10 》You Sound Shady

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Restrained pants met his eardrums.

Gasps deep in the other's chest, strained as they caught up with the sweltering reddness enrapturing the clammy body.

Those addicting sounds coming faintly from the headphone speakers lowered around his neck, the mild volume nearly washed out by the swishing of the running faucet. The quiet whispers, digital glimmers of sinful shudders skimming the length of his satiated spine, nerves nipping nuzzling tremors through the warmth still fuzzy in his mind. Still coming down off that ecstacy high the camboy surged him with. The waterfall of the bathroom sink pouring over the face towel he was wringing out, the sweat clinging to the back of his neck as his drenched hand wiped the salty sting of sweat from the nape of his neck, those brief sounds hungering his mind again, keeping him connected to the sunlight on the other side. Waiting within the pixels of the laptop screen for him to return from the unfortunate task of cleaning up.

Faintly, as Minho shut the faucet off and shook the rest of the chilled water from the rag, the quickest thought flickered through his mind.

How perfect it would be, to hear those noises for himself.

Instead of relying on the coded information, picked up by crackling microphones on the device he used, transferred by those programmed encryptions sealing their hidden lines away from prying eyes, received, decrypted in mainframes uncovering the illicit secrets kept shied in their own careful paradise. Instead, knowing that person he was rapidly growing fond of was laid across his mattress, waiting for him.

To be able to touch the smooth skin which teased and flushed in vivid colors underneath his fingertips. To be permitted to roam over those expansive plains stretching across his sternum, from collarbone to collarbone and the dipped skin between their lissom pride, sensitive touch between hip to hip spanning below his navel, the crevasse of his untouched jaw begging to be nibbled and marked up, his thighs, how they would feel wrapped around him as they shaked. To be allowed to revel in the basking beauty of the work of art that human was, an effigy cast by gilded gold, perfectly molded into the aureate figure, that aureate voice. Melted alloy that burned tenderly into his skin. An alluring grin which spread on those sculpted lips, struggling and parted with their thrashing breaths.

Each nerve lit alight with that blazing sunlight. Running over him softly despite the late hour they met on those calls. A sunrise, neon haze in the sky after dark.

This guy is going to be the death of me.

A light grin pulled on his lips as he shook the clean rag out one more time, folding it over the metal faucet to drip dry what remaining water was retained in the fibers.

"O-oh, hi!"

Minho furrowed his eyebrows at the faint voice cutting in over his headphones. An abrupt ending to the peaceful rhythm of the ebbing huffs flowing in and out of the serene space spanning between their silence, a breathless laugh chasing after the words only causing him to stare at his own reflection in puzzlement. As if the man standing in the mirror would have a clue to who the camboy was greeting so cheerfully. As if he would receive more than his own curiosity, the slight frown on his lips and the crinkling on his forehead, back to him.

He quickly wiped his hands dry and pressed off from his spot inside the confined space, slowly drawing the bathroom door closed behind him as he poked his head into the length of the apartment's hallway. Checking back and forth. Looking through the pathway as if it was a street, scanning for any incoming traffic to slam into him and knock him off balance. Knowing the area was clear, he scurried off, steps shuffled against the statics filling carpet as his hands pulled at the drawstrings of his favorite white hoodie he always went to instead of anything else he wore. Fumbling with their dangling ropes in an idle way, tying them up around his fingers, threading them, looping them like yarn around knitting needles as he found his bedroom at the end of the way. An odd sliver of light coursing into the hallway he walked, pouring from the door opening in a slight crack. Big enough for a small body to slip through.

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