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Snap. Whoosh. Flash.
Yunho is flirting. He’s showing off to the stranger standing next to him at the bar as he waits for their drinks, and Mingi can’t quite extinguish the jealousy that flares in his chest at the sight of the small flash of flame that vanishes from Yunho’s fingertips almost as quickly as it appears.
The stranger’s lips part in a gasp and then spread into an awed smile, Yunho smirks back at him, and Mingi’s hand clenches into a fist under the table.
Mingi loves magic. He always has. He's no good at sleight of hand or misdirection or whatever makes stage magicians so good at what they do, but it fascinates him.
Opposite to most magic fans, Mingi has grown out of the phase of wanting to know the secrets rather than into it. He doesn't want to see the trap door where the lady waits when she's supposed to disappear or the mirrors that hide the tiger from the audience. He likes that the magician keeps his tricks behind curtains and walls of smoke. To Mingi, that's what makes magic magical.
He does know some of the secrets, of course. He had wanted to be a magician himself at one point, so he's learned how a few of the tricks are performed. As much as he hopes to see real magic someday, he knows that when it comes to magic, there's a trick behind every trick.
He no longer seeks the answers, but he's pretty good at pointing out when a magician fails to hide the secrets, when Mingi can see them palming a card or coin or when the dimensions of a box are wrong due to the addition of a false back. He's generally happy to be fooled by magic.
Yunho is the first person who ever truly made Mingi feel that his magic might be real. He has his fire trick, of course, and also the uncanny ability to make objects seemingly appear out of thin air, though Mingi attributes that to the size of his hands. He can palm objects that are simply too large for others to hide. Like whole coffee cups.
They were just teenagers, sixteen or so. Yunho’s cheeks were more round then, youthful and very cute. He was charming, handsome, a little cocky, and Mingi completely fell for him.
“Wanna see something cool?” Yunho said, and he snapped his fingers and fire appeared. Mingi jumped back, clutching at his chest, but after his heart recovered from its momentary stutter he leaned in to inspect Yunho’s fingers.
“Do it again,” Mingi insisted.
Yunho shook his head. “One per customer,” he teased, and then Mingi knew. It wasn’t real magic. It was a trick, some kind of substance on Yunho’s fingers that ignited with friction and burned off nearly instantly without leaving any trace.
And here they are nearly ten years later, and Yunho is using his “magic” to pick up pretty guys at bars.
Yunho has performed his fire trick in front of Mingi several dozen times, and while Mingi has an idea of how he does it, he's never seen proof. He's never found flash paper in Yunho’s pockets or any kind of quick burning accelerant lying around the apartment. He also doesn’t go looking for those things, but he knows it’s not real, so Yunho must be hiding something somewhere.
Mingi grits his teeth as he watches Yunho’s lips deliver the same teasing line to the stranger. One per customer. He jerks when he feels someone kick his shin just as the stranger pouts up at Yunho.
“What?” he asks when he looks across the table at Seonghwa.
“You’re glaring,” Seonghwa tells him. “That’s how you get wrinkles.”
Mingi tries to fix his face. He relaxes his fist and spreads his fingers against his thigh. He even attempts a calm, nonchalant smile that he thinks he almost pulls off, but his eyes might be set in a permanent scowl by now.
Yunho arrives back at the table with drinks, the stranger tagging along behind him. Significantly smaller than Yunho, with shorter blonde hair that’s styled up and back from his forehead, he smiles at Mingi and Seonghwa as Yunho introduces him.
“Everyone, this is Hongjoong. Hongjoong, everyone.”
“Dibbs,” Seonghwa mutters before slapping a hand over his own mouth. “Sorry, I mean… Maybe I don’t need another drink.”
“Drink,” Yunho insists, handing over one of the four shot glasses he’s managed to fit into one massive hand, and then he nudges Hongjoong toward the empty seat next to Seonghwa and slides into the other side of the booth with Mingi. He passes one of the remaining glasses to Mingi, and then one to his new friend Hongjoong. Then he clinks his own glass against Mingi’s and winks at him before downing it.
They place their glasses back on the table, and Seonghwa tries to return to the conversation they were having when Yunho left for the bar. Something about the environment and destruction of fragile ecosystems in parts of the planet that Mingi has never seen. Rainforests and glaciers. Global warming. Mingi was bored with it before Yunho left, and it’s no more interesting now.
