After Dark 》Minsung

23 》That Was A Dumb Choice

The door to the apartment ripped open.

A beaming grin greeting him, "Minho!"

Minho laughed softly, immediately encasing Jisung within his arms. A tight embrace that closed him on that slim waist and the younger's arms looped around his neck while he pressed kisses into his, the gentle giggles and chuckles from the adorable camboy gracing his ears like a spring melody, as he waddled his way into the spacious apartment. Shifting on one foot. Then the other. A kiss. One foot. Another kiss. The other foot. One more wadle. Kiss. The other side. Wandering backwards into the apartment with those flurried giggles and pecks attacking his favorite person in the entire world with the same jubilant admiration that golden effigy gave him. Holding him tight. Tighter as he kicked the door close behind them reached behind to lock it (Safety first! Who knows what kind of creeps are lurking out there, watching from the walls. Murders and shit).

Then fishing his hands underneath the lithe frame of the cheerful Jisung, small little bounces gently announcing his intentions to rocket into the older before those intentions became reality. Bounding into him, legs hardly caught by Minho's fumbling hands as he was wrapped up in a kiss.

Yup.

He's in love.

He's in love with the legs wrapped around his waist tightly, the thighs his hands desperately clutched onto to lift that delicate weight into himself, that mailable muscle bending against the press of his fingers like silk sheets bent to a loom. He's in love with the cute little arms, their demure muscles hidden behind the thin T-shirt that beautiful body was engulfed up inside, how they flexed to suspend themselves on that stretching high spanning between them. He's in love with the lips set against his, loving in their grace moving their favorite rhythm of an adoring song against the beat of their hearts, the warmth their touch filled him with, the excitement at the mere thought of being spoiled with those kisses causing him to simmer underneath. He's in love with the waist, the desert valleys of flaked sand from rib to rib, hip to hip, forehead to forehead. He's in love with the grin against him, the hands which threaded through the back of his hair, that voice of a playful wandered who took his hand through adventurous lands. He's in love with that deity.

Minho didn't believe in gods. He didn't believe in religion. He didn't believe in there being a higher being, an afterlife waiting for him to be judged by clandestine scales tipped by what sins he led on, a meaning to life. He didn't believe a rock was more than a rock, the sky more than the sky, and a human as more than a human.

Yet he was certain, if a god were to exist, it would be the camboy within his hands.

It would be this flicker of paradise in an otherwise monotonous reality.

The camboy gradually peeled away from the kiss. Pecks up and down Minho's skin while he wiggled in his hands, legs kicking a bit while he was bumped him higher so he wouldn't slip down in his excitement. The thighs now tugging on the fabric of his hoodie, the weight not threatening to pull the fabric in half as they readjusted their positioning Minho struggled to keep from slipping. Struggled to keep from outwardly admitting he was dying from the wreath of the body enveloping him, from restraining the gentle tremors in the built muscles as they sprouted in threats to become obvious, he kept it down. Their aches alleviating into rejuvenated strings puppeteering him along while those glittery eyes sparkled down to him. Glimmering as if those gemstoned cuts angled sunlight down to him, "Do you mind if we hang out today? Can we turn on a movie?"

"Are you kidding? Why would I mind watching a movie and spending time with you? I'd love to," Minho bubbled back to that transparent effervescence, the popping sparks of fireworks underneath his skin. The warmth of that lithe body pressed against his, felt through the hoodie fabric. It's small bursts of excitement raking through him with his own untamed joviality. A child in a candy store. That's all he was. Whenever that camboy kissed him, touched him, gazed him with tranquil stars dancing waltzes in his eyes. He was a child again. A teenager discovering what love was again in the hands of someone else. A newly fledged adult, finding himself in the world once more. With that naïve innocent back to him, Minho set the vibrant Jisung down again, cautiously watching for the camboy to touch down to the woodfloors, "I'll even turn it on. What movie do you want to watch?"