Addicted (16/16)
Chapter rating: PG-13
Pairing: Onew-centric, eventual Onew/Minho.
Chapter word count: 2927
Genre: Angst, fluff, 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: None.
Jinki wakes up the next morning extremely sore and feeling like the luckiest man alive. He rolls over and snuggles deeper into Minho's neck, burying his cold nose in the warmth radiating from the still-sleeping man next to him. This is perfect, everything is perfect, why would he ever want to move from this spot? He has everything he needs right here.
There's a persistent ringing noise coming from the hallway and Jinki realizes that's what woke him up. "Minho," he mutters, nudging his head into the younger's chest.
"Shh." Lips brush against his hair as if that will make him go back to sleep.
"Minho, the phone's ringing."
"Mmf."
"Go answer it."
"It's probably Key."
"You mean he's not here?"
"I kicked him out. Said I'd call when he could...come...back..." The meaning of that sentence slowly sinks in.
"Shit," Minho hisses and leaps out of bed. Despite the panic he should rightly be feeling, Jinki can't help but admire the younger man's ass as it bounces down the hallway.
I'm lucky, he thinks with a small smile, burrowing back into the pillows.
"Of course we're dressed, Key, don't be ridiculous... I'm not lying!" He is, but Jinki rather likes the feel of the sheets against his naked skin. And he has a feeling that if Key knew exactly what he was wearing (nothing), he'd probably have an aneurysm. "Everything's fine. Do you want to talk to him? Would that make you feel better?" Minho's voice gets louder as the man returns. "Here he is, you vicious harpy."
Minho hands Jinki the phone as Key shrieks his outrage into the morning air. It's too early for this, Jinki mouths as he accepts the receiver.
Tell me about it. Minho rolls his eyes and slips back into bed, arms curling around Jinki's midriff.
"Hi, Kibum-ah."
"What the fuck is going on? I've tried calling you, like, a bajillion times! Do you know what time it is?"
"Early?"
"It's fucking one in the afternoon, hyung!" Jinki winces. "Where the fuck have you been?"
"Uh, here. At—at your apartment."
"And what exactly have you been doing?"
"Nothing!" The two men on the bed wince at the obvious guilt in Jinki's voice.
"Don't lie to me."
"It's true! Stop worrying. I bet you're just mad because you've been wearing the same thing since yesterday." It's a lame attempt at humor, but it derails Key's snowballing rage.
"I'm on my way there now and I swear to god, if there is so much as—"
"Got it, Kibum-ah, see you soon!" He quickly hangs up the phone.
"How much time do we have?" Minho asks in the solemn tone of a man who is about to die.
"Fifteen minutes?"
They survey Minho's bedroom. All in all, there's not too much damage, the most incriminating evidence being the sheets and the smell. They look at each other out of the corner of their eyes and burst into embarrassed laughter.