Not that Mingi doesn’t care about the environment, but watching Seonghwa unintentionally flirt with a now-captivated Hongjoong is far more interesting than whatever words he’s actually saying.
Hongjoong is almost completely engrossed in Seonghwa’s words. He doesn’t add to the conversation, letting Seonghwa go on his little rant and only nodding along. His eyes flick between Seonghwa’s face and Yunho’s hands, like he’s waiting to see that fire again, but Mingi knows it won’t happen.
Yunho is very strict about that one per customer rule. He’s used up all of his flash paper or whatever, Mingi thinks, but it’s not that. Mingi has seen him do the fire trick multiple times on a night out, but never twice for the same person. He’s never done it again specifically for Mingi, despite their nearly decade-long friendship. The only time Mingi gets to see it is when Yunho is performing for someone new.
Eventually Hongjoong does lose interest in Yunho. Seonghwa changes the subject to fashion, and Hongjoong absolutely lights up. Yunho nudges Mingi and gestures that they should go, and they sneak out completely undetected, exiting the bar with Yunho laughing about what a good matchmaker he is.
Mingi suspects the goal was never to set Seonghwa up but for Yunho to bag the pretty boy for himself, but either way, Hongjoong is still in the bar with Seonghwa and Yunho is outside with Mingi. Just as it should be, in Mingi’s opinion.
They make it all the way back to their shared apartment before Seonghwa sends a panicked text to their group chat asking where they’ve disappeared to. Yunho simply tells Seonghwa to “use protection” and leaves it to Mingi to verify that they’re home safe and Seonghwa is on his own to get to someone’s home tonight.
“I’m going to bed,” Mingi tells Yunho, waving as he heads off towards their bedrooms.
He’s already stripping out of his going out clothes by the time he reaches his door, not even bothering with the laundry basket in the corner, just leaving them on the floor as he goes. He pulls a clean t-shirt over his head, and he’s about to crawl under the covers when he realizes he should probably have some water for when he inevitably wakes up in the middle of the night with a mouth as dry as the Sahara.
After a quick stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, which he would have skipped if he hadn’t already been out of his room (screw dental health, it’s been a long night), he shuffles quietly back through the living room to find the couch practically ablaze.
“What the fuck!”
Mingi panics. He can’t remember where the fire extinguisher is, but as he scrambles to find it, frantically opening kitchen cabinets and wondering if they actually have one at all, Yunho grabs his shoulders to stop him.
“Shit, Mingi, don’t freak out. Stop freaking out! Calm down, it’s safe. Jeez, will you please chill! Look, it’s okay. No fire. See?”
Mingi finally catches sight of the couch again, fully intact and no longer on fire. There’s not a single scorch mark or speck of soot. There’s not even any smoke.
“What the fuck?” he says again.
“It’s just magic, Mingi. Just a little magic. Like the stuff I do at the bars only… bigger.”
Bigger. Bigger!?
Mingi wouldn’t call this “a little magic” at all. He’d call this huge!
“It’s safe,” Yunho tries to explain. “I have complete control of it.”
“What do you mean, it’s safe? It’s fucking fire, Yunho. You can’t control fire. Fire is unpredictable. You could have burned the whole building down!”
“Never.” Yunho is adamant. “It’s not even hot, and it stays exactly where I tell it to.”
Mingi can’t comprehend Yunho’s argument here. It’s still fire. Fire is hot. It’s dangerous. Mingi needs to sit down.
He pushes past Yunho, stumbling toward the couch. It’s only after he’s sitting that it occurs to him that just minutes ago this spot was practically an inferno.
“I need some water,” Mingi says, glancing around to check for any remaining flickers of flame.
“Right, water,” Yunho nods, and he hands Mingi a glass. “Anything else? Are you… do you want to talk about this? We can wait until you’ve calmed down or slept, or-”
“Now,” Mingi insists, taking a large gulp of his water and setting it aside. “You explain now.”
“Yes, now, okay,” Yunho agrees, sitting on the other end of the couch and tucking his large frame between the back cushions and the arm in the smallest ball he can manage. “So… Tada?”
Mingi stares at him. The nervous smile slips from Yunho’s face, and he sighs.
