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Mingi leaned against the wall, half-listening, half-laughing with Yunho and Hongjoong. It was Wooyoung's monthly party, something Mingi still couldn’t wrap his head around. Where Wooyoung found the time, energy, or cash to throw these things every four weeks was beyond him. Still, Mingi never complained. They were always worth coming to.
''And I told Hongjoong he wouldn’t make the jump,'' Yunho said, face red from drinking, grinning like a devil. Hongjoong was already swiping at him, too short to shut him up. Yunho ducked back, kept going anyway. ''And this stubborn fucker went right ahead, jumped across the stream and landed ass-first in the water.''
Mingi and Yunho broke out in loud, unrestrained laughter. Hongjoong smacked Yunho’s arm hard enough to sting. ''You fucker, you promised you wouldn’t tell!'' His voice was sharp, but his face only flushed deeper, not with anger but embarrassment.
''Fuck y’all, I’m finding Wooyoung,'' Hongjoong muttered, stomping off. Mingi and Yunho were still laughing as Mingi tipped back the rest of his beer, then gestured that he was off for another.
Four beers in, and he was pacing himself. He liked a buzz, but couldn’t afford to get sloppy, not when he was there with San.
San was a disaster when drunk. A lightweight, worse than most. If he drank too fast, he went straight from slurring gibberish to cackling like a fool, stumbling into walls unless someone held him up. Sit him down, and he’d pass out cold. But in that in-between stage, tipsy but not gone, he turned ravenous. Touchy. Clingy. Begging like a brat until Mingi either gave him what he wanted, his cock.
It was their routine, as predictable as clockwork. Mingi knew how the night would usually end: him dragging San out early, ignoring knowing looks, and fucking him quiet until he passed out.
But tonight Mingi wanted to stay. It was mid-August, the midnight heat mellowed into something bearable, the kind of summer night made for lingering until dawn. He wanted to drink too much, laugh too loud, pass out on their bed with San in his arms, and wake up hungover in the afternoon, ordering greasy food while they both groaned through headaches.
He stepped into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. Cool air washed over him as he reached for another beer, cracking it open quick with Wooyoung's opener. He tipped it to his mouth, took a long swallow.
Mingi lowered the bottle from his mouth, the sharp fizz of beer still burning his tongue, when a hand clamped the back of his neck and dragged him forward.
The kiss hit him like a collision. Lips crashing, teeth knocking, spit and beer spilling everywhere. The liquid still in his mouth sprayed out under the force of it, some of it bubbling over his own chin, the rest pushed straight into the other man's mouth as his tongue shoved past Mingi's lips without hesitation.
It was filthy, shameless, foam smeared across both their mouths as the man swallowed noisily, messy drips running down his throat. He didn’t care. He wanted it, every drop, licking into Mingi's mouth like he was starving for the bitter taste of beer and him combined.
The smell wrapped around Mingi instantly: that familiar mix of dry wood and herbs clinging to the man's skin, it was San. Mingi's free hand found San's waist without thinking, fingers digging into the exposed strip of skin where his sand-colored crop top rode up, nails pressing hard into soft flesh until San gasped against his lips.
San wore washed-out orange jeans that hung low on his hips, leaving just enough bare skin for Mingi to grab hold of. He arched into the touch, grinding closer, whimpering into Mingi's mouth as though he couldn’t stand even a second of distance.
Their tongues tangled, clashing, sliding, the stale taste of lukewarm beer coating everything. San moaned through it, high and desperate, chasing Mingi's mouth every time he shifted, sucking at his bottom lip until it stung. Foam still clung to the corner of his mouth, smeared by Mingi's lips when they crashed together again.
Mingi tried to pull back for air, but San wouldn’t let him. He followed, lips open, breath hot, licking after every trace of spit and beer as if he was trying to drink him dry. Mingi's chin was wet, slick with the mess, and San licked that too, groaning when Mingi's hand tightened possessively on his hip.
