whatkindoftea
Summary: Milan is beautiful in July, but Changmin is too tired to enjoy anything but Yunho.
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"You two have about an hour and a half before we take you down to get changed for the second half of the shoot," one of the staff members informs them from just outside their hotel door.
"We'll be down in an hour," Yunho assures the man, gripping the frame to keep himself upright. Changmin frowns and takes a half step towards the older man, hands itching to push him into the red armchair next to the window. Or better yet, onto one of the two queen sized beds.
Without another word, the staff member leaves and the door shuts, leaving Yunho staring at the dark wood and Changmin staring at Yunho.
"I don't even know if I'll be able to read a clock in an hour," Yunho says quietly, more to himself than Changmin, but the younger man hears it loud and clear. He takes the last two steps until his hands rest placatingly on Yunho's shoulders.
"Come here," he draws Yunho away from the door and into a hug. They both feel the aching, hideous tiredness of concert after concert, flight after flight. It blurs everything, slowing limbs and words and dulling sight, taste, and touch. Changmin doesn't know if he's supposed to be at rehearsal in forty hours or at practice in twenty. For all he knows, it could be both.
"I just want to sleep for the next three days," Yunho confesses, head shaking minutely, nose pressing into the soft skin at Changmin's throat. His words are hot little breaths, and Changmin shivers.
An ugly sense of satisfaction trails down Changmin's spine - he's the only person who gets to see Yunho like this, the only person who gets to hear the quiet and exhausted insecurities that bubble up to the surface.
"I want to sleep for five," Changmin walks them backwards, until his legs hit the edge of the first queen bed.
"Always so greedy," Yunho lifts his head with a grin that's thin around the edges, and Changmin brushes his hands over Yunho's hips, thumbs scratching at the soft cotton of a deep green shirt.
"Do you want to nap?" Yunho sighs and glances at the bed, a little hesitant.
Changmin wants to fall into bed and not move until he's forcibly removed by their manager. He wants to go wander around this city with Yunho like they're actually on vacation together, and see the places they spend hours in a plane for - he's tired of dressing rooms and barricades and more airports, and not enough architecture and food.
Mentally, Changmin adds Milan to the long list of places like Paris and New York and Singapore, that they'll come back to one day when there's more time.
"If I try to sleep, you won't be able to get me out of bed without loss of life," Changmin says instead, fingers tracing the top of Yunho's black pants, smiling when he feels the muscles tense and jump beneath his finger tips.
"Oh," Yunho sounds distracted, and Changmin knows he's going to get his way. Like always. "Well then I'm out of suggestions. Your turn."
"You're going to fuck me," Changmin says simply. Yunho blinks twice, a slow smile breaking through the blanked-out expression he'd been sporting since leaving Northern Europe.
"Okay," Yunho breathes, tension leaving his shoulders, and he pushes Changmin backwards.
This is easy, Changmin thinks as he settles on the bed and pulls Yunho over him, lips trailing over his chin and up to a full bottom lip. Taking care of Yunho is something he could do in his sleep.
Their kiss is lazy and slow and just messy enough, Changmin licks into Yunho's mouth, stealing exhales, and Yunho pushes against Changmin as the heat ratchets up. Yunho's mouth is open and hungry, chasing Changmin back against the pillows as he pushes into the crux of Changmin's legs, grinding down just a little too rough, uncoordinated, and Changmin wants more. He shoves up to meet Yunho's rutting, eyes fluttering shut when Yunho slides a hand beneath his shirt.
