glitterburn: (TVXQ: HoMin suited up)
[personal profile] glitterburn

The second day of the challenge sees everyone hard at work. Yunho sits on his mat, happily cutting out strips of black satin and chewing on pineapple lumps. He’s already draped the soft, glimmering silver cloth of the vest-top on the form. Changmin tries to picture himself wearing something so blatantly attention-grabbing and sexy. To his surprise, he finds he can imagine it quite easily. Even more surprising, he’s looking forwards to wearing the satin bandage trousers.

Regardless of that, Changmin wants to win this task. He wants to dress Yunho to perfection, turn the trashy street boy into something classy and fierce. This isn’t just an outfit. This is a work of art, and Changmin is prepared to sew until his fingers bleed to get it just right.

Zhou Mi swans in after lunch to offer his usual unwanted advice. “Just a suggestion,” he says to Sungmin, “but is hot pink really Jiheun’s colour? I think it makes her look washed out. But it’s just a suggestion, take it or leave it.”

Making his way over to Yunho, he eyes the drape top, nods a lot, and then praises the trousers, which are taking shape on the mat. Zhou Mi flicks glances at Changmin the whole time. “I can see you were very inspired,” he says to Yunho, taking a handful of pineapple lumps. “I’m loving it. But you have so much to do on the jacket!”

“I’ll work extra-hard to get it finished in time,” Yunho says, his expression buoyant. “Changmin is going to look incredible when he walks down the runway. More incredible than he usually does. Super-incredible.”

Zhou Mi raises his eyebrows but says nothing. He doesn’t even make one of his suggestions for Yunho to take or leave. Instead he sways over to Changmin’s workstation. Standing back from the form, he sweeps his gaze over the satin-faced tailcoat and the double-breasted waistcoat, then casts a glance at the black velvet and leather on the bench. “Designer Shim, this is looking a-ma-zing. Clearly you two are a match made in heaven.”

“Or hell,” Changmin says, then wishes he could take it back. He flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Yunho can be opinionated.”

“But you’re strong-willed. You don’t have to listen to him.” Zhou Mi puts a hand up to his face as if he’s about to cough, but he’s trying to hide a smile.

“He should listen to me.” Changmin pats the form’s solid, dependable ass. “He wanted me to put a bustle here.”

“Oh dear me, no.” Zhou Mi gives up on trying to conceal his amusement and waves his hand instead. “Don’t compromise your design aesthetic just because you’re—” He stops.

Changmin looks at him. “Just because I’m what?”

“Nothing.” Zhou Mi gives him a bright, glittering smile then fixes his gaze on Spoon and sails off. “Designer Spoon! How are you getting along?”

A frown creasing his brow, Changmin stares after him, but then he forgets about it and returns to his tailoring.

The day wears on. Yunho is very obliging about leaving his own work and standing for fittings, and he has absolutely no compunction about stripping down to his underwear so Changmin can dress him. Changmin tries to make him get changed with full regard for propriety, but Yunho just smiles and takes his clothes off.

Changmin is glad he’s kneeling on the floor because otherwise his erection would be really fucking obvious.

“Why won’t you go behind the screens?” he begs when Yunho does his casual striptease for the third time.

“Because standing around in my underwear in front of everyone else and the cameraman is the only way I won’t spring a boner for you,” Yunho says, low-voiced but still smiling. “Although if you keep on looking up at me like that, I might not be able to help myself.”

“Looking at you like what?”

“With those big wide eyes and your hair all tousled and with your lips soft and pouty and—ohhhh fuck.” Yunho blushes and drops into a crouch, exclaiming in an overly loud voice, “Oh, Changminnie, you dropped your pins!”

Changmin blinks, says, “Oh?” and then his gaze gets stuck on the massive bulge filling out the front of Yunho’s underwear, and he says “Oh!” and spills his pins for real.


They have until midnight tonight and then six hours the following day to finish their outfits. At just before eleven o’clock, Jiheun yawns hugely and steps away from the leather and pink tulle creation she’s designed for Sungmin. “Guys, I’m beat,” she says, stretching her arms above her head until her shoulders crack. “I’m calling it a night.”

“Me, too,” Sungmin says. “If my muse is going home, I may as well follow her example.”

Milhye glances up. “Wait for me, I’ll come with you. I’m pretty much done with my look. I’ll finalise everything tomorrow.”

“Oh, then I may as well go with you guys,” Spoon adds, unlooping the tape measure from around his neck and setting down his scissors. “As Sungmin said, why work when the muse has gone home?”

The cameraman looks relieved and glances towards Yunho and Changmin. “Since it’s just you two left, I think I’ll head off. The big drama is going to come from Milhye and Spoon, not from you guys.”

“You’re so right,” Yunho agrees. “Changmin and I are boring with our boring menswear in mostly boring black fabrics. You should have an early night.”

“Thanks,” the cameraman says. “See you all tomorrow at eight.”

“Later, darlings!” Spoon carols as he leads the way to the doors.

Yunho crouches down on his mat, his jacket for Changmin draped over a stool. He doesn’t look up from turning the cuffs of his jacket, but he waves goodnight with a handful of pins. “Bye, everyone! See you later!”

Changmin peers around his form. “You don’t think we should go with them?” he asks as the workroom doors close and they’re left alone in the warm, echoing space.

Now Yunho glances up, peering at the clock at the far end of the room. “We have sixty-seven minutes left.”

“I’m kind of ahead of myself.” Changmin strokes the tailcoat, wanting Yunho to admire it. “I can finish tomorrow if you want to leave, too.”

“I’m good.” Yunho pauses, looks at him. “Do you want to leave?”

“I... No.” Stepping away from the form, Changmin goes over to the mat. He leans against the workbench and watches Yunho sew. His stitches have become much neater, though they’re still quite ragged. Fortunately they’re just tacking stitches. “I’ll wait for you.”

Yunho smiles. “Everyone else’s muses went home. Mine stayed.”

