[ Minho gets to the end of the signature, because he has to eventually, but his mind is focused more on how this guy's gone and bought tickets to his concert, somehow acquired backstage passes, has tattooed his songs and the logo of his band on him, and is literally the most sincere person he's ever met. Who also doubles as the most attractive person he's ever met, in his opinion. Of course he's going to flirt with him, and of course he's going to draw this out as much as he can.
But then he's done, and he has to pull his hands back. Already he misses the warmth of his flushed skin underneath his touch, and he immediately starts thinking up ways to touch him again. It's absolutely necessary, so.
He caps the marker, eyes on Thomas' face, before he reaches around him and hooks his fingers-- and the marker-- into his pocket again. But he doesn't pull away from him, and instead stays in that close space between them, grin wide enough that it sickles his eyes a little. ]
You are seriously the most heartfelt dude that I've ever met, man. [ A bright burst of laughter leaves him, quick and happy, and he moves to set his other hand at his waist. Honestly, he's kind of thankful that Thomas isn't going to grab his shirt again. ] You giving me a shirt means you're going to have to come see me again.
[ Minho steps in closer -- and Thomas has read, has heard from people that Minho is usually pretty in your face and handsy, but he can't help but think this might be different. Or hope, he's probably hoping for it enough to trick himself that Minho is really into him -- honestly, how many people exactly like Thomas does he meet every day? Even thinking like that, or trying to think like that, doesn't kill Tommy's buzz, because Minho is literally holding him like they're old friends or something more, and Thomas is never going to wake up from this dream thank you very much.
He laughs brightly, which is a rare thing for him but the situation calls for it, stepping forward to meet Minho, hands reaching out to hold his biceps loosely. How many times has he thought about what they might feel like beneath his palm? A number he won't be soon to admit -- he ducks his head, looking down at where their bodies almost meet. ]
Wha -- you want me to? I haven't embarrassed myself too much? [ He laughs again, softer, the pads of this thumbs brushing across Minho's arms before stopping themselves. He's always going to be questioning himself, if only because this isn't exactly how he thought his night would go ( maybe in his wildest dreams, he prayed ), but there are literally no regrets in his mind. ] Yeah, okay, you can hold onto it. But only if I get yours.
[ There are a lot of days where Minho has to be reminded that people tend to have personal boundaries. He has them, himself, but they're usually because of his dislike of certain people and not really so much his comfort levels. (And that means it's usually for their own safety, in the end.) But this is a different thing, because there's a spark here and he wants to hold onto it before it can go anywhere. So, yeah, Thomas isn't tricking himself.
Delight lights his face up at his laugh, because he caused it and all he has to really do is tease it out of him. Tommy seems like a reserved kind of guy in comparison, quieter and less motion than Minho himself, and it's... well, it's a good mesh. He likes it, finds that he probably likes Thomas way more than he should for having just met him. But he doesn't bat an eye at the hands on his biceps, just angles his head a little as Thomas ducks his own. ]
No, man. I mean, you're still blushin' like crazy but that's just really, really adorable. [ Teasing is his go-to, and he grins even more, the muscles in his arms flexing a little as he adjusts his hold on slender hips. ] You don't want my shirt, it's sweaty and stanky.
[ His fingers flex against Minho's arm -- pointing out his blush only succeeds in making him blush a deeper red, ducking his head again as if to shoo it off. Not that it works even the slightest bit, but really, Thomas is way too interested in this once in a lifetime ( though, maybe not? ) opportunity, that being embarrassed about something isn't going to stop him from watching Minho. It's the sort of thing he'll reflect on in half an hour and wonder what the hell he was thinking -- but now he can only smile at Minho, nodding his head a bit.
Yeah, he's totally blushing. And it's all his stupid, charming fault. ]
Could probably sell it on Ebay and make some cash? [ He suggests, raising his eyebrow -- obviously joking, but you never really know with Thomas. He inclines his head, not fully of his own consent but because his body wants to bump foreheads with Minho, wants to press their lips sweetly together -- but his brain ( un? ) fortunately stops him before he gets that far. Glancing down at his bare torso, he shakes his head. ]
I can't walk around with no shirt on. [ And maybe he very badly wants to see Minho shirtless. Maybe. ] It's embarrassing.
