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If anyone had told Hong Jisoo that he would be spending his Friday night watching a local production of Hamilton for a boy, he would’ve doubled in laughter and probably died on the spot; that was not his kind of scene, after all. And while it was true that he would cross oceans just for the promise of true love, what he wasn’t willing to do was subject himself to hours of musical torture, especially when he could be throwing back free shots after shots in a club uptown surrounded by a crowd that adored him. But what was his pride if not a spiteful fiend? No one had ever said no to his advances before, and he was not about to let someone like Lee Seokmin tarnish his record like that.
Born out of boredom or whatever the fuck it was, the sudden urge to have someone by his side had been so strong that Jisoo, who believed that love would find its way to him without much effort, had started putting himself out in the world more, dolling himself up and prancing around dressed to the nines, going out with anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest and then dropping the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bomb when he couldn’t feel butterflies in his stomach in the first date.
Jisoo was not a player, not in every possible context that there was. Still, his friends found his conquests ridiculous, but what was ridiculous about going on dates and deciding whether a guy was for him or not at the end of the night? He found nothing wrong with speeding the process of sorting out people in the friend or potential lover categories, giving some special ones another chance or two to win his heart, and then sending the majority home with a hug and a heartfelt thank you.
Of course, none of the lot he had dated managed to make him swoon; he wouldn’t be wasting his Friday surrounded by theatre kids if one had captured his heart. But alas, despite a handful of good prospects, no one had given him the bravery to go in for a kiss or something more intimate than holding hands, the hope inside his chest dimming the more people he met and the more dates he went to.
Sometimes, Jisoo wondered if there was someone out there for him.
“Have you ever considered dating someone who’s not your type?” Seungcheol asked him one day, brows furrowed after listening to him ramble about his fruitless search for that person who would weaken his knees.
“I don’t have a type,” he grumbled, shielding his eyes from the intense glare of the mid-morning sun above and wondering why he agreed to get brunch with his friend outside. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I don’t have one.”
“Really? Okay, guess who this is.” The other man cleared his throat, his expression smug. “Good at sports, high grades, and has a five-year plan?”
“Mingyu,” he answered quickly, blinking as he thought the answer could also be his good friend Jun, or perhaps it was Wonwoo? Maybe he really did have a type, he mused, rolling his eyes when Seungcheol started laughing. “Fine, so I have a type. What’s wrong with wanting someone as put together as me?”
“Nothing!” His friend exclaimed, waving his hand in the air like his big cow eyes and pout would extinguish his irritation; on any other occasion, they would. But it was summer, and Jisoo could feel his time was running out, so he continued glaring at the other man. “I’m saying that sometimes, being put together doesn’t mean bulging muscles and flashy grades. Look at me, I’m dating Yoon Jeonghan.”
“He’s a walking disaster,” he hissed, grabbing the other man’s croissant and buttering it with all his might just because he was allowed to and because he deserved something warm and sweet to eat after the guy he met the night before attempted to sleep with him; anyone who assumed he was easy and would put out on the first date was an enemy of the state. “But I see your point. I, too, would want someone as annoying as Jeonghan and still look at him like he’s the best thing the world had given me.”
“That’s what love is all about!” Seungcheol grinned, patting his back like a proud dad. “There’s an open mic tonight at Pledis Hall. Jeonghan’s rapping an original piece, come with me.”
“I’m not that desperate to find a boyfriend, Seungcheol,” he huffed, biting onto his croissant as he admitted to himself that he was indeed desperate to have a boyfriend. Still, he felt like he was just going to waste his time with anyone who was into the performing arts because he knew that in order for a relationship to blossom, sharing the same interests would greatly help, and Jisoo was no fan of people belting their feelings out on stage while their audience bawl their eyes out. “Good luck to Jeonghan, though. I’m sure he’ll do terribly.”
