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Mingyu’s never been one for danger. He’s always liked his two feet on the ground, planted where he can see them. Why be suspended in the air, when the floor is a perfectly good place to be? Why blow past speed limit markers when he’s going to end up in the same place anyway? Adrenaline, exhilaration, what’s the point if the chance of maiming yourself grows exponentially higher with each kilometer per hour? Mingyu enjoys the fact that he has legs that function the way they are supposed to.
So when Jihoon looks at him, motorcycle helmet dangling from his fingers, and asks him if he wants to go for a ride, he doesn’t know what possesses him to say yes.
Well.
That’s not completely true.
It had been a long day. Too many papers to file, too many coworkers that didn’t have their shit together and foisted their work upon Mingyu because he was better at his job than they were. Of course, he had to stay overtime just to get through it all, and ended up stuck there way later than he had ever wished to be in that building. All he wanted at the end of the day was a Coke Zero and something incredibly easy to cook for dinner so he could rot in front of the TV for a few hours before going to bed and having to do all of it again the next day.
He had stopped at his regular convenience store on the way home, a few blocks down from his apartment. Vaguely, he noticed the presence of an unfamiliar motorbike parked out front, mind automatically recoiling at the thought of riding one of those death traps and turning back to the task at hand.
Ramen. Coke. Maybe a pint of ice cream, too, because he deserved it.
At this point, he knew the store layout like the back of his hand, and he had beelined straight for the ramen section, easily making his typical selection. Satisfied, he headed back for the open coolers at the front of the store, eyes immediately finding the tell-tale red aluminum packaging.
But as he reached out to pull the can from its shelf, another hand made for the same can. Mingyu pulled his hand back automatically, about to bow quickly and utter an automatic apology, but froze as he was confronted with arguably the most attractive man he had ever seen in his life.
His round face might have made some people see him as naturally sweet and angelic, but one look into his eyes and Mingyu knew this man had spent his life being anything but. Dark hair cropped short at the sides, a few strands dangling in front of those sharp eyes. Mingyu’s gaze traveled briefly down to his lips and oh. Soft, cherry-red and beautiful.
He was dressed in all black, heavy duty pants and combat boots, and a thick leather jacket over top. A motorcycle helmet dangled from one hand, the other now hanging loosely by his side.
Oh. So this was the guy whose bike was parked outside.
“S-sorry. You go ahead.” Mingyu managed to stutter out.
The man raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down, and Mingyu felt heat rise in his cheeks. He was shorter than Mingyu, by quite a margin, but somehow under his gaze, Mingyu felt small. Delicate.
“Thanks.” The man said, reaching back into the cooler for the drink. His hands were beautiful. Slender fingers, elegant and long and strong. Mingyu swallowed.
And then he was gone. Mingyu stood staring at the rows of cans for a few seconds before realizing that Seungkwan would kill him if he told him about this man and didn’t have anything to show for it. He turned his head quickly, searching for the biker, catching a glimpse of him as he stepped out of the convenience store.
Screw the ramen. Mingyu dropped the package on the nearest shelf and hurried after him. He slowed his steps as he neared the door, going for nonchalance and not like he was desperately chasing after what very well could be the love of his life. Swinging the door open, he promptly tripped over the small stoop, legs tangling a bit as he regained his balance. Wonderful.
He looked over to where he remembered the motorcycle had been parked, and the man was, thankfully, turned away, digging in the rear compartment. From farther away, Mingyu could see the way his thighs filled out the cargo pants, flexing as he moved to the other side of his bike. Mingyu watched shamelessly as he shut the compartment.
He walked closer, trying to look casual, like he was just going to pass by, just on his way home after work.
“Nice bike.” He managed to choke out when he got close enough. The man looked up, face neutral, then ran a hand through the strands of hair falling into his eyes.
“Thanks.” The man said.
Ugh. Nice going, Mingyu. Absolutely fantastic conversation starter.
“Um. How much… horsepower does it have?” Mingyu asked, using the singular piece of motor vehicle vocabulary that he could get his brain to come up with at this moment.
A corner of the man’s mouth quirked up and oh god there was a dimple. He tilted his head at Mingyu, leaning back against his bike and crossing his arms.
“You don’t know anything about motorcycles, do you? Mister…” The man asked, trailing off with a question.
Mingyu flushed bright red. “Mingyu, Kim Mingyu. And uh. No, not really.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“Lee Jihoon.” Jihoon looked at him for a moment, then smirked. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Mingyu’s thoughts went haywire.
Had Mingyu ever, ever in his life, looked at a motorcycle and thought ‘yeah, i want to get on that thing and have a near death experience’? No. But he had also never seen a man like Jihoon, and he was willing to say anything, do anything, just to get this man to keep talking to him.