[ The fact he ducks his head again-- ineffectual as it is-- is probably the most endearing thing Minho's seen in his life, and he's strangely fascinated by his long lashes at this angle on top of his red cheeks. He should probably lay off a bit, but really he can't bring himself to, teasing and prodding and seeing what reactions he can get out of him. Blushing and smiling and laughing, he's seriously going to run the whole gamut of it all if he can. ]
Mmm, I dunno. Probably wouldn't make too much. [ Thomas here doesn't seem like much of a joker, so he can't help but grin brightly at him, pleased with it regardless of whether that's its intent or not. But then he's too distracted with how close they are, and his eyes follow Thomas' down to his chest, and he can't help but contemplate it as well. (He has spots everywhere, it's so distracting.) ]
Tell you what. I'll let you borrow my shirt for now, if you stay for a while.
[ Minho's smile is stupidly infectious, and Thomas knows he's making an idiot of himself, but he just beams right back at him, pleased as punch to just be in the presence of this rock god. Being near him is enough -- but he's being held, looked at, and if Thomas were a more impulsive person, he's sure his mouth would be all over Minho's, probably like ten minutes ago.
But naturally, it's way more than he ever expected to have Minho's hands on him. Thomas wants to bring their chests in flush, wants to suck bruises on his tan skin, but he also really really doesn't want to ruin whatever is going on between him -- there's no way Minho does this with all his fans, there's just no way. ]
Yeah, I mean, totally. I can stay however long you want, Min.
[ It's a casual nickname -- probably out of the ordinary and weird, but Thomas has called him that so many times in his head before, that he doesn't even think twice about it. ]
[ Eyebrows raising a little at the nickname, Minho takes a second to process just how much he likes the sound of it coming out of Thomas' mouth. It's just one syllable, two letters of his name knocked off. That's it. But he really likes the sound of it, and it's the most asinine thing he's ever gotten hooked on before. He still gets hooked on it, though, and while his smile stays intact his eyes are scanning Thomas' face.
So far, they've gotten really close. He's gotten to put his hands on him in a way that's definitely not at all appropriate for new acquaintances or even new friends. Thomas also keeps getting really flustered, and is smiling at him, which just strikes him as something that not a lot of people probably get to see.
Usually he likes to figure things out first. But then he decides he's figured it out enough, because the interest is there and it's mutual and the air is thick around them. So he ducks in the short distance between them, all to steal a quick kiss from that pretty mouth. ]
[ Kissing Minho back is so automatic, Thomas doesn't even have the time to think oh my god, Minho is kissing me. It's small, tiny enough that Thomas can debate whether he just made it up in his head -- but he's wanted to kiss those lips since before he'd ever seen Minho, hearing his words was more than enough, and playing it out in his head is nothing like the real thing, he finds. Of course, upon the first time he'd ever actually seen Minho in concert, in photographs, wanting to kiss his mouth became wanting to kiss him all over -- and he really, really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
His eyes get wide after the fact, essentially frozen in place while he looks at Minho, an unseen color of red blasting across his cheeks. The kiss was too short, he finds himself thinking, but there's no way he's going to be able to initiate a kiss -- holy klunk, a kiss with Minho are you some kind of stupid, Thomas -- so instead, he ducks his head into Minho's shoulder, shaking his head with a shaky laugh. ]
[ Shoulders twitching a little at the look on Thomas' face, like some deer literally caught smack in the headlights, Minho tries not to laugh too much or at least too obviously. But then he drops his head down onto one, and a laugh bursts out of his mouth, hands coming up to make sure he can't get away if he takes offense to his amusement. They slide up his sides shamelessly, fingertips tracing out the delicate deer-- so ironic, right now-- that he's got marking one side. ]
You kidding me? Anybody that'd pity kiss you is a shucking idiot. [ Gross and in need of a shower, it doesn't stop him from pulling him a little closer, that scant space between them so that they bump together like lost puzzle pieces. Head angling a little to the side, he almost absently nuzzles his cheek against him, laughter dying down to snickers. ] Gonna stop hiding so I can do it proper this time?
[ He's pretty aware that he deserved the laugh -- so he doesn't bounce back, just staying tucking up against Minho's neck, cheeks boiling up with embarrassment but also happiness because holy shit. Thomas is pretty much positive Minho doesn't do this with everyone -- even if he's a rock star who could probably have his pick from the fans that he has, he's definitely not the kind of guy to just kiss people, for fun. Or maybe he is -- but then he's asking for another and holy shit doesn't come anywhere close to what Thomas is feeling.