“Bold of you to assume you have a say in this matter.” Seungcheol chuckled, smiling brightly at him. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
And Jisoo was right; Jeonghan actually did a horrendous job at rapping about his childhood, but he was going to lie if he said he wasn’t moved when the crowd applauded his friend’s boyfriend and cheered enthusiastically for him, patting his back and showering him praises for being courageous; the people there were kind, and he was more than glad to have wasted his time there because it did help widen the scope of his search for the one.
By the time summer ended, he had become more open to dating people who weren’t exactly his type. Still, that didn’t mean he had found his Prince Charming; from aspiring poets to boys wanting to get big on Broadway, Jisoo had made many friends but found no lover to hold his hand through the fall. College was getting progressively hard, and watching Seungcheol and Jeonghan feed each other scones had made him feel more alone.
“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Seungkwan, an English major he met at Pledis Hall, had said one afternoon, cheeks and ears tinged with crimson from the cold, balancing a stack of books he explained he needed to return to the library. “You probably haven't heard of him, but his name is Lee Seokmin.”
“Is he someone special?” He asked, interest piqued because if there was anyone who had a higher standard than him, it would be Seungkwan; if the other man wanted him to fly to New York to meet someone, he’d do it, no questions asked. That was how he trusted his friend’s judgment.
“He could be,” Seungkwan breathed out, giving him a knowing smile and a bit of a nudge. “He’s a bit on the goofy side, though. But after you went on a date with that old man last week, I thought, what the heck.”
“That was my dad, Seungkwan.” He chortled, waving away his friend’s panicked apologies. “This Lee Seokmin, is he cute?”
“You should go and see for yourself,” the other man suggested, telling him that Seokmin was working part-time at St. Bart’s. “His shift starts at six in the morning every weekend.”
“He’s a barista?” He queried, half of him dreading at the thought of waking up early on a Sunday and the other half genuinely excited since going to St. Bart’s could potentially give him another chance to widen his network.
“Most of the time, he’s a nuisance,” Seungkwan joked, describing Seokmin as unfairly tall and conventionally handsome. “You’ll know who he is when you get there.”
And sure enough, even with the vague description the English major had told him and his hazy disposition upon waking earlier than he usually did, it wasn’t hard to know who Lee Seokmin was when it was being shouted again and again inside the quaint cafe, the patrons chuckling behind their drinks like it was a regular occurrence for a barista to be chased around by his manager.
Blinking at the sight before him, Jisoo didn’t know whether to stay or go back to bed because, sure, Lee Seokmin was indeed very good-looking, but with the way he tripped on his own shoelaces and fell flat on his face, there was no chance in hell that he could wake the butterflies in his stomach.
If Kim Mingyu had failed to romance him, what could a giant with big brown eyes and a coffee-stained apron do for him?
Nothing.
Or, at least, that was what he initially thought.
Stopping himself from outright storming out of the cafe and giving Seungkwan a relatively long lecture about tricking him into waking up early for a klutz, Jisoo stayed rooted on his spot and watched one of the patrons get up from his seat and help the barista to his feet, patting the taller man's cheek fondly before telling the manager that there was no need for violence so early in the morning.
"Soonyoung, he put salt on my damn coffee," the manager, whose name was Jihoon, or so his nametag indicated, said, gesturing wildly at several cups on the counter. "He didn't even do it once. He did it thrice! How can I not resort to violence?"
"It's an honest mistake," Seokmin grumbled under his breath, looking genuinely sorry for what he did.
Jisoo couldn't help but skirt around the scene closer, looking at the tall barista through his peripheral vision and admitting that, yes, he was truly handsome with his expressive eyes and tall nose. His complexion helped a lot, too, flawless and tanned, and oh, all he wanted to do right then was introduce himself and skip all pretenses.
"See, it's an honest mistake." The guy Jihoon had called Soonyoung laughed, clapping the manager on the back with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes. "You should put a clearer label on your stuff. Seokmin's eyesight is bad."
"What would you do if he put salt in your coffee?" Jihoon challenged, the frown on his face replaced with amusement.
