Beside You

K-pop info and glossary
Debut: 2003, SM Entertainment
Fan club: Cassiopeia
Name Real name Birth date Role
U-Know Jung Yunho February 6, 1986 leader, dancer, rapper
Max/Choikang Shim Changmin February 18, 1988 vocal
I write about men having sex with other men.  You must be eighteen or older to read my fiction.  This site is for consenting, responsible adults only.

            Thanking the dancers again, Changmin opened the door to leave the practice room and turned.

            Yunho wasn’t a step behind him.

            Disoriented, he spotted Yunho standing by the mirrored wall, messing with his phone.  He waited a moment, killing time by running his gaze over Yunho’s long, muscular body.  Strong shoulders, toned arms, the swell of pecs under a black tank top, beads of sweat trickling down to his jaw.  It was a very familiar and very welcome sight - - Changmin had to admit, even after all of these years and all that they’d been through, he still hadn’t quite had his fill of checking Yunho out - - but he couldn’t stand in this doorway forever.  “Hyung?”

            Yunho shot him a distracted glance.  “I’ll follow later.  I want to check on the hoobaes.”

            Again?  “Are they improving?”

            Yunho smiled.

            Changmin grinned.  “They will by the time you’re through with them, right?”

            Yunho’s laughter was happy.  “Right.”

            For a moment, Changmin wondered if he should stop by, too.  Give the kids some vocal coaching or something so they’d stop making him wince during every performance.  But he’d had a long day, and the comfort of the dorm beckoned.  “Don’t stay too late.”

            A few nights later, filming ran late, and by the time Changmin got back to the dorm, he was even more exhausted and loopy than usual.  It took him an extra moment to realize that Yunho wasn’t home.  That was so strange, and he was so addled, that it confused him, and he wandered around, re-checking rooms, futilely calling, “Hyung?”

            How could Yunho not be home?  Yunho was always home now.  He’d come back from filming, his body exhausted but his emotions energetic.  Yunho would ask how the show had gone, and he’d talk about it, about the challenges, the guests, what the PD’s had wanted.  Talking it over would help to relax him; it felt good to get it out, to share it with someone who knew him so well.  Once he’d purged the evening’s experiences, he’d be ready to collapse into sleep, and Yunho would half-drag, half-carry him to bed.

            Where was Yunho now?  Had something gone wrong?  Changmin paced from room to room, feeling jittery, his body tired, his mind racing.  He took a shower, but when he’d finished, Yunho still wasn’t home.  He tried watching TV, but he couldn’t focus his thoughts enough to follow what was happening onscreen.  He masturbated, which felt amazing but didn’t last very long.

            Finally, his irritation and petulance overcame his fear of seeming needy, and he texted Yunho.  Hyung, where are you?  He was more annoyed than worried.  Nothing very serious could be wrong; with managers and fans tracking Yunho’s every movement, someone would have contacted him if something bad had happened.

            Yunho didn’t reply to his text.

            He went to bed but never actually fell asleep.  He was still awake when Yunho came home.  Rolling over, he saw that Yunho was turning off lights.  He heard Yunho in the bathroom, in the kitchen.  It irritated him that Yunho hadn’t bothered to check on him, and it irritated him even more that he cared.  Was he being unreasonably needy or was Yunho being unreasonably inconsiderate?

            Getting up, he walked to the kitchen.  Yunho was turned away from him, drinking water.

            It interested Changmin to note that Yunho was wearing the same thing as when Changmin had last seen him: tight black pants, red-and-black mottled T-shirt, silver bracelets, what their stylist had selected for their last interview.  If he’d gone out to get laid, he hadn’t bothered to change for it.  Although that outfit showed off his physique well enough, there really hadn’t been any need to change.  His ass looked terrific.  So firm.

            Changmin remembered to be grumpy.  “You-”




            Catching the water bottle that Yunho had thrown at him, Changmin stared.

            Blinking, braced against the counter, Yunho stared back.

            “What?!” Changmin demanded, tossing the water bottle.

            Catching it deftly, Yunho said, “Ya!  Don’t sneak!”

            “I live here!”

            “I thought you were asleep!”

            “I can’t sleep!”  He smacked Yunho’s shoulder just to make himself feel better.  “Where have you been?”

            “I was at practice.  Helping the hoobaes.”  Yunho’s gaze flickered over him.  “How was filming?”

