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Minho wakes up first, always.
He is the early bird, a characteristic which is frustrating for Minho as it is for Chan, who hates letting him go.
Minho's body conquers the desires of his heart, like sleeping in when PT hyung reschedules for the afternoon. It's frustrating when his eyes peel open and his body kicks into gear. No amount of go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep helps him actually go back to sleep, so he's forced to get out of bed and start his day.
This morning, it is Chan's side the thorn pokes into, for Minho has a nine a.m. class.
His body wakes him up promptly, though this time, he wakes up a half hour earlier than his alarm is set to ring. Minho first frowns at the realisation that he has more time to sleep.
He begrudgingly puts his phone down and lies back in Chan's chest. If he can't return to his slumber, he can simply float on the surface of it. After all, lying with Chan is like lying beside a fire because the man runs wonderfully warm, and there is a lot of him.
Minho closes his eyes and feels like a sunbathing cat, cosied up against his bare skin, the heat enveloping him.
Giving it more thought, he begins to smile.
After enough mornings with Chan in his bed; clingy, oversized, more like an overgrown puppy than a man at times; perhaps his body has adapted to waking him up earlier. This way, he doesn't run the risk of running late simply because Chan wants, "Five more minutes..!"
Minho giggles at how predictable he is.
"I have class," he says noncommittedly, pushing against him.
The mischievous smile on his face is evident in his voice, but Chan isn't conscious enough to catch it. Minho can't contain his pleasure as Chan's arms immediately tighten around his body at the slightest bit of movement, the way he had conspired them to.
Minho likes bigger men.
He likes hands the size of his face, built up chests that are deceivingly squishy, a pair of throne like thighs for Minho to perch on, a lap to lay his claim.
Chan doesn't exactly tower over him, an inch shorter than him, in fact, but he makes up for it with his impressive body. It is overwhelmingly great. Minho likes his shoulders, a treat to bite. He likes his chest, welcoming the nuzzle of his face.
But, most of all, Minho likes his arms, the very first thing he noticed about him.
That day in his first year, Minho approached the lunch table enchanted.
Who had taken his spot beside Jisung? He couldn't see his face, the mystery boy sitting with his back facing him, but he supposed he could forgive him, having arms like that.
What fuelled his crush on Chan wasn't the fact that he just happened to have the greatest arms known to man. Instead, he knew the power of his assets and actively flaunted them, wearing a tank top in Autumn, September.
Hot.
And cute too, Minho had grieved, walking around the table and catching the flash of his gorgeous dimples.
Minho sighs contentedly.
Those arms that began history are amazing around him. He likes when Chan squeezes him. It is a guilty pleasure of his, the feeling of possession and ownership. He has a playful streak though, more cat than man, so he moves more than Chan can hold.
"Chan ah!" Minho sings, pushing against his arm.
Chan moans, fighting back.
"I have class!" Minho giggles.
For a moment, Chan relents enough for Minho to get a foot on the floor and sit himself up over the bedside.
It is unbelievable.
Minho almost feels offended.
Does he smell bad? Was last night subpar?
No, that can't be.
Minho had shaved, freshly dyed his hair, and worn glitter pink lip gloss stolen from Hyunjin's vanity. He even left a trail of it down Chan's body, and up again, down, up, down, until Chan was pulling his glossy lips off of him, desperate and breathless.
Is he bored of him?
Is he thinking of someone else?
Well, that's ridiculous, because Minho is a ca—!
"Ah!"
Minho appreciates the aesthetics of a good pair of arms, though the show of raw strength is arguably better.
And Chan has a lot to show for himself, beyond tank tops and t shirts with the sleeves purposefully ripped off. Minho learnt that much stalking his social media at the beginning, using his progress videos he posts online to settle more... Private matters.
He's learnt about it first hand too, when Chan insisted he could use Minho to work out, lifting him with ease like Minho was light as a feather. Minho didn't fair well after that, having to scramble out of his arms to yank his sweatshirt down.