“I don’t understand why this is so surprising. It’s not like I’ve been hiding this. You’ve seen me do it so many times.” To emphasize his point, he snaps his fingers and a whoosh of flame flares for a moment before disappearing again.
Instead of excitement at seeing the trick again, performed just for him, all Mingi feels is fear. He startles and flinches away from Yunho.
“No, shit. I’m sorry. That was a mistake. I should have warned you first. Here, let me do it again. Slower. Watch closely this time.”
Mingi prepares himself for the quick flash, leaning away but trying to keep his eyes open. Only, it’s not a quick flash. Yunho snaps, and as the flames erupt above his hand, the fire lingers, flickering in slow motion.
“I can touch it, see?” Yunho demonstrates by letting his other hand hover right in the center of the fire for several seconds. “It isn’t hot. It’s not consuming anything, not even the air in the room. It’s not real fire, just an illusion. Kind of like a hologram.”
“But-”
“How?” Yunho cuts him off. “I’ve told you before. Magic.”
Except Mingi knows better. “What’s the trick to the trick?”
Even as he wonders, the fire continues burning, floating an inch or so above Yunho’s fingers. There’s no way this is a trick. Flash paper and quick burning accelerants would have burned away long before now, and Mingi has never seen a fire move so slowly.
“It’s not a trick, Mingi. It’s real magic. No smoke or mirrors, just my mind. Or my heart, or something. I’m not really sure how it works, I just know I’m making this happen. I’m controlling it. Watch.”
Yunho slowly unfurls his fingers so that the fire sits directly in his palm, then he brings his other hand over to cover the flames. The fire shrinks down as Yunho’s hands come together and disappears completely when his palms touch.
“I’ve told you before,” Yunho repeats, and he sounds sad. “I’ve showed you before. You just never believed me because you’re so stuck on trick magic. I’m not a magician, Mingi. I’m a witch.”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” Mingi mutters. “You never said the word magic. All you’ve ever said about it is, ‘One per customer.’”
Silence stretches between them. Mingi can’t help feeling like Yunho has been lying to him all this time. Since the day they met. Lying and hiding things. It hurts to think that maybe Yunho felt he couldn’t trust Mingi enough to just tell him the truth.
“Well…” Yunho finally says, “I can’t tell everyone I meet. How many witches do you know? Just one, me. I never said the fire was a trick, either. I thought someone like you, so… enamored with magic, would know it was real.”
“You shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Mingi, you can spot a fake magician better than anyone I know. How many magic shows have we been to where you spend the whole time telling me everything the magician was doing and what he did wrong?”
“It’s different,” Mingi shrugs. “I can’t spot the difference between real magic and a really good illusion.”
“I can prove mine is real.”
Mingi doesn’t need more proof. He believes Yunho. Even if he didn’t, the fire was enough, and honestly, he’s no longer sure he wants to see any more fire. But Yunho’s proof is not more fire. Yunho holds his hand out, palm facing the ceiling, and right there in front of Mingi’s eyes a glass of water materializes.
Mingi glances at the table where he’d placed his glass. It’s gone. Well, not gone, but balanced on Yunho’s hand.
“Do it again,” Mingi insists. He expects the usual response, but Yunho smiles at him and sets the glass aside. Hand now empty, holds it out again and closes his eyes.
This time a ring appears. The white gold band of celtic knots that, up until just a moment ago, was on Mingi’s right middle finger.
“Here,” Yunho says, offering it back to Mingi.
“That’s a fun one. You do it a lot, don’t you.”
“Right in front of your eyes,” Yunho laughs. “It’s how I got you the water when you were freaking out. You have to see how I thought you knew. It’s not like I was really hiding it.”
It’s true. Yunho has been doing magic right in front of Mingi all this time. Every time Mingi forgets something at home and Yunho retrieves it far faster than he should be able to, it’s magic. Every time they need a towel to mop up a spill and Yunho just happens to have one in his hand, magic.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” Mingi says, shaking his head. “I’m so oblivious.”
“You really are,” Yunho agrees. “You haven’t even noticed how much I like you.”
“Shut up.” This has all been a lot, the whole night. Mingi is too tired for another revelation, or worse, more teasing.
“I won’t.”
“But every time we go out, every time you meet some pretty guy, you do your fire thing and-”
“And I end up coming home with you. Have you ever seen me bring home some pretty guy? Or go home with them?”