            He really wanted to talk about it, but he felt too resentful - - and too frustrated with himself for being so clingy and emotional - - to begin.  “Fine.  EXO again?”

            Yunho nodded.  “They’re getting better.  Baekhyun’s working hard.”

            Which one was - - oh, the singer.  “Some of those kids weren’t ready to debut.”

            Yunho’s smile was fond; to Changmin’s horror and disgust, he reached out and ruffled Changmin’s hair.  “You’re so hard on everyone.  Remember how you danced when we debuted.”

            “Ya!”  Disgruntled, he stepped away, smoothing his hair.  “I was fine.  And I sang well, didn’t I?”

            Yunho chuckled.  “Did you?”

            Hey!  Changmin gave him a threatening look.

            It was completely ineffectual; Yunho just chuckled again and put an arm around him, guiding him away from the kitchen.  “Let’s sleep.  How late did filming run?”

            Feeling petulant again, Changmin sulked for a moment before replying.  “Not as late as last week.  You don’t answer your texts?”

            “Did you text me?”  Yunho’s arm tightened around his waist.  “Sorry.  I didn’t know.”  In the bedroom now, Yunho nudged him toward his bed.  “Sleep well.”

            Dissatisfied, Changmin got into bed.  His back to Yunho, he stared into the darkness and scolded himself.  It wasn’t good to be so clingy.  He shouldn’t be so dependent on one person.

            His phone chimed.

            He checked his texts.

            Where am I?  Where I always am, fool.  Right beside you.

            Trapped in the stylist’s chair, Changmin fended off sleep and boredom by watching everyone in the mirror.  The most interesting sight in the room was Yunho, in boots and black leather pants and a silver vest.  He stood against one wall, out of the way of the stylists and managers, smiling at whoever was on the other end of his phone call.  It was such a relaxed, affectionate smile that Changmin smiled at the sight of it, chuckling under his breath.  Who was he talking to?

            When the stylist was finished with him, Changmin assessed his reflection, decided that he approved, and got up, strolling over to Yunho.  Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he openly stared right into Yunho’s face.

            Yunho glanced at him, smiled, pushed his face away, and kept talking.

            Shaking his hair into place, Changmin brushed Yunho’s hand away and listened.  Yunho was speaking very informally, so it had to be someone younger.  He was giving instruction and advice, so he adopted his teaching tone for some of it, but he also sounded fond for some of it, too, and he kept smiling.

            Their manager gestured, and Yunho ended the call.  As someone came to mic them up, Changmin asked, “EXO again?”

            Yunho nodded.  “Baekhyun.”

            Hmm.  Interesting, how out of twelve members, the same one name kept cropping up.  “How old is he?”

            “I don’t know.  Younger than Suho.”

            If Yunho didn’t care enough to know how old the kid was, he couldn’t be very interested.


            After his workout, Changmin stretched out across the floor in the dorm, relaxing and sweating and letting his body accept what he’d just done to it.

            “Dead?” Yunho’s voice asked.

            “Mostly,” he mumbled against the floor.  Ugh.  Peeling out of his damp clothes, stripping down to his underwear, he rolled onto his back and sighed.

            Like a vision, cool and calm, effortlessly unruffled and gracefully light-footed, Yunho strode across the room toward him.  Crouching down with the casual ease of a hyung who was accustomed to invading his personal space, Yunho smiled at him.  “You look really gross.”

            It really seemed unfair for Yunho to look so blithely handsome while Changmin was a pool of sweat and exertion.  He was probably all red-faced and smelly, too.  Terrific.  He eyed the bottle of water in Yunho’s hand.  It looked so cool and refreshing.  “At least I can fix it with a shower.  Too bad about you.”

            Uncapping the bottle, Yunho held it right over Changmin’s head and-


            -tipped a splash of cold water onto Changmin’s face.

            Sputtering, Changmin shoved Yunho’s hand aside.  “Ya!  Cold!  Ah!”

            Laughing, Yunho sat comfortably beside him, ignoring his distress.  “Feel better?”


            Pouring water into one hand, Yunho rubbed it right over Changmin’s torso, right under his pecs.  Oh, that was nice.  It felt good, nice and cool.  Soothed by Yunho’s touch, he relaxed again, closing his eyes.  Yunho did it a few more times, caressing his chest, stroking his abs, cooling him off.  Mmm, it felt really good, and he wanted to move into it, to ask Yunho to touch him in a few other places, too, but they hadn’t been sexual with each other in so long, it seemed weird to ask for it now.