Pressing his smile against the bare bit of shoulder Minho's tank top allows ( and really really not minding the sweat, not even a little bit ), Thomas lets out another laugh because he can't actually believe this is real. He's going to wake up in about ten minutes and cry his eyes out, because he'll go back to living his boring old life where Minho hasn't kissed him. ]
... Yeah. Yeah, wow, sorry. [ But if this is a dream, he's sure and shuck going to get his money's worth. Bracing a hand on Minho's cheek, Thomas pulls himself slowly back, closing the distance and kissing Minho before he gets the chance to think otherwise. ]
[ Literally feeling the heat coming off of Thomas' face, it's hard for Minho to really keep from laughing even more. But it's so incredibly endearing and he's actually discovered that he has it kind of bad and they haven't even known each other for an hour yet. Or, well, Minho hasn't known him for an hour yet. Thomas has, apparently, known him for his entire music career. If only they'd met sooner, he considers, but then he reminds himself that they've met now and he is so not letting go of him now that he's got him.
Sure, he flirts with people pretty frequently. But it's never gone anywhere because he hasn't really felt that much of an interest with a lot of people, the thing that's gotten them to click. And yet here it is, and he can't stop grinning because he can feel that blush, feels Tommy smiling. ]
Hey, take your time. You promised you'd stay a while. [ And it means he can hold him, whoops. But then he's got his hand on his face, and he goes quiet, focusing entirely on every point of contact before he moves to meet him. This time, he lingers, angling into it and making it a proper kiss. ]
[ Somewhat surprised he hasn't just immediately died on contact, Thomas shuts his eyes and kisses him -- kisses Minho -- because he's ridiculously handsome, and also is in ownership of the best pair of lips Thomas has ever seen, let alone had pressed up against his. It has a weirdly calming effect, not to say his cheeks are any less red than they were or that his heart is beating any slower, but Minho has a nice feel about him, and Thomas can literally feel his insides falling to mush the longer the kiss lasts.
Which is why Thomas needs to ends it before he actually does die -- resting his forehead against Minho's, but keeping his eyes shut, pressing a smaller kiss to his upper lip before running their noses together. Thomas wonders if people can see them right now -- if maybe, somewhere, someone is taking pictures of them to be thrown up in some magazine -- a thought like that should make him jump back and insist Minho take him to his tour bus, or somewhere else, but he can't. He's stuck right here until his brain decides to regroup -- and probably long after that, too, however long Minho wants him to say. ]
This is not how I thought my night was going to go. [ He says with a fond smile, bumping noses with Minho again. ] Not that I'm complaining.
[ Minho's suspicions that Thomas would have literally the most amazing lips for kissing are completely accurate, and a part of him regrets the first kiss because now he's never going to be able to stop. One hand drifts up even more, going up higher until he can cup his face as he kisses him, a slow, easy thing that he's going to relish in while he can. Eventually someone will come along, he's sure, but it hardly matters.
But he doesn't kick up a fuss when Thomas ends it, and instead focuses on the smaller kiss, the brush of their noses. (Which, Tommy has an adorable nose, Jesus shuck.) A small hum leaves him, contented, and he grins in the small space between them rather than pulling back. There's always someone with a camera around, though he can't bring himself to care if he's caught making out backstage right now. ]
Be worried if you were complaining, to be honest. [ He ducks in, quick as anything, to press a kiss against the corner of that gorgeous mouth. ] Should probably relocate, though.
[ Thomas licks his bottom lips nervous nervously, accidentally licking Minho's lip too -- not that he can say he minds it, really, but they're close enough where the distance between them is unbearable, where Thomas could very easily just lean forward and kiss him maybe a dozen times over. It would be really easy, wouldn't it? Minho has ridiculously pretty lips that sing songs that make Thomas feel things he's never felt before -- and he hasn't exactly been adverse to the idea of kissing in the past minute, so it wouldn't really be a bad idea --
But, of course, Minho is right. Thomas nods his head jerkily, though beaming from the kiss to the corner of his mouth. His fingers trace up the back of Minho's skull for a second, sifting through his hair, before he, painstakingly, pulls away from the comforting heat of his body. Hands automatically make a move to grab for Minho's, wrapping around his wrists and sliding the rest of the way, interlacing their fingers. ]
Do you want to show me around, maybe? [ Do you want to take me to your tour bus? is what he actually wants to say, but he's nowhere near bold enough for that. Inclining his head with an obvious blush, he runs his thumbs over Minho's knuckles. ] Your manager won't get mad at me, will he?
[ That's it-- that right there almost kills him. They're so close that he feels the swipe of his tongue against his lip, and Minho wants to cart him off somewhere they can be alone and he can get better acquainted with him, his mouth, and his tongue all at once. This is the most rash thing he's ever done-- and Minho's done some pretty rash things at times-- but he doesn't really care. There was a spark there, tension so thick in the air that he could cut it. There was no way that he was going to just ignore it.