Changmin makes a soft, awkward sound, a sort of self-deprecating laugh-snort. He’s ridiculously flattered to be referred to as Yunho’s muse, even though he knows Yunho was only picking up on what Sungmin had said.

“Changminnie.” Yunho sits back on his heels and holds up the jacket. “Would you try this on for me, please?”


“Actually,” Yunho makes puppy-dog eyes at him, “would you mind trying on the whole look? I’m sure I got the hems right on the trousers and I’m thrilled with the vest, but the jacket... I need to turn the cuffs properly, and there’s just something... If you’d wear it all for me?”

“No problem.” Changmin scoops up the clothes and carries them behind one of the screens to change. He’s glad that he gets to try on the complete look without the staring eye of the camera ready to capture his reaction. All afternoon he’s been casting covetous glances towards Yunho’s form as the garments took shape, and now he gets to wear them, and it’s just him and Yunho, muse and designer.

He takes off his charcoal grey pinstripe from Jermyn Street with more haste than is strictly necessary. Expensive London tailoring shouldn’t be treated so lightly, but Changmin is eager to slip into the clothes Yunho made for him. The trousers first, the wrapped satin clinging tight to every line and curve. For all that it seems shrink-wrapped to his legs, there’s actually a decent amount of give to the fabric and the trousers are more comfortable than he’d expected. Changmin runs his hands up his thighs and over his ass, wishing he had a mirror. He hopes he looks as good as he feels.

Now for the vest, a sexy drape of silver that moves with him, by turns revealing and concealing his chest. It dips low beneath his arms and is technically not really a garment at all, just a swathe of fabric with a few stitches to hold it up over his shoulders and at the sides, but the jacket will be covering most of it.

Changmin slides into the jacket with care, conscious of the tacking stitches. He shrugs into the shoulders and tugs down the back so it sits nicely. The jacket flares very slightly over his hips. On the form it looked a bit too feminine, but now he’s wearing it, Changmin realises that the cut will make his legs look even longer.

He pauses behind the screen, breathing in the smooth, cool scent of the fabric. The workroom lights hum. He can hear Yunho moving about, the clatter of scissors and rattle of boxed pins. Excitement unfolds inside him, buoyed by the knowledge that they’re alone and that anything could happen, anything at all.

Changmin steps out onto the workroom floor. He strikes a pose as Yunho looks up, and then when Yunho’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open, Changmin gives it some attitude and struts.

“Oh yeah. Look at you. Posh boy is so hardcore.” Yunho grins and claps his hands. “But those sleeves. I didn’t want to turn too much, but...”

Changmin glances at the cuffs, which are stripes of the same silver fabric as his vest. He can understand Yunho’s hesitation. The cloth is silk charmeuse, which gives the visual effect of molten metal but is an absolute bitch to sew.

“I’m going to pin it.” Yunho clears his mat and beckons Changmin over. “Would you mind lying down for a moment?”

“Surely you should pin it while I’m standing up,” Changmin says.

Yunho rolls his eyes. “When have I pinned anything standing up?”

Plenty of times, but Changmin isn’t going to argue. Yunho was incredibly helpful to him earlier today; now he gets to be helpful in return, and if Yunho needs him to lie on the mat, that’s what he’ll do.

“Okay. Here we go.” Changmin is careful as he lowers himself to the ground and unrolls himself across the mat, very aware of how tight his trousers are and how he doesn’t want to transfer any dust from the floor onto the satin. He wriggles a bit, a blush warming his face as Yunho crawls over him.

“Thank you,” Yunho says softly. “Put your arms out a little? That’s it.”

Changmin stays as still as possible, letting Yunho move his arms as necessary so he can pin the cuffs. The sleeves of the jacket are tailored to a tight fit, and Changmin feels the bite of tension in the cloth as Yunho sticks the pins through the charmeuse.

“Be careful,” Changmin says, lifting his head to look down at his left sleeve. For some reason, Yunho has slid the pins through the fabric and into the mat. “If you’re too rough with it, the fabric will be ruined.”

“That’s right.” Yunho puts a hand on Changmin’s chest and pushes him back down. “So you’d better not move while I work.”

“Yes. Okay.” Taking a calming breath, Changmin rests his head on the mat and stares at the ceiling. Lying here with Yunho moving over and around him is starting to have a predictable effect. Changmin stirs, fidgety and embarrassed. The tight satin bandage trousers get a little tighter, and he tilts his hips and squirms to help ease it.

“Almost done.” Yunho brushes against Changmin, runs a hand all the way up the outside of his leg, and Changmin begins to wonder if perhaps he’s been manipulated into this situation.

“Yunho,” he says. “Yunho, are you trying to seduce me?”

“By pinning you to my work mat?” Yunho leans over him, eyes gleaming. “That would be a yes.”

“Oh.” Heartbeat stuttering, then racing, Changmin licks his lips, his body tensing with delicious, quivering anticipation.

Yunho slinks over him. “Oh? Is that all you’ve got to say?”

Changmin resists the urge to arch up as Yunho undulates over him, almost touching but not quite. Arousal scrawls and rolls inside him. Yunho is poised above him, heat and desire radiating between them, but his weight remains tantalisingly out of reach. Not that Changmin can grab him and pull him down, either, because if he moves his hands, the charmeuse will be ruined.

Oh God. Changmin wonders if he’s about to sacrifice his tailoring principles for the chance to feel Yunho on top of him again.

“I,” he says, mind going blank as Yunho almost-nuzzles all the way up his throat, breath warm and ticklish, “I’m sorry I called you a skank.”

Yunho chuckles. “I don’t mind. I liked the way you said it. I liked it so much, in fact, that I’m going to reclaim the word on behalf of skanks everywhere, not just skanks from Gwangju.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Changmin’s eyes drift shut and he tilts back his head, offering his mouth. He can almost taste Yunho, they’re so close.

Yunho purrs. “What do you want?”

“Kiss me.” The demand comes out on a gasp.