            Yunho might do it, though.  If he asked.

            Then again, maybe not?  Sex between them had always been casual, occasional, something they did when they were bored and horny and couldn’t think of anything better to do.  Making out, mostly, and handjobs.  Sloppy blowjobs and penetrative sex when they were drunk.  Changmin had actually never gone down on Yunho sober.  Thinking about it turned him on and embarrassed him.  Putting his face in Yunho’s crotch, putting Yunho’s cock in his mouth and sucking it while Yunho watched - - ugh!  Desire broke out like a fever across his skin.  It seemed way too intimate and obscene an act for sobriety and daylight.

            Since they’d never established any sort of sexual schedule, he hadn’t really noticed that they hadn’t done anything in a while until he’d been masturbating, and he’d started fantasizing about Yunho, and he’d started thinking back to the last time Yunho had jacked him off, and he’d realized that it had been over a month ago.  It had occurred to him then that they were overdue for a make-out session, but it had seemed like an awkward thing to bring up.  He’d kept an eye out for a good opportunity, but he’d never found one.  He’d masturbated over Yunho more and more, fantasizing, hot for it, but whenever they were face-to-face he couldn’t find a way to introduce the subject that wasn’t mortifying.  He didn’t want to be obvious about lusting after Yunho, and he’d never had to take the initiative before.  Every other time, Yunho had made the first move.

            Lately, Yunho hadn’t made any moves.  It had been months, months, and nothing had happened.  Maybe Yunho had lost interest?  Maybe they were too old to play around?  Changmin wished that he’d known that their last time together would be their last time forever.  He might have tried a little harder.

            Cool water trickled lightly over his collarbone.  Yunho’s firm, massaging hand rubbed over his pecs.  “We should take the hoobaes to noraebang.”

            “Which hoobaes?”


            Changmin’s eyes opened.  “To noraebang?”

            “It would be good for them.  A treat.  I want them to spend time with you.  Maybe you can give them some tips?”

            Changmin wrinkled his nose.  “Aren’t they a little young to be drinking?”

            “They’re not that young!”  Yunho laughed.  “Some of them.”

            He wasn’t ecstatic over the idea, but maybe he should be more of a mentor.  They were good kids, part of the family.  “Just a few of them.  And not the creepy one.”

            Yunho’s smile was teasing.  “Aren’t you the creepy one?”

            “Yes,” he said, “and I don’t like competition.”

            Baekhyun showed up with Suho, Luhan, Lay, and Chen.  Changmin talked with them and sang with them and mentored and flirted, but all the while a part of his mind steadily tracked Baekhyun, monitoring Baekhyun and Yunho’s every interaction.

            The moment Baekhyun walked in, he called Yunho “hyung.”  The others said “sunbaenim” until Yunho told them to say “hyung,” but Baekhyun jumped right in with it like he’d already been comfortable saying it for a while.  He spent the entire night at Yunho’s side, laughing and pouring drinks and eager for every word out of Yunho’s mouth.  While the rest of them sang, Baekhyun and Yunho stood to one side, dancing, Yunho’s hands gliding over Baekhyun’s body, coaxing him into position.

            Changmin found it difficult not to sneer.  Baekhyun looked like a child next to Yunho.  He was only four years younger than Changmin - - Changmin had looked it up - - but he lacked the muscular strength and the physical ease and the confidence of Yunho’s more adult body.  These pretty hoobaes might be fun to get off with, but Changmin preferred the raw masculinity of Yunho’s maturity.  The room was dark, but as Changmin gazed at Yunho, his mind filled in the details: the sculpted muscles of Yunho’s chest, the sinewy thickness of his arms, the taut firmness of his thighs, the coarse blackness of his pubic hair, the weighty plumpness of his balls, the satiny length of his cock.  Shit, Changmin needed to get laid.

            It was obvious that Yunho was having a great time.  He kept smiling and laughing and teasing, glowing with joy as if Baekhyun were immensely entertaining in some way.

            The nasty twinge of jealousy in Changmin’s gut was infuriating.  He couldn’t believe that he was upset over Yunho paying attention to some hoobae.  Why didn’t he have more sense than this?  Why was he so petty?  Why was he so worried about who got Yunho’s attention?