He can't think about it now. It's Chan's that presses against him, half hard.
"Hyung," he wheezes, Chan's whole body covering him entirely.
Minho isn't even all that small! Chan is just so big!
He groans underneath him, grappling his biceps and pushing in a futile effort to get him off. It is no use. Chan is aggressive in the mornings. He is exactly the opposite to Minho, who takes waking up early in stride, making breakfast, feeding the cats, drinking coffee and watching the bird feeder for new companions.
Chan is the polar opposite. His hair sticks up in all directions while Minho wakes up looking as princely as he slept. He won't speak for the first half hour, maybe even a full hour. The only communication Minho can get out of him are grunts, growls if he is particularly annoyed with the sunlight in the kitchen, and his day to day physical touch.
Supporting all of Chan's weight behind him is just as hard a task as being underneath him. A kiss on the cheek, good morning, arms around his waist and his chin on his shoulder, omelette, and his face in the back of his hair, humming, purring, I'm going back to sleep.
Though, the increasing press of his increasingly hard third leg isn't all that difficult for Minho to understand.
Minho grunts, pushing on Chan's shoulders.
Chan, his eyes still closed but his brows furrowed, tightens his hold around him. He even goes as far as to plant his knees into the mattress, effectively pinning himself on top.
In the mornings, he is not human, nor is he dog. He is a beast untamed, and Minho can do nothing but let himself be captured, manhandled the way Chan desires.
"Okay, okay!" Minho gasps, smacking against his shoulder. "You can have me a little longer, but I still need to brea—!"
Mornings with Chan have warmly introduced Minho to the concept of whiplash. He blinks, adjusting to the new position Chan forces him into, strong arms puppeteering him into place. Like this, he is back to original spot, his back against Chan's chest, this time on the opposite side of the bed. It is overwhelmed with a mix of his scent, sweat, and sex. They hadn't cleaned up last night.
Minho sighs, wilting in his arms.
Chan smiles against his neck. He hooks a leg over Minho's body and locks him in entirely.
Minho shudders, feeling him line up with the swell of his ass.
"No," he says firmly. He turns around, bumping their faces. Chan doesn't open his eyes for Minho to glare at them. "We can cuddle, but we're not having another round, Chan ah. Do you hear me? Not even the head. If you even try to put an inch in me, you're sleeping on the couch tonight. And I'll make sure Doongie bites your feet. You got that?"
Chan only huffs, a bratty exhale through his nose that flutters Minho's hair.
Minho huffs back, amused.
He giggles to himself, whispering thoughtfully, "But... All of a sudden, I do want to be kissed..."
Minho laughs too loud for the morning as Chan rolls onto his back and hoists him on top of his body. He shuts him up with a pinch of his eyebrows, kissing him firm when their lips touch before slowly easing into ice cream, melted and sweet and, oh, just perfect.
It's the hand on Minho's waist that does it. Even in his half conscious state, Chan knows exactly how to please him. He pulls him down by the small of his back, as if they aren't close enough, his hand big and warm, and burning pleasantly into his skin. With every squeeze, Minho can feel the memory of last night shooting down his ass. Each press of his fingertips is a bruise in his skin already formed, Minho's body littered with them. Chan is a passionate lover. He leaves the marks behind to speak for themselves.
"Ah..!" Minho gasps, pushing his head up and breaking the kiss before it can get him too riled him up. He huffs when Chan gives his waist a particular squeeze, still not opening his eyes to look at him as he teases. "Careful, hyung. You'll be out there tonight if you get me up too."
Chan's face lifts with a sleazy grin. Minho shakes his head, smiling. He leans down and pecks his lips, short and sweet, again and again, humming his love.
"Can I get up now, hyung?"
Chan grunts, negative.
Minho feels Chan's chest rise and fall underneath his hands. He splays his fingers, gazing at them thoughtfully as they sit over his swollen pectorals. If he didn't have somewhere to be that morning, he would have squeezed, kicked Chan off and provoked him into manhandling even more. He mourns that possibility, keeping his fingers still.