So that’s how he ends up numbly taking the proffered helmet while Jihoon roots around in the compartment of his bike for his spare. He turns back to Mingyu.
“I haven’t got any spare body armor. You can take mine for the ride, if it makes you feel better.” He says.
The confusion must show on his face, because Jihoon chuckles. “Protective jacket.” He jerks his chin at Mingyu. “You looked nervous.”
Mingyu’s stomach does a flip at the reminder. He is nervous. Of course he’s nervous. What the hell is he doing? He should tell Jihoon that he has no intention of getting on that bike with him, that he’s never wanted to do this and he’s terrified.
But then Jihoon takes his jacket off and Mingyu’s mouth goes dry.
Underneath the jacket, he's wearing a plain black tshirt. A tshirt that Mingyu is almost sure is about two sizes too small, straining at the seams around the man’s biceps. His frame is wide, but then his broad shoulders narrow down into the most incredibly sinful waist and Mingyu has officially lost it. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with an image of his hands wrapped around it.
Jihoon clears his throat, holding the jacket out.
Mingyu’s eyes jerk back up to his face. Not exactly the best place to be looking if he wants to cool down because wow this guy is gorgeous, but it’s less… obvious, he supposes.
“But- what about you?” He stutters, eyes flickering between the jacket and Jihoon’s face.
Jihoon smirks at him, that traitorous dimple peeking out again. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”
Mingyu almost passes out.
Somehow he manages to force his hand to reach out and take the jacket from Jihoon, passing back the helmet to free his hands. Their fingers brush for a moment and a thrill goes through Mingyu’s stomach. He shrugs on the jacket, suddenly surrounded by a dark and woody scent, masculine and overwhelming.
This is going to be the death of him. Maybe literally.
But it’s kind of hard to make his brain care about that right now, not when Jihoon is standing there in front of him, eyes alive with something that makes Mingyu feel so many things he doesn’t know what to do with.
He takes the helmet back, pulling it over his head and fumbling clumsily with the buckle. He hears a soft sound, maybe a laugh, coming from Jihoon and then all of a sudden he’s in Mingyu’s space, those beautiful fingers reaching up to bat his own away. Mingyu’s heart skips. Jihoon is so close, eyes locked on the strap underneath Mingyu’s chin as he threads it through the buckle. There’s a small freckle beneath his left eye. It takes everything Mingyu has to keep his hands by his sides, to keep them from coming up to see if Jihoon’s skin is as soft as it looks.
Jihoon’s fingers graze against his throat and Mingyu twitches. Jihoon’s mouth does too.
All too soon, he’s finished, the heat of his hands immediately dissipating when he steps away. Mingyu realizes he hadn’t been breathing, forcing the air out of his lungs in an attempt to keep from passing out.
Jihoon taps the side of Mingyu’s helmet. “There’s a comm link in here. Once I connect it, we’ll be able to hear each other during the ride. Don’t be shy to let me know if something’s up, okay.”
Mingyu nods. He can’t believe he’s doing this.
Jihoon’s already by his bike, throwing a leg over it and settling on the seat. Mingyu has not moved a single centimeter. Suddenly he’s realizing that he’s about to get on a motor bike with a complete stranger and these might be his last moments on earth.
Jihoon turns back to look at him. “You coming?” He asks.
Mingyu is still a little bit frozen, eyes flicking up to meet Jihoon’s sharp ones. His gaze softens a little as he catalogues the tense line to Mingyu’s shoulders.
“I’m a good driver. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Jihoon says, holding Mingyu’s stare. Mingyu still doesn’t move. The biker tilts his head, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. “Come on. You can hold on as tight as you want. I won’t mind.”
Mingyu flushes, vaguely grateful that the helmet he is wearing covers most of his face.
“Okay.” He whispers.
“Just don’t trip on your way over here.” Jihoon adds, before turning back to face forwards and smoothly pulling his helmet on. Mingyu still catches the teasing smile on his face and shrivels a little bit on the inside. Of course he saw that. Of course.
Distracted by the embarrassment, he manages to shuffle up to the side of Jihoon’s bike. Unsure of how to get on without falling over, he hesitates.
“You can use my shoulder. Just swing a leg over and you’ll be fine. You’re tall enough.” Jihoon says.
Carefully, Mingyu does as instructed and tries his best to swing his leg gracefully over the side. He might have tightened his grip on Jihoon’s shoulder just a little, but whether that was purposeful or not is going to remain a carefully guarded mystery in Mingyu’s head.
Okay. He’s on the bike. He’s sitting behind a stranger, on a motorbike.
