Into the Hornet's Nest

9

          After watching Han happily eat the food Minho made for them, Han excused himself to shower. Minho told him he'd bring the clothes into the bathroom, trying his best to not run and search for options. Considering Han still has to go home, Minho decides to have mercy on him no matter how desperately he wants to have him wearing a half-sheer shirt Minho frequently chooses for the occasional night out. Minho wants to imagine how he would look in it, but he quickly shoves the thought from his mind. Instead, he picks out a smaller pair of fake leather pants, which fit a bit tight to him but he's assuming they will fit Han nicely. He clasps the chain onto them, making sure all the extras are involved with the outfit. He rustles through shirts, finding an older one he's kept mostly for memories considering it doesn't fit him anymore. It may even form fit Han, and Minho is far from opposed to the concept. It's a shirt he often pairs with a particular jacket, so he pulls that out as well. It's very Minho, and he couldn't be happier about it. He rushes to bring them to the bathroom, tapping a knuckle twice on the door. When he hears the okay, Minho steps in and sets them down on the counter. He stares at the drawn curtain, swallowing thickly at the sudden dryness in his throat. He knows Han is naked behind it, he knows that one pull of the curtain would allow him to see. He doesn't, but he'd be lying if he didn't say he was tempted. 

           "Clothes are on the counter," Minho chokes out, Han acknowledging him before Minho quietly leaves and closes the door behind him. It's been what, two weeks? Two weeks and he already feels like this? Minho huffs, bringing himself back upstairs to find an outfit for himself. He decides to dress similarly to how he had dressed Han, just in case the boy has any suspicions about the tight fitting outfit.
          After dressing himself and walking back toward the living room, Han emerges with a towel around his neck and still damp hair. Minho nearly loses his breath, Han looking far better than he could've imagined. Minho stares at him, Han looking at him rather sheepishly. Han must be able to see how badly Minho wants to approach him, to comment about the way it fits or how desperately he wants to hold onto the normally hidden figure. Han must know, right? That has to be why he's coming closer, a smug smile on his lips. Minho tries to stop looking, tries to stop fidgeting with the chain on his own pants as a substitute for Han's. He doesn't know what he expects, but for Han to push him back onto the couch and plant himself in his lap is not it. Yet, here they are. Instinctively, Minho's hands hold Han's thighs. Han's arms are looped around Minho's neck, their faces far too close for Minho to not glance at Han's mouth, which is upturned in a devilish grin. He definitely knows.
          "What's this for?" Minho asks dumbly, doing his best to not move around beneath Han. Han says something in response, Minho too focussed on the feeling of thick thighs pressed tightly on his sides to really pay attention. Minho blinks, asking him to repeat what he said.
"I wanted to," Han sighs dramatically, puppy eyes making an appearance as he pouts. "You got to hold me earlier." Han states as an explanation, cozying himself on Minho's lap.
          "I'm still holding you, now," Minho says, tilting his head a bit to emphasize his weak attempt at sassing him. Han hums, shrugging.
          "But this time I started it." He smiles widely, throwing his head into the space between Minho's ear and shoulder, rubbing his wet hair along Minho's skin and shirt. The action makes Minho pull away, whining about his clothes getting wet and inadvertently tightening his grip on Han. Han stops for a moment, resting his forehead on Minho's collarbone. Minho is nervous, partially because of the idea that he may have hurt Han and partially because Han can be a conniving little shit when he wants to be. Han silently moves one of Minho's hands to fit snugly beneath his hip bone, Minho's fingers wrapping around dangerously close to where Han's (admittedly nice) ass begins to curve outward while his thumb is pressed into the soft, plush skin right where his leg is bent. Minho tries not to think about it. He definitely doesn't think about the position they're in, or how perfectly Han fits in his hands. He would never imagine the many scenarios he could hold Han like this, and absolutely none of them are vulgar thoughts. Nope. 

          Minho lets out a shaky breath, unsure of Han's evil plan. Sure, maybe Minho had made it obvious that he liked what he saw. Maybe he hadn't meant to, but this was absolutely not the outcome he expected from it. Han moves his other hand to a similar position, only this one a bit higher so that only the tip of his thumb dips into the tight fitted shirt and presses against skin that has no business being that soft. Minho likes to think that the tiny noise from Han is all in his head, keeping his hands where they are placed and not doing much else while Han's head is still hanging between them. They sit like this for a moment, Minho able to calm himself down a bit until he feels a small but sharp sting on his clothed collarbone. He hisses at the unexpected pain, gripping Han tightly in response without thinking. Minho definitely isn't imagining the small sound Han makes, Han's breath definitely changing into a small pant against his already heating up body. Minho wants to throw him off, knowing that anything more will result in a rather embarrassing moment once Han moves too much or steps off of him. So, Minho loosens his grip, letting his head rest back against the couch while he wills himself to think about the least sexy things he can imagine. Maybe he's trying to get back at him for this morning. Yeah, that's a Han thing to do.
          Han tries to scoot a bit closer, Minho using his thumbs to press him away and keep him from where Minho honestly would like him to be. Since he isn't about to admit it by letting it happen, he presses harshly into the boy above him. Han isn't deterred, trying again to get a bit closer before near whimpering at the amount of force below his hips. Minho clenches his jaw and tries to pretend like it didn't happen.
          "Han Jisung." Minho says, keeping his voice as firm as he can. "What are you doing?"
          "Nothing, hyung." Han says smoothly other than the airy tone. Minho wishes that were the truth, hating how easily Han is getting his way and how he honestly doesn't really mind it. He should mind, shouldn't he? With his eyes shut, jaw clenched and head still resting on the back of the couch, Minho thinks he honestly should have expected it. He thinks he should be nowhere near as shocked as he is to feel a small kiss placed on his easily accessible neck. The small, lingering sensation of Han's kiss makes him grip the poor boy's hips until his knuckles turn pale, Han groaning in what Minho can't differentiate between enjoyment or discomfort. Once Minho's grip loosens and he's just about ready to tackle the boy onto the floor and flick the center of his forehead for all of this, Minho feels another kiss. When he doesn't react the same way, Han decides it best to skip over the small pecks he had been giving and land an open mouthed kiss directly below Minho's jaw. Minho doesn't mean to tilt his head, doesn't mean to breathe out an airy moan but he does. Much to his dismay, it's apparently not the reaction Han had wanted. Han starts to suck a bruise onto his skin, Minho once again gripping him as if his life depended on it. It makes Han let go of his neck, gasping a bit at the harsh way Minho is holding him while his hips buck forward even under the intense pressure. Oh, this is what he wanted. 

          Both boys stop, flushed and trying to collect themselves. While he has the chance, Minho flips them to press Han into the couch. Han's eyes are wide, but Minho's are burning.
"I didn't do that to you." Minho says, sounding almost genuinely angry. Han stutters out an apology, whining quietly as his hips are pressed harder into the surface beneath him. "This is what you wanted, right?" Minho asks rhetorically, looming over Han's crumpled form. Han nods twice, looking away and cursing under his breath when Minho leans most of his weight into Han's hips. "You just wanted to be held down." Minho growls, pushing hard once for emphasis and once more because he kind of enjoys the look of Han beneath him. Han nods again, muttering more variations of I'm sorry. Minho hums, a cocky smile playing on his lips when he sees how flustered he's gotten him. "Ask next time." Minho says, pulling fully away from Han and smirking when he sees Han cover himself with a pillow as he walks away to the bathroom. Things just got interesting.

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Say it with me, y'all: Han's a Tease