’d turned on his rainbow lights again. Now it’s too bright. Whatever filling is in his ergonomic pillow sounds like tiny bugs tumbling as it shifts under his head. He irritably kicks his foot off the edge of the bed. Maybe he’ll never get a full night of sleep ever again.

This shouldn’t be so hard. Filming all day exhausts him more than their most difficult dance practices. And he feels relatively calm now after resolving to do whatever he can to build a stronger relationship with Minho. They have time. So why is he still this jittery?

One hand is halfway down his boxers before he’s aware of what he’s doing. Well, jerking off would probably relax him enough to sleep, but that feels wrong. When did he make the decision that masturbation without his hyung’s permission is out of bounds? Minho didn’t let him come during their scene yesterday, so he shouldn’t tonight. No matter how pent-up he feels.

Instead, he gently takes himself in hand, careful not to stroke. Just feeling the soft skin of his co*ck. There, and there - a couple of lingering sore spots from the clothespins yesterday. He pokes them a little, breathing in through his nose at the small heartbeat of ache still beating there.

His dick pulses, and Felix snatches the hand away, curling on his side with a forlorn moan. It’s not his own hand he wants.

If only he could… No. He can’t go to Minho’s room. Everyone’s home.

Slow down, he tells himself reflexively. Chronic navelgazer that he is, the blind urgency of this week has been uncharacteristic of him. In light of the breakdown of their scene yesterday, it’s becoming clear some of that urgency might’ve been Felix steadfastly avoiding having to think too hard about the full implications of this relationship. It’s kind of amazing how much thinking he can do without actually making any progress. The power of avoidance is scary.

Felix uncurls and burrows his head deeper in the pillow, waiting for the fluff to settle in his ear. Avoidance is a powerful tool, especially when you have a career as active and hectic as his. But too much avoidance is a risky strategy. Tonight he’s gained enough perspective to finally admit that he’s been avoiding romantic intimacy for a while.

Over a year ago, the agency made a significant shift in their management, granting more freedom than Felix had known since before he became a trainee. In the time since then, each member pursued that freedom in their own way.

For Felix, freedom resulted in brief flings. Discreet conversations with other idols assured him he wasn’t alone in this approach.

So he’d indulged a bit, and occasionally let his flirting progress further than he could before. Like the short, feverish make-out sessions he enjoyed in the loo of an MBC studio with a young producer who’d been playful and happy to grant Felix’s requests. Such as pinning Felix hard against the wall with his bulky arms as he kissed him. Or exchanging a few sexy pictures - none showing Felix’s face. But then the producer landed a great opportunity to work overseas, and they said goodbye amicably.

There’d also been the idol he met at an awards show afterparty. Older than Felix, her personality was an intriguing mixture of genuine sweetness, sharp wit, and a solid steel backbone. She was signed to a smaller label, and had remarkable resourcefulness, able to subtly intimidate the most obstinate senior executive without them even realising.

They’d only slept together three times before calling it off. Trying to coordinate time to meet in private had been next to impossible. But in retrospect, scheduling hadn’t been the main reason he broke up with her.

He started liking her too much.

Which is so weird! At fifteen, Felix’s favourite fantasy was planning his own wedding. He’d been obsessed with love. His Mom used to warn him not to marry any high school girlfriends just because he finally found someone to shower with affection. When did that change?

Alex? Probably. Before all this with Minho, it’d been easy to blame his fear of relationships on the restrictions of the K-pop industry, and the near-disaster of his teenage love affair. Or later, on his kinks. Yet despite those factors being real obstacles, it’s becoming clear he’s been deeply afraid to destroy the most important thing in his life: Stray Kids. And by extension, Bang Chan. No wonder he’s failed to be emotionally honest in his first real relationship. Something he never would’ve predicted when he was fifteen.

Who would he be if he hadn’t become Lee Felix of Stray Kids? That feels like asking how he would act if he was an alien. The answer is too strange for him to even frame in his mind. But there must be some things about him that are innate, right? He’ll always be someone who’s embarrassingly sincere, who loves hard despite the risk of heartbreak. As long as he can struggle through the fear enough to give himself permission.

The rainbow lights paint his room with waves of colour, like watching an oil slick on a rippling pond. So how do you break through the fear? Well, in Felix’s experience, fear isn’t conquered by the will. Fear is made bearable when it’s shared.