Jihoon turns the key and it thrums to life, sending a stampede of purebred racehorses running through Mingyu’s stomach. His hands fly to grip at Jihoon’s shoulders, and he feels them flex slightly. Wow. Alright. Mingyu’s brain briefly wonders what his overhead press numbers are.
Jihoon taps at the side of his helmet, and Mingyu hears a crackle, then Jihoon’s voice coming through the comm. “You hear me?”
“Y-yeah.” Mingyu stutters.
“Good. Like I said, let me know if you have any problems.” Jihoon says.
“Right. Yes. I will.” Mingyu breathes, trying not to hyperventilate at the combined feeling of the vibrating motorcycle under him and Jihoon’s solid shoulders beneath his hands.
“And Mingyu?” Jihoon says.
“What?” Mingyu asks.
“You might want to hold somewhere a little more secure than that.”
Mingyu chokes and his hands automatically pull from Jihoon’s shoulders as if they’ve been burned. God. Okay. Guess the image his brain had conjured earlier wasn’t exactly an unattainable fantasy. Tentatively, he snakes his arms around Jihoon’s waist, gripping his own forearms lightly.
Then Jihoon revs the motor and shoots out into the street.
Mingyu squawks, arms squeezing tighter. They’re not even going that fast yet, still on residential streets, and he hears a low chuckle come through the helmet. He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or turned on.
Jihoon weaves through the streets, confident hands gripping at the handlebars, head up and alert. Mingyu watches his neighborhood zip by, barely registering as the area becomes unfamiliar.
“You doin’ alright?” Jihoon asks.
Mingyu answers with a breathless affirmative. It’s not so bad, yet. He kind of feels like he’s suspended in the air with nothing tethering him to the ground except Jihoon in front of him, but the wind rushing by actually feels kind of nice. They’re not going much faster than he normally would in a car, and that’s kind of the only thing keeping him from totally freaking out at the moment. To Mingyu’s eternal surprise, he thinks he might actually be having fun.
“Okay. Let’s take it up a notch.” There’s a cocky note to Jihoon’s voice and it sends a thrum of something through Mingyu’s chest.
Then he realizes that Jihoon is heading to the highway ramp. Oh shit. Okay.
Mingyu does his best not to stop breathing. His hands tighten involuntarily, one of them slipping down from gripping his own forearm to actually holding onto Jihoon’s waist. Jihoon turns onto the ramp, body moving with the bike. Mingyu can feel his abs flex under his fingers with every movement now, and he’s momentarily distracted.
That is, until Jihoon merges onto the highway, and switches gears.
It’s long past rush hour, all the regular office workers probably already home and eating dinner, doing normal things, leaving the road empty for Jihoon to tear through it. And tear through it he does. The breath is yanked from Mingyu’s lungs so quickly that he can’t even scream, eyes blowing wide as the world turns to a blur going past him. It’s too much.
He shoves his helmet-clad forehead into Jihoon’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. It doesn’t help. He can still feel the powerful motor underneath him, can still hear the sound of the cars they are passing at breakneck speed.
He’s not really sure, but he thinks a whimper escapes him as he tries not to pass out.
“Hey, hey. You good?” He barely registers the voice cutting through the haze of fear.
Mingyu chokes out some kind of sound.
“You need me to slow down?” Jihoon asks.
Mingyu nods quickly against Jihoon’s shoulder.
He feels the bike slow. He can still hear the cars whizzing past, but now it’s in the opposite direction, and his breath returns in short gasps. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes.
“I’m gonna get us off the highway, yeah?” Jihoon says, and Mingyu manages out something that might have been an okay.
They’re going slower now, and Mingyu cracks his eyes open. Jihoon has pulled them onto a side road, winding up through trees, the last vestiges of sunlight peeking through, beginning to turn orange and pink as the sun sets. It’s pretty, and Mingyu’s breath begins to even out.
His hands loosen a little, and he lifts his head off of Jihoon’s shoulder to look at the scenery.
“Better?” Jihoon asks.
“Yeah.” Mingyu says. “Thanks.”
Jihoon hums an affirmative over the comm and keeps riding, leaning into the curves as they come. Mingyu finds himself enjoying it. Who would have thought.
They ride for a little while, Jihoon checking in every few minutes to make sure Mingyu’s alright.
The sun sets quickly, until the only light illuminating the road comes from the dim streetlights hanging above them. Mingyu breathes deeply, letting the feeling of the wind rushing past wash over him.
“There’s a great view not too far from here. You down?” Jihoon asks.
“Sure.” Mingyu answers.
