jalousied | picture prompts #2

minkey; pg-13
439 words
tumblr link

A/N: This is part of my picture prompt meme in tumblr wherein people will send an image and I'll write a fic that is somehow related to it. There are only three fics in this series and I'll post only two of them :).

Kibum feels like his eardrums are bursting and that his heart is going to pop out of his ribs. It’s like this every end of concerts—everyone’s in high spirits, jumping about and shouting; the music is in full blast and the crowds are screaming; the floor managers and directors are shouting instructions into the earpieces about what they should do next. Kibum could feel energy draining from him as the rush from their performances slowly ebbs away. He cools down the easiest in their group and is also the first to feel tired after they perform. He settles for smiling and waving at the audience to save his energy.

And then he feels it, a sudden warmth to his side and a weight leaning on his shoulder. Someone beside him is joking about bathing on stage and Kibum had to laugh, shivering slightly as he feels the press of lips on his ear. “Minho-yah,” he muttered as he smiles widely for the audience once more, trying to ignore Minho’s mouth against his skin. “Not now.” It might seem to the audience and cameramen that Minho’s whispering to his ear. Little do they know that Minho’s painting on Kibum’s skin with his tongue, too far away and hidden for any camera to spot.

"I need it," Minho mumbles against Kibum’s neck. It’s funny how it is so noisy and crowded yet Kibum could clearly hear—clearly feel Minho’s words. He tries to move away, to immerse himself into the rejoicing crowd, but Minho’s fingers are firmly pressed against his lower back, needily massaging him through his soaked shirt.

"Wait until we’re home, idiot," Kibum hissed through his teeth as the fingers on his back dipped lower. Kibum hates concert aftermaths. He hates the aching muscles and sore throats and depleted energy.

But recently, he finds himself looking forward to this very moment, at the end of the concert. It is mostly because he gets to be the recipient of the remnants of Minho’s high—the rush of adrenaline Minho doesn’t seem to use up. The rush he absorbs by letting Minho pin him to the bed and feed him the euphoria.

In the morning, Minho would be exhausted and grumpy, but Kibum would be cheerful and glowing and basking in the afterglow of last night. Kibum is sure there is a word for it—for the thing he does whenever he sucks up Minho’s excess energy. But right now the name isn’t important.

The important thing is to get off the stage and feed.

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