He hasn’t. Admittedly, Mingi doesn’t always stick around to see what happens. Most of the time he’s asleep when Yunho returns and gone before Yunho wakes up, but he’s certainly never bumped into any strangers in the apartment the morning after. In fact, since they moved in together after college, Mingi has never known Yunho to go on any dates. Not even casually.
“You really were trying to set up Seonghwa and Hongjoong,” Mingi says.
“I saw Hongjoong eyeing him from the bar. I didn’t think he needed any incentive to join us other than Seonghwa, but I thought it couldn’t hurt. The fire thing is fun to do.”
“Then why only do it once per person?”
Yunho shrugs. “The more I do it, the harder it is to convince someone it’s not real, and I’m not interested in explaining the existence of magic to strangers.”
“Or friends, apparently.”
“I’m explaining it now, and I’m hoping we can finally be more than friends. If you feel the same about me, which I’m pretty sure you do. I’m not nearly as oblivious as you are.”
“Maybe.” Mingi is not great at hiding his feelings. Yunho wouldn’t even have to be especially observant to notice Mingi’s jealousy when Yunho flirts with other guys. Not to mention all the times Mingi has admitted to wanting Yunho to pay more attention to him, that he feels neglected when Yunho spends more time with their other friends. “Okay, yes.”
“In that case, you should probably know my magic is not just fire and teleportation.” Yunho almost seems a little shy as he says this. His cheeks are pink, his ears fuchsia, but the grin on his face is suggestive. Suddenly Mingi is nervous.
“What do you mean? What else can you do?”
“Should I tell you, or should I show you?”
Mingi gasps as he feels a hand on his leg, a hand that doesn't exist. It's warm, a palm resting over his knee, long fingers extending up his thigh, and a thumb curved around the back of his leg. He can still see Yunho at the other end of the couch, and Yunho doesn't move except to tilt his head to one side as the invisible hand slides along Mingi's bare skin, up his thigh to tease at the hem of his boxers.
“What is that?” Mingi asks. The tremor in his voice is not a sign of fear, and he can tell Yunho knows it.
“Oh, you know, just sharing some of my thoughts with you. I can't do the whole telepathy thing. I can’t read your mind or transmit words to you. Do you want me to stop?”
Mingi shakes his head. He doesn't trust his voice anymore, not when a second hand has joined the first, fingers massaging his thigh muscles. It feels amazing. He closes his eyes to enjoy it but then thinks better of it. Part of the fun of this experience is the fact that Yunho is using magic to touch him, and how can he enjoy that if he isn’t watching Yunho sitting several feet away from him?
“Tell me if you change your mind.”
“Mhmmmmm.” It sounds far more like a moan than Mingi would like to admit, but he can’t help it when he feels lips pressing against his neck. It must be lips. Both of the imaginary hands are busy with his thighs.
“I can’t move you like this,” Yunho whispers as Mingi tilts his head back. “I can only make you feel what I'm imagining and encourage you with my touch.”
Mingi understands. A little more pressure on his inner thigh has him spreading his legs. The hands slide up further, fingers slipping under his boxers now. He’s tempted to kick them off, but he realizes it’s unnecessary when one hand makes its way around to the back of his leg and up to squeeze his ass. If the couch cushion and his own weight on it aren’t hindering Yunho’s magic, then clothes shouldn’t be a problem.
“You have no idea how frustrating this is for me,” Yunho tells him. The one hand abandons Mingi’s ass and moves to his arm, squeezing at his bicep as the lips move down his neck to his shoulder. “You can feel me, but for me, it’s all in my head.”
“No one is stopping you from coming over here.”
Yunho pauses, both hands and the lips stilling where they are.
“You don’t want to cum like this?”
It’s a tempting suggestion, cum by magic, but Mingi has been waiting almost ten years for Yunho to touch him like this, and technically he’s still waiting. They could be making out right now, Mingi in Yunho’s lap, fingers tangled in each other’s hair.
“No one is stopping me from coming over there, either,” he says, pushing himself onto his knees so he can crawl across the couch to Yunho.
He braces himself on Yunho’s shoulders and straddles his thighs. They’re face to face, closer than they’ve ever been. Mingi wants to kiss him, but he can still feel the hands, four hands. Magical hands on his arm and leg, and Yunho’s real hands resting on his hips. It’s disorienting.