Maybe it’s time to stop fighting his natural instincts.

Brushing aside any further worries, Felix rises from the bed and gently opens the bedroom door. Beyond his threshold the flat is still and dark, only spectral white rectangles illuminate the ceiling from the street lights below the kitchen windows. He can hear the hum of the fridge and the faint fuzzy purr of Seungmin’s sound machine in his room.

Felix and all three of his roommates had gone straight to bed after returning home from the agency at midnight. His flat feels misty with the aura of sleep. Socked feet are soundless on the carpet, and he hesitates a moment with his hand on the knob of Minho’s door. He rests his forehead against the wood. Is that barely audible sleep-soft sigh from within his imagination? The knob turns and he steps inside.

Paranoid about waking Seungmin or I.n, it takes him a long time to close the door again, incrementally turning the latch until he feels it catch. Next, the lock turns with a faint snick. The bedroom at his back is nearly black, but alive with tiny air currents and the indefinable smell of Minho, more noticeable now in the dark.

Felix turns around, aware that he’s creepily looming in the corner as he waits for his eyes to adjust. Minho must be sleeping, or he would’ve noticed the strange presence in his room. Felix doesn’t hear the rustle of a body moving in the vague lumpy shape of the bed to his right.

The bathroom door. Felix squints and barely makes out the blue line of light under the door near the bed. Holding his breath, he shuffles his feet across the rug in case there’s anything that could trip him up, then turns the lock there with a slightly louder rattle.

There’s a faint in-drawn breath from the bed next to him. Is Minho awake? The silence stretches, but all he can hear is the even murmur of breathing. He gropes his way to the edge of the mattress and follows it up to the headboard. Blindly, Felix reaches his hand into the mass of shadows, feeling past the fuzzy texture of Minho’s body pillow until he reaches heat and skin. Minho’s arm.

“Hmm?” Minho’s voice is high and blurry with sleep.

“It’s me.”

“Bokie? You okay?”

“Shh, yes.” Felix tugs off his t-shirt and socks because Minho runs hot like a furnace. Next, he gently pulls the squid out of Minho’s arms, ignoring the faint whine of protest from its owner. Then he climbs into the little bed, twisting and pushing with soft ruthlessness to make room until he’s completely tangled up in Minho, who grunts in resignation. But doesn’t kick him out.

They lie there in the dark, the silence broken only by the intermittent growl and swish of late-night vehicles passing on the wet street below. Minho’s heartbeat against Felix’s ear is slow and even.

“You okay Felix?” Minho asks again in a barely audible whisper that brushes Felix’s cheek.

“Need you.”

Minho wraps his arms around him beneath the covers and tucks Felix’s head under his chin.

“Me too.”

The whine of the water pipe in the wall next to Felix’s ear wakes him in the morning. It’s Seungmin, turning on the shower and gurgling mouthwash in a loud monotone. The sound is so incongruous from I.n’s quiet bathroom routine, he has to puzzle awake to remember where he’d gone last night.

He opens his eyes to a face full of Minho’s soft hair. Over the course of the night he must’ve reclaimed possession of his bed. Felix finds himself wedged back against the wall on his side, Minho’s arm thrown around his neck, one firm thigh between his own, and the crown of Minho’s head nestled down against his face. Heaven. Felix rearranges the hair so it won’t tickle his nose and falls back asleep.

The second time he wakes, it’s to the piercing beep of the security system arming the front door. Someone must’ve left. Ever since the incident with the strange woman in their apartment, Felix always wakes up from that telltale beep. Right, Seungmin mentioned voice training at the Academy with I.n today. Minho has been attending those lessons with them lately, but he’s still here, nestled heavily in Felix’s arms.

Out of habit, he mentally reviews his schedule for today. If he’s right, there’s nothing official booked this morning to allow recovery time after their full filming day yesterday. There’s a long, full-cast rehearsal this afternoon to prepare the stage for Asahi Music Station. But the morning is theirs.

Should he be worried his roommates might’ve noticed his empty room? No, he was careful and closed every door. Besides, Felix has always wandered into other people’s beds when he can’t sleep. Not as much as he used to, nowadays, but it’s not unusual-

Stop! Stay calm.