Yunho leans closer and kisses him. Slow. Gentle. Changmin moans. There’s not enough pressure, not enough heat. It’s frustrating, maddening. He levers himself up in pursuit of a harder embrace, trying to keep his hands and wrists flat on the mat, but Yunho lifts away, smiling.

Changmin glares at him. “Again. Kiss me again.”

Another kiss, light and teasing, and then Yunho licks at Changmin’s lips, coaxes him to open his mouth. Changmin shudders back onto the mat, lying flat again. Crawling over him, Yunho sits astride his chest, kneels in the space between Changmin’s pinned, outspread arms. “Oh baby,” Yunho murmurs, both hands cradling Changmin’s head, the kiss catching fire now, becoming deep and wet and messy.

Yunho tastes of pineapple. Changmin never thought he’d find the flavour of pineapple erotic, but now he can’t get enough of it. He chases the taste, thrusts his tongue into Yunho’s mouth, urgent and hot. Yunho makes a muffled groan and shifts back and forth, cock growing hard. Changmin nips at Yunho’s lower lip, his own arousal thickening further against the tight, satin bandage trousers.

“What do you want?” Yunho asks again, and his voice has gone slow and dark.

The words roll through Changmin, lighting him up. “I—I want...” He stops, breathing hard, at the gentle pressure of Yunho’s hand on his chest. The silver charmeuse slips cool and delicate as butterfly wings over his skin.

“Changminnie,” Yunho murmurs, his face against Changmin’s neck, hot little moans tumbling from him as he slides his palm down. The fabric is soft, so soft, and it whispers, raising goosebumps, waking nerve endings Changmin didn’t know he had.

“Oh,” Changmin breathes, “oh Yunho.”

Yunho traces over one of Changmin’s nipples. The touch is gentle through the shiny, shimmery charmeuse, a teasing caress, and then Yunho rubs the pad of his thumb over that stiff little peak and pinches it. Tugs it.

It’s electrifying. A choked noise jolts from Changmin’s throat and he jerks up, but not too hastily because of the pinned cuffs. He shivers through his mouth, a desperate, wanting sound.

“You like that, huh? Does it feel good, Changminnie?” Yunho’s voice has gone sandpaper-rough, and Changmin wishes he hadn’t thought of that, because now he’s imagining the texture of sandpaper against his skin while Yunho keeps on rubbing the silky-soft charmeuse over him, and the contrast between imagination and reality is breaking his mind.

He knows Yunho asked him a couple of questions and hopes they were rhetorical. He doesn’t think he can answer. Not in words, anyway. His hips lift, his cock aching and heavy. Yunho makes a hungry sound and squirms backwards, wriggles his ass down against Changmin’s dick.

“Yun,” Changmin says, grinding up hard. “Yunho. Yunho.”

Yunho settles his weight more comfortably over Changmin’s hips. He turns the sides of the jacket back, then pushes up the silvery vest, baring Changmin’s chest.

The charmeuse pools around the base of Changmin’s throat like liquid, and he gasps, turning his head. His hair falls into his eyes. Heat stokes inside him, glimmers across his skin as Yunho toys with him, delivering sharp, mean tugs on his nipples. Changmin punctuates each one with a moan, getting louder and louder.

Then Yunho bends his head and licks between his thumb and forefinger, licks the tip of Changmin’s nipple, then bites.

Changmin makes a garbled noise and writhes. Sensation arcs, slams through his body and pulses hot and needy in his cock, his balls, all the way back to his hole. He clenches down tight on the feeling and jabs up with his hips, seeking relief.

“What do you want?”

He hates Yunho for asking that question over and over. Surely it’s obvious what he wants. He wants to be free of this weird pin bondage. He wants Yunho to fuck him. No, he wants—he wants—

“Suck me,” Changmin blurts. “Suck my cock. I want to come in your mouth.”

“Oh baby,” Yunho breathes. “You know I can smell you, yeah? I’m going to see if you taste as good as you smell.”

Changmin can smell himself, too. Not just the clean scent of sweat through the citrus notes of his cologne, but the smell of arousal, thick and musky. He flattens his hands against the mat and takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself as Yunho crawls backwards and comes to rest over his thighs. Unfastening the satin bandage trousers, Yunho pulls them down along with Changmin’s underwear to just above his knees, and now he’s doubly trapped, no, triply trapped, with the pins in his cuffs and his trousers tangled tight and Yunho sitting on top of him looking down, gaze brilliant with lust.

“God, Changminnie, you’re so big, you’re so gorgeous,” Yunho sighs as he gets his hands on Changmin’s dick at last, and Changmin thinks yes, yes he loves Yunho for that, because flippancy is all he’s got right now.

Yunho bends down again, drops a kiss to Changmin’s tense belly then snuffles a line of sloppy little kisses from his navel down into his pubic hair, strokes his tongue into the fluff of Changmin’s treasure trail, making greedy noises of praise the whole time.

Changmin tilts his hips and words jerk out of his mouth, hot and lewd: “Lick me. Get your mouth on me and choke on it. I want to fuck your face.”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” Yunho says, one hand curling around Changmin’s cock and giving it a stroke. Just once, all the way up, and Changmin groans and bucks against him. Yunho feathers his thumb across the underside then slides it through the gathering pre-come, making the head all slick.

“Do it now,” Changmin snaps, thrusting up towards Yunho’s face. “Oh God, just suck me.”

Yunho looks up, eyes wide and innocent. He licks his lips.

Please,” Changmin shouts, then grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He can’t look, he just can’t—he’ll go off if he watches Yunho take his cock between those sweet lips. Fuck, just the thought of it is driving him crazy. He goes rigid, waiting, hanging, his breathing ragged and desperate.

Yunho’s mouth is like silk, going down. Hot, wet silk, smothering and tight and so fucking good. Changmin gasps, shuddering at the pressure wrapped around him, and then he pumps up. Pleasure jolts through him, and he’s overtaken by a lazy, slow glide of sensation even as his hips work, mind fracturing as he tries frantically to stuff more of his dick into Yunho’s mouth.