            Why pretend he didn’t have the answers to those questions?

            The dancers wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, but Yunho and Changmin had decided to begin practice anyway.  Seated on the floor, they were stretching each other, pushing, pulling, warming up their muscles.  Yunho’s phone rang; he glanced toward the corner where he’d left it.

            “You should answer,” Changmin said.  They were facing each other, legs spread, taking turns pulling on each other’s hands.

            “I’ll turn it off.”

            Changmin watched his face.  “It might be Baekhyun.”

            His smile was genuine.  “Last night was fun, wasn’t it?”

            Changmin wanted to sound calm but couldn’t hide the edge in his voice.  “What’s so great about them?  What’s so much fun about Baekhyun?”

            Yunho looked confused.  “What’s wrong?  You didn’t enjoy last night?”

            “I’m not talking about last night.”  He let his impatience show as he pulled Yunho forward in a stretch.  “I’m asking why you give that kid so much of your time.”

            “He’s fun,” Yunho said, frowning as if he couldn’t understand what Changmin’s problem was.  “He’s cute.  They’re so excited.  They’re full of energy.  This is all still new and thrilling for them.  It’s great to see them enjoying it so much.”

            Changmin dropped Yunho’s hands.  “They’re excited because EXO is a guaranteed success.  They’re a guaranteed success because of us and our work and what we went through.  Us and everyone else, SM’s legacy was built on our backs.”

            Yunho stared at him in incomprehension.  “You’re angry because you think they have it easy?”

            “You’re impressed that they’re happy?” Changmin demanded.  “What don’t they have to be happy about?”

            “They work hard!  People’s expectations-”

            “Are you telling me about hard work?” Changmin demanded, pulling away.  “Are you telling me about expectations?!”

            “Shim Changmin!”  Yunho grabbed his ankle, dragging him closer.  He pawed at Yunho’s hand ineffectually as Yunho slid his butt across the floor.  “What’s wrong?”  Yunho was frowning at him, confused, disappointed.

            “Damn it!”  Jerking his foot free, Changmin kicked Yunho’s thigh in the process and didn’t feel even slightly regretful.  “Why don’t you tell me what a great singer he is, too?”  Pushing himself up, he backed away, glaring at Yunho’s astonished, angry expression.  “Tell me what a great vocalist he is!  Tell me what a great dongsaeng he is!  Tell me what a spectacular fuck he is, too!”

            Yunho’s face was red.  With anger?  Embarrassment?  “Why are you being like this?!  Get yourself under control!”

            Changmin grabbed the doorknob, so furious with Yunho that he wanted to punch something, so upset with himself that he wanted to scream.  “I’ll be back for practice,” he snapped, and he left.

            When he got up to the roof, the trainees already up there squeaked and scattered like mice.  Sitting down well away from the edge, he scowled and brooded.  He was making too big a deal of Baekhyun, and he knew it.  None of this was about Baekhyun.  It was about him, and what he wanted, and what he was worried he couldn’t have.  It was about Yunho.  This weird, needy, emotional desperation was new for him, and it felt awful.  It was uncomfortable and ugly, and he hated it, but he kept falling back into it, deeper and deeper every time.  What if Yunho didn’t want him anymore?  What if Yunho found someone else?  But that was a ridiculous question, wasn’t it?  There couldn’t be “someone else” if Changmin had never been “someone” to begin with.  He’d never been Yunho’s boyfriend or lover or anything, really.

            Because he’d never wanted to be?  Or because Yunho had never seen him that way?

            He stayed on the roof as long as he could, but he didn’t get any of his thoughts sorted out.  Feeling resentful and guilty and stupid, really really stupid, he went to practice.  He walked in with the dancers and said as few words to Yunho as he could get away with.  Yunho was focused and professional, and they got through practice as if nothing had happened.

            Thanking the dancers, Changmin opened the door and turned.  Yunho was right behind him.  As their eyes met, Changmin smiled.  “Going to train the hoobaes?  I’ll see you later, then.”

            Smiling grimly, Yunho clapped his shoulder and squeezed.  “Not tonight.  Let’s go home together.”

            Shit.  He’d really pissed Yunho off.  Not letting his unease show, Changmin only smiled more brightly.  “Hyung.  You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

            Yunho’s fingers dug in.  “Nowhere better than with you.”