Jisoo thought it was safe to assume they were all friends, his heart skipping a beat when he met Seokmin's eyes for one millisecond, breath hitching as he busied himself by tapping frantically on his phone. God, he felt the need to call Seungkwan and make himself explain why he hadn't mentioned the barista before, thrilled to be feeling all sorts of emotions from such a minute interaction.
"Forgive him," he heard Soonyoung say, his tone bright and jolly. And Jisoo didn’t have to look at them to know that his grin had gone wider; he could hear it in his voice. In fact, he didn’t dare turn his head, afraid that he’d meet Seokmin’s gaze again and lose his shit right then and there. "He's a silly boy, he's doing his best."
Oh, Jisoo was intrigued, alright. Having gone out with more than a handful of guys since summer, one would think that he’d already be used to the attention, and yet there he was, palms clammy as he walked over the counter and blocked the light hubbub around him, reciting his order again and again in his head.
Tall matcha latte, that was what he wanted to get. But upon hearing Seokmin’s voice from behind him, acknowledging his presence, followed by loud footfalls, Jisoo wished the ground could just swallow him whole because who in their right minds would order a. “Tall, tan and handsome,” in a fucking cafe?
Apparently, he would, given the right circumstances, present him with a man donning ill-fitted pants, an oversized shirt, and a crooked name tag that said, ‘Seokmin,’ and Jisoo would.
The manager looked at him funny right then, his friend cackled and garnered half the attention of the patrons, and the barista blushed and stammered like a damn fool.
"He's the one,” he told Seungcheol a month after he had met Seokmin, recalling how the barista made him repeat what he had just said on their first meeting, confidently obeying the other man’s request before asking if he was on the menu. It was the most embarrassing thing he had done, if he was being honest, but he had no regrets because the crimson on Seokmin’s cheeks turned darker right then.
Oh, the things he would do just to see him flustered like that.
"You talked to him for what? A minute.” Seungcheol shook his head, bemused at his declarations. "Get a grip, this isn't you."
"I'll have you know that I've become a regular at St. Bart's. His manager even gave me a loyalty card for free," he retorted; not a weekend would pass without him dropping by to get coffee or grab breakfast in the cafe, his heart skipping whenever Seokmin would greet him from his spot behind the counter despite the other man’s smile looking rehearsed rather than genuine. "Also, I've talked to him a lot of times already, and not just because he takes my orders but because he wanted to know how I am, too."
"He's required to ask everyone how they are, Jisoo,” Jeonghan drawled out, looking at him with the same expression Seungcheol was donning; he still couldn’t forgive him for saying that he had no future in rapping. “I should know.”
"What do you know?” He scoffed, grumbling about how he wasn’t even invited for brunch, yet there he was, hogging all the complimentary bread for their table and acting like he would pay for their bill. “You know what? I’m so sick and tired of you forcing yourself in this friendsh-”
“Seokmin’s my dorm mate,” the other man blurted out, effectively earning his unbending loyalty and making Seungcheol snort orange juice in the process.
Jisoo didn’t need to do much to convince Jeonghan to ask Seokmin to go out with them the following Friday night; all he had to do was show up in every open mic night he would participate in and be his loudest supporter. Jisoo could do that; he swore he’d even shed a few tears if he did a really terrible job, his sour friendship with Jeonghan blooming into something sweet in just a span of one minute.
Seungcheol was both delighted and weary.
Come Friday night, Jisoo had taken at least two showers and tried on a total of eighteen outfits, taking more than half a day to style his hair and just twenty minutes to grow completely enamored for Seokmin, who showed up smelling like vanilla bean, donning an outfit that did nothing to accentuate his greatest assets, grimacing at every shot Jeonghan had told him to down, and grooving like an old man on the dance floor, moving in ways that were off-beat but was undoubtedly adorable.
Jisoo kept to himself most of the night, talking to the familiar faces he found by the bar while discreetly keeping his eyes on the barista; he didn’t need to be an expert at reading body language to know that the other man was avoiding him, and he didn’t have the heart to hold a grudge over that. Perhaps he was just being shy; maybe he needed more than just small talk in the cafe and one drunken night in a club to warm up to new people. But whatever it was, Jisoo was not giving up.