''S-San,'' Mingi managed between kisses, using the grip on his boyfriend’s waist to ease him back. San whined in protest, lips chasing after him, then settled on pouting up at him, glossy-eyed.
''Having fun, baby?'' Mingi asked, though he already knew the answer. He knew exactly what came next, what always came next.
San leaned forward, looping his arms around Mingi's waist, pressing his face right beneath his jaw, breathing him in. He hummed softly before putting on his sweetest voice, the one he knew made Mingi soften.
''I wanna go home, baby.''
His lips pressed gentle kisses along Mingi's throat, his hands sliding higher, dragging across Mingi's back muscles, clutching like he was already claiming him.
''It’s only midnight. Let’s stay.'' Mingi sighed. He loved San more than anything, but this… this was the one flaw he’d never stop bumping into. San got drunk, San got clingy, and San got unbearably horny. At first, Mingi had loved it, and had given in every time. But now, every night out ended the same way: cut short because San couldn’t wait.
San whined at the refusal, disappointed, he wasn't used to hearing no from him. His palms slid down, cupping Mingi's ass, kneading gently like he thought it might persuade him. But Mingi knew exactly what San's plans were if they went home, and he wasn’t about to give in so easily.
It wasn’t like their sex life depended on alcohol — they fucked plenty, and they always left each other satisfied. This was just San's drunk hunger making him impatient.
Mingi smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to San's forehead. ''Let’s stay, baby.''
San groaned, pulling away, sulking as he turned toward the living room. Just before disappearing back inside, he tilted his head, glancing at Mingi over his shoulder. That sulk had already twisted into a sly, mischievous smile curling at the edge of his lips. Trouble.
Mingi followed a minute later, leaning in the doorway, beer bottle halfway to his lips, watching. His eyes immediately found San across the room.
He was with a group of guys, three of them, laughing and drinking together on the couch. San had slid in far too close, one hand resting casually on a thigh that wasn’t his, the other brushing against a bicep as he leaned forward, laughing at something said. His crop top rode higher as he moved, flashing skin: his jeans slouched low, the line of his hips visible.
San was putting on a show and Mingi could see it instantly. That bratty streak had lit up behind his eyes the second he didn’t get his way, and now he was milking it.
And it was working.
One of the guys said something, and San threw his head back in a laugh too loud, too dramatic, his hand squeezing the guy’s thigh like he’d heard the funniest joke of the night. Another leaned closer to whisper in his ear, and San didn’t pull away — instead, he tilted his head, exposing his throat, lips curling in a coy little smirk as he hummed in agreement.
Mingi's jaw flexed. He told himself to let it go, to give San enough rope to play. But when San's palm slid higher on that thigh, brushing deliberately close, Mingi's knuckles went white around the neck of his bottle.
And San knew. Of course he knew, because as he leaned closer to the man beside him, San's eyes flicked across the room, straight to Mingi. His smirk widened. He held Mingi's stare as he touched someone else, daring him to react.
Heat burned through Mingi's chest, sharp and ugly. Every laugh, every flutter of San's lashes, every second of his skin brushing another man’s was calculated to hit him right where it hurt.
Mingi set his beer down on the counter with a hard clink and straightened to his full height. Enough.
He cut across the room in long strides. The group of men looked up as his shadow fell over them, but Mingi's eyes were only on San.
Without a word, he caught San by the wrist, yanked him up from the couch, and pulled him flush against his chest. San squeaked a laugh, pretending surprise, but the glint in his eyes was pure mischief.
''Excuse us,'' Mingi said tightly, already dragging San toward the sliding balcony door.
The sliding door slammed behind them, muting the bass thumping inside. The warm August night wrapped around them, crickets humming faintly under the distant chatter of the party.
Mingi shoved San hard against the balcony railing, the metal rattling under the force. He caged him in with his body, his hand gripping San's jaw tight enough to make him gasp.
''You think you’re funny, huh?'' Mingi snarled, nose brushing his. ''Acting like a slut in front of every guy in there? Touching them like that, laughing at their bullshit.''