Yunho slides off him all the way then plunges back down, takes just the head of Changmin’s cock, tongue working and lashing over that tiny slippery slit. He’s groaning, too, the noise rolling through Changmin and making him harder, making his balls draw up heavy and tight.

“Give it to me, oh fuck, take me,” Changmin snarls, begs. He wants to shove his hands into Yunho’s hair, wants to force his head down so he takes more and more, but those damn pins through the cuffs prevent him. Frustration spirals, snaps, and Changmin slams his palms against the mat. “Fuck. Fuck. Do it faster. Suck me.”

Yunho eats at him, sloppy and greedy, saliva and pre-come drooling, and then he uses his hands, fondles Changmin’s balls with one hand and rubs at his stiff, aching length with the other, working Changmin all the way up. His tongue flicks, curls, and then he swallows Changmin right down, jaw relaxing, throat working.

Changmin thrashes on the mat, helpless. “Ohhh Yunho, I’m gonna— You’re making me—”


It slams through him, orgasm dancing up his spine and shattering him. Changmin lifts his head for the end, watches as Yunho coaxes out the last few spurts, and lust punches him right in the gut when Yunho pulls off him a little and paints his lips with the final dribbles of seed.

“Oh, you’re so dirty,” Changmin gasps, and Yunho puts his hand to his mouth, licks his lips, sucks on his fingers. “Filthy, trashy, oh God,” Changmin says, voice sliding higher and breaking into staccato beats, “come on me. Fuck yes, come all over me.”

Yunho’s gaze is hot and bright as he kneels up, unzips his jeans, and takes out his dick. Changmin stares. God, yes. He’s huge, thick and solid and oh, the curve on it, the heft of it. Changmin wants it gagging him, forcing into him, but he’d asked for a show and a show he’s going to get. He can’t look away, gaze fixed on Yunho’s swollen cock, the head glossy with a mess of pre-come.

“Yeah,” Changmin urges, resisting the craving to give that glorious length a good lick, “work yourself. Rub it. Come on me.”

“Posh boy.” Yunho fists his cock, jerks it slow, his head tipping back a little. Changmin stares at Yunho’s throat as he pants for breath, as he swallows, and feels a new tension sing through his body.

“Changmin.” Yunho lets his head drop forward, holding Changmin’s gaze, his look intense and hungry. “Changminnie, oh God, yeah.”

He’s shuddering now, hand working hard and brutal, pre-come spilling down his shaft and making everything slippery and slick and ohhh the noises, the shuffling wet noises and Yunho’s sharp, hectic breaths, the blurring of his hand as he tugs and jerks and drags himself on towards climax.

Pinned beneath him, Changmin squirms, skin sensitised, waiting for the hot spatter of semen. His hands curl, scrabbling at the mat. The charmeuse bunched at his throat seems to press down, making him breathless.

Yunho sways forward, braces himself on one hand. Changmin moans, heady on their combined scent, cologne and sweat and sex. He arches his back, shoulders pressing hard into the mat, and mewls at the heat of Yunho’s cock. Yunho’s knuckles brush against Changmin’s belly as he works and works, his eyes wide now and his mouth open, gaze fixed to Changmin’s face. Changmin writhes against the pin restraints, almost beyond caring what his movements will do to the delicate fabric.

“Oh,” Yunho gasps out, “oh yeah, I’m coming. Changminnie, you’re so fucking hot, oh God, you’re hot, gonna come all over you.”

Changmin makes gasping sounds of encouragement, sinking into the sensation of hot wet spunk spurting across his bare skin as Yunho lets go. It spills everywhere, Yunho’s dick jerking against him again and again. Unable to bear it a second longer, Changmin rips free of the pins, rocking up to curl his arms around Yunho. He rolls back down, pressing them together as Yunho shudders through the aftershocks, and the pleasure of witnessing Yunho’s orgasm is almost as intense as experiencing his own.


A little while later, they realise what a mess they’ve made. The charmeuse at the cuffs has holes in it, and there’s some interesting stains on the vest and over part of the jacket. Changmin thinks he should be appalled, but he’s not. It’s hard to be appalled when Yunho is wearing the biggest, sweetest smile and not very much else as he attempts to clean them and his outfit at the same time.

* * *

Changmin floats happily through the mad scramble of the last few hours on the final day of the challenge. He makes a few adjustments to the tailcoat then spends the rest of his time on Yunho’s trousers, black stretch velvet on the inside and smooth, pliant black leather on the outside. For the first time in his life, Changmin’s mouth waters when he dresses his client. The trousers are utterly sinful, hugging Yunho’s thighs and doing frankly magnificent things to his crotch. Not that it needs it any more showcasing, but after last night, Changmin has a vested interest.

“They even give you an ass,” he says, sliding a finger up the stitching on one panel. “Kind of a trompe l’oeil because of the sheen and cut of the leather.”

“Whatever you say.” Yunho smiles down at him. “I like the fit. I like everything. No, I love it. You’ve made me look gorgeous.”

Changmin ducks his head and mumbles, “Not bad for a Gwangju skank.” He glances around the room, making sure everyone else is still busy working and that the camera is pointed elsewhere before he runs his hands up Yunho’s velvet-clad inner thighs to press his palm possessively over Yunho’s cock.

“Oh baby,” Yunho murmurs, hips canting forward.

Changmin smiles and fondles that gorgeous heavy dick, rubs until it thickens and strains at the stitching, and then he pulls away. “Control yourself,” he says, “or I’ll stick you with a pin.”

Yunho’s expression blazes with lust, but then he laughs. “You’re going to pay for that. Just you wait.”

A delicious shiver cuts down Changmin’s spine. He doesn’t think he can wait, that’s the problem. It’s as if the events of last night have flipped a switch inside him, and now he wants Yunho all the time.

