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Minho is out of his element.
He can feel the bass of the speakers in his bones, the smell of cheap liquor and weed stinging his nose. He wants to go home. It isn’t like Minho never goes to parties, but this one is just especially bad. The music is shit, the frat boys extra handsy, and he’s sure he’s seen at least two people laying passed out in every room of the large fraternity. He isn’t even dressed for a party; the thrifted jeans and fuzzy pink sweater are at least two sizes too big for him, the fabric nearly swallowing him up.
It’s so warm in the house, almost unbearably so, and Minho feels sweat bead up on his lower back and in his hairline. Great. He had just showered too, and now he’s sweaty again.
Minho sighs— for what he feels is the umpteeth time— from where he sits on the kitchen counter and takes an unenthusiastic sip of his third beer, his face screwing up at the taste that coats his tongue. No matter how many times he tries it, beer is still fucking disgusting. But he’d rather drink this than whatever mystery liquid is in the punch bowl. He draws his knee up to his chest and rests his foot on the counter. Unsanitary? Maybe, but Minho’s sure there’s been worse things on the counter. Or, just as likely, it’s never been used. Just as he’s ready to slide off and wobble his way out of the house, someone else walks into the kitchen.
“Minho-hyung?”
Ah, even tipsy Minho recognizes that voice.
It's Jisung. It's nice to see someone he actually enjoys talking to. The brunette is smiling at him and closes their distance with several long steps. From this proximity Minho can see that Jisung is either high, drunk, or both, judging by the smell of alcohol and weed clinging to his black varsity jacket. There’s a flush on Jisung’s cheeks, eyes hazy and sleepy, and his heart shaped smile looks a little dopey. Well, more dopey than usual. Cute, Minho finds himself thinking.
Or maybe that’s the beer thinking for him.
“Hi, Sungie,” Minho says when he remembers to reply, tearing his eyes away from Jisung’s legs in those horribly tight pants. They look so nice encased in the fabric, a little on the skinny side but strong.
“I didn’t take you as the party type, jagi,” Jisung opens the fridge and ducks behind the door, reappearing with a can of Budlight. He frowns at it for a moment before cracking it open with a shrug. “Plus I didn’t think you would come, you looked tired after practice.” He grimaces after taking a sip, moving to lean on the counter next to Minho. His chunky boots squeak on the floor and he sighs noisily after his sip, which would be irritating if it came from anyone else. But it’s Jisung. The only thing irritating about Jisung is how hot he is. And that he chews with his mouth open sometimes.
Minho huffs through his nose. “That's because I had to keep picking up Hyunjin's shitty tip balls. The fucker didn’t give me an actual swing all practice.” His knees and elbows throb at the memory, and Minho already anticipates new bruises being visible in the morning.
“That’s partially because i gave him shit sets,” Jisung laughs, head falling back and shoulders shaking with the action, and Minho can’t help but stare at the column of Jisung’s neck. He wonders, just briefly, what it’d feel like to drag his lips over the honeyed skin. Feel Jisung’s Adam’s apple bob under his lips, to bite and lick and suck until his throat is covered in blotchy reds and purples.
Minho tightens his grip on his beer and feels the metal mold around his fingers. He sets it down for fear of crushing it.
Yeah, that’s definitely the alcohol talking.
“But Hyunjin was probably too busy drooling over changbin-hyung in his compression sleeves,” Jisung is still giggling, resting a hand on Minho’s thigh and leaning into his side. “They were eye fucking each other all practice, it was gross.”
Minho forces out a laugh; he can feel the heat of Jisung’s palm through his jeans, and his body breaks out into goosebumps. he’s suddenly thankful for the sleeves covering his arms. Jisung’s hand looks so big on his thigh, those stupid black nails leaving Minho to wonder what they would feel like in his mouth. pressing down on his tongue. fucking him open.
“Having a good time?” Minho asks before the silence could get awkward, mouth feeling dry. “You smell like weed.”
Jisung’s giggling again. “Yeah, I smoked a little with Innie and Felix earlier. Don’t worry, I’m not too baked.” He grins that bright, gummy smile at Minho and Minho’s heart thumps. “Why, did you want some, jagiya? I still have a baggie.”
Minho rolls his eyes, trying to keep his voice flat. “No thanks, I’m already tipsy.” He knocks back the rest of his beer, the alcohol buzzing warmly through his body despite the god-awful taste. He doesn’t miss how Jisung watches him, those dark eyes focused on his throat, watching it bob with each swallow.
Desire bubbles up in Minho’s tummy, hot and unrelenting. He’s aware of the fact that Jisung’s watching him, can feel those dark hazy eyes on his face. When Minho looks, flicks his eyes up to meet Jisung’s, he sees what he hopes is that same desire reflected back at him. The same want.