Sighing, he relaxes against Minho again and makes a conscious effort to lay down his worries and focus on the present. Minho is an acrobatic sleeper, changing positions often. His back is to Felix now, and he’s hogging the duvet. Felix smiles sleepily and wraps an arm and leg around him, burying his nose in the nape of Minho’s neck. He smells like citrus shampoo, fabric softener, warm skin and Minho. Felix breathes in deeply, trying to absorb that smell into his body so he can carry it with him forever.

Minho looks so sweet and defenceless when he sleeps, all the tension and animation drains from his face leaving only the clear architecture of his features. His body goes completely limp too, hands and feet suddenly soft as a rag doll. Seeing him in this state always makes Felix want to shield him with his body so no one will observe the vulnerability etched there. He does it now, hugging Minho tightly in his arms.

The sleepy man groans faintly in protest, but Felix just squeezes harder.

“Yer feet’r cold.” Minho slurs into the pillow, jiggling his leg to dislodge Felix’s clinging foot.

“Your leg is warm.” Felix replies into his neck. “And you’re hogging the doona.” He pulls at the blanket corner.

“Doona? S’mine.” A tug, and the corner disappears.

“I have no choice, then.” Felix burrows his foot deep between Minho’s bare knees below his shorts, wiggling icy toes in bliss.

“Ah ha aha!” Minho jerks and stifles a yell in the pillow, but doesn’t pull away.

“Mmm so warm.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

“Pabo.” Minho’s grumble is belied by a little wriggle to snug back closer to Felix’s chest.

The morning light through thick green curtains makes the room feel like a verdant jungle, the clothes hanging on the wardrobe door like cascading vines, the floor lamps young trees searching for the sun through the gloom, and the jumble of dumbbells in the corner like a tumble of undergrowth. Even the grey rug in this soft light looks like green moss smoothly carpeting a forest floor.

Alone in this lush setting, Felix runs his hand up Minho’s side beneath his t-shirt, savouring the warmth and satiny texture of his skin.

Minho stiffens. “Are we alone?”

“Yeah. Seungmin and I.n just left. Are you not doing a voice lesson today?”

“No. I cancelled yesterday and let Seungmin know.”

“Good.” Felix says with a sigh, brushing his lips against Minho’s skin, and the body in his arms relaxes.

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Yes.” He traces the indents between Minho’s bottom ribs. “Did anyone give you a hard time about cancelling?”

He doesn’t get an answer right away. Minho settles his head more comfortably on the pillow.

“Not really. I think Yi-Joon and Seungmin assumed ISAC filming annoyed me, and wanted time off this morning.”

The valley marking the curve of Minho’s spine between longissimus muscles is deep, the perfect width for Felix’s index fingertip, all the way from the knob of his neck to the small of his back. He touches him there slowly, sensing the small crenellations of vertebrae. “Were you?”

“Annoyed? No.”

“But you weren’t exactly happy yesterday, right?”

The silence stretches so long, he thinks Minho’s going to ignore the question. But -

“Yeah.”

Felix nods slowly in acknowledgment. “I wondered.”

Minho doesn’t say anything more and lies motionless in Felix’s arms. Felix finds he doesn’t need any further confirmation of Minho’s internal conflict. Han’s insight is right. Minho struggles to ask for help. Earning his vulnerability will take time and special attention. He closes his eyes and melds his body as close as he can get to Minho’s, finally surrendering fully to the whole prickly, messy, delicious tangle of emotions tying him to the man in his arms.

He does what he should’ve that morning in the hotel after their first scene. Instead of jumping up and running away, he burrows deeper into the bed and pulls Minho’s body on top of him.

Minho grunts softly in surprise, but doesn’t resist. And lets his head fall back against Felix’s shoulder.

“Was it how our last scene went? I know I messed it up.”

The body in his arms shifts, trying to pull away. But Felix holds him there stubbornly. Neither of them says anything for a long time, until Minho abruptly goes boneless like a bulky, moody blanket.

“Please don’t say you messed up. That’s not how this works. Just because you’re subbing doesn’t mean I don’t want you to have a say in what happens.” Minho says quietly, staring at the ceiling.

Felix rubs his cheek against Minho’s shoulder. “But something made you uncomfortable. Yeah?”