"Now?" he asks, glancing up at Chan.
Chan responds by squeezing his waist.
Minho lowers his head and rests it on Chan's chest. He smiles as he rises and falls with it, and listens dreamily to the sound of his heartbeat. Chan's hand remains on his waist. The other finds a place in Minho's hair. Minho hums, long and pleased, like a cat, and nudges his head back up into his touch. Half asleep, his fingers curl into the strands and scratch gently at his scalp, the way Minho does to Soonie, Doongie and Dori.
"Hyung," Minho moans, eyes fluttering closed without his permission. "Mm—! You're gonna put me back to sleep..!"
Chan stills his fingers but keeps them buried in his hair. Minho giggles. He nudges them off until his hand comes around to cup his cheek. Minho reaches up, taking his wrist in his hand, and leans in to kiss his pulse point.
"Can I get up now, Channie hyung?"
Chan takes a particularly deep breath. Minho snorts as he rises all the way, and sinks back down. It is a consideration, if only Minho pleads.
He obliges, cheeks big and teeth out, "Please, please, please, hyung! Please can I get up now!"
Finally, Chan shows mercy.
He rolls them over on their sides and relaxes his hands. With a kiss on Minho's forehead, he says tiredly, "G' mornin'."
Minho, warm and gooey, filled to the brim, all the way to the top, with candy-sweet love, whispers, "Good morning, hyung."
Chan wakes up second, always.
He is the night owl to Minho's early bird.
It isn't a title Chan wears with pride, for the problems with his sleeping habits are much less light-hearted than Minho's. From losing his temper to not making meaningful appearances, Chan has hurt the people closest to him, Minho included.
It was only their second date Chan slept through, leaving Minho in the middle of a fancy restaurant with the echo of his voicemail.
He's doing better now. Not the best, considering he trudges out of Minho's bedroom at three o'clock in the afternoon, but that doesn't count! They had really good sex last night! Minho is a freak of nature for being able to get up for a nine a.m. Chan would have easily skipped.
At the very least, he's made apologies where they are due, and taken the steps towards becoming healthier. And Minho has been beside him every step of the way.
Minho is altogether too good for him, Chan thinks, when he reminds him to take his sleeping medication, when he makes him herbal tea for his migraines, when he coos his understanding after Chan jumps awake, falling asleep through movies, in the middle of conversation, even during sex.
Chan blushes, remembering that awful night. It still embarrasses him, even if Minho, usually the first to tease, hadn't giggled one bit as he took care of him.
Minho is too good for Chan when he cooks before he goes, making sure Chan has something to eat when he wakes up with the sun past the middle of the sky.
Chan sighs gratefully at the note stuck to the lid of stir fried chicken noodles. Eat well, hyung, it reads, with a little jureumi cat doodled on the side.
What did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as Minho?
Doongie meows at his feet and swats a nasty paw at his leg.
Chan looks down and grins. He isn't the slightest bit sorry. He's been dating Minho for a while now – the feline should be used to Chan walking around the apartment in only his underwear by now.
"What?"
Doongie meows, his eyes becoming angrier.
"I am wearing clothes," Chan insists, dipping his finger in the waistband of his boxers and flicking them against his waist. He laughs when Doongie hisses, jumping back, the little drama queen. "See? I'm not naked."
Doongie's tail flicks. He meows, beginning to circle Chan.
"What are you mad at me for?" Chan huffs, glancing at the teeth marks on his shoulders. "It's Minho who did that. It's your hyung who made those marks on me. You should be getting upset with him!"
Doongie meows like a human would scoff. He looks a lot like Minho, then.
"Come on." Chan rolls his eyes. "I know you like me, really!"
Doongie turns around to leave the kitchen, not even bothering to dignify the accusation with a response.