Suddenly, Minho doesn’t care that this feeling might just be due to the alcohol.
He wants Jisung. He wants Jisung’s hands, his lips, his cock; anything Jisung gives him, Minho wants it.
“I’m glad you’re here, I really am,” Jisung’s saying, voice almost a whisper, and Minho finds the mental strength to pause his little daydream. “But I’m kind of getting bored, y’know? We should do something fun. Just us.”
Just us. Just him, and Jisung.
Beer forgotten on the counter, the younger scoots closer, waist pressing between Minho’s thighs, those hazy eyes trained on Minho’s face again. Minho subconsciously licks his lip and he doesn’t miss how Jisung’s gaze flicks down to follow the movement. They lean in at the same time, noses brushing briefly, stares locking.
“Hyung. I’m not misreading this, right? Tell me, and I’ll back off.” Jisung whispers after a beat of silence, breath fanning over Minho’s lips. Oh, god. Minho can feel his heart rabbit inside his chest. Instead of answering verbally, he cups Jisung’s face and presses their lips together.
The kiss is dirty. full of tongue and teeth, with beer flavored saliva and marijuana scented breaths swapping between them. Jisung’s lips are chapped but so soft, and electricity sparks up Minho’s spine. Jisung is grabbing Minho, at his ass, thighs, his hips, under his sweater— anywhere he can reach. His hands are hot, so hot, branding their mark into Minho’s skin where they grip harshly at him, and Minho hopes, prays that they’ll bruise. He wants to feel Jisung in the morning, see the aftermath of this night, in case his brain is too foggy to remember. In turn, Minho cards his fingers through Jisung’s damp brown hair, tugging just to hear Jisung gasp against his lips.
Jisung’s teeth snag on Minho’s bottom lip as they part, their eyes meeting once again. Minho thinks he could drown in Jisung’s eyes, those dark pools of deep brown that were now focused solely on Minho. Call him greedy, but Minho wanted to keep it that way. Keep Jisung’s attention on him, only on him. “Can we— can I take you upstairs?” Jisung whispers, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. “Only if you want, hyung, we can stop if you want—“
“Yeah,” Minho’s mouth is moving before his brain can catch up. God, his voice sounds so fucked and they had only kissed. “Yeah, yes, please. You can take me upstairs, I want to.”
Jisung’s round eyes stare at him for another second, like he’s waiting for Minho to change his mind.
Minho doesn’t.
Minho can barely remember how they got up the stairs, much less into a bedroom that he can only assume is Jisung’s. Belatedly, he remembers being in here countless times before. Posters cover almost all four walls of rappers that Minho still doesn’t recognize. There are clothes thrown in random places on the floor, like Jisung’s jersey or one of his court shoes. Minho would comment on it, say something teasing about the mess, if he didn’t have more important things to focus on, like how Jisung is shoving him up against the door and sucking at his neck.
“Been wanting to do this,” Jisung pulls off of Minho’s neck just enough to speak, warm breath fanning over his wet skin. Minho shudders, and the straining in his pants is becoming too much to ignore. “For so long, hyung, you don’t understand.”
There's so much Minho wants to say. How he does understand, how he dreams about sharing a bed with Jisung as more than just teammates. More than just best friends. But Minho can only moan when Jisung finds an especially sensitive spot on his neck and slots their hips together, can only grab at Jisung’s hair as Jisung sucks and bites at the skin. Minho can hear his heart thundering his ears, so loud that he’s afraid Jisung can hear it.
“Wanna suck your dick,” Minho blurts out, hands pushing Jisung’s jacket off his shoulders as his hips roll down. Fuck, Jisung’s shirt is sleeveless. Minho wants to take a bite out of his bicep. But when he feels Jisung freeze against him, Minho’s heart sinks to his stomach. Was that too far? Did he scare Jisung off? “Unless you don’t want to—“ he rushes out before Jisung is speaking again.
“Fuck. Fuck, okay, yeah,” Jisung’s hands are trembling where they’re grabbing at Minho’s waist and Minho has to push him away slightly to have enough room to sink down to his knees, face now level with Jisung’s crotch. He’s already half hard, Minho notices as his hands find Jisung’s belt, tugging open the buckle and pulling it out of the belt loops until it lands on the floor with a soft jingle. Jisung helps him along, shaky fingers popping open his button and yanking down his zipper.
“Can I..?” Minho moves a hand up, hovering over Jisung’s clothed bulge. He looks up at Jisung through his lashes and he fights back a grin when he notices how Jisung’s breath hitches. Interesting.
