[ 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.
[ It's literally guaranteed that any time Minho decides to show off his muscles, Thomas will get weak in the knees. He can't be blamed, Minho's arm muscles are honestly heavenly, and he's always thought so. Now that he gets to see them up close and personal, touch them with the tips of his fingers, trace his ink and the way in perfectly flows with his bicep -- well, let's just say Thomas is surprised that his legs are still functioning. ]
Oh. [ He not completely sure what to say to that so he settles on pushing his nose against Minho's neck, probably making it extremely difficult for the two of them to make it to the bus. Does he mind? Not at all, if he gets to stay close to Minho.
When the bus is a step away, though, Thomas pulls back, taking the initiative through the open bus door, sneaking his way in through the skinny opening leading up. Mainly, it's because Thomas would be embarrassingly distracted by Minho's butt if he went through first. What can he say, he thinks ahead. ]
[ There is something endlessly endearing about how Thomas is rendered speechless, but Minho thinks maybe that he's just already biased and hopelessly head over heels for this apparent fanboy. Again, the question comes to mind of should I be taking him to my tour bus already? He isn't the sort that takes fans into dark corners literally anywhere, nevermind the place where he essentially lives while on tour if they haven't booked a hotel for a night or two. But Thomas, well.
Thomas is going to be an exception, and he's going to find some way to see him more often. Somehow. He'll figure it out.
For a second he thinks he'll be able to think about it, when Tommy's no longer got his nose tucked against his neck. But then he's going up the steps of the bus, and all Minho can see is butt. Sure, Thomas totally thinks ahead. Absolutely. Without hesitation, he reaches forward, giving him a quick swat right on the left cheek as he moves to follow after him. ]
[ There's a vocal squeak released upon contact -- Thomas is really, really glad it doesn't result in him face planting on the floor of the bus, because he'd probably jsut stay there and die from embarrassment. Thankfully, there are handrails to guide the rest of his way in, and it's exactly what you'd expect from a guy like Minho -- a little cluttered, a little chaotic, but Thomas is willing to bet that he doesn't spend all that much time in here. There is a bed, he's somewhat ecstatic, somewhat nervous to find, and there's.
Not really much sit down room.
So, Thomas steps forward, has a mini panic attack about where he should go, before just plopping down on the bed, shirtless and all, leaning back on his palms before his eyes flutter up to meet Minho's. His cheeks are all red but he looks calm despite it, tilting his head like he's asking a question, or he's waiting for an answer. Biting his lip, he lets his mouth get ahead of himself a little bit but. Can you blame him? Maybe, but he hasn't felt this elated ever. ]
Where should I set up the camera? [ This time it's fairly obvious he's joking with how he smiles, a little shy, a little unsure, but a lot happy. ] Hi, Youtube.
[ A bark of laughter escapes him at the squeak, but it's not cruel in tone, and Minho is glad that he doesn't fall over or trip up the steps. He trails up after him easily, keeping his hands to himself until they get inside, and shuts the door behind him with a click of the lock. It won't stop anyone that has a key, but. Whatever, he doesn't care. It'll let them know not to come in, anyways.
He kicks some things aside while Thomas peers around (and heads to the bed), carefully placing Thomas' shirt where it won't get lost. But then he looks up again, and has to pause at the image of him sitting back on his bed.
God, that's nice.
Eyes sickling again in another smile, he shrugs a shoulder, playing along. That one's not a bad joke, truth be told. ] Eh, we can figure that out later. Not too keen on the idea of sharing right now.
[ And he moves to remove his shirt, body one sinuous line of muscle with the movement. ]
[ He feels chills going up his spine while he watches Minho strip -- every inch of muscle, every hair on his body incredibly aware that there is a very nearly naked rock star right before him, and Thomas' brain just. can't process that. When has he ever gotten this lucky?
Fingers flexing where they dig into Minho's bed sheets, Thomas licks his lip while he watches him, the smooth lines of his stomach coming into frame, like some beautiful masterpiece, like Adonis plucked straight from a statue and made to man. Acutely aware that he's staring, Thomas lets his gaze flicker down and up, down and up, not minding if he's caught because really, he thinks he's made it perfectly clear just how much Minho means to him, from his general fanboyism, from the ink staining his skin. Anyone who sees Minho and doesn't stare clearly needs to get their eyes checked.
A little bit like a child pleading for attention, Thomas lifts up his hands and makes grabby gestures at Minho, fingertips honestly aching to get a hold back on him, with the showing of new skin. ]
Thanks for inviting me back to your bus. It's really -- uh, nice of you. Really nice.
