For Bottom Choi Minho lovers
For every Bottom Choi Minho enjoyers. Let's unite!!!!
(Open, Unmoderated, Anonymous)
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Summary
If Minho keeps breaking into exercises and athletic stretches in front of him in that tiny tight white tanktop and those obscene bike shorts, Kibum is going to have to fuck him.
It doesn't occur to him until too late that maybe that was Minho's goal all along.
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"If I really were in heat," Minho says, slowly, "wouldn't you take care of me?"
Kibum puts his phone down on the counter and gives Minho a look. The kind where he might just as soon throw something at Minho as jump his bones. It's a good look.
"What kind of question is that?"
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There had to be more embarrassing positions to be found in than naked in bed with three fingers inside his ass and reaching for that spot. Unfortunately, Minho could not think of what those could be when he was caught by his time-travelling self.
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Minho didn't think his marriage would end like this.
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“I work in human rights law, mostly,” Yoon Jaesung is saying now, smiling modestly and taking another sip of his perfectly chilled Chablis, politely providing anyone else with a chance to interrupt and change the subject rather than continue talking about himself. If the fingers of his left hand are at all cold in view of said chilled beverage, this must be well balanced by the warmth on his right, which is currently hooked inside the back pocket of Choi Minho’s jeans.
A mini poppadum feels stuck in the top of Kibum’s throat, hard to swallow. He’d made them too dry, maybe.