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Before you start reading here's some minsung fanart; I got inspired by Han's "volcano" because I'm insanely in love with that song x
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"F-fuck you," Han muttered.
"Yeah? You hate me?" Minho chuckled, his hands slowly making their way to Han's waist.
"I- I really do." Han breathed heavily.
"But do you really want me to stop?" Minho's lips hovered over Han's, waiting patiently, because no matter how much he wanted to drain that attitude out of him, he also wanted consent.
Han struggled, the urge to close the short distance between their faces so overwhelming that he forgot he was supposed to answer yes.
Minho's fingers squeezing at the dip of the other's waist and his expectant, piercing eyes staring straight at him made Han let out a desperate whine, surprising Minho and himself with how needy his tone was.
"I need words, detective." Minho pulled away denying Han the privilege of a kiss, his hands now impatiently resting on top the waistband of the younger's sweats.
"Don't," Han gasped.
"Don't what? Don't stop or don't keep going? Go on, I know you can say it.
It's not that hard." Minho teased, smiling. His knee was conventionally placed to add pressure onto Han's crotch.
Han shuddered, wondering why he let himself get taken control of like this. He knows that Minho sees his need, that he wants it right now more than anything, yet he's trying to pry the words out of him for his own amusement.
If Minho is trying to torture him, he's doing it very differently than Han would've thought a couple of days ago- still undeniably succeeding.
His lustful gaze alone makes shivers run down Han's spine and restless trembles shake him like the cold winter air shakes a tree's branches until they're all leafless. Bare and naked and helpless, that's how he felt with Minho now.
"Stop, don't- ...s-stop."
The words open all the flood gates in Minho's brain, everything that's held him back washing away with the escaping currents. He makes his way down on Han's slim and heavily trembling body, again denying him a kiss which the younger doesn't have much time to be upset about because he feels his pants get dragged to his ankles.
Han wants to bite into something- anything, a pillow, the crook of Minho's neck -to help ease the shame that's making the tips of his ears burn and his cheeks flush bright red.
His hands are free now and he could grab a pillow, however all of his energy is going into keeping himself together. Gripping the sheets violently helps a little.
Minho's eyes fixate on the younger's crotch, covered by the thin fabric of his boxers that weren't actually even his, but Minho's.
And Minho noticed, it turning him on more realizing how clearly he really has Han in his grip.
The clothes Han was wearing, his undivided attention, his body, even his life -all Minho's. Everything.
Han can't look at him.
He feels so small.
How can Minho just- just be like this?
Reduce Han to a mess under him like it's nothing? Like Han isn't trying so hard to hold onto his last functioning braincells; trying so hard to keep some
control over his body and the noises leaving his throat.
YOU ARE READING
CRIMINAL // minsung
أدب الهواةMinho is leading an infamous gang of criminals, who are known for committing strange murders. Han, a detective, and his team are trying to hunt them down. But soon Han starts to realize that what he's gotten himself into might be too much... ~ "He's...