It’s only a few more minutes until Jihoon pulls over, and wow, he hadn’t been lying. Mingyu thinks he can see all of Seoul from here, its blinking lights and tall buildings in a perpetual state of movement and life.
Mingyu swings off of the bike, legs slightly wobbly from the adrenaline, and he has to take a few steps to regain his balance. Jihoon comes down after him, pulling his helmet off and shaking his hair free.
“All good?” He asks, slightly muffled now that Mingyu can’t hear him through the comms.
Mingyu fumbles with the clasp under his chin, successful this time, and lifts the helmet off then nods.
“Sorry, about-” He says. “I’ve just never-”
“Hey, don’t be sorry.” Jihoon says. “I should have figured that’d be a lot for your first time. That’s on me.”
Mingyu’s eyes flick up to Jihoon’s face in surprise. “No, you- I’m just. Not good with this kind of thing.”
Jihoon hums.
“You have fun, though?” He asks, after a moment.
A soft smile spreads on Mingyu’s face. “Yeah, actually. I did.”
Jihoon smiles back. “Good.” He says, then turns to walk to the railing at the edge of the lookout point. Mingyu places his helmet down on the bike seat next to Jihoon’s and then trails after him.
They lean their elbows on the rail, close enough that Mingyu can feel the heat radiating from Jihoon’s arm next to his. Mingyu tries very hard not to turn his head and just look, settling for small glances out of the corner of his eye as he pretends to only be focusing on the view.
The city blooms with life below them. The faint sound of traffic and car horns reaches them, floating along the wind that brushes through Jihoon’s hair. It’s messy and rumpled from the helmet, and Mingyu has to grip the railing to keep from burying his hands in it.
It’s kind of a surreal feeling. Mingyu has never been the type to do things like this, has never been spontaneous in looking for danger or for love. It’s funny, though, because his heart has only just begun to slow down from the adrenaline of roaring through the streets, and it’s speeding up again now because of the carefully sculpted face and body of the man standing next to him.
Mingyu huffs a quiet laugh.
Jihoon shifts, still looking out at the city. “What?” He says.
Mingyu turns his head towards him, smiling sheepishly. “Nothing. Just. I’d always told myself I’d never get on a motorcycle and yet, here I am.”
There’s a pause, where the wind blows and Mingyu lets himself look at the profile of the man beside him.
After a moment, Jihoon turns to meet his gaze, an intense, calculating look in his eyes. “Then why’d you say yes?”
And that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it. Mingyu’s face burns hot, but he can’t tear himself away from how Jihoon is looking at him.
“You asked. And I couldn’t say no.” Mingyu breathes, before he can filter himself.
Jihoon’s chin lowers, and he looks up at him through his eyelashes, a corner of his mouth turning upwards.
“If you wanted to take me out, you could have just said that, pretty thing.”
Mingyu’s stomach does a flip.
“I-” Mingyu starts, and then Jihoon is kissing him.
He inhales quickly, dizzy as Jihoon moves against his lips, sensual and dominant. Jihoon pulls at the hair at the back of Mingyu’s neck, guiding him to tilt his head so he can push deeper, heavier.
It’s intoxicating. Mingyu can’t get enough.
Jihoon pushes his lips open with his tongue, and Mingyu honest to god whines. Jihoon responds by pulling back to nip at his bottom lip, diving back in as quickly as he pulled away.
It’s hot, heavy, and Mingyu doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he grabs at Jihoon’s waist and lets himself get lost in it. Jihoon grips his jaw with his free hand, holding him in place while he takes him apart. He tastes like danger and Coca Cola, and Mingyu is never going to be the same.
Mingyu’s head is spinning when Jihoon pulls away slightly, pupils blown wide and lips plump and kiss-bitten. He chases after Jihoon, unaware of anything else except the fact that he needs Jihoon to keep kissing him. Jihoon pulls back, teasing, eyes flicking down to Mingyu’s lips as he chases again. He plays with Mingyu a little longer, waiting until Mingyu whines and squeezes at his hip before meeting him in the middle.
It’s just as breath-stealing as the first and Mingyu thinks he could live the rest of his life doing this, only this. He gets brave, pushing his own tongue against Jihoon’s, letting out a groan as he responds. He feels a cocky smile spread across Jihoon’s lips, interrupting for a moment while Mingyu pushes closer, needy and lost in him.
Jihoon’s hands are hot on Mingyu, one still gripping in his hair and the other at his throat.
Mingyu wants to touch, wants to feel Jihoon to every extent possible and the tiny corner of his brain that might have told him this was a bad idea is so dazed along with the rest of him that he doesn’t even care.