“Y-yeah, let me help,” Jisung shoves his pants and underwear down to mid thigh, struggling a little as the jeans cling to his thighs.
Minho snorts quietly. “You and your stupid skinny jeans.”
“Hey, not everyone’s ass can look great in pants that are three sizes too big!” Jisung whines but then his jaw snaps shut, face blooming a pretty pink before he covers it with his hands. It’s a little funny how flustered Jisung looks over such a silly comment, especially when he’s standing in front of Minho with his dick out. Speaking of…
Jisung’s got a pretty dick. long, not too thick to be intimidating but would still stretch Minho’s jaw nicely. He’s shaved, too. Minho’s mouth waters.
“Don’t just stare!” Jisung whines, peeking at Minho through his fingers. His hips buck forward when Minho wraps a hand around his cock, leaning forward to rest his hands on the wall behind Minho’s head. “T-thought you were going to suck it.” Jisung is shaking already, like a little chihuahua. Cute.
“I am,” Minho gives Jisung’s cock a squeeze, pumping his fist up until he can thumb at the head. The squeaky sound Jisung makes goes straight to Minho’s cock. “You’re big, Sungie. Wonder if I can fit all of you in my mouth.” He doesn’t miss how Jisung shudders and stiffens in his palm, how goosebumps prickle up on his thighs.
Minho leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Jisung’s tip, giving him little kitten licks and tentatively pressing his tongue into the slit. When the head pops into Minho’s mouth Jisung gasps, hand flying down to tangle into Minho’s hair, hips twitching forward.
Minho was right. Jisung’s cock does make his jaw ache in the best way, thick and heavy on his tongue, leaking into his throat. He is acutely aware of the spit beginning to dribble down his chin and he slurps around Jisung, loud and obscene. Jisung quivers above him, breaths coming out raggedy and uneven, his grip in Minho’s hair becoming almost painful. Minho closes his eyes, bobs his head and strokes what he can’t reach with his mouth, feeling tears prick at his eyes when Jisung’s cock nudges the back of his throat. It's all Minho’s been imagining for months and then some. It’s almost too good to be true, and Minho half-expects himself to wake up, to find out that it’s all been a dream and he’s been sucking on his fingers in his sleep. again. but Minho’s opening his eyes again and it’s real, Jisung’s real, and so is the dick on his tongue.
“Jesus C-christ, jagi, your mouth, what the fuck,” Jisung grits out, mouth dropping open with a groan when Minho sucks firmly. He tugs at Minho’s hair again, and Minho can’t help but moan around him. “Oh shit, fuck, stopstopstop I’m gonna—“
Much against his own wishes Minho pulls off with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen and drool running down his chin. His jaw hurts so good from being held open, and he can still feel the phantom weight of Jisung’s dick in his mouth. “Wanted to make you come, jagi,” he says roughly. He places his hands on Jisung’s thighs, leans in to kiss the base of his cock, runs his tongue up the shaft. Jisung hisses above him.
“Hyung, you were about to make me bust in like, two minutes,” Jisung laughs, breathy and low. Holy shit, Jisung looks so fucking sexy from below, looking down at Minho with those dark eyes, eyebrows knitted together, lips bitten red. “It would’ve been so embarrassing. Plus, I wanna make you feel good too. Stand up for me?”
Minho can be embarrassed about how fast he rises to his feet later because Jisung is on him immediately, slotting their lips together as his hands tug open Minho’s pants. Minho pulls away to gasp, “W-wait, Sungie—“ before he’s interrupted by another firm kiss, Jisung’s teeth nipping at his bottom lip until he manages to pull away again. “Jisung, hold on, I still have my fucking shoes on.”
“We don’t have to get fully naked,” Jisung rasps and drags his teeth down Minho’s neck, hands finding their way under Minho’s sweater and groping at his chest. “I can just fuck you quick like this. I-if you want.” Ghe little uncertainty in Jisung’s voice is endearing, but Minho can’t ignore the pang of hurt in his heart.
Right. This is just a hookup, isn’t it? They’re just doing this because they’re both tipsy and horny and way too pent up. It doesn’t mean anything. They’re just friends, after all.
Minho suddenly wants to cry.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Minho whispers back instead and lets Jisung kiss him breathless again, lets Jisung work his jeans and underwear down until they pool at his feet while Minho sucks at his throat. The warmth of Jisung’s hand around his cock has Minho gasping, his knees nearly giving out. “Can we— ngh— get on the bed at least? The door’s not very comfortable.”
Jisung nods so fast that his bangs flop into his face, helping Minho step out of his pants without tripping as they stumble, tangled together, into Jisung’s messy bed. Minho’s back hits the mattress, and Jisung slides in between his parted legs. Jisung fumbles for the lube in his nightstand. It’s almost empty. Minho raises an eyebrow at him.
