Kinktober Day 22: Hate Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

•

“This hotel room is a fucking joke,” Minho groans from the doorway of your shared room. “I thought they said this was a suite.”

“Technically it is one,” you counter, grasping a plastic toothbrush in one hand as you begin to brush your teeth. “It’s just the best suite you can get for the middle of nowhere.”

Minho paces the room as he eyes the single bed in the middle of it, the off-white duvet still pulled taut over every corner, completely untouched. He observes the flattened pillows, which appear to be a little too yellow to be considered sanitary, and he glances out the window at the view of an empty parking lot and a brick wall.

He sighs as he assumes a spot at the foot of the bed, his feet grazing the spotty carpet, as he hears the faucet run.

When you reappear from the bathroom, shutting off the light behind you, you gesture to the bed awkwardly, not meeting his gaze.

“Pick your side,” you tell him, eyeing the nightstand at your shared belongings. The majority of it is yours- your jewelry, a phone charger, your makeup bag, a book from your bag. Minho glances over his shoulder at the nightstand, shrugging, and then his gaze meets the floor in front of him again.

“You can have the nightstand,” he says. “I’ll take the side facing the mysterious stain on the wall.”

You want to laugh, biting back a smile, as you nod in understanding. Minho may be funny at times, but you’ll be damned if he ever gets a proper laugh out of you.

You’re the first to pull back the duvet, crawling under the covers as you watch Minho maintain his spot at the foot of the bed. He lets out another exaggerated sigh, and then he finally lets himself climb in beside you, lying on top of the duvet, his arms folded over his stomach.

“Turn out the light,” Minho commands. He shuts his eyes before he can see you scowl at him, unimpressed by his brashness.

Though you don’t argue with him, simply reaching over to turn off the lamp and shut your own eyes.

For several minutes, there’s not a word spoken between the two of you. There’s simply the low hum of the air conditioning, which turns on and off at seemingly random intervals. Every time it’s off again, you can make out the sound of Minho’s breathing, as his eyes remain fixed on the ceiling above him.

“I can’t sleep,” Minho says after a while, sitting up in bed and glancing around the room.

“Just try,” is all you tell him, not opening your eyes.

He attempts to fluff his pillow, to no avail, finally pulling the duvet over his body. And then in one swift motion, he’s pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor below.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s too hot in here,” Minho protests. “I’m sweating.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to sleep next to you if you’re naked.”

“Then sleep on the floor,” Minho retorts, lying back once more and folding his hands over his bare chest.

You don’t argue it again, knowing it’s a moot point when it comes to Minho. He may be your assigned plus-one for your best friend’s wedding, but despite her insistence that you’d get along with him, all you seem to do is bicker. Coordinating outfits together, attending wedding rehearsals, now rooming together for another insignificant event- he’s insufferable, the way he doesn’t miss an opportunity to argue.

“Don’t snore,” Minho says, breaking the silence once more. “If you do, I’ll wake you up.”

“Would you lighten up?” You say finally, sitting up to meet his gaze. “I don’t really want to be here, either. But you’re getting on my last fucking nerve. Just go to sleep, and shut up, will you?”

Minho scoffs when you lie down again, and then he shuts his eyes, chuckling amidst the silence.

“God, you want me so badly,” Minho remarks, rolling over to face the wall now.

“What did you say?”

He says nothing, maintaining an amused smile on his face.

“Say it again,” you command, sitting up to glare at him.

“You heard me.”

“No, I didn’t. Say it again, seriously.”

“I said you want me so badly,” he says finally, turning around to face you.

“You’re a fucking jerk.”

“Tell me I’m lying then,” Minho smirks. “You can’t, because it’s true.”

“I have never liked you, and I never will like you. I’ve hated you since the second we were assigned to each as plus ones for this stupid wedding.”

He shrugs devilishly, lying flat against the mattress once more, as he folds his arms behind his head now.

“Okay,” is all that Minho says. Even in the darkness, you can make out the curves of his pectorals as he flexes his arms behind his head, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His jawline clenches as he feels you continue to stare at him, and then he sits up again to meet your angered gaze.

“Glaring at me relentlessly still doesn’t dispute the fact,” he remarks. “You might as well just admit that’s why you’re so weird around me.”

His gaze seems to flicker over your lips, and then back to your narrowed eyes, as the same cocky smirk is plastered upon his handsome face. You can’t verbalize the annoyance from the back of your throat, simply muttering some string of curse words at him. But your words are contradicted by your actions, when you lean forward to get a little closer to him, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the proximity.

It’s Minho who’s a little confused now, his expression turning completely serious, as he observes you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“You’re the weird one,” you challenge, doing your best not to let your gaze accidentally fall to his bare torso. “You stare at me every opportunity you get- you turn all cold when I talk to other men.”

Minho’s lips part, as if he’ll say something in defense of himself, yet he remains quiet.

“Say it,” you finish, cocking your head in his direction. “Say that it’s you who wants this.”

Minho doesn’t give himself an appropriate amount of time to think over your words, before he’s leaning in to kiss you, his hands instinctively shifting to your waist to pull you in closer. He can’t tell if you’re surprised, or angry, or maybe you even seem to enjoy the events that unfold between the two of you. But it’s hard to decipher when you’re kissing him back with such passion, little gasps escaping into his parted lips as he slips his tongue between your lips.

Minho kisses as though he’s wanted this all along- and yet you do, too. And amidst the shared desperation of hands reaching for each other, and breathless gasps for air, you’re certain the matter of who’s wanted this more simply doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho’s muscular arms push you down against the mattress, where he resumes his kisses, as his hands caress the sides of your waist.

“Say it,” he beckons, in between repeated kisses. “You wanted this all along.”

