Addicted (3/16)
Chapter rating: PG-13
Pairing: Onew-centric, eventual Onew/Minho.
Chapter word count: 3052
Genre: Angst, later romance.
Summary: "Jinki has a pathological need to have someone, or multiple people between his legs, and generally inside of him." Fill for this prompt in the OnHo fic meme.
Warnings: Language and just general fucked-up-ness.
He feels ridiculously overdressed for a therapy appointment. Then again, he's not really familiar with the dress code for such occasions. Semi-formal? Casual? He wasn't exactly given an invitation spelling it out.
He shifts from foot to outside the door, still confused about protocol. If the room is set up like this, what does he do? And if it's set up another way? He's starting to psych himself out. It's not that big a deal, just open the door—
The door swings open on its own, a friendly female face popping out to smile at him. "Lee Jinki-ssi?"
"Um, yes."
"Please come in. Dr. Choi is waiting for you."
"Um, okay. How did you know—?"
"Dr. Choi told me he received a call from your friend. The one who referred you? Saying that you were kind of a do—shy. He told me to peek outside and see if you were here yet. And you are!" She leads him to her desk and hands him a clipboard and a pen. "If you could just fill out some preliminary information? And then you can head right in."
"Of course. Just, um, just out of curiosity, how much—?"
"The first appointment is always free. It's sort of a getting-to-know-you type of thing, and perhaps Dr. Choi isn't the best fit for your needs, so he might refer you to someone else who's better suited to help."
"Ah." Jinki doesn't have any other response to that, so he starts checking boxes and signing the papers in front of him. When he's finished, he returns everything to the cheerful secretary, who invites him to "go on in!", gesturing to the heavy oak door to his right. He bows and finds himself in a large room filled with books on shelves, two overstuffed armchairs, a desk and computer off to one side, and a familiar face.
"Should I call you Minho-ssi or Dr. Choi?"
Minho laughs. "Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Insisting on 'Dr. Choi' seems a bit silly."
"Speaking of which, this is a nice set up, especially for one of Kibum's friends. Just how old are you?"
"24."
"And you're already a doctor? What am I doing with my life?"
"I was homeschooled." Minho shrugs. "But this appointment is supposed to be about you." He shifts back in his chair and appraises Jinki, who suddenly feels more naked than the night Key and Minho found him in the bathroom. He sinks further into the depths of his chair and stares at his shoes.
"I... What do I talk about?" He's acutely aware of the ticking of a clock somewhere behind him.
"Anything. Everything. I'd ask you why you're here, but—" Another laugh, this one a little more awkward. "I already know about that."
"Yeah... Kibum said that you—that you were like me."
"I was."
"How—? Why—? What changed?"
"Are you my biographer? I wasn't planning on writing a memoir. Stop trying to deflect."
Jinki deflates, struck by the overwhelming urge to pacify Minho, to win himself back into the younger man's good graces. He bridges the gap between them and sinks to his knees in front of his therapist, hands reaching for the zipper of his pants. He's a good boy, he's not trying to deflect or pry or make anyone angry, he's just trying to be a good—