Doesn’t help that the outfit Changmin created for him makes him look hotter than hell. It’s all severe lines, but Yunho is curvy and strong and his body does things to the tailoring that makes a great outfit look incredible, and when he gets dressed for the final time and puts on a pair of boots and silly, sexy fingerless leather half-gloves, Changmin knows he’s onto a winner. His sigh of appreciation is echoed by everyone in the room.

“Oh my,” Milhye says, fanning her face. “I could eat you with a spoon.”

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t mind,” Spoon says, and everyone laughs.

Yunho marches Changmin off to the salon and gets the stylist to tease his hair into layers of feathery spikes, sweeping them over to one side of his face. “Height! Volume!” Yunho exclaims, and Changmin feels twelve feet tall by the time he comes out, silver powder shimmering over his eyelids to match the mercury-drip effect of his vest and the cuffs on the jacket.

“Holy shit,” Jiheun says when Yunho ushers Changmin back into the workroom.

Spoon looks stunned. “Girlfriend, is that really you?”

Changmin laughs.

Zhou Mi comes to collect them, and they all hustle backstage ready for the runway show. Spoon is wearing a lounge suit that makes him look like soft furnishings. Milhye is dressed in a floor-length gown that makes her look shapeless. Jiheun is wearing a kaftan that retains a stripe of shocking pink but the rest is constructed of jersey, and Sungmin sports a flamboyant confection of pink tulle and chiffon over leather trousers.

For once, Changmin doesn’t actually care who wins the challenge. It’s between him and Yunho, that much is clear from the hot mess everyone else has made of their designs, but honestly, he doesn’t care who wins this time.

Turns out that he wins it, scoring three points more than Yunho.

“This is really very sexy,” Jaejoong says, waving a hand over the outfit Yunho is wearing. “It puts everything on show and then slaps you down for even daring to look, so it’s modest as well as filthy hot.”

“Totally not ugly, not ugly, not ugly,” Kyuhyun agrees.

“You boys have an excellent eye for dressing one another,” Madame Oh opines, a gleam in her eyes as she says it.

Changmin wonders if he has a sign over his head saying GOT IT LAST NIGHT. He looks up, but there’s nothing there. Must be Yunho who’s obvious rather than him.

Milhye and Spoon are in the bottom two. After some deliberation, Spoon is sent home, with Jaejoong wishing him a hearty ‘E haere ra’.

* * *

The week eight challenge is to dress a celebrity.

“It was supposed to be some pop starlet from some mediocre girl group,” Zhou Mi says with a look of vague disgust, “but fortunately—unfortunately—she sprained her ankle. Instead I’m delighted to say that one of Korea’s top male models has agreed to join us today. Please welcome Choi Siwon!”

Jiheun and Milhye squeal into their hands and wriggle on their seats. Sungmin sighs and almost slides off his chair.

Yunho looks blank. Changmin elbows him in the ribs. “You know, the guy who advertises that skin cream?”

Yunho’s expression gets even blanker. “Um, no?” He follows the direction of Changmin’s gaze as Siwon swaggers through the open doors into the workroom, and recognition lights his face. “Oh, him. He modelled for that expensive underwear brand that was a total sell-out at the market. Er, underwear similar to the brand he modelled for, I mean. We sold a lot of that.”

Changmin tries not to snort. “Don’t tell me, they fell off the back of a lorry?”

“No,” Yunho says, straight-faced, “Donghae found a pile behind a skip.” He pauses, looks guilty. “Anyway! I know who this guy is now. I remember those ads.”

Everyone remembers those ads, the billboard campaign that featured Siwon clad only in an incredibly short towel worn incredibly low on his hips, his soulful gaze fixed on the designer underwear lying on his rumpled bed. The ads had shocked conservative members of the populace and caused numerous traffic collisions as over-excited housewives gawped at Siwon’s superbly curved ass.

Changmin may have got off with the help of the magazine version of that billboard. Just once or twice. When he’d been drinking and didn’t have any porn immediately to hand, as it were. Not that he’s ever going to admit it, certainly not when everyone else, including Zhou Mi, are all fluttering and practically drooling as Siwon strides manfully towards them.

“Hey, designers.” Siwon’s voice is low and rich, and he flashes a huge cheesy smile around the room. Almost everyone giggles, except Yunho, who straightens out of his slouch and smiles back, and Changmin, who decides that Siwon isn’t actually as good-looking as all that.

“Well now,” Zhou Mi twitters, “this week’s challenge is to design a look for Siwon to wear to the premiere of Waterworld 2. And I believe you actually have a role in this film, Siwon! How exciting! Can you tell us about it?”

Siwon smiles again. It seems to be the only thing he can do well, in Changmin’s opinion, because when he talks about his part in the movie it seems that his role requires nothing more strenuous than taking off his shirt a few times and running through the waves in slow motion.

Jiheun seems to be hyperventilating at the thought. Zhou Mi looks so pink Sungmin could use him as an accessory. Yunho appears genuinely interested in the banalities Siwon is uttering, and Changmin scowls at the floor.

“Menswear again,” he grumbles beneath his breath. “I hate menswear.”

Yunho shoots him a surprised look. “But you won last week.”

“I was dressing you, not him.” Changmin tosses his head, blowing the hair from his eyes. “I had more to work with.”

“But,” Yunho says, “he’s a top male model and I’m...”

“Shut up.” Changmin tries to focus on Siwon, who’s attempting to describe his sense of style and the look he hopes to achieve on the red carpet.

“Usually I just let other people dress me,” Siwon says, still smiling. “So you guys can just go wild. I’ll wear anything as long as it doesn’t make me look fat. I wore this swing-coat once with mirrored panels, and because I work out and I’m really buff, the coat made me look like a pup tent. So maybe you guys could do something to show off my great body, but not too much skin because I’m actually quite shy—”

Milhye and Jiheun sigh and moan. Sungmin appears to have lost consciousness.

Siwon smiles even more. “Yeah guys, I’m just a regular boy next door, only taller. And hotter. And with better abs.”