San's lips parted in a gasp, half-shocked, half-thrilled. His eyes glittered with the same mischief as before, but his breath came faster.
''Answer me,'' Mingi snapped, squeezing his cheeks until his mouth puckered. ''You like being a fucking brat?''
San whined, trying to shake his head, but Mingi didn’t let him.
''Of course you do,'' Mingi spat, grinding his hips forward so San could feel the hard line pressing against him. ''You’re a goddamn whore for attention.''
A flush crept up San's neck, shame and arousal tangled together. His hands grabbed at Mingi's shirt, not to push him away, but to pull him closer.
''You want everyone to see you like this?'' Mingi's voice dropped to a growl, his lips at San's ear now, filthy words pouring straight into him. ''Bent over this railing, dripping for me while the whole party’s right inside. Like a filthy slut.''
San whimpered, eyes darting toward the door as if someone might walk out at any second. His cock strained against his jeans, betraying him.
Mingi smirked, dragging a hand down between them, cupping San through the denim, squeezing hard enough to make him gasp.
''Hard already. All I gotta do is call you a slut, and you’re leaking in your pants like a desperate little bitch.''
San whined again, louder this time, his knees buckling slightly. Mingi's grip only tightened, keeping him pinned against the railing, the sharp edge biting into his lower back.
Mingi's grip on San's jaw was unrelenting. His thumb pressed against his cheek, forcing his mouth open.
''Beg for it,'' Mingi ordered, voice low and hard. ''You wanted to act like a slut inside? Then beg me to use you.''
San whined, the sound breaking into a needy moan as his tongue curled against Mingi’s thumb. His eyes were wide, glassy, desperate.
''P-please, baby,'' he whispered, his voice trembling. ''Please, I’ll be good, I swear. I just- I need you, I need your dick.''
Mingi yanked his thumb free and slapped it across San's cheek, just enough sting to make him gasp.
''Get on your knees then, if you're such a needy slut,'' Mingi said through gritted teeth.
San dropped instantly, the air cold against his bare skin where his jeans rode low. His hands fumbled with Mingi's belt, tugging it open, zipper rasping loud in the quiet night. He shoved the jeans down just enough to free Mingi's cock, already heavy and half-hard, and without hesitation he leaned forward, swallowing it into his mouth.
Mingi groaned, one hand tangling in San's hair, the other braced on the railing. ''Oh f- god you’re a slut.''
San sucked sloppily, spit sliding down his chin almost immediately as he tried to force Mingi deeper. He gagged when the tip hit the back of his throat, coughing wetly around the length, strings of saliva dripping to the ground between his knees. He pulled back only to gasp for air before diving back down, sucking harder, lips stretched wide and red.
''Messy bitch,'' Mingi growled, thrusting shallowly into his mouth, holding him in place.
San whimpered around him, tears already brimming at the corners of his eyes, spit smeared across his chin and dripping onto his crop top. He tried to nod, tried to moan a yes, but it only came out as a gurgling sound around Mingi's cock.
Mingi pulled him off by the hair, a thick string of saliva still connecting them, San panting, lips swollen and wet.
''Stand up,'' Mingi ordered. His voice was rough, deep, hungry.
San obeyed, shaky on his legs, his face wrecked with spit and arousal. Mingi turned him with a rough shove, pressing him chest-first over the balcony railing. The metal dug into his stomach as Mingi kicked his feet apart, yanking his jeans down to his knees.
Mingi dragged a hand down his ass, spreading his cheeks wide. The night air hit San's exposed hole, making him shiver hard against the railing.
Instead of his fingers, Mingi dropped to his knees. His breath ghosted over San's rim before he spat, letting it drip down, then leaned in and pressed his tongue flat against him.
San jerked, a choked cry spilling out. ''F-fuck, baby— oh my god—''
Mingi licked slowly, dragging his tongue up and down, savoring the musky salt on his tongue, the faint bitterness of sweat, the raw heat of San's body. The rim twitched under him, the muscle clenching and relaxing as if it couldn’t decide whether to resist or let him in.
