wedspawn ♥ (wedspawn) wrote,
wedspawn ♥
wedspawn

Coffee and Regrets (a min7en story): Chapter Fifteen



Title: Coffee & Regrets ♥
Chapter: Fifteen [R]
Author: wedspawn
Pairing: Min7en
Overall Fic Rating: NC-17
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Summary: A pair of lovers, worn and faded by time, hope to recapture what they once had… or walk away after bittersweet goodbyes.

“You’re wearing a suit?” Ji snorted from his seat on the bathroom counter. “Are you kidding?”

Se7en adjusted his thin black tie, tightening the knot. Reaching for a cufflink, he threaded the post through one hole then the other on his French cuff, fastening the stud in place. He turned the post, settling the onyx stone circle against his snow-white shirt.

“No, I’m not kidding,” He said, nudging the younger man’s knee with his elbow. “Sometimes it’s nice to go on a date looking like a gentleman.” Eyeing Ji’s torn jeans and ratty t-shirt, he shook his head. “Hell, sometimes it would be nice if you looked more like a gentleman.”

“That would be false advertising, hyung,” Ji grinned.

“If you weren’t at least sometimes a gentleman.” Se7en nodded with his chin at Ji’s face. “You would have punched Min’s face in for doing that to you.”

“I would have to stand on a chair to punch your giraffe’s face.” Ji ducked as Se7en playfully grabbed at his hair to ruffle it. “I might have had a chance if I was standing on the couch and took a flying leap.”

“He’s not that tall,” The older man said.

“Hyung, he’s almost tall enough to wade into the ocean and not drown because his head is above the water,” He shot back.

“He’s only eight centimeters taller than me. Not a lot of difference.”

“You’re taller than me,” Ji reminded Se7en, nudging the man with his bare foot. He pinched Se7en’s trouser with his toes, wrinkling the dark grey fabric. “Actually, sometimes I feel like everyone is taller than me.”

“What about your…” Se7en asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he attached his other cufflink. “What are we calling him?”

“Unobtainable,” Ji grumbled. “I was brave enough to go over there the other day… after Min punched me.”

“Oh?”

“I thought I should maybe take some aspirin. He took care of me, kissed me on the forehead and sent me on my way.”

“At least you got a kiss.” The singer pointed out. “That’s more than most people would have gotten.”

“Yeah, and God he smells good,” Ji sighed, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his knees. “Like lemon drops and sweet black tea. I couldn’t think. Hell, I didn’t even know what to say.”

“You’re too shy sometimes,” Se7en said. “Actually you’re too shy all the time.”

“Only you know that,” The younger man ducked his head, hiding his face on his thighs. Se7en’s intense scrutiny raised all of Ji’s insecurities and he exhaled, wishing he could chase away the hot red on his cheeks. “Aish, I hate being…”

The older man tangled his fingers in Ji’s bright hair, gently pulling him up. He kissed the younger man on the end of his nose, smiling at the blushing pink creeping across Ji’s face. “You hate being bold for the camera when you’re not really bold inside?”

“It makes me feel like a lie sometimes,” Ji admitted, putting his chin on his knees. “But… I can’t be me in front of the cameras. Not if I want to be someone.”

“You are someone,” Se7en said, giving his friend a quick, one-armed hug. “You are a fierce dragon. It’s just that no one knows how soft your belly is.”


Min stood under the overhang protecting the front of his apartment building. The morning had been full of sunshine but as the afternoon crawled forward, the sky hung heavy with clouds. By twilight, the scent of rain filled the air and Min looked down at his favourite torn jeans, worried they wouldn’t be warm enough for the evening.

Traffic on the busy Seoul street parted and a sleek, elegant town car pulled up to the curb. Nearly the same dusky grey as the storm clouds, its glossy paint shimmered and Changmin caught his reflection on its surface, distorted and elongated by the car’s tight lines.

A familiar bulk unfolded from the driver’s seat, a chauffer’s perched low over his brow. His silver-shot black hair was cropped short, a spiky hedgehog haircut on his square head. The man’s smile was brief, a slice of welcome on his stern face then it was gone, washed away under his sober professionalism.

“Sir,” The driver said, tapping the brim of his hat as he bowed his head in greeting. He crossed around the car, opening the back door. “Might I get you out of the possibly rainy evening?”

Changmin grinned, resisting the urge to hug the man. “Hi!”

“Good evening, sir. I hope you’re well,” He said, motioning for Min to slide into the car. “We’ll be meeting the depraved pervert you have chosen to let back into your life at the restaurant. It’s not too late to change your mind and make other plans for the night.”

“No,” Min winked. “Let’s go meet the depraved idiot.”

“That was pervert, sir,” The driver was about to close the door when Min put his hand out to stop him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Dong-Wook…Se7en… he only calls you Gyosha,” Changmin said. “Would you… Will you tell me your name?”

“Of course, sir,” He leaned over and whispered into Changmin’s ear. “The pervert is probably waiting for us. If you’re ready to go, sir.”

“We can go,” Min said, sitting back. “Thank you.”

“Yes, sir,” The driver replied, closing the door softly. Adjusting his hat, he rounded the vehicle and got in, starting up the engine and pulling the car into traffic. Meeting Changmin’s eyes in the rear view mirror, he nodded once and turned his attention back to the road. “I’ll tell the depraved idiot that we’re on our way.”

“I thought that was pervert,” Min laughed.