Chan huffs. Well, that's fine. It doesn't change the fact that Doongie curled up next to him that one time when Chan pretended he was fast asleep. It's all on camera, Minho across from them, secretly recording the milestone in their relationship. Doongie's approval! He can deny it all he wants, but there is video evidence of it!
In the bathroom, Minho leaves him another message.
It isn't ink and paper that conveys this one in particular.
It is a toothbrush, Chan's, sitting in the middle of the countertop, with a thick line of toothpaste already sitting along its bristles.
Chan stares it down.
I bought you your own toothbrush for a reason, hyung. Use it.
He scoffs, grabbing the offending toothbrush, washing the toothpaste off, and throwing it in the garbage.
He would feel less offended if Minho implied that his breath smelled.
He hums a cheerful tune as he retrieves Minho's toothbrush from the cabinet, bright pink body and baby pink bristles. He applies the toothpaste, tapping his foot rhythmically, and begins to brush his teeth. His eyes disappear in his contentment. He smiles around it and thinks of his cute boyfriend and the pretty teeth he cleans with his girly pink toothbrush.
In the middle of his two minutes of brush time, Chan pads back to the bedroom and fishes his phone out of the covers. As he returns to the bathroom, Doongie calls him a slur, probably, which Chan mocks back, his muffled around the toothbrush and the foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
He smirks lazily, winks, and snaps a selfie. His curls are wild across his head and the sleep is evident in his eyes. Most importantly, Minho's toothbrush sticks out the corner of his mouth.
Chan
(image)
[15:12]
The seen receipt appears quickly. Minho must be on his break at the cake shop. Chan grins, watching the typing... bubble bounce in the corner as he turns the shower on.
Minho My baby cat 😘🐈❤️
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU
I TOLD YOU TO STOP THAT ITS DISGUSTING
[15:12]
Chan's laugh reverberates against the bathroom tiles, the shower water getting hot as he texts him back.
Chan
And i told you that I've literally cummed in your sweaty ass and then eaten it out
But using your toothbrush is where we draw the line????
[15:12]
Minho My baby cat 😘🐈❤️
OH MY GOD DONT DAY THST
HRLLO IM INBPUBLIC
[15:12]
Chan
Hahahahahahaha
[15:12]
Minho yah we both know you like getting worked up in public ;)
[15:12]
Minho My baby cat 😘🐈❤️
YOU HAVE AN ILLNESS.
IM WORKING NOW DONT TALK TO ME
😾
[15:13]
Chan
I love you babyyy ❤️
[15:13]
seen
These days, Chan spends more time at Minho's apartment than his own.
In the bathroom is his own toothbrush, which Minho is stubborn enough to keep replacing, his shampoo, body wash, soap bar, everything that could also be found in his bathroom. In the foyer, Chan has his own pair of slippers that can be differentiated from the guest slippers. Chan's schedule is stuck on the fridge with a cat magnet, alongside a grocery list with Chan's food preferences. It's Minho's apartment but evidence of Chan's existence is laced in every corner.
Chan's apartment is bigger. It's closer to the city, has a sleeker interior, and rent per month is a hefty amount more than Minho's.
But it is not homely like Minho's. In Minho's apartment, Chan doesn't feel like family is all that far away from him, across the world and out of his reach.
He likes cooking there too. Chan can go weeks without shopping for real ingredients, relying on instant noodles and frozen food. Minho's kitchen is fragrant with herbs and spices, his vegetable rack colourful with fresh produce. Since dating Minho, Chan has developed a newfound confidence in the kitchen, though he is miles away from Minho's expertise.
The apartment fills with the smell of Chan's affections. He cooks Minho's food for the evening, a mild chicken curry and rice, with kimchi, cucumber, and soy sauce potatoes. In between cooking, he eats his stir fry noodles and feeds the cats too.
Soonie is affectionate as always.
Chan giggles as he feeds him a piece of chicken from his noodles.
"Don't tell the big cat, okay?" he whispers, grinning at the feeling of Soonie licking his fingers.
