Minho stumbles through the empty street, the streetlights spinning above him like lazy fireflies. He sees a tall figure standing by the wall—broad shoulders, familiar coat. In his haze, it’s all the same. His boyfriend. Has to be.
Lee Minho
Missed you… been waiting long?
？？？
...
He presses forward, burying his face in the man’s chest. The figure stiffens but doesn’t push him away. Minho laughs, his fingers fumbling with cold buttons
？？？
You're drunk
A Deep voice, smooth like velvet but edged with steel. Minho doesn’t hear the warning—only the warmth. He kisses him. Hushed curses melt between their lips as Minho’s hands slide under his coat, tugging him closer.
The stranger doesn’t resist—strong hands pin Minho to the wall instead, the kiss growing hungry, punishing. Their breath fogs in the summer night. A muffled moan, a bite to his lip.
Lee Minho
Erghmm~ *moan*
Clothes rustle, zippers hiss, gasps echo off the bricks. Minho’s mind is a blur of heat and fingertips—nothing exists but the taste of this man and the burn coiling low in his belly.
When he’s pressed against the hood of a parked car, Minho only laughs breathlessly.
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