Throughout fall, Jisoo had been to places on the campus he had never been to before, from the library to the sports auditorium, from the gym, and to the grand mess hall. Time had passed so quickly that he didn’t even notice that winter was just around the corner, his mind mostly filled with papers he needed to finish and wondering how Seokmin could be so bad at everything and why he was so charmed by him.
Not only was the barista the worst at holding a conversation, but he was neither good at basketball nor soccer despite playing on the court or on the field almost every night, missing shots after shots and tripping on his own two feet every time he attempted to run. He wasn’t great at any board games, either: Scrabble, Monopoly, and Uno? Jisoo had seen him lose more than anyone, and God, he found that so endearing.
“He’s kind of a ten, but?” Seungcheol turned to him, chuckling as they watched Seokmin spill milk on Jihoon one Saturday morning. Jisoo didn’t know when St. Bart’s had turned to a place where they would hang out every weekend, but he wasn’t about to complain; Jeonghan had become the group’s main financer, always paying for their bills after Jisoo started bringing banners for him on open mic nights, and he had stopped getting embarrassed whenever he displayed his pining openly.
“He’s a two at best,” he mumbled, ducking his head down when Seokmin caught him staring again; they had been somewhat friends but not really friends, often hanging out whenever Jeonghan invited the group out or whenever he was in the mood to cook but they hadn’t really been alone together. Jisoo was so close to blowing a fuse, really, but the chase was kind of fun. “But I want him.”
“Atta boy.” Jeonghan grinned, sending him a wink and a tip that Seokmin was taking his break, and what was Jisoo but an opportunist?
Scoping the cafe and finding Seokmin taking his usual seat at the far corner, he bid his friends farewell. He quietly made his way to the barista, a part of him disappointed that the other man didn’t even bother raising his head from the book he was reading to greet him, a part of him unsurprised.
“Hey, what are you-”
“I know what you’re doing,” Seokmin suddenly spoke up, eyes still glued on his book, voice quiet and low; Jisoo couldn’t help but shiver. “Coming to St. Bart’s, being nice to me. Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re up to.”
“What am I up to?” He blinked, sitting on the chair before the barista and waiting patiently for an answer.
“Jeonghan said you’re dating every kind of guy on campus,” the other man continued, a frown appearing on his handsome face. “Is it true you have a bingo card, too?”
“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out, massaging his temples to shoo away an impending migraine. “Look, it’s not like I’m doing it as a game. I just want to find my one true love.”
“You’re sick for going after someone like me,” Seokmin drawled out through gritted teeth, finally looking up to send him a glare. “You will never get this nerd to date you, and you will never get a bingo.”
Jisoo was stunned and honestly too amused to go after Seokmin, who stormed away from him and to the staff room, so he stayed on his seat, recalling what Jeonghan said about Seokmin doing bad at school. Nerd wasn’t really a word he would describe him; the barista hadn’t even watched Star Wars or Doctor Who.
“HIs kicked puppy demeanor has enchanted me,” he announced unabashedly, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering wildly. “Jeonghan, tell me what his hobbies are.”
“You should stop being a creep and just befriend him,” the rapper of the century suggested, and Jisoo was too in on his head to even call him out for lying to Seokmin and saying that he had a bingo card because he was right, perhaps he needed to approach Seokmin differently and gently, maybe he should stop expecting.
“You’re right,” he muttered instead of strangling Jeonghan for calling him a creep, but befriending someone who would often run away from him was a little bit difficult for Jisoo, so he figured that talking to Seokmin at work, where he couldn’t leave the counter was the way to go. He started hanging out at St. Bart’s less, only ever ordering his drinks and then leaving the barista alone rather than rope him in dumb, small talk. Still, there were mornings when he would linger around and chat with Seokmin about his hobbies, about what he usually did when he was not doing math and scraping his knees on the field. And by the time fall had waned, and the first snow of winter touched the ground, he had become somewhat sort of Seokmin’s friend.