On the same note Minho left on his food, Chan writes eat well, baby and draws a heart. He sticks it on the lid of the curry pot and grins at the thought of his Minho coming home to eat food made by Chan, especially for him.
It was Minho who taught him this language of love. Chan fell in love with it, the way he so easily fed the mouths of their friends alongside his own at lunchtime.
He remembers observing it back then, the way his chopsticks would more often hover before Jeongin's lips. It wasn't just Jeongin, but Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. He even fed Changbin after warming up to him. When Chan asked him about it, Minho shrugged, and said that they were younger than him, like his babies. When Chan asked why he didn't feed Seungmin, Minho pulled a face so animatedly horrified it sent Chan into a fit of giggles.
Chan joked, did that mean he wouldn't feed him too?
He blushed in the moment, that darling way his ears do, but the next day at the lunch table, Chan was surprised by a pair of chopsticks, a piece from Minho's lunchbox between them.
Of course, Minho refused to look at him when it happened.
In fact, his whole head was turned, Chan only seeing his neck as he cheerfully ate, fed by him.
"Minho yah, does this mean I'm your baby too?"
"I will shove these chopsticks down your throat."
"Ooh. Kinky— MMMFGH!!!"
Chan goes back to Minho's bedroom and changes the bedsheets. He opens the window to let in some fresh air, and the sound of the outside accompanies him. Doongie slinks into the room when Chan has his back turned and dedicates his time to making the task as difficult as possible. Chan huffs again and again, fixing the sheet back onto the mattress every time Doongie paws it up.
Chan
get your cat
(image)
[16:26]
Minho My baby cat 😘🐈❤️
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
unbelievable
who raised him
[16:32]
His patience tested, Chan calls Soonie into the room and tells off of Doongie. Soonie collects Doongie out, and Doongie flicks him off as he leaves, calling him a snitch.
Chan makes a face at him as he goes.
The sheets are changed, the bedroom is refreshed, and the washing machine is started, Chan's clothes spinning in there with Minho's too.
When he's done with the apartment, it's almost five o'clock. Minho's shift should be over by now, but he has dance classes to teach, so he won't be home until seven.
Chan won't be home until even later, having a song to work on and clients to meet with.
They make it work.
It's only difficult sometimes.
Minho took charge, prefacing before they started dating that he wouldn't be secondary to Chan's career. If Chan wanted to be in a relationship with him, he will have to sleep better, eat better, and Minho will not drag his boyfriend out of isolation just to see him. Things had to be different now that they were more than friends, and they are now.
Chan doesn't stay nearly as late as he used to. He doesn't bring his work home with him and he doesn't go in on the weekends.
That night, Chan comes home a few minutes past midnight.
He slips through the door quietly. The cats don't come out to greet him, or bite his feet, and only the little lamp in the kitchen lights up the apartment. Chan takes his coat off, his shoes too, sets his bag down, and goes straight to the bedroom.
The door is left open with a small gap.
He tiptoes in. The lamp on Minho's bedside is set to the lowest setting. Chan spots the glass of water and his sleeping medication on a piece of tissue. Smiling, he looks at Minho occupying the bed, an adorable little lump in the fresh linen sheets, his flurry of dark hair falling over his face.
Chan brushes his hand through the strands and nuzzles Minho's cheek in his palm. Minho looks beautiful sleeping. He's wearing the hoodie Chan left on the bed before he left, one of his own. He looks soft and angelic, like he is made up of lambs, and bluebells, and a child's laughter. When his eyes flutter open, vulnerable and confused, he looks even sweeter that Chan has to resist the urge to smother him.
"Shhh," he coos, stroking his head.
Minho closes his eyes again, relaxing in the bed.
"Hyung," he mumbles. "You're back."
Chan hums.
"Did you eat?" they say at the same time.
Minho opens his eyes. Chan blinks back at him and giggles.