His eyes close in a far too contented way as Tommy's fingers move up through his hair, head rolling back a little against his touch until it's taken away and he has to refocus on him. But he's taking his hands, and he has zero complaints about that. He even goes so far as to spread his fingers wide for him once he realizes what his end goal is, and slots their fingers together happily. ]
I can show you around, but there's no guarantee that I'm going to introduce you to anyone right now. I'm so not about the sharing life right now. [ Because he has this doe-eyed, adorable yet hot, devoted fan in front of him that keeps blushing and smiling, and he's going to enjoy every second of it. The tour probably won't last long on the first go around. ] If he does he can take it up with me, to be honest.
[ Being not entirely taken with everything Minho is difficult, so Thomas finds his eyes falling to the floor, fiercely attempting not to swoon right back into his arms. Their entwined hands are a good thing to lock onto -- Minho is tan where Thomas is pale, is warm where Tommy is not, is quite literally the sun in human form. If the sun is a stupidly handsome, muscular Asian guy, with arm muscles that could probably literally kill a person from sight alone. And maybe kill Thomas inside, just a little bit, every time he looks at them.
Giddily, almost, he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to find a way to say take me somewhere private without seeming like the biggest creep in history. There isn't a way, he mentally decides -- though, huffing a bit at Minho's mention of sharing. He doesn't want to be shared, not if the other option is Minho. ]
You don't have to share me. [ Sucking in his bottom lip, he chews on it nervously. ] If you want to -- I don't know, go somewhere. Or something. Or, you're probably really tired from the show, so maybe I should just --
[ leave, except he really doesn't want to do that, so Thomas stops mid sentence, deciding that leaving is not a viable option. ]
[ Really, Minho should probably go find his manager and talk to him about how the concert went. Is he going to? No. He's going to pay special attention to Thomas, enjoy the time he can have here. If he has anything to say about this, he's going to see him again after tonight because he's not going to miss out on whatever this is. Not with the contrast between their hands, the bright brown that is Thomas' eyes.
He's immediately transfixed with the attention Thomas pays to his bottom lip, because that mouth, blinking once, slowly, before he really registers what he's saying. ]
No no no no. No. [ If it's possible, Minho pulls him in closer, bumping their chests together and knocking his nose into the little upturn of Tommy's. ] I mean, unless you need to get going. But even then I'd try to talk you into staying longer.
[ And without really thinking about it, he ducks in to kiss him again. Mostly because he needs to get his mouth on him, which is probably why he should be steering him away and towards-- he doesn't know. The dressing room, the tour bus. ]
[ Kissing him back is just the most natural thing in the world, one hand leaving their hold to cradle the side of Minho's head, fingertips diving into the black hair at the base of his neck. He's about one hundred percent sure he'll never get used to what Minho's lips feel like -- assuming, of course, this is more than a one timer thing -- because even after the nerve grating first one, Thomas still has butterflies pitter-pattering against his stomach. And Minho is a really good kisser.
Breaking the kiss off with a soft laugh, Tommy presses his smile to Minho's lips for a second, with the happy air of new boyfriends -- which Thomas literally can't think about, or he's going to explode in a lethal cloud of false hope. Leaning back on his heels again, he tugs on Minho's arm, taking a step backwards -- still without his shirt, but. He's not as adamant to get covered again. ]
C'mon, let's go somewhere. I'm here as long as you want me, like I said.
[ If he keeps putting his hands in his hair like that, Minho is absolutely going to keep kissing him. Or, well, he's going to keep kissing him anyways because how could he not? Thomas has the softest mouth in the world and they haven't even known each other for an hour and he's sort of addicted to that contact already.
Nevermind when he smiles against his lips, and he can't help but mirror it. When he takes the step back, tugs at his arm, he immediately moves to follow, like Tommy has a personal gravitational pull and it's drawing him in. But he does draw one hand away to grab where his shirt was left, draping it over his shoulder so that it's not thrown away in the cleanup process. ]
So, like. Pretty much forever? [ A sly grin spreads splits his face in two, and he keeps stepping forward after that. ]
[ Tracking the movement of his shirt, Thomas raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything -- he wonders if he should put up a fight to get Minho's shirt in return like he was promised, but he figures he's already pressing his luck. He doesn't want to get on Minho's nerves, after all, even if he seems like a fun-loving kind of guy. And anyway, putting a shirt back on just seems redundant and unnecessary at this point, when he feels like a Thomas-shaped space heater, burning red hot under the scrutiny of Minho's touch.
And he's hoping he won't be putting any clothes on anytime soon. And he blushes harder.