            Their manager drove them back to the dorm.  They didn’t speak during the ride; they didn’t want to argue in front of witnesses, not even their manager.  In the dorm, the door was barely shut before Yunho pushed Changmin against the wall and stared into his eyes.  “Talk.”

            Changmin swallowed and stared right back.  “Get out of my face.”

            Yunho’s eyes narrowed and his hand slid up from Changmin’s chest, fingers curling around the side of his neck.  His voice was no louder, only more insistent.  “Talk.

            He didn’t want to talk.  He wanted to close his eyes and feel Yunho’s body pressing against him and run his hands over Yunho’s chest and kiss - - damn it.  “Let go,” he warned.  He was about to do something really stupid, and he wasn’t going to stop himself, but maybe he could get Yunho to back off.

            Instead of letting go, Yunho only leaned closer, as if looking for answers in his face.  “Why are you so upset?  What are you angry about?”

            He didn’t reply, he just kissed Yunho.  He didn’t know what he thought that he was doing, didn’t know what he thought that he was proving.  It wasn’t even a good kiss; it was desperate, aggressive, his hands gripping Yunho’s shirt.

            To his genuine surprise, for a moment Yunho actually kissed him back, licking into his mouth, hand sliding up to the side of his face.  Confused but eager, he leaned forward, pressing against the firm length of Yunho’s body.  Then, with a grunt, Yunho shoved him back, glaring at him, looking pissed off and really hurt.  “Don’t.  Don’t,” Yunho insisted, hand splayed across his chest.  “Don’t give me what I want just to change the subject.”

            Give - - give - - give him what he wanted?  Was that what he’d just said?  “What?”  Changmin felt as if his heart had just clumsily somersaulted.  “Give you what?  What do you want?”

            Pressing his lips together, Yunho shook his head, stepping away.

            “No.”  Quickly grasping at Yunho’s hand, Changmin pulled him back.  “Hyung, really.  I’m not teasing.  What do you want?”  That awful kiss?  Hope was a throbbing pain in Changmin’s chest.

            Yunho shook his head again but let Changmin keep his hand.  “What’s your problem with EXO?”

            It didn’t matter, but he wanted to know.  “Are you fucking Byun Baekhyun?”

            Yunho’s expression was genuinely baffled.  “Fucking him?  He’s a kid!”

            “He’s over twenty,” Changmin argued.

            “There’s nothing sexual.  I’m teaching him to dance.”  Yunho hesitated, squeezing Changmin’s fingers and letting go.  “It’s not his age, is it?  It’s his inexperience.  It isn’t because he’s a kid, it’s because he’s a hoobae.  He’s a rookie.”  A disbelieving chuckle.  “Remember how long ago that was?”

            It felt like it had been a lifetime ago.  Several lifetimes ago.  “Back when I was the one you were teaching to dance.”

            Yunho laughed.  “Don’t get excited.  I still teach you to dance.”

            Trying not to smile, Changmin gave Yunho a look, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “Changmin, really.  What are you upset about?  Is it Baekhyun?  Is something wrong with EXO?  Do I spend too much time coaching them?  Have I neglected my responsibilities?”

            Changmin snorted.  “You work harder than anyone else.  You don’t neglect anything.”  Was this an opportunity?  “Maybe your sex life.”

            Yunho’s eyebrows rose and he laughed.  “Let’s not talk about that.”

            “No?  Why not?”  Changmin tried to make his voice sound normal, light, breezy.  “Didn’t I used to be part of your sex life?”

            Blushing, Yunho fell back a step, clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest.  “It’s been a while.”

            “Why a while?”  Normal.  Light.  Breezy.  He struggled to keep smiling naturally.  He tried to pretend that this was idle conversation, that his heart wasn’t pounding, that everything didn’t hinge on this one exchange.  “You don’t want me so much anymore?”

            Looking down, Yunho rubbed his heel in a short, back-and-forth sweep across the floor.  Raising his eyes, he met Changmin’s gaze.  “If that’s a joke, it isn’t funny.  I stopped pushing myself on you.  Can’t you let me recover from my mistake in peace?”

            The sudden throb of hope and empathy and regret in Changmin’s chest felt like pain.  “I’m not joking.”  He couldn’t imagine cracking a joke at the moment.  This was so much more serious than he’d realized.  “You never pushed yourself on me.  If you were pushing, I was pulling.”