“I perform in local productions of musicals,” Seokmin had graciously shared, and if Jisoo spent weeks watching illegally filmed musicals from Hadestown to Les Miserables on YouTube, no one needed to know, especially not the barista who had just recently become comfortable in his presence, stammering and stubbing his toe less and less, and he on the other hand, had grown more attracted to the other man, turning down dates after dates, and making the whole campus think that he was already a taken man.
“I think he’s in love with me.” he breathed out one morning, “He called me pretty. Didn’t Jeonghan tell you that calling a bottom pretty is the ultimate power move?”
“He called you pretty insane when you told him you’d take vocal lessons with him.” Seungcheol chuckled.
“A high praise!” Jeonghan winked, telling his boyfriend to get lost so they could gush about Seokmin’s dumb ass.
"I think it’s just a matter of time before he goes on a date with me,” he whispered, the butterflies in his stomach a true testament to how deeply he felt for the other man. “I think he’ll say yes if I ask him again. Did you know he opens doors for me?”
“Seungcheol would call that bare minimum,” Jeonghan cooed, pinching his cheeks like a proud mother, “But that’s probably the most romantic thing anyone had done for you, right?”
“That sounded like an insult, but yes,” he breathed out, starting yet another ramble about Seokmin’s eyelashes and firm hands, something only Jeonghan could stomach. “I feel like he’s the type to say grace before giving me head.”
“Do you ever think before speaking?” Seungcheol asked, sounding totally scandalized.
“Sometimes.” He shrugged, grinning as he told them he would ask Seokmin out that night. “I’ll definitely get a yes this time. You’ll see.”
“No,” Seokmin answered, and at that point, Jisoo thought that the barista had probably said no to him more than he greeted him hello. “Please stop asking.”
Oh, how Seokmin wounded his heart so; he oddly felt more motivated. Jeonghan called it devotion, and Seungcheol refused to comment on the matter.
So, there he was, wondering how and why he was just reminiscing one second ago and then crying the next second, palms stinging as he clapped as loudly as he could, extremely touched by the whole production but mostly overwhelmingly moved by Seokmin’s portrayal of Hamilton; tall and confident, so sure of himself on stage, so bright and so loud and so angelic.
Jisoo was beyond impressed, his adoration for the barista growing tenfold and his emotions bursting inside his chest like fireworks in the sky.
“This isn’t a place for you,” were the words Seokmin said when they met backstage, and Jisoo couldn’t even bring himself to get hurt by how much he felt for the other man, blinded with something more than infatuation, driven by the sparks he knew was present between him and the other man.
“Neither for you,” he mumbled, fists clenched and cheeks warm. “I believe your place is on top of me, pounding me hard.”
Seokmin laughed out loud at that, but something bitter in his tone had Jisoo on edge. Even when the barista invited him back to his dorm, even when he was led to the other man’s room, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but half gaiety and half dread. Alone in the other man’s room, he fidgeted and stayed quiet, thinking about how something seemed off. It wasn’t like that was the first time he had been in the other’s room.
“What are you doing?” Seokmin asked when another minute of silence had passed, arms folded on his chest, hip propped on a desk.
“Sitting here, unkissed.” He shrugged, picking on his nails and tearing his eyes away from the barista because he couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle how far they were away from each other, thinking about how maybe Seungcheol was right, that maybe Seokmin really wasn’t the one. “In agony, in pain.”
“Stand up,” he heard the other man say, his voice low, quiet, and rough.
Jisoo was already on his feet even before he could think about what was happening, face cradled between large hands, mouth covered with something plump and soft, his internal organs melting when more kisses were pressed on his mouth, his whole body covered in goosebumps when a tongue slid on the bottom of his lips.
Seokmin was kissing him, and he was kissing him deep; Jisoo didn’t know if he was in heaven or hell, giving the other man permission to explore the cave of his mouth as he pleased, his hands finding their way on the barista’s shoulders, holding on for his dear life. He tasted of coffee and mint, and he smelled of vanilla and sweat, and Jisoo was losing his mind.