But on the other hand, Minho shirtless. He tries not to think about it, because it's about the most distracting image he could ever think up, and he follows Minho step for step, staying tucked in closely to his side. All that skin separated by a sweaty, skinny shirt and Tommy could just reach under and touch -- but Thomas just flushes at the thought, looking down to his bare chest, littered with this tattoo and the next. ]
Forever works for me. [ He flashes Minho a grin. ] You might get sick of me, though, so don't say stuff like that.
[ Maybe Minho should give him his shirt back, but that would imply that Thomas could put it on again. And he really doesn't want that, not at all. He wants to personally investigate all of those tattoos, find each and every inch of skin that is speckled with moles and freckles. The flush of his skin is fascinating, and he can't really keep his eyes off of it, following every inch of it along the more he blushes.
His eyes flick up to him again, and they sickle in a wide grin in response to Thomas' own. ]
Dunno, Tommy. Think I'm more worried about you deciding I'm not what you expected I'd be. [ He moves towards the exit in sure steps, bypassing a tour and deciding in the end that he just wants to take him to the bus. No one else should be there right now, anyways, since there's so much going on backstage and arrangements being made here. If anyone does come on the bus, they'll surely leave him alone anyways. ]
[ His back reveals a few other previously hidden tattoos, none that relate to Minho or his band, mainly pictures that are seemingly random. A keyhole on the back of his neck, a colorful pinata nestled between his two shoulder blades, and -- his most embarrassing tattoo, a matching tramp stamp this with best friend Teresa, that just reads "TNT".
Thomas follows Minho out, not even commenting on the lack of tour because he really could not care any less about it, he just wants to bury his hands in Minho's slick hair and lick the inside of his mouth over and over again. Which is pretty impulsive for him, he's definitely not the kind of guy who does this sort of thing -- but Minho is the type of presence who demands exceptions, and Tommy is all too happy to give them to him. ]
Nah. [ He says, free hand coming up to squeeze Minho's bicep, because how could he not? ] You've literally exceeded every single one of my expectations. Like -- I was expecting you to look at me funny when I asked for you signature and for that to be it. I'm kind of wondering when I'm going to wake up from this, honestly.
[ Minho really, really wants to ask about the tattoos that he sees on his back before he takes lead-- especially the one that's a blatant tramp stamp because it makes him want to laugh and lick it at the same time-- but he keeps it to himself for now. They can trade stories about their tattoos later, considering they both seem to be covered in ink.
Rubbing almost absently at the bright, colorful dragon in storm and fire that makes up one sleeve, he lets out a thoughtful sound as he bumps open the door to the back exit with his hip. There's security milling around, but he mostly ignores them as he turns his attention back to Thomas.
Does he shamelessly flex his arm a little as he squeezes at his bicep? Yes. Absolutely. ]
Pretty sure I know a couple ways to make sure you know you aren't dreaming. [ He says it with his grin still intact, but as he leads him out of the building he reaches his free hand around to pinch him, soundly, on the ass. ]
[ God is it something from another world when Minho flexes. Tommy has to bite back a contented moan at the feeling of hard muscles moving under his palm, sliding his hand almost idly up the tanned skin and ink sewn into it. He's dreamt -- literally, sometimes -- about tracing Minho's tattoos with the tip of his tongue, or kissing up what must be smooth, hard lines of his torso and chest. There's a thousand different things he could do to Minho, a thousand things he's thought about doing to Minho, even before knowing what he looked like. Minho's voice is one that demands worship, Thomas thinks.
After seeing what he looked like, though, it made a very specific genre of dreams worse.
But he's reduced to a loud squeak when Minho pinches him -- unexpectedly, but definitely not unwanted -- turning his cheek to push against Minho's shoulder to effectively hide the blushing face he's sporting. It's unfair, is what it is, and if Thomas had any fleeting thought that he might survive tonight it's all gone now -- Minho might touch him, and Thomas is just going to die on the spot. It'll be a nice death, at least. ]
Yeah? [ Flirting is not his strong suit, okay. ] I'll guess that was one. What do the others go like?
[ If he can get that reaction more, Minho has every intention of flfexing every single chance that he can get. Because it's actually perfect, and he's pretty sure that he won't get tired of it. Maybe he should consider the fact that he's planning on taking a fan that he's just met to his tour bus, but he can't really bring himself to care when there was that sudden chemistry and attraction from the second that he laid eyes on him.
The squeak is just as good, and he grins-- probably like a lunatic-- before he slides his arm properly around Thomas while he tries to hide his face from him. But he lets him tuck against his shoulder for as long as he wants, as he leads him off towards where the bus sits. From what he can see, no one's on it right now. And he's really, really thankful for that. ]
The others aren't really meant for polite company, so.