            “You don’t want me.  It’s fine.  It’s okay.  I understand it.  There’s nothing to talk about.  Let’s not discuss it.”

            “Who told you that I don’t want you?”  This was so backwards, so incomprehensibly backwards.  What had happened, how had they been so wrong about each other?  “When did I ever say that I don’t want you?”

            “Didn’t you tell me without a word?” Yunho asked.  “You’re not passive.  You get what you want.  If you ever wanted me, you would have come for me.  I went to you, but it was always my decision.  Was I bothering you?”

            “Are you the one who’s joking?” Changmin demanded, stepping forward.  “You never bothered me!  I wanted it, I wanted you to come to me.  I wanted it then, I want you now.  How long have I wanted you?  Has it been months?  Years?”

            Yunho was wide-eyed with disbelief.  “You didn’t say anything!”

            “What were you going to do?  Sit around and wait for me to seduce you?!”

            “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

            For a moment they stared at each other, disbelieving, stunned.  Then, suddenly, Yunho was pushing and Changmin was pulling and they were against each other, against the wall.  Yunho’s hot, slick kisses were even better than Changmin had remembered, and he groaned, sliding his hands over Yunho’s hard, muscular body.

            “Changmin-ah,” Yunho said, kissing him, stroking his neck, grinding against him.  “Our Changmin, why?”

            “Hyung,” Changmin panted, grimacing as pleasure spiked through him.  “Don’t talk.  Just touch me.”

            Like that was all the encouragement he’d ever needed, Yunho slid his hand between Changmin’s thighs, cupping, stroking.

            Groaning, Changmin thumped his head back against the wall, his hips pumping against Yunho’s hand.  “Ahh…”  Yes, like that.  He’d missed this, he’d needed this, he, “Ahh, oh…”

            Already, Yunho was undoing his fly, reaching inside his underwear, fondling him.  Yunho’s knowing chuckle sent a flash of heat through him, and Yunho’s soft, smug murmur of, “Pretty Changmin-goon,” made him shudder with embarrassed pleasure.  Ducking his head, he bit his lip to hold back a groan as Yunho’s strong, smooth hand fisted his cock.  He felt Yunho kiss his neck, felt the wet heat of Yunho’s mouth against his skin, and he tilted his head, dropping his shoulder, seeking more.  “Unh, I missed tasting you,” Yunho moaned, free hand sliding up into his hair, tugging his head back as Yunho’s kisses feasted on his neck.

            The friction and slide of Yunho’s hand on his cock had him rock-hard, arousal flaring and surging through him in thrilling, wicked pulses.  Groaning at the stroke of Yunho’s tongue up the side of his neck, he dragged Yunho’s shirt upward, wanting it off, wanting to be closer.

            With a swift step backward, Yunho snatched his shirt off and flung it aside, immediately stepping right back in, his thigh sliding between Changmin’s legs, his hand stealing over Changmin’s erection again, bold and deft.  Now his upper body was naked, firm and strong with muscle, a sensual treat for Changmin’s hands.  As his tongue slicked into Changmin’s mouth, they moaned together in lustful harmony.

            Taking Yunho’s mouth in deep, greedy kisses, breathing in time with Yunho’s low, fervent groans, Changmin stroked Yunho’s body.  His hands rubbed fervently over Yunho’s strong shoulders, long, smooth back, narrow waist, and pert, high ass; hungrily stroked Yunho’s taut abs, firm pecs, and tight nipples; roamed eagerly over the satiny texture of Yunho’s skin, the flex of corded muscle.  He felt starved for the rich, masculine beauty of Yunho’s body, as if he’d been denied for too long and couldn’t get enough now.

            “Yes, now,” Yunho panted, kissing him, working his cock in tight, fast strokes that made his whole body jerk with pleasure.  “Now, ah, do it.”