“I want you to stop,” he whispers. “The magic, make it stop.”
Immediately the magical hands disappear. Yunho’s face is unreadable. Mingi feels like he’s offended Yunho, but he can’t tell.
“Sorry, I got overwhelmed. I just want to feel you.”
Yunho smiles up at him, a soft, adoring smile. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. You’re in control.”
Mingi knows exactly what he wants. Leaning down, he brings their lips together. He doesn’t rush it, savoring a few sweet, gentle pecks before going further. He places a hand on Yunho’s neck and nips at his lower lip, asking for more.
True to his word, Yunho lets Mingi lead. Mingi feels Yunho smile against his mouth before his lips part and Mingi’s tongue dips into his mouth, tentatively exploring. Yunho’s thumbs stroke at Mingi’s hip bones, and his fingers twitch against the soft flesh of Mingi’s ass.
Mingi almost wishes he’d taken his boxers off when he thought of it before, but Yunho doesn’t seem in any hurry to undress him. They’ll get there eventually. This is perfect for now.
Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, Mingi slides his fingers into Yunho’s hair, his palm resting against the side of Yunho’s neck. Yunho whines as Mingi shifts his weight, and for the first time Mingi realizes how hard they both are.
It’s not surprising. Mingi knows where this is leading, where he wants it to lead. It just didn’t seem to matter before, and now that he’s noticed, it does matter. He drops his other hand from Yunho’s shoulder, touching himself first, over his boxers, and then Yunho through his jeans. Yunho’s hips jolt upwards, just once, but it’s enough to knock them out of their kiss, both of them gasping in surprise.
“Sorry,” Mingi says. He’s out of breath even though they’ve barely done anything yet.
“No, it’s good, baby,” Yunho assures him. “You can touch me if you want. Or you can touch yourself. Or-”
“I want less clothes.”
Yunho huffs a laugh through his nose. “For that you might have to move.”
Right, move. He’s a little wobbly as he stands, but Yunho steadies him and moves to stand himself.
“We can go to my bedroom, if you want,” Yunho suggests. “Or your bedroom. A bedroom. This might be nicer on an actual bed.”
“It’s nice already,” Mingi says. “But yes, a bed would be nicer. The sooner the better.”
Taking Yunho’s hand, Mingi leads him to a bedroom, Yunho’s bedroom. Mingi doesn’t come in here often. If they hang out, it’s in the common areas of the apartment, so he takes a moment to admire Yunho’s decorating.
The walls are the same beige as the rest of the apartment, but Yunho has added several floating shelves and adorned the walls with framed fanart of his favorite anime and video game characters. There are also a few photographs mixed in, pictures of their friends and of Yunho and Mingi themselves.
Mingi has never seen most of these pictures, but he remembers them being taken. A picture of them at the beach, celebrating San’s birthday. Everyone in swim trunks, their hair wet and skin sprinkled with sand. Only the side of Yunho’s face is visible, his head turned toward a very smiley Mingi.
Another of them all doing a shot together at a bar after Yeosang’s graduation. Yeosang is still wearing his graduation gown and holding a cake. Yunho’s head is down, eyes cut to the side, toward Mingi again. There’s a soft grin on his face
One more of Yunho and Mingi eating lunch together in the grass on the campus courtyard. A bright, sunny day in the photograph, but Mingi remembers it was autumn and cold. Their cheeks are pink, their hair windswept, and just like Mingi noticed in the other two pictures, Yunho isn't looking at the camera. He's always looking at Mingi.
He's looking at Mingi with so much adoration, like Mingi is something precious and Yunho can't tear his eyes away from the sight of him.
“That one's my favorite,” Yunho says, hooking his chin over Mingi's shoulder. “See your smile?”
“You shared your lunch with me and told me it was okay to skip that horrible POLI-SCI class just once. Shit, I really have been oblivious, haven’t I?”
“Mmm, it’s okay,” Yunho assures him. Tugging the sleeve of Mingi’s shirt so that it slips down his shoulder, Yunho leaves a line of small kisses down his neck. “I always knew you weren’t going anywhere. You look at me the same way, see?”
Yunho turns them so Mingi can see the photo on the bedside table, and it’s true. They’re teenagers in this one, maybe seventeen, standing in front of the first car Yunho ever owned. Yunho has his arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder, and they’re both smiling, genuine smiles of real happiness. And Mingi is looking at Yunho, looking at him like Yunho is his entire world.