“Fuck you,” is all you say back to him, tangling your fingers in his silky brown hair, as he tugs the elastic of his gray sweatpants down.

“You’d love that, huh?”

There’s nothing else spoken when he finally tugs his boxers down over his erect cock, and then he loops his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties.

Minho’s hand navigates to your inner thigh now, where he assists in hoisting your leg up for better access, and then he guides himself in with complete ease, quickly reattaching his lips to yours. It’s dizzying when he’s finally inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls as he begins to move. There’s an overwhelming sensation that maybe you have wanted this all along, constantly intrigued by the glances he steals at you, the way he’s protective when you’re in the presence of other men. Even the method in which converses, always finding a way to frustrate you, to keep you on your toes as you try to make sense of him.

“You like that?” Minho queries through gritted teeth. He grunts each time he thrusts into you, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and finding purchase along his chiseled jawline.

“Yeah,” you attempt to say back, though your voice is almost muffled by every harsh thrust, his cock kissing your cervix with every push of his hips. When your hands graze over his bare back, he quickens his pace, causing your nails to dig into his flesh, and Minho lets out a fervent moan at the satisfying, yet deliciously painful sensation.

“Say it,” Minho commands, coaxing an entirely different confession out of you. And by the way that he moves your hands down to your sides and pins them against the mattress, not permitting you to touch him until you’ve uttered the words, you can’t do anything but indulge him.

“I wanted this so bad,” you whine, moaning when he hits a particularly harsh angle. “I was always hoping you’d give up the ‘cool guy’ act and just fuck me already.”

He exhales sharply through gritted teeth, his grasp around your wrists tightening a little, as he comes down to suck a generously-sized bruise into the crook of your neck.

“Was it so obvious I wanted this, too?” He queries, slowing his rhythm a little. “Fuck, I can’t stand when you talk to the other groomsmen. You just love teasing me, don’t you?”

You can feel your cunt pulsate with every word that escapes his lips, your own heartbeat ringing in your ears as he taunts you. He fucks you so well, filling you in ways you can only fantasize, and yet his taunting is still somehow irritating to you, like he thinks he’ll have you wrapped around his finger with a quick fuck and some sweet talk.

“Nothing I do is for your attention,” you retort with a scoff, a breathy gasp succeeding your words. “You’re just insecure I’d fuck any of them before you.”

Minho pauses his thrusts for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion. A statement he knows to be false, considering you’re right here under him, letting him fuck you like he’s going to breed you. And then he wonders if he really is the first- have you indulged any of the other groomsmen before him? Is this some little game you’re playing? Was there some other “grand suite” booked for an event, with one bed, and several months of similarly suffocating sexual frustration between the two of you?

“Turn around,” Minho orders as he pulls out of you.

His expression has grown completely serious, no sign of mercy as he assists in flipping you over, pinning your hips to the mattress and hovering over you. His hands find your inner thighs again, spreading you for him once more, and then he’s entering you again without warning, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he works himself in and out of you much faster now.

“Look at you. Taking me so well, almost like you’re made for this. You love that we’re stuck in this stupid suite together. You love that they only booked us for a room with one bed, and you love taking my cock like this. Am I wrong?”

There’s no way to answer him when his pace is at its quickest, the sounds of squelching filling the dark room around you, and perhaps even echoing past the thin wallpapered walls. You pray that there’s nobody in the rooms beside you, because they could most definitely make out that he’s hate-fucking you, by the way you attempt to respond in stifled moans, as his grunts get much louder.

“Fucking say it,” Minho orders again. He loops your hair around his slender fingers to pull taut, littering a series of kisses along your jaw. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, relishing in the sensation of him channeling all his frustrations through you. There’s so much you can admit when he’s fucking you well beyond comprehension now, and you have to bite your lip to prevent from uttering some false string of confessions about how good he is at this. It’s true- he fucks like a porn star- of course you’d never let him know that.

“I love it,” is all you can reply in a desperate whine, as he keeps his grasp around your hair. He’s gentle to push your face back onto the mattress, and then his lips find your ear, where he nibbles on the lobe and allows his heavy breathing to fill your ears.

“You love it,” Minho repeats. “You love it, and you’ve made it obvious from the fucking start. Now cum for me.”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice- not when your head is spinning in a daze, eyes rolled into the back of your head as he keeps your face pressed against the mattress. Your hair is sticky with sweat, both his and yours, and tears prick the corners of your eyes as you feel him let go inside of you first, painting your insides with his release, as he coaxes an orgasm out of you, too.

“Fucking cum for me,” Minho repeats, thrusting his arousal in and out of you. It’s mere seconds that you follow suit, a wet puddle forming on the mattress when your fluids trickle of of you.

Minho pants heavily over you as he catches his breath, loosening his grip on your hair and tucking it behind your ears once more. He pulls out to roll over, glancing in your direction from his side, and then he taps your shoulder gently, prompting you to roll over, too.

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, sitting up with a concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” you say back, lying back on the mattress, hands folded over your chest.

There’s a silence in the room as you both attempt to make sense of what just happened, and then you begin to laugh, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

“What’s so funny?” Minho asks.

“You’re insufferable,” is all that you respond, turning onto your side now and shutting your eyes.

You can almost hear the smug grin he wears on his face, satisfied at having beat the other groomsmen at this little game. He wonders if you’d been truthful about wanting to fuck them, too. You couldn’t have been- not in a session this passionate. Not after a fuck this good.

“Y/n?” Minho asks, intent on coaxing the truth out of you.

But before he can produce his question, you’re interrupting him, a smug grin also plastered across your face.

“And don’t snore,” you tell him, lips pulling further up into a wicked smile. “If you do, I’ll wake you.”