            His body obeyed Yunho before his mind understood the words.  At Yunho’s command, at the slide of Yunho’s fist, ecstasy erupted through him in a hot, feverish explosion.  With a gasp and a harsh cry, he came, shuddering against the wall, bucking against Yunho, his erection spitting cum onto Yunho’s taut abs.  Panting, he splayed both hands against Yunho’s chest, needing a moment - - he had to think, to focus, to figure out what this meant - - but Yunho’s hands slid up either side of his neck, and he couldn’t see anything but Yunho, couldn’t feel or breathe or think of anything but Yunho.  Moaning, he felt Yunho grind against him, felt the stiff length of Yunho’s hard-on against his stomach-

            -and his hand dove for it, cupping it, feeling how hard it was, but that wasn’t enough, he needed more.  Making a frustrated, needy noise, he fought Yunho’s fly open.  He pushed Yunho away a step, shoving Yunho’s pants and underwear down, and as Yunho’s erection leapt upward, he dropped onto his knees.  The long, veiny shaft rose into his face from its nest of coarse, black hair, and he grasped it in one hand, sucking the thick, satiny head into his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.  Oh, “Mmm-ahh,” how badly had he wanted this?  Bobbing his head, he moaned, relishing the heavy slide of Yunho’s cock between his lips.

            Strong, familiar hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.  “Ch-changmin-ah, your mouth, really…”  Yunho sounded as intoxicated as he felt, drunk on pleasure, on sex, on this needy, heady desire.  “Maknae, yes…”

            It didn’t matter how long it had been; his tongue remembered every inch of Yunho’s cock, and his mouth was glad to have it back.  Groaning in triumph, he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, basking in Yunho’s deep, grateful moans, seeking his reward.  One hand curling around the base of Yunho’s cock, he gripped Yunho’s hip with his other hand, fingers curving around to grip Yunho’s ass, digging in as he pulled Yunho closer, greedy for more.

            “Can’t, I can’t,” Yunho groaned, squeezing his shoulder, rubbing his neck, pulling his hair.  “I can’t, Changminnie, your mouth.”  Suddenly thrusting forward, plunging deep, Yunho came.  Thick spurts of cum clogged his throat as Yunho moaned the ceiling down, and Changmin swallowed, swallowed, smelling sex and musk as he panted.

            The dorm was silent except for their ragged breathing.  Breaking away, Changmin turned aside, lowering his head.  Staring at the neat pairs of shoes on the floor by the doorway, he rubbed the back of his hand over his slack, wet mouth.

            There was no pretending now, was there?  No way to play off what had just happened.  No way Yunho would mistake “I’m rabidly hungry for you” as “We should make out more often, but don’t worry, it doesn’t mean anything.”

            But wasn’t Yunho eager for him, too?  He distinctly remembered Yunho saying, “Don’t give me what I want just to change the subject.”  What I want.  And that had definitely been Yunho’s hand on his dick.  He licked his lips, the sensation of it fresh in his memory and vividly erotic.  Wondering, he glanced up at Yunho.

            Pushing his pants down, kicking his underwear aside, Yunho reached a hand down to Changmin.

            How many times had Yunho offered a hand to him?  As he always had, Changmin clasped it, and Yunho pulled him to his feet.  “My bed or yours?” Yunho asked.

            Changmin tossed his hair out of his eyes, trying to feign cool nonchalance.  “Yours.”

            With a nod, Yunho tugged him into the bedroom, then gave him a push toward the bed.  Stripping out of his clothes, he wondered how something so exciting could also feel so familiar and inevitable.  They’d never done this so calmly, so frankly.  Hell, they’d never done this sober.

            As he lay down, Yunho climbed onto him, one hand sliding slowly, possessively, up his thigh.  Yunho’s expression was puzzled, intrigued.  “You aren’t jealous of Baekhyun, are you?”

            Changmin smiled, pulling Yunho closer, raising an eyebrow.  “That hoobae?  No.”  His hand on Yunho’s chest, he looked directly into Yunho’s eyes.  “Let him down nicely.  I wouldn’t want you to hurt his feelings.”

            Yunho chuckled, licking his lips.  “Yes, Changmin-ah.”  He’d gotten the message.

            Their EXO hoobaes were good guys, cute and hardworking.  Changmin should have given them more of a chance.  They listened well and they were eager to learn.

            As the two of them left EXO’s practice, Yunho’s arm settled around Changmin’s shoulders.  “They’re improving.”

            “Mmm.  Yes,” Changmin agreed.  His stride matched Yunho’s perfectly as they strolled along the hallway.  “Baekhyun’s voice has so much potential, I look forward to seeing what he can do with it five years from now.”

            Without even looking, he heard the smile in Yunho’s voice.  “And you?  Where will you be in five years?”

            Changmin snorted, glancing at him.  “Where I always am, fool.  Right beside you.”

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Copyright August 17, 2013
by Matthew Haldeman-Time