[ Tossing his shirt aside, because he has no reason to worry about it as opposed to Tommy's, Minho doesn't really feel much shame for joining him in his half naked state. Because he's confident with himself, and, really, it's only fair for them to even the playing field. Besides, he's a little distracted by the image in front of him. Because, seriously.
He steps forward to the foot of the bed, basically going to stand between his legs as he follows the draw of his grabby hands. If Thomas wants to get his hands on him, then Minho really wants to get his hands on Thomas.
Hand lifting, he skirts it up along his chest, fingers tracing over where he's left his signature at his collar. Going higher, he brushes his fingers up his neck, following his pulse until he can cradle his face in one hand. It certainly isn't just a hit it and quit it kind of gesture, and he figures he ought to make it known. ]
Real glad that you decided to come. [ He thumbs at his cheek. ] Need to let you know, though. This doesn't really feel like a one night stand kinda thing.
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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
Oh. [ He not completely sure what to say to that so he settles on pushing his nose against Minho's neck, probably making it extremely difficult for the two of them to make it to the bus. Does he mind? Not at all, if he gets to stay close to Minho.
When the bus is a step away, though, Thomas pulls back, taking the initiative through the open bus door, sneaking his way in through the skinny opening leading up. Mainly, it's because Thomas would be embarrassingly distracted by Minho's butt if he went through first. What can he say, he thinks ahead. ]
no subject
Thomas is going to be an exception, and he's going to find some way to see him more often. Somehow. He'll figure it out.
For a second he thinks he'll be able to think about it, when Tommy's no longer got his nose tucked against his neck. But then he's going up the steps of the bus, and all Minho can see is butt. Sure, Thomas totally thinks ahead. Absolutely. Without hesitation, he reaches forward, giving him a quick swat right on the left cheek as he moves to follow after him. ]
new account first tag 8)
Not really much sit down room.
So, Thomas steps forward, has a mini panic attack about where he should go, before just plopping down on the bed, shirtless and all, leaning back on his palms before his eyes flutter up to meet Minho's. His cheeks are all red but he looks calm despite it, tilting his head like he's asking a question, or he's waiting for an answer. Biting his lip, he lets his mouth get ahead of himself a little bit but. Can you blame him? Maybe, but he hasn't felt this elated ever. ]
Where should I set up the camera? [ This time it's fairly obvious he's joking with how he smiles, a little shy, a little unsure, but a lot happy. ] Hi, Youtube.
holds it to chest
He kicks some things aside while Thomas peers around (and heads to the bed), carefully placing Thomas' shirt where it won't get lost. But then he looks up again, and has to pause at the image of him sitting back on his bed.
God, that's nice.
Eyes sickling again in another smile, he shrugs a shoulder, playing along. That one's not a bad joke, truth be told. ] Eh, we can figure that out later. Not too keen on the idea of sharing right now.
[ And he moves to remove his shirt, body one sinuous line of muscle with the movement. ]
no subject
Fingers flexing where they dig into Minho's bed sheets, Thomas licks his lip while he watches him, the smooth lines of his stomach coming into frame, like some beautiful masterpiece, like Adonis plucked straight from a statue and made to man. Acutely aware that he's staring, Thomas lets his gaze flicker down and up, down and up, not minding if he's caught because really, he thinks he's made it perfectly clear just how much Minho means to him, from his general fanboyism, from the ink staining his skin. Anyone who sees Minho and doesn't stare clearly needs to get their eyes checked.
A little bit like a child pleading for attention, Thomas lifts up his hands and makes grabby gestures at Minho, fingertips honestly aching to get a hold back on him, with the showing of new skin. ]
Thanks for inviting me back to your bus. It's really -- uh, nice of you. Really nice.
[ so are your muscles. ]
no subject
He steps forward to the foot of the bed, basically going to stand between his legs as he follows the draw of his grabby hands. If Thomas wants to get his hands on him, then Minho really wants to get his hands on Thomas.
Hand lifting, he skirts it up along his chest, fingers tracing over where he's left his signature at his collar. Going higher, he brushes his fingers up his neck, following his pulse until he can cradle his face in one hand. It certainly isn't just a hit it and quit it kind of gesture, and he figures he ought to make it known. ]
Real glad that you decided to come. [ He thumbs at his cheek. ] Need to let you know, though. This doesn't really feel like a one night stand kinda thing.