''You taste filthy,'' Mingi muttered against him before dragging his tongue hard across the tight ring, flattening it and scraping over the muscle until it twitched under him. The obscene sound of spit being smeared into him made San's whole body tremble.
''Don’t- don’t say that,'' San whined, but his hips pressed back into Mingi's face, hole fluttering against his tongue.
''Say what?'' Mingi smirked, licking in circles now, teasing the edge, tongue flicking against the sensitive rim until San was gasping like he was being fucked. ''That you taste like the slut you are?''
''B-baby- fuck, yes, yes—'' San's voice broke into high, desperate moans. His hands clawed at the railing, his knees threatening to buckle.
Mingi shoved his tongue deeper, breaching the tightness, pushing inside until the ring of muscle squeezed around him. The taste grew sharper, muskier, the heat overwhelming as he tongue-fucked him in short, filthy thrusts.
San nearly screamed, his head falling back. ''You’re- oh fuck- you’re—oh my god—''
Mingi growled into him, the vibrations making San squeal. He pulled back only to spit again, slicking him further, then shoved his tongue back inside with wet, squelching sounds. Spit dribbled down Mingi's chin, dripping messily onto San's thighs.
''Listen to that,'' Mingi murmured, pulling back just enough for the sloppy sounds to echo in the quiet night. ''You hear how wet you are?''
San's reply came out broken, almost sobbing. ''Please, don’t stop, don’t stop- fuck, I’ll be good, I swear, just don’t stop.''
Mingi gave him a few more filthy thrusts of his tongue, twisting inside him, savoring the way San's hole clenched around every push. Then finally, he pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
San whimpered at the loss, his rim glistening, twitching open, wet with spit.
Mingi smirked, rising to his feet and pressing his chest flush to San's back. One hand grabbed San's hip, the other slid down between his cheeks again. ''Open wide for me again.''
San obeyed instantly, arching, spreading himself for Mingi's hand.
Mingi spat into his palm, pressed a slick finger against that wet rim, and pushed inside. The muscle yielded easily, softened by his tongue.
San gasped, knuckles white on the railing, his back arching as Mingi pumped the finger in and out. The stretch was immediate, raw, filthy. Mingi added a second finger quickly, scissoring them inside, spreading him open.
''So fucking tight, baby'' Mingi hissed against his ear, curling his fingers just right to make San's knees buckle.
''Bet you’ve been clenching around nothing all night. Acting like a brat because you needed me to open you up. Is that it? Hm?''
San whined, pushing back against the fingers, his cock leaking against the railing. ''Y-yes, baby,'' he moaned, his voice breaking. ''Please, I need more, I’m your slut, I’ll always be your slut.''
Mingi's fingers drove into him steady and rough, two stretching him wide, scissoring hard enough that San's thighs trembled. Every thrust made slick sounds mixed with San's broken gasps, his chest pressed against the railing, his ass pushed back desperately for more.
''You’re squeezing me so tight,'' Mingi muttered, his lips at San's ear. ''Clenching down like your hole’s begging for me already. Can’t even wait, can you?.''
San moaned, the sound raw, his body twitching with every curl of Mingi's fingers. His voice cracked as he choked out, ''N-need more, please, baby, please—''
Mingi growled low in his throat and shoved in a third finger. The stretch ripped a cry from San's chest, his hips jerking forward, cock leaking against the railing. Mingi held him firm, pumping all three fingers inside, twisting and curling until San's legs nearly gave out.
''Fuck,'' Mingi hissed, watching his fingers disappear into him. ''You’re dripping around me like a fucking whore. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all night, huh? Couldn’t even enjoy the party without aching to get stuffed full.''
San sobbed out a broken moan, his voice thin with desperation. ''Y-yes, I need it, please, I need you—''
Mingi smirked, finally pulling his fingers out. San gasped at the sudden emptiness, his body clenching around nothing.