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best one 4 last
But then he's done, and he has to pull his hands back. Already he misses the warmth of his flushed skin underneath his touch, and he immediately starts thinking up ways to touch him again. It's absolutely necessary, so.
He caps the marker, eyes on Thomas' face, before he reaches around him and hooks his fingers-- and the marker-- into his pocket again. But he doesn't pull away from him, and instead stays in that close space between them, grin wide enough that it sickles his eyes a little. ]
You are seriously the most heartfelt dude that I've ever met, man. [ A bright burst of laughter leaves him, quick and happy, and he moves to set his other hand at his waist. Honestly, he's kind of thankful that Thomas isn't going to grab his shirt again. ] You giving me a shirt means you're going to have to come see me again.
best one 4 first u.u
He laughs brightly, which is a rare thing for him but the situation calls for it, stepping forward to meet Minho, hands reaching out to hold his biceps loosely. How many times has he thought about what they might feel like beneath his palm? A number he won't be soon to admit -- he ducks his head, looking down at where their bodies almost meet. ]
Wha -- you want me to? I haven't embarrassed myself too much? [ He laughs again, softer, the pads of this thumbs brushing across Minho's arms before stopping themselves. He's always going to be questioning himself, if only because this isn't exactly how he thought his night would go ( maybe in his wildest dreams, he prayed ), but there are literally no regrets in his mind. ] Yeah, okay, you can hold onto it. But only if I get yours.
ur the best.
Delight lights his face up at his laugh, because he caused it and all he has to really do is tease it out of him. Tommy seems like a reserved kind of guy in comparison, quieter and less motion than Minho himself, and it's... well, it's a good mesh. He likes it, finds that he probably likes Thomas way more than he should for having just met him. But he doesn't bat an eye at the hands on his biceps, just angles his head a little as Thomas ducks his own. ]
No, man. I mean, you're still blushin' like crazy but that's just really, really adorable. [ Teasing is his go-to, and he grins even more, the muscles in his arms flexing a little as he adjusts his hold on slender hips. ] You don't want my shirt, it's sweaty and stanky.
uwu no u
Yeah, he's totally blushing. And it's all his stupid, charming fault. ]
Could probably sell it on Ebay and make some cash? [ He suggests, raising his eyebrow -- obviously joking, but you never really know with Thomas. He inclines his head, not fully of his own consent but because his body wants to bump foreheads with Minho, wants to press their lips sweetly together -- but his brain ( un? ) fortunately stops him before he gets that far. Glancing down at his bare torso, he shakes his head. ]
I can't walk around with no shirt on. [ And maybe he very badly wants to see Minho shirtless. Maybe. ] It's embarrassing.
u on
Mmm, I dunno. Probably wouldn't make too much. [ Thomas here doesn't seem like much of a joker, so he can't help but grin brightly at him, pleased with it regardless of whether that's its intent or not. But then he's too distracted with how close they are, and his eyes follow Thomas' down to his chest, and he can't help but contemplate it as well. (He has spots everywhere, it's so distracting.) ]
Tell you what. I'll let you borrow my shirt for now, if you stay for a while.
puffs at
But naturally, it's way more than he ever expected to have Minho's hands on him. Thomas wants to bring their chests in flush, wants to suck bruises on his tan skin, but he also really really doesn't want to ruin whatever is going on between him -- there's no way Minho does this with all his fans, there's just no way. ]
Yeah, I mean, totally. I can stay however long you want, Min.
[ It's a casual nickname -- probably out of the ordinary and weird, but Thomas has called him that so many times in his head before, that he doesn't even think twice about it. ]
pufferfish!
So far, they've gotten really close. He's gotten to put his hands on him in a way that's definitely not at all appropriate for new acquaintances or even new friends. Thomas also keeps getting really flustered, and is smiling at him, which just strikes him as something that not a lot of people probably get to see.
Usually he likes to figure things out first. But then he decides he's figured it out enough, because the interest is there and it's mutual and the air is thick around them. So he ducks in the short distance between them, all to steal a quick kiss from that pretty mouth. ]
Long as you wanna stay, Tommy.