His hands move at Jihoon’s waist, scrambling for Jihoon’s belt buckle, but Jihoon brings the hand that was at his throat down to stop him. Mingyu mourns the loss of contact, mind still lost, trying to lick deeper into Jihoon’s mouth.
“Mingyu.” Jihoon says, breathless against his mouth. Mingyu presses closer, still trying to reach for Jihoon’s belt, but Jihoon pulls back. Mingyu blinks down at him, having trouble choosing between looking in his eyes or down at his beautifully kiss-swollen lips.
“Mingyu.” Jihoon says again. He looks up at him through hooded eyes, lips glistening. “Let me take you on a date first.”
“This doesn’t count?” Mingyu gasps out, breathing heavily.
Jihoon laughs. And god if that isn’t the most wonderful laugh Mingyu has ever heard. Loud and genuine and deadly. He tilts his head at Mingyu, that smirk back on his face, doing devilish things to his insides.
“Pretty boy. I’m going to have so much fun with you.” Jihoon says, and Mingyu damn near folds at the knees.
Pulling Mingyu down, Jihoon gives him one more kiss, deep and filthy and a promise of what’s to come if Mingyu is patient.
Jihoon laughs again at the look on Mingyu’s face as he pulls away.
“You’re evil.” Mingyu says.
Jihoon quirks an eyebrow and shrugs. “Maybe.”
Mingyu huffs and rolls his eyes, subtly attempting to adjust himself when Jihoon turns to walk back towards his bike. A deep chuckle from the man ahead of him tells him he wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped.
He follows him anyway.
The ride back to Mingyu’s place is more exhilarating than the last.
Jihoon had asked for his address and Mingyu had given it to him with an embarrassing lack of hesitation before settling behind him. The warmth of Jihoon’s back against his chest feels changed now, feels like something that he can revel in. A smile plays on his lips, thinking of how terrified he’d been on the way here, and how very different he’s feeling on the way back.
All that occupies his mind is each of the places he and Jihoon are touching. He doesn’t even register the speed, confident now, trusting Jihoon to take him to his limit and no further. So confident, in fact, that he unwinds one of the arms he has wrapped around Jihoon’s stomach to come down and grip at Jihoon’s thigh, fingers digging possessively into the thick muscle there.
“Careful now.” Jihoon says, words dripping sensually from his mouth and directly into Mingyu’s ear through the comm. Mingyu squeezes.
Jihoon doesn’t make another sound for the rest of the ride, and Mingyu keeps his hand there. He smiles, knowing he’s not the only one so strongly affected by this.
It’s both forever and too soon by the time they reach Mingyu’s place. Jihoon parks just outside, killing the engine, and Mingyu slides down. Jihoon doesn’t follow him.
Mingyu pulls off the helmet, stepping forward and holding it out to Jihoon. Jihoon flips his visor up.
“Keep it.” He says. “For next time.”
Mingyu smiles. “Next time. Alright.”
He stands there, stupid smile on his face, unable to take his eyes from the small piece of Jihoon’s face that he can see through the helmet. Jihoon’s eyes crinkle, and he holds out a hand, palm facing up.
Mingyu looks down at it, eyes blank, confused.
Jihoon chuckles. “Your phone. So I can give you my number.”
Mingyu jerks, hand flying to his pocket to pull out his phone, almost dropping it in his haste to hand it to Jihoon. Jihoon’s eyes are still scrunched as he types into a new contact card, saves it, then sends himself a text with Mingyu’s phone. He hands it back, fingers sending a spark through Mingyu when they brush against his. Mingyu looks down at the phone, noting the prim ‘Kim Mingyu’ text that Jihoon sent himself. He fights down a smile, glancing back up at Jihoon.
“You free Friday evening?” Jihoon asks.
Mingyu is not free Friday evening. He will be, though. Seungkwan’s karaoke session is going to have to wait.
“Yeah.” He breathes.
“Cool. I’ll pick you up.” Jihoon says, flipping his visor back down and starting his engine.
Mingyu stares after him as the bike speeds off into the night. Holy fuck. He’s got a date with the hottest man in all of Seoul, Korea, Asia, the world??? on Friday. It takes everything in him not to squeal into his hands.
He heads back up into his apartment in a daze. He can’t wait to gloat about this to Seungkwan.
It’s only when he unlocks his apartment door, drops his keys in the dish and toes his shoes off, that he realizes he’s still wearing Jihoon’s jacket.
Well.
Mingyu’s not going to complain. Jihoon’s woody scent lingers on the jacket, intoxicating and a reminder of what Mingyu is going to be waiting for the rest of the week.
Mingyu doesn’t take it off, smiling and opening his phone to Jihoon’s contact.
See you Friday. I’m keeping the jacket.