“Never argue or correct a passenger, sir,” The man said. “Idiot you called him, idiot he shall be.”


Se7en knew the moment Changmin walked into the restaurant. The murmur of conversation intensified, becoming a river of speculation and awe. The private room he’d rented was a secluded corner of the rooftop restaurant, its wide glass windows able to accordion in to give the eatery an al fresco feel. He chose it because the food was good and the corner rooms could be closed off, giving them much wanted and much needed privacy.

There wasn’t a word he could imagine that could describe the fluttering feeling in his belly when he first saw Changmin cross through the restaurant. The room door had been left open, just a crack wide enough to give him a clear view of the entrance.

Those sexy long legs that Se7en loved so much were encased in torn, faded denim. A loose white shirt hung a little large from his shoulders and when the younger singer drew closer, Se7en spotted the small black monogram of his own tattoo on the pocket.

“That’s one of my shirts,” Se7en said, nearly reaching for the young man as he entered the room. The maître d studiously ignored the two men’s lingering glances and the almost touches of their fingers as they walked to the table set near the window.

“I borrowed it,” Min said, taking the napkin from the hovering maître d and settling into his chair.

Spreading the linen over his lap, he waited for Se7en to sit down before thanking the man for leading him to the table. The maître d left, assuring them their waiter would be by shortly and closed the door behind him, sealing the room off into a comfortable silence filled only with the sound of the two men breathing.

The table had been set up so the men sat on either side of a corner rather than across of one another. Se7en approved. He liked being within reach of the other man’s soft skin and ripe mouth.

That mouth touched his palm when Se7en ran his hand over Min’s chin, cupping the young man’s face. He leaned forward, their lips nearly touching when a discreet knock sounded on the door. Sighing, Se7en pulled back and gave permission to the waiter to enter, unfurling his napkin to hide the bulge growing in his trousers.

The menus were heavy in their hands, thick paper inked nearly solid blue with descriptions of food Min couldn’t concentrate on. He snuck a look at his lover, admiring the way the man’s suit jacket fit over his shoulders and chest. The man’s long torso was made for fine materials and Min ran his fingers down the soft fabric of Se7en’s former shirt, imagining his own touch was really his lover’s and he bit his lip hard, keeping a longing moan in his throat.

Sipping cold water helped douse his erection but his sex perked back up when Se7en shed his jacket and tossed it on one of the extra chairs against the wall. The man’s tattoo was barely visible through the fabric but Min could still see the swooping black ink and his mouth watered. It had been too long since he’d run his tongue over Se7en’s hot skin… been too long since he’d suckled at the man’s tattoo with the taste of his lover’s seed still on his tongue.

His next sip of water did nothing to quell his throbbing sex.

“Crab?” Se7en asked, looking up from the menu. “Of course, I don’t think I could stand to watch you eat crab.”

“I like crab.”

“I do too,” The other man murmured just loud enough for Min to hear. “I just don’t I could watch you suck butter and crab meat off of your fingers.”

“How about a steak?” Min glanced up at the waiter. “Are they good?”

“We only served aged beef, sir,” The man answered. “We’re known for our seafood dishes if you’d prefer something lighter.”

“They have lobster,” Changmin noticed, keeping his smile from becoming too broad. “I like lobster.”

“Lobster comes with butter,” Se7en said. “Same problem as crab.”

“I prefer crab,” The other man said. “I think I’ll have the crab and…a filet, rare please.”

“The same,” Se7en grumbled, “With garlic butter.”

Changmin let the older man choose the rest of the meal. His attention drifted to the view, a thin-threaded black screen keeping out any insects but letting the night air in. Despite the threat of rain, the breeze was cool and refreshing.

The waiter was gone by the time Min turned around and the door was closed, securing them in their own world once again. Se7en touched Min’s face again, running his fingers over the younger man’s lips. He kissed Se7en’s palm, feeling the scar on the heel. He intimately knew each curve and bump on the man’s hands.

“I told him not to bring the crab,” Se7en said, bending forward to nuzzle Min’s ear. He toyed with the black stud there, licking at the stone.

“But I like crab,” He moaned.

“Yeah but baby, I have plans for those fingers…and mine too,” The older man said, suckling Min’s ear lobe into his mouth. “The only thing I want to eat with my hands tonight… is you.”


“Dongsaeng,” A familiar, erotic purr tickled Ji’s ear. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Ji swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. Swearing inside, he paced and fretted at his lower lip, wondering if he could find it in himself to be G-Dragon for a moment while talking to the older man. “How are you doing?”

“Well,” He replied. “I was about to go out for dinner.”

“Oh…” The singer said, stumbling over a pair of Converses he’d left on the floor. “I shouldn’t keep you…”

“Actually, keeping me isn’t a problem,” The other man said. “I was hoping you’d join me. I was about to give you a call to ask if you were free.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ji murmured, taking a breath to smooth out the shake in his voice. “I could eat something.”

“Good, then. Shall I pick you up?” He asked. “Or would you like to meet me?”

“Either works.” His nerves were rattled but he was proud of the cool tone he’d managed. Smooth there, Ji, he thought, Learn something from the pimp master, Se7en.

“How about if I pick you up?” The other man’s purr deepened, drawling out the words and sending a tingle under Ji’s skin. “That way, I’ll know where to drop you off after breakfast.”
Tags: c&r 15, min7en
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