“Come on, these pants are getting uncomfortably tight. At least help me catch up to you.”
Mingi obliges, taking one more moment to look at their younger selves before turning to push Yunho’s denim jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. The pants go next, jeans hastily unbuttoned and unzipped. They drop to the floor at his feet, and Mingi gasps as he steps out of them, moving closer to Mingi, guiding him back toward the bed.
One of the magic hands returns, gently cradling Mingi’s cheek as Yunho’s real hands circle his waist to keep him from falling on the bed. Mingi leans into the magic now. His heart flutters like hummingbird wings when Yunho kisses him, and he’s not sure whether the room is really spinning as he’s gently lowered onto the mattress or if it’s just the excitement of the moment making him feel like it is.
“You’re still in control,” Yunho says as he leaves a trail of kisses down Mingi’s neck and across his chest. His shirt has disappeared somewhere along the way, probably more magic, and he can’t deny how convenient that is. “Anytime you want me to stop, just say so.”
Mingi doesn’t want it to stop. He likes it all, the real hands intertwined with his own above his head and the magical fingers tugging his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his skin and Yunho body warm against his own as he hovers above him. He even likes it when Yunho’s arms scoop around his waist as he rolls them over toward the middle of the bed.
Mingi ends up straddling Yunho again, knees on either side of his hips. His skin is smooth beneath Mingi’s hands as he slides them down Yunho’s bare chest. Mingi feels Yunho’s breath stutter, sensitive around his ribs where Mingi’s fingers bump across each one, but Yunho lets him explore, lets Mingi’s fingers trail all the way down to his hips and then back up, briefly brushing against his nipples.
They’re both breathing heavily, like they’ve run a mile, and they’ve barely even gotten started. Despite being mostly upright, Yunho’s magical arms are still wrapped around Mingi’s middle. His real hands are gripping Mingi’s arms like he’s trying to hold himself steady even though he’s the one lying back against the pillows.
“We need lube,” Mingi says. “I don’t know where you keep it. If you keep it.”
Yunho laughs. Smiles. He releases one of Mingi’s arms and holds his hand out, but the bottle misses when it appears and knocks him on the chin before dropping onto the pillow above his shoulder. “Oops. Guess I’m kind of distracted.”
“Too distracted to do something about the rest of our clothes?”
“Of course not.” Yunho holds his hand out again, and both of their boxers teleport directly into his palm. He tosses them aside and rolls his hips up, groaning as his cock slides against Mingi’s ass.
Mingi reaches to grab the lube, but Yunho stops him. “I’ve got it,” he says, rolling them to the side and hitching Mingi’s knee above his hip. He closes his eyes to concentrate as he magics the lube into his hand, surprisingly managing to pour it without spilling any on the bed. Then he drops his hand behind Mingi, long fingers easily sliding between his cheeks.
Mingi’s heart flutters again as the first finger slips inside him. Yunho is so careful with him, gently pushing past his rim, spreading the lube before pushing further, and Mingi’s body melts a little more with every motion. His muscles relax, and his head drops when a second finger enters the game. He doesn’t even realize the noises he’s making until Yunho kisses him again and interrupts a moan that’s higher in pitch than any sound Mingi has made since his voice dropped during puberty.
“That’s embarrassing,” Mingi says.
“It’s not,” Yunho tells him, twisting his wrist and earning another moan. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. For me.”
“Yeah,” Mingi agrees, but forgets what he’s agreeing to when he feels a third finger at his entrance. The stretch is wonderful as Yunho ever so slowly pushes into him. Magical fingers massage Mingi’s head, and a hand presses against his cock. Mingi can’t tell if that one’s real or magic, but it feels incredible.
Yunho spreads his fingers. Fresh lube drips between them and into Mingi, cold and kind of soothing.
“I’m good,” Mingi says. “I’m- ha!” he gasps as Yunho finds the perfect angle. “I’m ready. Please.”
Yunho presses hard for a long moment, and Mingi almost changes his mind. The feeling is so intense that he can’t think, can’t breathe. As soon as Yunho starts to withdraw, Mingi him to stop, go back, do that thing again, but his brain is scrambled with pleasure and Yunho’s f fingers are gone before he can begin to beg.