''Stay still,'' Mingi ordered, stepping back. He wrapped his spit-slick hand around his cock, stroking himself to hardness, the wet slap of skin echoing faintly in the night. His other hand pressed against San's back, keeping him bent over the railing.
San's head turned just enough, his voice a trembling whimper. ''B-baby—'' His eyes flicked down toward his own jeans, bunched at his knees. His finger shook as he pointed.
Mingi's brows furrowed, then followed the gesture. He shoved a hand into San's pocket and pulled out a small bottle of lube.
A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. He held it up where San could see.
''You fucking slut,'' Mingi snarled, shaking the bottle once. ''Carrying this around like you were expecting to get fucked tonight, huh?''
San whined, cheeks burning. ''I— I just—''
''Just what?'' Mingi cut him off, popping the cap with his teeth. He poured some into his palm, slicking his cock as he glared down at San's wrecked body. ''Just planning to get bent over no matter where we were? Desperate for cock, always ready, always wet. That it?''
San's whines turned into a keening moan, his hips pushing back in shameless invitation.
Mingi stroked his cock slow with the lube, slick sounds filling the silence. San's chest heaved against the railing, his cheek pressed flat, eyes squeezed shut as if he could hide from what was coming.
''No,'' Mingi said sharply, tugging his hair until San’s head tilted back. ''Look at me.''
San blinked through tears, lips trembling.
''Tell me why you had this,'' Mingi demanded, shaking the bottle in his fist.
San whimpered, voice breaking. ''B-because I knew— I knew I’d need it, baby. I knew I’d want you. I always want you— ''
Mingi leaned down, his lips brushing San's ear, his cock sliding against the crack of his ass, leaving slick trails. ''You came to this party knowing you’d end up on your knees or bent over something, begging for me to fuck you.''
''Yes,'' San sobbed, pushing back against him. ''Yes, I’m a slut, I can’t help it—''
Mingi chuckled darkly, lining himself up. ''Yeah you're right, you're a slut. Couldn’t even keep your hands off strangers inside because you were aching for me to use you.''
He pushed the head inside, the stretch making San cry out. Mingi held still, grinding the tip deeper inch by inch, forcing San to feel every bit.
''You feel that?'' Mingi growled against his neck. ''That’s what you were begging for. Not their hands. Not their attention. This.''
San's fingers clawed at the railing, knuckles white. ''Oh fuck—''
Mingi rocked in slow, relentless thrusts, driving himself deeper until his hips pressed flush to San's ass. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, grinding against him, making him take it.
''You happy now?'' Mingi asked, pulling out halfway before slamming back in. The railing shook under the force. ''Your hole’s so greedy it’s sucking me in.''
San's answer was a ragged moan, broken and desperate. His cock rubbed against the railing with every thrust, leaking mess down his stomach.
Mingi grabbed his hair again, yanking his head back. ''Say it. Say you love being my slut.''
''I- I love it,'' San cried, tears streaking down his face. ''Love being your slut, love when you fuck me—''
''Louder,'' Mingi snapped, pounding harder, each word punctuated with a thrust. ''Let the whole fucking party hear it.''
San screamed it this time, his voice carrying over the music muffled through the glass. His body shook with every thrust, his knees weak, his throat raw from moans and cries.
Mingi didn’t let up. He took his time, fucking San deep and steady, grinding at the base to drag out every sound, every sob. He switched between brutal, punishing thrusts and slow, grinding strokes that left San trembling, desperate for more.
Every time San started to sag forward, Mingi hauled him back up by the hair, forcing him to arch, forcing him to take more. His filthy talk never stopped, slut, brat, whore- each word laced with possessive heat.
''No one else gets to touch you,'' Mingi growled, lips pressed to San's ear as his hips slapped against his ass. ''No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.''
San sobbed his agreement, his body clenching around Mingi's length, cock dripping helplessly against the railing.
Mingi buried himself to the hilt again, grinding slow, his chest pressed to San's back, his breath hot against his ear. ''And I’m not done with you yet.''
