Despite the comfort of his apartment, Minho found himself sneaking back into the club on yet another Friday night, unable to resist the allure that still tugged at him from within. He couldn't shake the thought of him. He couldn't explain it, but it was as if being with him was an addiction, or something more, an itch that just couldn't seem to go away. And he found himself wanting to find him again, to go back to that bar and to have one more night with him.
He arrived early enough to secure a place at the bar, leaning against the polished wooden surface while he eyed the crowd around him with barely concealed anticipation. The smell of expensive liquor mixed with sweat and sex hung heavy in the air; tickling his senses until they were heightened beyond measure and then there he was: Chan, standing at the end of the bar, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the room.
Minho felt his heart skip a beat in his chest when their eyes met across the crowded space, an undeniable current of lust and desire sparking between them. The air around them seemed to crackle with anticipation, almost as if nature itself acknowledged the primal dance they shared together.
Chan slowly made his way over to Minho - his strides confident and controlled despite the swagger that belied his arrogance. "Well well," he purred as he came up behind Minho, resting his hands casually on the smooth leather of the bar stool that separated them. "What brings you back here again?"
Minho swallowed hard, suddenly unable to find any words through the haze of need clouding his thoughts. "I... I couldn't stay away," he finally managed after a moment of silence between them, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper against the roar of the club around them.
Chan chuckled, leaning in closer until their bodies were pressed firmly against each other's. "Well then," he muttered softly into Minho's ear before trailing teasing, wet kisses down the side of his neck, "maybe it's time I gave you what you need again."
With that, Chan grabbed hold of him roughly and pulled him from his seat, steering them both through the throng of dancers towards an empty room upstairs reserved for VIPs only, for their next illicit tryst - another moment to be etched into memory amidst whispers of desire too powerful to ignore any longer.
They both entered into the all too familiar room again, but Minho still couldn't help but notice how opulent everything seemed - from plush velvet drapes hanging over expansive windows to priceless artwork adorning every inch of bare wall space. This was Chan's domain; a place where he could indulge his every whim without fear of judgement or reprisal - and lately, that whim happened to be Minho himself.
Chan shut and locked the door behind them before turning back with an unholy glint in his eyes. "Strip," his voice rough and commanding enough that Minho found himself obeying without question or hesitation. With shaking hands, Minho peeled off his clothes one by one until he stood naked before Chan, his body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat in anticipation for what was to come. The air between them grew thick, fueled by their mutual desire.
Chan walked over slowly, his eyes roaming greedily over every inch of Minho's exposed flesh. Finally, he reached out and seized Minho by the waist- pulling him roughly against his own hardened length. "You truly are exquisite," he purred before pressing their lips together in a searing kiss. His tongue demanded entry into Minho's mouth, tangling and wrestling with each other that left them both gasping for air once it finally ended.
Chan pulled back just enough to whisper, "This is what you get when you come crawling back to me…" before resuming his assault on Minho's senses: nipping and sucking hungrily at his neck, sliding his hands roughly over Minho's chest and abdomen before dipping lower to grasp firmly at his ass cheeks.
Minho couldn't help but gasp - Chan's touch ignited fire within him; every nerve ending alight with desire and need for this man who held him so completely in his power. With a growl, Chan pushed Minho onto the couch, rubbing his thumb over his kiss - swollen lips, meaningly glancing down at his growing length restrained by his dress pants with a menacing smirk on his equally swollen lips, "You know what to do." He whispered in a deep tone.