"Yes, I ate," Chan grins, his eyes brighter, his chest heavier, love in all parts of his body. He must be radiant, beaming far too brightly for twelve in the night, because Minho huffs, his ears blushing, and buries his face in his pillow.
He grumbles, "Me too."
Chan giggles and leans down to kiss his ear.
"Why are your ears red, Minho yah? What happened?"
Minho's whines are muffled. He turns back around and glares, headbutting him.
"Nothing happened. My ears aren't red."
Chan kisses his lips, smiling.
Minho, for all his defiance, kisses him back, takes his neck and deepens it.
"What time is it?"
"Twelve something."
"Wow, hyung, you're almost a normal person," Minho teases, voice teetering into a whisper.
Chan exhales from his nose. "Yeah. Almost."
Minho's toothbrush isn't in the bathroom anymore. Chan looks everywhere. He grumbles, having no choice but to use his own, which has been conveniently replaced with a new one.
He checks on the cats. They are all tucked away in their cubby holes. He pulls Doongie's blanket off of him before he goes back to the bedroom.
His medication goes down easy. He downs the glass of water and smiles when Minho hums his praise.
Minho makes grabby hands when Chan strips himself down to his underwear and climbs into bed beside him. He immediately pulls Minho into his arms, and Minho snuggles into his chest, humming contently as his cheek meets his pec. Chan giggles, burying a hand in his hair.
"Do you like it there, Minho yah?"
"Mhm," Minho grins. "Big and warm. The best. Love your boobs, hyung."
"'M glad," Chan sighs. "How was your day, baby?"
"Class was okay. Boring, 'cept for the conversation in front of me. Apparently, Sunhee finally went to third base with Jaehwa, but he's really small and Sunhee felt awkward about it 'cause it was just that small and, like, I kinda get where she's coming from, 'cause I don't think I could actually sleep with anyone else after you. You're one of a kind, Channie hyung. You really set the bar high for me."
"So, you like my chest, and also my dick," Chan deadpans, the corners of his lips tugging into a self satisfied grin despite his exhausted tone.
"Yes. See Sunhee said Jaehwa's was this big, and yours is like! Triple that!" Minho puts his arms back around Chan and looks up at him innocently. "Now that I know what it feels like to have it really big, I feel sorry for her. I totally get it, hyung. What do you think?"
Chan thinks that he never wants to go back to his old lifestyle. Coming home and leaving his work in the studio has never felt easier. Less does he feel like a slave to his work, like it is now or never, black or white, succeed or fail. Success isn't in streaming numbers or the negotiated price of a deal. Success is here, in a bed warmed by the cutest, prettiest, funniest, sweetest boy in the world.
"I'm not even listening to you right now," Chan mumbles, lovestruck.
"I'm talking about your dick and you're giving me googly eyes," Minho scoffs. "Typical."
Chan kisses him. It is slow and intimate, like the dimly lit room and their legs intertwined underneath the sheets.
Minho continues to gossip between their kisses. Chan is enchanted by his expression, gazing starry eyed at the way he rambles, trips on his words sleepy, and yawns in the middle of he said, she said. He asks him about Chan's day, but it isn't all that interesting. He prefers to just listen to Minho talk than do any talking himself.
After some time, Minho's sentences get shorter. He yawns until he can only bear to lean in for almost kisses, the soft press of their lips together.
"Minho yah," Chan whispers, squeezing his body.
"Mm."
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Mmm."
Chan giggles, "Do you have class?"
"Mm-mm!" Minho shakes his head.
"PT?"
"Mmm," Minho nods.
"Dance?"
"Mm-mmmm."
"Work?"
"Mm-mmmm!"
Chan kisses him.
"Let's go out then."
Minho kisses him back, climbing up his body and nuzzling into the side of his face. Chan holds him in his arms and coos sweet things into his ear.
Minho opens his eyes to look at him and whispers, "Goodnight, hyung."
Chan smiles, unbelieving of his luck.
"Goodnight, baby."