“I have grabbable hips,” he blurted out, breathless when Seokmin pulled away; up close, the other man looked better, and oh, God, Jisoo wanted more. “Why aren’t you grabbing them?”
“Can you leave me alone now?” Seokmin asked, blinking down at him like his tongue wasn’t just in his mouth a second ago. “Do we have to have sex, too? Tell me, when does a conquest stop being a conquest to you? After a date? A kiss? Sex?”
“You’re my first kiss,” he drawled out, his heart clenching at the thought that Seokmin believed every bit of rumor surrounding him, his breath growing shallow the more he thought about the barista assuming that he wasn’t genuine with his feelings, that he was just playing a game. “I date different people around, but I don’t do anything with them other than talk over dinner. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Someone fucking pretty who wants to prove they could go out with anyone they wanted,” Seokmin muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes welling up with tears; Jisoo marveled at that, tonguing his cheek while he thought about how the night had taken a sudden turn. For the best? Or for the worst? He didn’t know. “Someone pretty that would fucking toy with the likes of me and leave them. Isn’t that why you were so adamant about seeing my room?”
“Did I make a move on you when we’re in your room?” He queried, shaking his head and refusing to wallow in his pain over a misunderstanding. But he hit Seokmin on the chest because how dare he think he was some kind of harlot. “I have a crude mouth but wouldn’t force myself on you. I just wanted to sit in your room while we listened to my favorite song, and you tell me why you still have a One Direction poster on your wall.”
“Do you really fucking like me?” Seokmin exhaled, looking at him like he was a lunatic.
“Do you want a fucking medal or something?” He yelled, looking at the faded image of Louis Tomlinson behind the barista because he couldn’t, for the love of anything good, look at the other man and not melt in a puddle. “Yes, I like you.”
“Let me see your room,” he heard the other man say, like a plea, like he was begging.
“Right now?” He asked, blinking at Niall Horan’s face, cheeks growing red as he thought about the stack of DVDs he rented that he knew Seokmin liked, the poetry books littering his bed from poets he had heard from the barista’s mouth. “I- no, I object.”
“Why not?” Seokmin queried, and Jesus, when did he get so close? “Stop looking at them, and look at me.”
Jisoo considered making a run for it, but the winter upon them was harsh. He felt like he couldn’t spend another day without someone warm by his side, so he obeyed and looked up at Seokmin, who had the cutest expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, like he was in a dream. Honestly, what else could go wrong? So he told the other man everything: the illegal musicals he downloaded on his laptop, the DVDs on his nightstand because he suddenly felt terrible for resorting to piracy, the books, and Mary Oliver and Richard Siken.
“I am so enamored by you, so charmed, so bewitched,” he rambled, blinking the tears in his eyes away before glaring up at the other man. “Your shirt is horrendous, and I wish I could burn your wardrobe to buy you new clothes.”
“Can we kiss one more time?” Seokmin heaved, and Jisoo was on fucking cloud nine. “We can do it as a joke if you’re mad at me.”
“Kiss me like you mean it, you little shit,” he challenged. He felt as if a bucket of lava had been poured on him when Seokmin grabbed him by the hips and dove downward to claim his mouth again, backing hip up until his back had hit the wall, mewling when the barista coerced his mouth open, keening when a leg was slid between his thighs, the other man’s body hot and solid against him and he found no shame in pulling him closer.
“I know sex could make our very fragile situation right now worse, but I feel like we should give it a shot anyway,” he panted, clawing on Seokmin’s back as the other man trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, nipping on his skin and running his tongue over every bite to soothe the sting. Never in Jisoo’s wildest dreams had he ever thought Seokmin could be aggressive like that.
“No sex tonight,” the other man hummed, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Why? Are you bad at it, too?” He asked, deadpan. “I’m a virgin, Seokmin. I wouldn’t be able to tell.”