Mingi set his pace deliberately cruel, slow, grinding thrusts that forced San to feel every inch as he slid out and back in, followed by sudden, sharp snaps of his hips that knocked the breath out of him.
San's chest pressed harder into the railing with every slam, the metal digging into his ribs, the cool bite of it contrasting the heat radiating off his skin. His cock rubbed raw against the railing, precum smearing across the surface, slicking it with every desperate jerk of his hips.
''You like being bent like a whore, moaning so loud everybody hears?'' Mingi rasped, his hand sliding down San's spine before landing on his ass with a loud crack.
''Should I let them see? Hm? Should I drag you back in there dripping with my come, show them what kind of slut you are?''
San shook his head frantically, his words breaking apart into a whine. ''N-no, please, only you— only for you, baby—''
Mingi smirked, his hips driving deeper, making San's back arch sharply. ''That’s right. Only for me. Say it again.''
''I’m your slut!'' San sobbed, voice cracking as he clenched tight around Mingi's cock. ''Yours, only yours, fuck—''
Mingi's hand tangled in his hair again, yanking his head back so their mouths nearly touched. He forced San to meet his eyes, even as tears streaked down his face.
''You begged me to take you home, and when I said no, you went and rubbed up on other men,'' Mingi growled, spit flecking his lips.
''And now look at you, on display, bent over a railing, spread wide and dripping for me. You’re lucky I don’t drag one of them out here and make you suck my cock in front of him.''
The thought made San's hole clench violently around him, and Mingi groaned. ''Oh, you like that?'' He thrust in hard, grinding his hips, stretching him until San was keening.
Mingi pulled out slowly, all the way to the head, holding San there empty and twitching. He slapped his cock against San's hole, teasing him, smearing lube and precome across his stretched rim.
San moaned, his legs trembling. ''Please, baby, don’t tease me, I need you.''
''You need me?'' Mingi mocked, pressing the head in shallowly before pulling out again. ''Then beg properly.''
San's voice broke into a desperate wail. ''Please fuck me, baby, please, I need your cock, I need to be full, I can’t take it— use me, ruin me, I’ll be your slut, just don’t stop—''
Mingi rewarded him with a brutal thrust, sinking back to the base, his balls slapping against San's ass. San screamed, his hands clawing at the railing for balance.
''That’s what I wanted to hear,'' Mingi gritted out, setting a relentless pace now, pistoning into him with sharp, brutal strokes. The balcony rattled under them, the railing creaking, San's moans spilling uncontrolled into the night.
Every thrust forced San forward, his cock grinding against the railing, leaving it slick with his desperation. His body was a mess, sweat dripping down his back, spit drying on his chin, tears smearing across his face. And still, he begged.
''More, baby, harder, please, I can take it, I swear-''
Mingi's hand pressed flat between his shoulder blades, pinning him down while his hips snapped mercilessly. ''I know you can take it, that’s what good sluts do.''
''Yes! Yes, I’m a slut!'' San cried, his whole body shuddering as he clenched tighter around Mingi with every word.
Mingi leaned down, his chest to San's back, lips brushing the shell of his ear. His voice was ragged, dangerous. ''And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk back into that party without everyone knowing what I did to you.''
Mingi's pace turned punishing. Each thrust slammed San harder into the railing, the metal groaning under the force. Sweat dripped from Mingi's brow onto San's back, his grip bruising tight around San's hips.
San's voice had gone ragged, his moans breaking into sobs that echoed into the night air. His cock ground mercilessly against the railing, smeared wet with his own precum, every stroke sending shocks through his body.
''Listen to yourself,'' Mingi snarled, fucking into him so deep San's toes curled in his sneakers. ''Crying for cock like you’ll die without it. You’re nothing but my slut.''
''Yes! Yours— yours—'' San sobbed, voice high and raw, tears streaking down his face. His body clenched tight, his hole milking Mingi's cock, pulling him deeper.
Mingi reached down, fisting San's cock roughly once, twice, just enough to set him off.