“Well.” The word hangs there.

Felix thinks hard. “My face?” He ventures.

Minho laughs, scrubbing a hand over his own face. “I kind of hoped you didn’t notice my reaction.”

“Hard not to notice when you turn that red.” Felix teases.

“Hey!” Minho’s protest is weak. He gently rocks them both by pushing a foot against the mattress.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s fine. I know asking you to do - that - on my face was kinda messed up.” Felix squeezes Minho, who shakes his head in frustration, voice rising.

“Stop! Not messed up. That wasn’t the problem.”

Surprised, Felix stops squeezing. “Oh?”

“When you asked me for that, I… wanted to. Badly. And other things too. With you, always.” Minho turns his head away, staring at the wall, his body stilling. “But this time, the more excited I got, the angrier I felt. Or maybe frustrated. I don’t know - a lot of things.” He clears his throat, finishing in a low voice. “I almost took it out on you.”

That makes sense. It occurs to Felix how easy it would be for even a responsible Dominant to lose control of their emotions when faced with a willing recipient. He’d sort of categorised anyone engaging in that kind of uncontrolled behaviour as “bad Dominants” and dismissed them without thinking too deeply about it. Turns out, like most things, power exchanges are more nuanced than that.

“Don’t worry about it. You caught yourself.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s understandable you felt angry! I gave you plenty of reasons.” Felix continues seriously. Ready to confess all his sins. “I ran away after our first scene. Then I broke down in our second scene without safe-wording, and pressured you to keep going afterwards. I didn’t tell you about Chan from the beginning, even though that’s really important information.” He says, trying his best to be fully honest whilst remaining calm. “Those are valid reasons.”

“Felix, wait.” Minho says in a flat voice, gently pulling on the hand holding him in place, prompting Felix to let go. He complies, and Minho rolls onto his side so he can meet Felix’s eyes. His face is puffy and his hair’s a mess, and the urgent sincerity of his expression makes him breathtakingly beautiful.

“I was angry at Bang Chan. Not you.”

That’s - not what he expected. “Huh?”

“What you told me about your confession to Chan back then.” Minho explains, “I’m angry he threatened to kick you out in order to keep you in line instead of calmly backing you up. He didn’t need to scare you so badly.”

Shaking his head automatically, Felix is quick to argue. “It - it wasn’t a threat… exactly. He does have my back!” He insists. Chan is nothing if not fiercely loyal. “The way I described it probably made him sound too harsh. Chan just reminded me of stuff I already knew about the company and the industry. There are standards and expectations. And he didn’t sugarcoat the consequences of another mistake. He was doing me a favour!” He talks quickly, voice rising as he bats away the idea that Chan could’ve messed up. Which is preposterous. He pulls back from Minho, but gets trapped against the cold wall at his side. Felix sits up.

“Felix wait!” Minho hastily sits up too, blocking Felix’s escape with his body. “I’m not saying Channie’s a bad guy - never! None of us are perfect. I just think he handled the situation badly.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Felix looks down at his lap, trying to assimilate this unexpected revelation. Minho is mad at Chan - for him.

“During the scene, what you told me about Chan was a surprise.” Minho continues doggedly. “And then you asked me to do - that. As a punishment. It wasn’t the act that made me uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable because I don’t think you should be punished for a normal teenage relationship. But you were so upset, and wound up, and vulnerable, and just so… f*cking sexy. You needed it, and I thought I could do it for you.”

“I see.” Felix never would’ve predicted anyone defending him for breaking those particular rules. It’s a strange feeling.

“Yes. But then when we continued, I couldn’t stop thinking about Chan, being furious at him. And you were right there in front of me, offering your beautiful face.” Minho touches Felix’s chin gently. “Begging. I- I-” He trails off, the corner of his mouth turning down.

“You what?” Felix asks, a thorny knot forming in his throat from the pain in Minho’s voice. He’s never seen his hyung quite like this.

Minho looks up at the ceiling, like it’s a struggle to keep his face under control. When he continues, he avoids Felix’s eyes.

“Last night I went way off track into my own baggage.” His bitter tone is eloquent of old, tired worries.

Burning curiosity makes it hard to keep Felix’s voice level. “Like what?”