“Thank you, Siwon!” Zhou Mi is standing a little too close and appears to be only just reining in the urge to lick the guest judge. He pulls himself together and faces the contestants. “Designers, half an hour to sketch and then we’re going shopping. I’ll be along to collect you shortly.”

Siwon continues smiling. “Good luck, guys!”

Changmin takes out his sketchbook and draws a cartoon Siwon dressed in a sack. The girls are wandering around in circles, clutching each other and babbling nonsense. Sungmin is facedown at his workstation. Yunho sits on his mat and stares into space, looking borderline thoughtful.

“What are you going to make?” Changmin asks as he comes over for a pineapple lump.

“I was thinking of what Siwon said about the pup tent coat.” Yunho smiles up at him. “And then I thought about what you said, and I realised that I only came close to winning the challenge last week because I was dressing you. I doubt I could make something like that in a day and a half for someone who wasn’t you, and because you have such a strong design aesthetic and Siwon has, uh, Siwon is...”

“He has no style at all except what’s forced upon him?” Changmin suggests, unashamed of his bitchy tone.

Yunho drops his gaze and traces a circle on the mat with his toes. “I think he has a style. It’s just a bit confused. So I’m going to go back to what I’m comfortable with and work from there.”

Changmin frowns. “You’re going to dress him like...”

“A Gwangju skank. Yep.” Yunho bounces up. “Thanks, Changminnie. You’ve been super-helpful.”

“I have?” Changmin has no idea what just happened, but Yunho is scribbling away in his sketchbook and when Zhou Mi arrives, he’s the first out of the door on his way to the fabric store.

In the shop, Sungmin has a crisis of confidence. “Is pink really Siwon’s colour?” he asks everyone. “I must use pink. If I don’t, my world will come to a crashing halt.”

“How about this salmon sort of pink?” Yunho suggests, heaving a bale of cloth down from the shelves. “It’s quite subtle. If you teamed it with neutral shades it could look quite classy.”

“Subtle,” Sungmin repeats, pondering. “Classy.”

Jiheun is buying yards of sheer black chiffon. Milhye is stroking a succession of tactile fabrics and sighing as she tries to choose between rubber and latex. Changmin decides he doesn’t want to know and goes off to find something safe and boring.

Back in the workroom, Changmin gets busy cutting out a jacket and trousers. For interest he’s mixing three different fabrics, pleather, denim and silk. He could tailor this kind of look in his sleep, and so he keeps one eye on what his fellow contestants are doing.

Jiheun’s outfit is definitely one to watch, but for the wrong reasons. Milhye seems to be revealing herself as a secret fetishist, though she’s teaming the latex with a sensible, sober knit. Sungmin is still murmuring, “Subtle. Classy. Neutral,” as he constructs a rather fetching jumpsuit tied at the waist with a bit of braided pink rope.

Yunho has run up a pair of jeans that look remarkably like Evisu jeans, and now he’s daubing bleach over them and attacking them with a razor. On the form he’s got some jacquard, some shaggy golden fur, and some black quilted fabric. Before Changmin can question him on this apparently random selection, the door opens and Zhou Mi comes in, accompanied by Siwon.

Breathless chaos breaks out. Zhou Mi finds it more useful to speak to the designers without Siwon there as a distraction, so Siwon goes around at his own pace, smiling and offering commentary even more useless than Zhou Mi’s take-it-or-leave-it suggestions.

After reducing Jiheun to a quivering heap by touching her shoulder, Siwon wanders over to Yunho’s mat and leans casually against the workbench. “Hi,” he says, all deep and sexy, and he smiles.

Yunho smiles back. “Hi.”

Changmin glowers at this completely crap excuse for flirting. He decides he’ll make the sleeves on his jacket narrower, and if he tailors more cloth at the waist, he might even be able to make Siwon look fat. Pleased with this thought, he reaches across the table for a bottle of mineral water and knocks over his button box. It topples onto the floor with a crash and the buttons spill everywhere.

To Changmin’s delight, Yunho abandons his stupid exchange of silent smiling and immediately comes over to help.

“Let me give you a hand,” Siwon says, and he crouches down beside Yunho and they pick up the buttons together.

Changmin clamps his mouth into a straight line and lets them get on with it. He stabs pins through the pleather, aware of the two of them whispering and Yunho giggling beneath the workbench. Someone bumps their head—Changmin hopes it’s Siwon and hopes it gives him concussion—but of course it turns out to be Yunho. Siwon chuckles and makes cute soothing noises, no doubt rubbing Yunho’s head and probably copping a feel of the rest of him, too.

Changmin wants to retch, it’s all so nauseating and unfair, and then Yunho crawls out from beneath the table. He’s holding the button box and smiling. “Here you are, Changminnie! We found them all for you.”

We. We. Disgusting. Changmin sneers at the suit on the form in front of him. “Ugly, ugly, ugly,” he chants under his breath, then spares a brief glance at Yunho, says shortly, “Thanks.”

But Yunho doesn’t get the message, because he stands up and beckons Siwon closer. “Changmin is a real stylist. He trained at St Martin’s in London and he worked at Chanel.” He sounds proud, as if Changmin is his boyfriend rather than a rival contestant. “He always produces such clean, elegant lines. I’m trying to learn from his example. He has the best taste of all of us, I think.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Siwon barely looks at Changmin’s jacket. He’s too busy staring down the front of Yunho’s scoop-necked t-shirt. “But I prefer your stuff.”

Yunho blinks. “I’ve hardly done anything yet.”

Siwon grins. “Minimalism. I like that.”

Changmin despairs.


As Changmin predicted, Jiheun’s look causes a stir when it goes down the runway.

“I like the shirt,” Siwon says, smiling. “The sheer fabric is nice. It’d show off my chest and abs but it wouldn’t look tacky.”

“Yes,” Jaejoong drawls, “but I think perhaps the trousers should have been made of a different fabric. That looks like an X-rated playsuit.”