“Are you steady enough to ride me, baby?” Yunho asks, and Mingi doesn’t know how to answer. He knows that he very much wants to ride Yunho, but as he tries to push himself upright his limbs feel like wet noodles, weak and trembling. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I can help you.”
Yunho rolls onto his back again and braces Mingi as he settles over Yunho on his knees. He’s shaky, but he can feel cock, hard and warm and wet as it slips between his cheeks and slides against his entrance. He can do this. He just needs to lift up a little and angle his hips, and-
They both moan as the tip breaches Mingi’s hole. Yunho holds his hips, forearms straining slightly as he prevents Mingi from bottoming out too fast and hurting himself. He lowers Mingi little by little.
Mingi is grateful for the help. No way would his thighs have supported his weight for this long, and the sensation of slowly, inch by inch, being filled makes him feel like his skin is vibrating.
He doesn’t wait to move. Yunho helps with this, too, guiding Mingi’s movements and rolling his hips up to meet him each time he drops. Yunho’s hands grip him tightly, bruising where his fingertips dig into Mingi’s flesh, leaving a temporary reminder of this experience on Mingi’s skin.
Magical hands cup Mingi’s face, thumbs gently stroking his, a stark contrast to the roughness of Yunho’s real hands. When Mingi opens his eyes and looks down at Yunho, he’s positively angelic. Bleached hair fanning against the deep blue of the pillowcase, sweat beading on his forehead, eyelids fluttering over eyes shining with love and pleasure.
The sight renews Mingi’s strength, and he quickens his pace, a burst of energy pushing him to ride Yunho with everything he’s got. He grabs for Yunho’s hands and pushes himself almost upright, resting most of his weight where their fingers are laced together. His thighs burn as he lifts his hips and slams back down. Again. Again. Again, the slap of his ass against Yunho’s hips echoing around the room and in his own head.
He won’t last long at this rate, burning through his limited energy faster than before, but the angle is right again. Every time he drops down on Yunho’s cock, it puts pressure on his prostate, and as tempted as he is to sit and grind down instead, he knows the Yunho is enjoying the friction.
Precum drips steadily from Mingi’s cock, drops collecting on Yunho’s stomach, and Yunho runs his finger through the small puddle before slicking it over Mingi’s length. “You’re close,” he says. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.”
But Mingi shakes his head. Not yet.
“Do it again,” Mingi insists. “The fire, do it again. Just for me.”
Yunho gives a weak laugh. He’s clearly close too. He’s holding back, waiting for Mingi. Mingi wonders if the distraction of his magic will help him hold off longer or if he’ll lose control and cum first.
He snaps his fingers. Whoosh! And a ring of fire encircles the bed.
It isn’t hot. It doesn’t burn the rug or the sheets or even the clothes they’ve tossed to the floor. It flickers happily around them, casting an orange glow on Yunho’s dewy skin. It reflects in his eyes. It envelops them in a cocoon of magic and desire and love.
Mingi gasps, he groans, he drops his hips and stills as he cums. It streaks across Yunho’s glowing skin and drips down his knuckles where his hand is still wrapped around Mingi’s cock, and Yunho tenses beneath him, cock twitching inside Mingi as he cums as well.
The fire dies down around them. Yunho slips out of Mingi and carefully helps him lie down on the other side of the bed. He holds out his hand again, and a washcloth appears. After Yunho’s hand and stomach are clean, he moves to take care of Mingi.
He’s so sensitive. Mingi whines as the cloth swipes away all traces of lube and cum, and he wonders if that’s something Yunho could magic away in the future instead of touching places that don’t want to be touched after so much stimulation.
“You can sleep,” Yunho tells him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “I can-” Yunho pauses, holding his hand out one more time, and the duvet disappears from beneath them and reappears covering Mingi up to his waist, the edge clutched in Yunho’s hand.
Mingi is tired. Magic sex is exhausting. He closes his eyes and lets Yunho pull the duvet up to his shoulders. Then he feels Yunho cuddling up to him, one leg wedged between Mingi’s, a hand resting on Mingi’s hip. Real hands. Mingi only has one more question about the magic before he lets sleep take him.
“Does this mean the one per customer rule no longer applies to me?”
Yunho laughs, his breath warm against Mingi’s neck.
“Baby, all my magic belongs to you.”