Minho gives a sad little chuckle. “Like - I wanted to make someone pay for all the extra ways people like us are asked to hide because of our sexuality. In life. In this job. It all sort of hit me at once.” His face flattens, fighting anger. “Why should we live with constant fear and discomfort just to save other people from ever feeling uncomfortable? Just because they can’t control their own feelings, I have to hide mine?”

Felix’s back snaps straight at the sincerity in Minho’s voice, and he has to fight the urge to comfort him - which would only lead to silence.

Minho’s face flushes dark with disgust. “And I almost took it out on you!” His eyes flash and he finally looks at Felix. “I wanted to threaten you, degrade and humiliate you, taunt you with your insecurities and take pleasure in it. I’ve felt closeted and sick and twisted too, and you clearly wanted to be punished for that. I could do it, easily.” He takes a shaky breath. “Too easily. The urge was so strong it made me sick.” He shakes his head. “And that’s just - so wrong! Especially to do to you!”

“Oh no!” Guilt seizes Felix. He had no clue his request would have elicited such a strong response from him. He tries to hug Minho, but is gently rebuffed.

“Wait, listen. I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel bad - I’m just trying to explain. Hopefully I can avoid that happening again in the future.”

“Of course! I won’t ask you to do that again.”

Minho smiles awkwardly, “I’m not saying you should never ask for that specifically. I know this is confusing, but I found it really hot at first.”

“Oh.” Felix’s head snaps back, caught in emotional whiplash from all the twists Minho’s narrative is taking.

“Yeah.” Minho says faintly, looking up to meet Felix’s gaze. His angry blush is still there, switching rapidly to embarrassment, which is f*cking adorable. “I think we got the context wrong this time. I couldn’t punish you for wanting to be with the people around you. We all started working in this industry really young. It’s unfair that the people we see the most are the ones we work with - that isn’t normal. What’s normal is to want a connection with a few safe people when you do what we do. And it shouldn’t matter if you want that with women or men. Those feelings aren’t wrong.” He smiles shyly, “You should never have to hide your heart.”

Felix lets slip a noise that’s half laugh, half sob. It’s so strange to feel this mixture of relief, disbelief, love and fear at once. What Minho’s saying goes against everything this industry has taught him. And is exactly what he wants to hear. Something he must’ve needed to hear ever since his dormmate’s mocking laughter interrupted the last intimate moment he and Alex had when he was seventeen.

“Thank you.”

Minho shrugs. “I’m just trying to be honest. I know a lot of people would disagree with me.”

“Thank you, hyung.” Felix says again, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck. Minho doesn’t fight it this time, and looks at him softly.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you thank you thank you oh thank you…” Felix keeps repeating as he pushes a laughing Minho down into the pillow and climbs on top of him. He only stops saying it when Minho kisses him.

The euphoria that overwhelms him at the touch of Minho’s lips is like a song. It invades his body and makes him want to dance. Instead, he loses himself in inexpert kisses, no longer worried about letting Minho see how much he truly cares for him. And Minho meets him there, laughing, sighing and groaning with each caress. Felix could cry knowing that this is what he’s been denying himself.

But no, enough crying! This week has been too full of tears. Why cry when he has an astonishing man in his arms who’s giving him all the love he’s ever craved, just as he’s been trying to do for days?

Laughing again, Felix pulls away from Minho’s clinging lips and grabs his t-shirt. “Off. Off. Off. Off.” he says impatiently.

“Fine! You’re so pushy!” Minho protests with a grin.

Felix loves it when Minho complains about things he obviously likes. Throwing the shirt across the room, Felix kicks the blanket off too, determined to remove every barrier between them. Then he launches himself at Minho for an unruly wrestling match, far too active for the small bed, but they stay on, somehow. Their straining, kissing, grabbing, clumsy clasping doesn’t stop until all their clothes and pillows are on the floor. Searching for an advantage, Felix flips Minho onto his side, managing to capture both their erections in his hands and bringing the roughhousing to an abrupt halt.

Minho moans as Felix strokes them both, and thrusts into the circle of his hands. The hot, velvety length of him sliding firmly against Felix’s co*ck makes him shudder with ecstasy. Even the faint ache of his bruised skin is perfect.