Siwon continues smiling. “I could wear that.”

“Not on the red carpet, dear.” Madame Oh pats his thigh.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kyuhyun says, looking animated for once.

Milhye’s latex and knit look again wins Siwon’s approval. Madame Oh is also impressed, but no one else agrees.

Sungmin’s outfit is the surprise of the evening, mainly because the pink has been toned down, but it’s also a really nice jumpsuit that Siwon says he’d wear whilst travelling.

Jaejoong tells Changmin that his look is safe but boring, which is pretty much exactly what he’d intended, and his scores put him through to next week.

Yunho wins with his knock-off Evisu jeans looped through with silver key-chains and strips of satin ribbon teamed with a quilted bomber jacket with fur over the shoulders and jacquard panels at front and back.

“It’s so cool,” Siwon says, nodding and smiling.

“But is it really red carpet?” Jaejoong asks.

“Who cares? I’m going to wear it and everyone will take photos and then it’ll be red carpet,” Siwon says. “Thank you, Yunho! I love this look. It’s... it’s very...”

“Street,” Changmin supplies. “It’s urban.”

Yunho is delighted with his victory, but his happiness is dented when Jiheun is sent home, with Jaejoong wishing her ‘zàijiàn’.

* * *

Changmin knows he’s holding back. It’s strange, because he wants to hurl himself into this new and exciting thing he’s experiencing with Yunho, but still—he holds back, withholds, even, and he thinks he’s probably trying to protect himself. He’s still trying to process the idea that he might be in love with Yunho, because he’s not sure how that’s going to work out. The Gwangju market trader and the heir apparent to a third-generation business empire. Even though he’d walked away from the future his father had planned for him, it seems like a mismatch.

But until it all goes to hell, Changmin can enjoy this. He can enjoy it and hope neither of them gets hurt too badly when it ends.

* * *

Out of respect for Sungmin’s delicate sensibilities, they refrain from fooling around in the apartment. At least that’s what Changmin tells himself, and so when they’re eating breakfast or just hanging out, they deliberately choose seats away from each other and make innocuous conversation, and no one, Changmin thinks, is any the wiser.

In the workroom, it’s a different matter. As soon as everyone starts packing up for the night, Changmin offers to clean and tidy the workbenches, and Yunho says he’ll help. Originally it was Yunho’s idea to offer to clean up, but Changmin pointed out that this was so out of character that no one would believe it and their cover would be blown immediately.

The minute the doors close, they’re all over each other. Yunho’s enthusiasm occasionally leads to embarrassment, such as the time Milhye forgot something and came back to retrieve it and walked into the workroom to find Changmin sprawled across one of the benches and Yunho on the floor licking his way up Changmin’s bare leg.

“I forgot my bag!” Milhye said, her smile bright and fixed.

“Okay!” Yunho replied, while Changmin died a thousand deaths. “We’re... changing the light bulb!”

Milhye almost lost it at that. She grabbed her bag and fled for the door, and Changmin could hear her laughter echoing all down the corridor.

Changing the light bulb?” Changmin repeated, aghast.

“It was the first thing that came into my head,” Yunho said.

“Your head is stupid.”

“Aww,” Yunho cooed. “Did Gwangju skank embarrass his posh boy?”

“Christ, stop that. Don’t talk like that.” Changmin pushed at him, and Yunho sank back down onto his knees and resumed his long, leisurely lick up the inside of Changmin’s thigh. “Ohhh. Don’t stop. Just. Like. That.”

Another time, Changmin made Yunho wear the fingerless leather gloves from his week seven outfit and made him talk dirty in his dialect, begged him to be rough and to touch him all over. Changmin got so turned on and came so hard he couldn’t move for a good twenty minutes afterwards, and then he could only crawl-slide across the floor and kept giggling like he was high.

He was still out of it when Zhou Mi wandered into the workroom, and Yunho had to do some fast talking to convince Zhou Mi that Changmin was, in fact, drunk.

“Let me get this straight,” Zhou Mi said, eyebrows raised, “you’ve been sneaking vodka into the workroom disguised as mineral water?”

“Everyone does it in Gwangju,” Yunho said.

Zhou Mi looked alarmed and never mentioned it again.

Changmin is sure no one’s noticed what’s going on between him and Yunho. Except Milhye, who’s very discreet, and her silence is a kind of tacit approval. Changmin thinks he’s discreet, too. Conscious of the lurking camera throughout the day, he only talks about fashion and the look he’s creating, and occasionally offers commentary on what the others are doing.

It’s the kind of staid, sensible conversation he’s made since the first day of the show, but it’s not what he really wants to talk about. He wants to tell everyone about the way Yunho laid him over bales of fabric last night and rimmed him into ecstatic oblivion. The fact that Yunho had made him lie over a piece of PVC made it even filthier, especially when he’d absolutely coated himself in come and then slid around in it until Yunho had turned him over and licked him clean.

He wants to share this little gem of information along with a heartfelt confession of how he just loves going down on Yunho and sucking on his gorgeous huge dick. He wants to tell everyone about those sexy noises Yunho makes when Changmin takes him all the way. He thinks it’d be kind of hot if the cameraman filmed them one time, because Changmin’s favourite bit is when Yunho pulls his hair and arches into his mouth and goes at him really hard.

It’s difficult for him to keep all this to himself. It’s even more difficult for him not to smile all the time. He’d come into this contest serious and determined, wearing his expensive suits and with his eye on the prize. Now he’s mixed some of his clothes with Yunho’s, wearing those dodgy Evisu jeans with his Armani waistcoat over a Calvin Klein t-shirt, and now he catches himself laughing along with Yunho.

Even his design aesthetic has loosened up. This week’s task—to create a gown for a masquerade ball—is one that he’d usually play safe, but not this time. He’d unlocked his imagination and set it free, ignored the constraints he usually placed upon fabric, and instead of a severe, elegant gown, he’s making a whimsical, multi-layered cloud of tulle and chiffon spangled with rhinestones, with a boned bodice that wraps around and comes to an exaggerated point at the back.