>3<
His eyes get wide after the fact, essentially frozen in place while he looks at Minho, an unseen color of red blasting across his cheeks. The kiss was too short, he finds himself thinking, but there's no way he's going to be able to initiate a kiss -- holy klunk, a kiss with Minho are you some kind of stupid, Thomas -- so instead, he ducks his head into Minho's shoulder, shaking his head with a shaky laugh. ]
Really hoping that wasn't a pity kiss.
no subject
You kidding me? Anybody that'd pity kiss you is a shucking idiot. [ Gross and in need of a shower, it doesn't stop him from pulling him a little closer, that scant space between them so that they bump together like lost puzzle pieces. Head angling a little to the side, he almost absently nuzzles his cheek against him, laughter dying down to snickers. ] Gonna stop hiding so I can do it proper this time?
no subject
Pressing his smile against the bare bit of shoulder Minho's tank top allows ( and really really not minding the sweat, not even a little bit ), Thomas lets out another laugh because he can't actually believe this is real. He's going to wake up in about ten minutes and cry his eyes out, because he'll go back to living his boring old life where Minho hasn't kissed him. ]
... Yeah. Yeah, wow, sorry. [ But if this is a dream, he's sure and shuck going to get his money's worth. Bracing a hand on Minho's cheek, Thomas pulls himself slowly back, closing the distance and kissing Minho before he gets the chance to think otherwise. ]
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Sure, he flirts with people pretty frequently. But it's never gone anywhere because he hasn't really felt that much of an interest with a lot of people, the thing that's gotten them to click. And yet here it is, and he can't stop grinning because he can feel that blush, feels Tommy smiling. ]
Hey, take your time. You promised you'd stay a while. [ And it means he can hold him, whoops. But then he's got his hand on his face, and he goes quiet, focusing entirely on every point of contact before he moves to meet him. This time, he lingers, angling into it and making it a proper kiss. ]
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Which is why Thomas needs to ends it before he actually does die -- resting his forehead against Minho's, but keeping his eyes shut, pressing a smaller kiss to his upper lip before running their noses together. Thomas wonders if people can see them right now -- if maybe, somewhere, someone is taking pictures of them to be thrown up in some magazine -- a thought like that should make him jump back and insist Minho take him to his tour bus, or somewhere else, but he can't. He's stuck right here until his brain decides to regroup -- and probably long after that, too, however long Minho wants him to say. ]
This is not how I thought my night was going to go. [ He says with a fond smile, bumping noses with Minho again. ] Not that I'm complaining.
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But he doesn't kick up a fuss when Thomas ends it, and instead focuses on the smaller kiss, the brush of their noses. (Which, Tommy has an adorable nose, Jesus shuck.) A small hum leaves him, contented, and he grins in the small space between them rather than pulling back. There's always someone with a camera around, though he can't bring himself to care if he's caught making out backstage right now. ]
Be worried if you were complaining, to be honest. [ He ducks in, quick as anything, to press a kiss against the corner of that gorgeous mouth. ] Should probably relocate, though.
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But, of course, Minho is right. Thomas nods his head jerkily, though beaming from the kiss to the corner of his mouth. His fingers trace up the back of Minho's skull for a second, sifting through his hair, before he, painstakingly, pulls away from the comforting heat of his body. Hands automatically make a move to grab for Minho's, wrapping around his wrists and sliding the rest of the way, interlacing their fingers. ]
Do you want to show me around, maybe? [ Do you want to take me to your tour bus? is what he actually wants to say, but he's nowhere near bold enough for that. Inclining his head with an obvious blush, he runs his thumbs over Minho's knuckles. ] Your manager won't get mad at me, will he?
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His eyes close in a far too contented way as Tommy's fingers move up through his hair, head rolling back a little against his touch until it's taken away and he has to refocus on him. But he's taking his hands, and he has zero complaints about that. He even goes so far as to spread his fingers wide for him once he realizes what his end goal is, and slots their fingers together happily. ]
I can show you around, but there's no guarantee that I'm going to introduce you to anyone right now. I'm so not about the sharing life right now. [ Because he has this doe-eyed, adorable yet hot, devoted fan in front of him that keeps blushing and smiling, and he's going to enjoy every second of it. The tour probably won't last long on the first go around. ] If he does he can take it up with me, to be honest.
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Giddily, almost, he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to find a way to say take me somewhere private without seeming like the biggest creep in history. There isn't a way, he mentally decides -- though, huffing a bit at Minho's mention of sharing. He doesn't want to be shared, not if the other option is Minho. ]
You don't have to share me. [ Sucking in his bottom lip, he chews on it nervously. ] If you want to -- I don't know, go somewhere. Or something. Or, you're probably really tired from the show, so maybe I should just --
[ leave, except he really doesn't want to do that, so Thomas stops mid sentence, deciding that leaving is not a viable option. ]
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He's immediately transfixed with the attention Thomas pays to his bottom lip, because that mouth, blinking once, slowly, before he really registers what he's saying. ]
No no no no. No. [ If it's possible, Minho pulls him in closer, bumping their chests together and knocking his nose into the little upturn of Tommy's. ] I mean, unless you need to get going. But even then I'd try to talk you into staying longer.