“Oh yes.” Felix groans, nestling his face close to Minho’s on the mattress amidst the disarray of the sheet, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The soft, open expression on Minho’s face so close to his is almost more erotic than the bold undulation of his hips. What would he look like with Felix’s dick deep inside him?

A shiver interrupts his rhythm, and Felix lets go, his excitement magnified by Minho’s soft disbelieving “Oh!”

“Your body -” Felix whispers, running his hand over Minho’s torso, from neck to hip bone. Minho laughs breathily.

“What about it?”

There are so many things Felix could say about it. That he’s obsessed with it. That it makes him crazy. That he wants to plunder and worship it at the same time. That he wants to be punished by it. That it’s heartbreakingly beautiful. But the pressure of all the feelings in his chest is making it hard to speak.

“It’s yours,” is all Felix can manage to say, immediately frustrated by the inanity of the statement.

Minho laughs again, ending in a gasp when Felix lightly tweaks his nipple.

“Yours too.”

“Oh.” The beauty of Minho’s statement is in its simplicity. Felix leans in and bites Minho’s ear without much finesse, expelling breath noisily as Minho throws a leg over his hip and thrusts their pelvises back together.

God, it’s good. Too good. Felix fights the desire to melt into passivity in response to Minho’s attention. This isn’t a scene, and he desperately wants to avoid retreating when confronted with honest need. So he rolls them over, settling his hips between Minho’s legs and cupping a butt cheek in one hand. Minho gasps and looks up at him, a slow smile brightening his face.

“Is the door locked?” He asks, clear voice intriguingly strained.

Felix smiles back and settles his weight squarely on the man he’s captured. “Mmhm.” He hums at the bottom of his range into Minho’s ear, gratified by the ripple beneath him. “Why do you ask?” He nips an earlobe.

“Ah! No reason.” Minho grips Felix’s hair in retaliation and writhes sinuously, making Felix gasp and clutch his rocking hips.

It occurs to Felix distantly that Minho will always be able to trip him up by taking the upper hand. Because he knows that’s Felix’s weakness. Which is amazing and incredibly hot, most of the time. But despite Felix’s fantasies suggesting otherwise, he’s learning that - for him - play has a time and a place. Maybe he doesn’t actually want to engage in it all the time.

Maintaining eye contact, he reaches up and disentangles Minho’s hands, pressing them to the mattress above his head.

“Take it easy.” He warns.

Minho stills, then moves his hands a little to test Felix’s grip, a surprised laugh escaping his mouth. He could easily pull free, but stays still.

“Okay?” Felix asks.

A pause. “Yeah, okay.” Minho’s voice is quiet and a little high.

“Good.”

Keeping a firm grip, Felix reaches with his other hand and delicately takes hold of Minho’s co*ck and begins stroking.

The body beneath him tries to curl inward with pleasure, but Felix keeps Minho anchored against the bed, eliciting a long high moan.

“Yeah.” Felix says. “I love hearing your voice. I could probably get off just by listening to you masturbat*.”

Minho laughs and groans at the same time. “Noted.” He warns teasingly, but his unsteady voice belies the threat. Felix increases the pressure of his stroking hand and pays special attention to the head, gratified by Minho’s futilely kicking feet. God, of course he would be impossibly sexy no matter the position.

“Please can I f*ck you hyung?” Felix asks abruptly, wincing at his inability to play it smooth. Or rather the sub in him just can’t resist asking for permission.

Maybe Minho recognizes it, because he simply smiles brilliantly and draws his knees up high.

“Please.”

Half an hour later - and halfway inside Minho - Felix has begun to second-guess his topping prowess. Granted, his sexual history isn’t extensive at all, but he’s not inexperienced. It shouldn’t be this hard to fight off his org*sm, especially since he hasn’t even gotten all the way inside Minho!

“Sshi bal…” Minho hisses again as he shifts his hips, causing Felix to sink another centimetre. They both gasp, and Felix swallows a curse. Getting Minho ready had been a surprisingly lengthy process. But Minho’s blush was so sexy when he’d explained how long it had been since he last bottomed, Felix had gotten way too into it. He knows it’s unfair to make Minho stay still right now, but he’s really on a razor edge!