“That’s beautiful,” Yunho says. “Changminnie, I’ve never seen anything like that before. It’s amazing.”

Changmin accepts the compliment. No matter how much he’s changed over the past few months, one thing remains the same. He still has his eye on the prize. He still intends to win.

But his determination has a price, and the closer they get to the end of the penultimate challenge, the more Changmin starts questioning the wisdom of what he’s doing with Yunho.

Two nights before the runway show, they’re spooned together on Yunho’s mat, pillowed on dark green felt and covered with indigo organza. Changmin is trying to catch his breath, body still humming with pleasure, and he snuggles back against Yunho, enjoying the slide of damp skin.

“Changminnie,” Yunho murmurs, kissing his shoulder, and from the tone of his voice, Changmin knows what’s coming next. “Please, baby. Let me make love to you. I want to be inside you so bad.”

“No.” Awkwardness tangles through Changmin’s reply. He hates denying Yunho, especially when it’s something he wants himself, but putting limits on how they fuck seemed to be the best way to control the direction of their relationship. “Don’t. We can do everything else, but not that.”

Yunho keeps on kissing him. “I’ll be gentle.”

“It’s not...” Changmin squirms away. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before. I’m not a virgin. It’s just...”

Pushing back the organza, Yunho drapes himself over Changmin and looks at him. “If you don’t like bottoming, just say so. I don’t care if I pitch or catch as long as I’m doing it with you.”

“No!” Changmin jolts Yunho off him and sits up, the moment ruined. “It’s not— I want to, okay? But not now. Not while we’re competitors.”

There’s a long, wondering silence. “Is that all it is?” Yunho asks, gaze wide and soft. “Changminnie, I would throw this contest for you. I’d walk away right now if you asked me to.”

“I’m not going to ask you to do something that stupid.” Movements jerky as emotion grows and swells and presses against his ribcage, Changmin drags his clothes towards him but doesn’t get dressed. “This competition is important.”

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Yunho throws off the rest of the organza and kneels up. “This was just a joke. I wasn’t supposed to get this far. Donghae entered me for a laugh. Neither of us thought I’d actually get onto the show for real! The prize money, the car, all that crap—I’m not going to deny they’d be nice, but that wasn’t why I tried so hard to stay in the competition.”

Bewildered, Changmin stares at him. “Then why did you?”

Yunho’s expression turns tender. “Oh, Changmin. You really don’t know?”

“No,” Changmin says, although he thinks he knows the answer and it’s terrifying, no, it’s wonderful, no, it’s confusing.

“I did it for you,” Yunho says. “I honestly thought I’d be kicked out in the first week, but then I saw how determined you were, how much you wanted this, and your designs are so beautiful, and you have such passion and drive... I wanted to impress you. So I tried really hard, too, and it was fun, and I learned so much from you and from the others, but...” He lifts his hands and smiles, shy and endearing. “I’m not here for the contest, Changmin. I’m here for you.”

Frustration bundles through Changmin. “But you’re good!” he snaps. “You’re genuinely good at design. You have an eye for it. Unconventional sometimes, yes, but that’s good, too. You can’t throw away this opportunity. You might win.”

Shaking his head, Yunho says, “I don’t want to win. You should win. You deserve to win.”

“No. No, it doesn’t work like that.” Angry now, Changmin gets up and pulls on his clothes. “Promise me, Yun—promise me that you’ll keep doing your best. Don’t do anything stupid just because of me.”

Yunho looks at him. “I love you.”

“No.” Crap, oh crap, he’s not ready for this, he doesn’t know what to do. Changmin hides his face behind his hands, claws his fringe forwards. “Oh God, no, don’t tell me that. Oh, that’s so unfair.”

“It’s the truth, and I don’t care who knows,” Yunho says. “I’ll tell everyone.”

“You do that and they’ll disqualify you. And maybe me, too. They’ll think—they’ll think...” Changmin can’t finish his sentence, distracted by Yunho’s nakedness. “For God’s sake, put some clothes on!”

Yunho collects up his scattered clothing and gets dressed slowly. “This doesn’t need to be a problem.”

“But it is, can’t you see?” Flustered and feeling overly defensive, Changmin hears his voice getting louder. “I need to win this. I need to prove to my father, publically and irrevocably, that I made the right decision when I chose fashion over the family business.”

“And you need to win a reality TV show to do that?”

“You don’t understand!” Changmin spins, walks across the workroom and drags in a shaking breath. This has got away from him big time. It’s not what he wanted, but it’s what he expected, and he hates that he’s still so predictable. He set himself up to fail in order to win the bigger prize, and now he has to see it through, he can’t bear it.

“Okay,” Yunho says after a moment. He finishes getting dressed, then gives Changmin a tentative little smile. “It’s okay. I’ll keep quiet and I’ll stay in the competition for as long as the judges keep me in.”

Changmin folds his arms. “Thank you.” He studies the floor, tension creeping across his shoulders, his jaw clenched around the next words he utters: “Maybe we should cool things between us until the show ends.”

A long, long silence. Yunho exhales. Scrubs a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he says again. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Changmin cringes inside. It’s not, it’s not, don’t listen to me, fight for me the way I can’t fight for you, oh Yunho, please don’t believe me. But he doesn’t say any of that, because he needs to be strong about this. He needs to act like a winner. “Please say you understand.”

“You just said I didn’t, and to be honest, I don’t.” Yunho looks at him, wounded but still determined. “But I can see it’s important to you, so I’ll try to understand. And I’ll be patient, because you’re worth it, and because I’m not about to give up on the one thing that actually means something to me—and that’s you, Changmin, not this fucking competition.”

He shoves the organza into a corner and kicks the bale of felt out of his way, then strides over to the door of the workroom and holds it open. “C’mon. No point in staying here. Let’s get some sleep.”

Changmin bows his head and shuffles towards the door. He feels like shit.

* * *

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