“I was told I’m very good at it, actually,” Seokmin mumbled, his cheeks red and his mouth glossy.
“Who do I have to kill?” He breathed out, stopping himself from imagining anyone that wasn’t him inside Seokmin’s embrace, the idea of someone kissing the barista first making his stomach churn. “I can’t have anyone walking around thinking about you.”
“The only thing that matters here is who’s in my head.” Seokmin chuckled, kissing him again and again like some kind of assurance that there was no one else but him right then.“I’m sorry for thinking so badly of you. I didn’t mean it, I swear to God. I just thought Jeonghan said that I had a crush on you and that you wanted to cross off nerd on your bingo card.”
“I don’t have a bingo ca-you have a crush on me?” He breathed out, reaching out to caress Seokmin’s face, thumbing the smooth skin under his eyes, utterly elated with what he just heard.
“I’m only a klutz because you’re always looking at me, you know?” Seokmin explained, defending himself and saying that he was an excellent barista when he was not around, that he was not as bad as he was at sports, slightly mediocre but not that bad. “God, when Seungkwan said you were coming to St. Bart’s, I put salt on Jihoon’s coffee.”
“I fucking knew it,” he gasped, pressing a kiss on Seokmin’s cheek because he could because he had thought about it for so long. “Everyone has a crush on me.”
“Please tell me you’re living alone,” Seokmin mumbled, pouting when he said that he actually had a dormmate and they had a date before. “I’ll kick Jeonghan out; come live with me.”
“God, I can’t do this right now,” he breathed out, hiding his flustered face on the crook of Seokmin’s neck, doing his hardest not to grind on the thigh pressing on his front; if the other man said they couldn’t have sex that night, that he had to wait, he needed to behave. “I’m going home, and you’re taking me on a few dates, and you’re going to fuck me. Deal?”
“I want nothing more,” Seokmin replied, kissing his head before urging him to raise his head. “But please don’t laugh if I do anything stupid in front of you.”
“Your clumsiness is what I adore the most,” he confessed, thoroughly enjoying how Seokmin’s skin grew redder and redder by the second. “Just please don’t put salt on my coffee.”
“I promise I won’t,” Seokmin vowed, kissing his oath with another deep kiss.
“Okay, I’m going!” He exclaimed when the barista’s hands started wandering low, long fingers kneading his burning flesh. “Stay here, okay? I don’t think I can take you walking me outside.”
“Good night, then,” Seokmin mumbled, squeezing his hips before letting him go. “You do have grabbable hips.”
“I told you.” He laughed, looking at himself in the mirror and fixing his clothes before patting Seokmin on the cheek. “Good night; I’m gonna think about our imaginary life together and then talk to you tomorrow like I don’t want to climb you like a tree.”
“And I’ll pretend like I’m not going to jack off to the thought of you tonight when I call you and tell you to rest well,” Seokmin whispered, pulling him in another kiss before he could escape his grasp; winter was cold, but Seokmin felt like summer. He thought he could subject himself to longer musicals if the barista was the star and if the barista would show his appreciation through kisses.
Chewing on the bottom of his lip as he made his way out of Seokmin’s room, he allowed himself to swoon at the remnants of Seokmin’s heat all over his body, so ready to talk Seungcheol’s ear off and celebrate with Jeonghan with mimosa and more croissant that their stomach could handle, pointedly ignoring the looming presence of Seokmin behind him who was also bad at sneaking quietly.
“What are you doing?” He laughed, stuffing his hands in his pocket because the night was particularly chilly, the wind outside Seokmin’s building crisp and cold.
“Making sure you’re not getting in some creep’s car,” Seokmin answered, keeping a distance from him.
“Okay.” He shook his head with a grin; perhaps Seokmin sucked at some things, but he was sure he won’t be a bad boyfriend. “Watch my ass well, it’ll be yours soon.”
“Thank you for the food,” Seokmin exhaled before flashing him a handsome smile.
Yup, he thought, Seokmin would say his grace before giving him head in the future.