San screamed, the sound tearing out of his throat as his cock exploded against the railing. Hot spurts painted the metal, dripping down to the ground below, his whole body convulsing with the force of it. He sobbed through it, his knees buckling, but Mingi held him up, still driving into him.
''Good boy,'' Mingi growled into his ear. ''Coming from just being used.''
San could barely breathe, body shuddering, but Mingi wasn’t finished. He fucked him through his orgasm, hips slamming harder, using the slick mess of lube and spit until his own rhythm stuttered.
With a guttural groan, Mingi buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing deep inside as he came hard. His grip on San's hips was bruising, his breath hot and ragged against San's neck as he emptied into him.
For a long moment, the only sounds were San's broken whimpers and the wet slap of Mingi's cock grinding inside him, forcing every last drop deeper.
Mingi finally pulled out, giving San's ass a sharp slap that made him jolt and whimper. He tucked himself back into his jeans, buckled his belt with practiced ease, then crouched down to haul San's own pants back up.
''Stand still,'' Mingi muttered, buttoning San's fly for him when his boyfriend’s shaky hands couldn’t manage. San's crop top was twisted, his hair a mess, his lips swollen and spit-slick. He looked ruined, and Mingi couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at his mouth as he smoothed San's shirt down, trying to make him at least look presentable.
''Good enough,'' Mingi said, brushing his thumb over San's cheek where a tear streak still lingered. San just blinked up at him, glassy-eyed, wrecked, his whole expression hazy and fucked-out.
Mingi laced their fingers together and tugged him toward the door. San stumbled but followed, leaning against him for support.
The moment they stepped back inside, the heat and noise of the party swallowed them again. The bass rattled through the floor, laughter loud, the smell of beer and sweat heavy in the air. A few heads turned as they passed. Mingi caught the smirks, quick glances up and down, raised brows, little knowing grins from partygoers who didn’t bother to hide that they knew exactly where the two of them had disappeared to.
Mingi ignored them, tightening his grip on San's hand as he led him through the crowd and down onto a couch where Hongjoong, Yunho, and Wooyoung were sprawled. San sank into the cushions instantly, head lolling against the back, eyes half-lidded but with a faint smile tugging at his lips.
''Stay,'' Mingi murmured, brushing San's hair back before stepping away. He wove through the kitchen crowd, grabbing a glass, filling it with water for San before snagging another beer for himself.
The fridge door closed with a thump, and that’s when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. Mingi turned, only to find Wooyoung standing there, his expression sour.
''I’m not fucking cleaning up the cum you left outside,'' Wooyoung said flatly, voice pitched low enough not to draw attention. Then, without waiting for a response, he stormed off back to the living room, muttering under his breath.
Mingi just smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as Wooyoung walked off in a huff. He rolled his shoulders, the tension bleeding out of them now that the edge of his jealousy had been burned away outside on the balcony.
He reached for the opener on the counter, flipping it lazily in his hand before pressing it to the cap of the cold bottle. The sharp hiss and pop of the seal breaking sounded loud to him over the muted hum of voices and music. He took his time, enjoying the simple ritual, the smooth slide of glass against his palm, the faint mist of condensation cooling his fingers.
For the first time that night, he felt settled. Satisfied. His brat was wrecked and tucked safely onto a couch, marked inside and out in ways only he’d know. The tension that had been knotting in his chest since San's little performance in the living room was gone, replaced by a heavy warmth in his stomach and the smug calm of a man who knew exactly where he stood.
He lifted the bottle to his lips, took a long swallow, and exhaled slowly through his nose. A soft chuckle escaped him as he set the opener down with a clink. Wooyoung could fume all he wanted; Mingi didn’t care. He’d gotten what he wanted, and San had gotten what he needed.
And now? Now he could stay. He could drink a little more, soak in the easy chatter, and watch his boyfriend melt against the cushions, still flushed and glassy-eyed, completely wrecked but all his.
For the first time, Mingi didn't have to leave early.