It doesn’t help that the green morning light is making Minho’s deep eyes sparkle up at him, or that Minho’s entire body is braced tautly against the bed, accentuating every damn curve of muscle and limb. It’s all Felix can do to hold his position, one of Minho’s shapely legs draped over his shoulder, his hands gripping Minho’s hips in a futile attempt to keep him still. Even the sore skin of his dick is singing with pleasure from the tight pressure of Minho’s ass. The condom he’d put on isn’t helping at all to lessen the intensity. He should’ve jerked off last night, permission be damned!

“God you’re tight.” Felix says, mostly to dissipate the building pressure inside him, but also because it’s true. “You okay?”

“I was gonna - ah! Ask you the same thing.” Minho jokes, but his eyebrows are drawn down, like it takes an effort to keep his voice light. “You close?” He gasps and shifts his hips again, and Felix groans.

“Can’t you tell?!” Felix uses Minho’s thigh to keep himself upright as a shudder passes through him. What is he doing? Going slow like this is just making the situation worse!

“C’mon, Yongbok. Just f*ck me!” Minho says impatiently, echoing his thoughts. “I’m not gonna break!”

“You were the one - ah! Who kept complaining the whole time I fingered you!”

Minho laughs, probably intending to tease, but sounding a little crazed now. “Haven’t you figured out by now that complaining is my love language?”

“Fine!” Felix thrusts hard, bottoming out in one startlingly smooth movement. Minho expels air like an untied balloon and jerks his head back into the mattress.

“Oh.” He says in a small voice.

Satisfaction blooms in Felix’s stomach at the look of pleasure on Minho’s face. Fueled by adrenaline, Felix’s competitive side wakes up and stretches, and his imminent org*sm backs off slightly.

“Yeah.” He says, carefully thrusting with an even rhythm, pulling back only a little before pushing deep again, his movement liquid and silky with the aid of copious lube. “Is that good?”

“Mnn.” Minho moans, eyes closed, head rocking to Felix’s rhythm. “Hm, yeah. That’s a little better.”

“Just a little?” Felix teases because he can for now, though his voice comes out sounding more pained than he’d prefer. He knows this moment of reprieve won’t last, not when Minho’s rocking his hips up effortlessly to meet Felix’s thrusts.

Minho laughs and opens his eyes, reaching to pull Felix down for a kiss. Felix goes eagerly, bracing his weight against Minho’s outstretched leg. He loses himself in Minho’s intoxicating mouth, overwhelmed by all the points of contact between them.

Minho’s body feels impossibly hot to him, like he’s running a fever. The inside of his mouth and his incandescent ass are shockingly warm. He plunges himself into that heat again and again until it feels like the warmth is invading his own body and he’s no longer sure where the boundary of himself ends.

He’s given up keeping his rhythm under control when Minho finally breaks their kiss with a cry. His hyung arches his back, driving himself against Felix’s body, and throws his other leg onto Felix’s shoulder. The smile has fallen from his face, replaced by raw need.

God he’s so beautiful. Felix reaches between them and strokes Minho’s stiff co*ck just to watch his expression crumple with pleasure. He leans into Minho’s legs to find the right angle and thrusts with the last shred of control he has, gratified when Minho moans brokenly and throws his head back.

“Are you going to come for me?” Felix asks, his voice gravelly with suppressed passion. Minho’s big eyes snap back open, staring at him, full of a feeling Felix doesn’t need to name. Minho doesn’t even blink before abruptly coming all over Felix’s stomach in several powerful spurts.

“Oh god!” Felix shouts as he rides out the strong spasms squeezing him. It hurts. It’s perfect. Minho’s cries are high and somehow musical, and he keeps moving with Felix even after he’s completely spent, holding steady against Felix’s increasingly wild thrusts. He begins to smile again.

“I love you.” Minho says clearly, and Felix shudders and comes, driving himself into Minho’s counter-thrusts, bellowing much too loudly. He comes and comes until there’s nothing left, and collapses onto Minho with a broken cry. He can’t even prevent his whole weight from landing squarely on Minho, but his lover doesn’t seem to mind. Minho holds him tight and they just breathe together for a very long time.

“I love you too. So much.” Felix finally says, face nestled against Minho’s chest. And it’s so easy to say, he laughs with all his heart. Minho laughs too, and they both lose it, shaking apart and gasping joyfully until they’re utterly spent.