Look At Me

Eager

Minho POV

The last couple days had been a blur- endless discussions and planning with Seungmin on how to deal with the continually deranged Woojin had left little time for Jisung and me. I was getting sick of having a third wheel- or rather being the third wheel.  That's how it felt at least. I hated being jealous- but I still wasn't ready to put Seungmin in the "safe and friendly" column. Jisung was too quick to forgive and see the best in people. I thought so at least, my face scrunching up in irritation- at myself mostly.

I was laying on Jisung bed, stretched out on my stomach- scrolling on my phone after dance practice. I had pushed myself extra, and my back and thighs were screaming at me. I sighed- so agitated by all this drama I couldn't even enjoy cute cat videos.  "grahhghgahg." I grunted, planting my face into the fluffy blankets that smelled so deliciously like him. 

Jisung was out- having a "long overdue" his words- gym session with Bin and Chan. He promised we would have dinner together and since I had finished early, I decided to invade his space and wait for him in his room, rather than go down the street to my place. Besides- I'd had enough Seungmin over the last week to last me a while. I lay there, face buried in his scent and rolled my shoulders- trying to get them to unknot. God I wanted him. Things had gone up a notch in our relationship recently and I found myself unable to concentrate on much else beside the thought of Jisung's hands and mouth on me... maybe other parts too. And every damn time he smirked at me or licked his lips or his hand brush against me I acted like a damn teenager- so eager. Ugh I was useless. I had slept alone for two nights- maybe sleep was too kind a word, I had tossed and turned and texted him at ungodly hours and jerked off thinking about his words in the shower "I think I have to top you." And my response of "yes, please." But none of it had helped me sleep- nor had it gotten the images out of my mind. My whole fucking body buzzed with desperation.

"Fuck." I cursed, my fist colliding with the soft mattress as my skin crawled with want.

"What did the bed do to you?" A small, amused voice asked. I looked up and words eluded me as I drank in Jisung, leaning against the doorframe- dressed in a black tank top, black track pants – the occasional bead of sweat highlighting the steady pulse at his throat- he must have just finished his workout.

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to relearn how to form fucking words. "holy fuck he looks fine." My brain screamed, but a shaky "hey" came out- eventually.

"Did my workout run over?" he asked, checking the time on his phone, his face scrunching cutely.

"No- I just like your bed better." I admitted.

"Oh? Well, if you give me a minute- I'll shower, and we can decide where to go for dinner." He smiled and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

I watched him, and if I didn't touch him right god damn now, I was going to lose it. I reached out my hand toward him and made a sound somewhere between a groan and whine of neglect. "Ungh." I think I even pouted a little "what the fuck, Minho?" I scolded internally.

He froze mid stride and turned to look at me with an expression I had never seen him make. I could tell he was trying not to smile teasingly. "Baby... you okay?" he asked- doing his damndest no to let his amusement show.

I nodded, even though I was decidedly not okay. "Ca- can I touch you?" I asked and I sounded forlorn even to me.

His eyes filled with concern, and I could see he was replaying every second of the last few days- trying to recall where he did something wrong. It wasn't like that though- I was just uncharacteristically needy.  "Of course. "He nearly whispered and came to the bed, sinking to sit on the edge. I rose up on my knees and wrapped my arms around him- burying my face in his neck- kissing him- finding his skin slightly salty with sweat. He sighed and wove his hands around me, running his fingers lightly up my back- soothing.  "Is everything okay, Min?" he asked- his voice muffled by being pressed against my shoulder.