[ And without really thinking about it, he ducks in to kiss him again. Mostly because he needs to get his mouth on him, which is probably why he should be steering him away and towards-- he doesn't know. The dressing room, the tour bus. ]
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Breaking the kiss off with a soft laugh, Tommy presses his smile to Minho's lips for a second, with the happy air of new boyfriends -- which Thomas literally can't think about, or he's going to explode in a lethal cloud of false hope. Leaning back on his heels again, he tugs on Minho's arm, taking a step backwards -- still without his shirt, but. He's not as adamant to get covered again. ]
C'mon, let's go somewhere. I'm here as long as you want me, like I said.
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Nevermind when he smiles against his lips, and he can't help but mirror it. When he takes the step back, tugs at his arm, he immediately moves to follow, like Tommy has a personal gravitational pull and it's drawing him in. But he does draw one hand away to grab where his shirt was left, draping it over his shoulder so that it's not thrown away in the cleanup process. ]
So, like. Pretty much forever? [ A sly grin spreads splits his face in two, and he keeps stepping forward after that. ]
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And he's hoping he won't be putting any clothes on anytime soon. And he blushes harder.
But on the other hand, Minho shirtless. He tries not to think about it, because it's about the most distracting image he could ever think up, and he follows Minho step for step, staying tucked in closely to his side. All that skin separated by a sweaty, skinny shirt and Tommy could just reach under and touch -- but Thomas just flushes at the thought, looking down to his bare chest, littered with this tattoo and the next. ]
Forever works for me. [ He flashes Minho a grin. ] You might get sick of me, though, so don't say stuff like that.
I LOST THIS NOTIF WEEPS
His eyes flick up to him again, and they sickle in a wide grin in response to Thomas' own. ]
Dunno, Tommy. Think I'm more worried about you deciding I'm not what you expected I'd be. [ He moves towards the exit in sure steps, bypassing a tour and deciding in the end that he just wants to take him to the bus. No one else should be there right now, anyways, since there's so much going on backstage and arrangements being made here. If anyone does come on the bus, they'll surely leave him alone anyways. ]
ACTUAL WORST
Thomas follows Minho out, not even commenting on the lack of tour because he really could not care any less about it, he just wants to bury his hands in Minho's slick hair and lick the inside of his mouth over and over again. Which is pretty impulsive for him, he's definitely not the kind of guy who does this sort of thing -- but Minho is the type of presence who demands exceptions, and Tommy is all too happy to give them to him. ]
Nah. [ He says, free hand coming up to squeeze Minho's bicep, because how could he not? ] You've literally exceeded every single one of my expectations. Like -- I was expecting you to look at me funny when I asked for you signature and for that to be it. I'm kind of wondering when I'm going to wake up from this, honestly.
I'm still fucking dying at the tramp stamp.
Rubbing almost absently at the bright, colorful dragon in storm and fire that makes up one sleeve, he lets out a thoughtful sound as he bumps open the door to the back exit with his hip. There's security milling around, but he mostly ignores them as he turns his attention back to Thomas.
Does he shamelessly flex his arm a little as he squeezes at his bicep? Yes. Absolutely. ]
Pretty sure I know a couple ways to make sure you know you aren't dreaming. [ He says it with his grin still intact, but as he leads him out of the building he reaches his free hand around to pinch him, soundly, on the ass. ]
i thought it was witty ok
After seeing what he looked like, though, it made a very specific genre of dreams worse.
But he's reduced to a loud squeak when Minho pinches him -- unexpectedly, but definitely not unwanted -- turning his cheek to push against Minho's shoulder to effectively hide the blushing face he's sporting. It's unfair, is what it is, and if Thomas had any fleeting thought that he might survive tonight it's all gone now -- Minho might touch him, and Thomas is just going to die on the spot. It'll be a nice death, at least. ]
Yeah? [ Flirting is not his strong suit, okay. ] I'll guess that was one. What do the others go like?
It's perfect and awful.
The squeak is just as good, and he grins-- probably like a lunatic-- before he slides his arm properly around Thomas while he tries to hide his face from him. But he lets him tuck against his shoulder for as long as he wants, as he leads him off towards where the bus sits. From what he can see, no one's on it right now. And he's really, really thankful for that. ]
The others aren't really meant for polite company, so.
shhh
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new account first tag 8)
holds it to chest
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