“What?” Jisung squeaks, looking embarrassed and offended at the same time. “I just jerk off a lot, okay, sue me!”
“Uh huh. You know what you’re doing, right?” Minho watches Jisung slick up three of his fingers, and it’s hotter than it should be, better than all his fantasies. Jisung’s digits nudging against his hole is all the answer he needs, gasping when one breaches his rim. “Fuck—!”
“Still think I don't know what I'm doing? Or does this answer your question?” Jisung breathes into Minho’s ear, and Minho can’t tell if he hates or loves how fucking smug he sounds. Like he knows he’s got Minho wrapped around his little finger. “You’re so tight, hyung.”
“Loosen me up then,” Minho moans when one finger turns into two, and then two into three, opening him up. For a moment, the only sounds in the room are obscene little squelches and Minho’s soft, pleasured noises. The fingers curl into his prostate and Minho makes an embarrassing sound, something squeaky and high pitched, and the grin Jisung flashes at him is positively evil.
“Yeah? Right there, baby? That feel good?” Jisung croons, pressing a kiss to Minho’s earlobe.
Baby.
Jisung’s called him that hundreds of times, but when he says it like this, all husky and rough right into his ear, Minho can’t help but melt. Jisung’s wrist flexes as he fucks his fingers into Minho faster, and every prod against his prostate has Minho gasping and arching his back off the bed. Jisung’s lips find his again in a messy kiss and it only sends Minho hurtling faster towards the edge, the warmth in his belly becoming a raging fire as his orgasm approaches.
“Sungie,” Hot shame burns on Minho’s cheeks as he hears how whiny he sounds when they pull apart, high pitched and strained. “Jisung, I’m close— ah!” Jisung’s free hand slides under his sweater and pinches his nipple, and Minho’s moan gets caught in his throat.
Jisung slips his fingers out of Minho to lean back to the nightstand, fishing out a condom. He holds it between his teeth and tugs his shirt off, the action unfairly sexy. Minho has seen Jisung shirtless plenty of times, whether in the locker room or in his dorm— rooming with Chan seems to turn one into a nudist— but this time it feels so intimate. The dim light of Jisung’s room only accentuates the defined planes of Jisung’s stomach, his firm chest and toned arms.
Jisung runs his clean hand through his messy brown hair and fucking smirks down at Minho, and it would be annoying if Minho wasn’t aching to get fucked already. Minho watches with bated breath as Jisung rolls the condom onto himself and uses the remainder of the lube to slick up his dick, tossing the empty bottle off of the side.
“I’m going to push in now, okay?” Jisung hovers over Minho once again, dick positioned right at Minho’s hole. “T-tell me if it hurts.'' For a moment, Minho sees Jisung’s confidence façade slip, sees nervousness flicker in the younger’s eyes, and Minho’s heart aches painfully.
This is the Jisung he fell so hopelessly in love with. Shy, stuttery, nervous Jisung, who had looked at Minho with those big eyes the first time they met, puffed out those cute cheeks and complained that Minho was ‘way too handsome to just be a libero.’
“Yeah, go ahead,” Minho whispers and can’t resist pulling Jisung into another kiss, brain going a little stupid when Jisung slides into him in one smooth thrust.
Fuck, Minho is going crazy. Jisung is so hot even through the condom, filling Minho up so deep that Minho can feel him in his throat. “Oh, shit—” he says eloquently against Jisung’s lips. Minho shakes when their hips meet, grabs at Jisung’s shoulders to keep himself from floating away.
“Jagi,” Jisung exhales roughly and his hands find Minho’s hips. “You f-feel so good, hyung, so tight. All for me, yeah?”
God, Minho wishes Jisung would stop talking. Stop getting Minho’s hopes up that he could be Jisung’s.
Minho groans, locks his legs around Jisung’s waist and presses his heel into Jisung’s ass insistently. “Just move— move already.” And Jisung listens.
The pace Jisung sets is hasty, barely sliding out before shoving back in, tugging Minho back onto his cock with each thrust. Minho feels every noise being punched out of him, loud ‘ah, ah, ah’s as Jisung nails his prostate. It feels so good, Minho could cry. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want this to be the last time he gets to have Jisung like this. Every nerve in Minho’s body is alight with pleasure, leaking dick slapping against his tummy, drooling precum onto himself. The noise that comes out of him is garbled when Jisung fucks in faster, deeper, like he’s trying to carve the shape of himself into Minho’s body.
“I’m not g-gonna last, oh fuck,” Jisung moans, words almost slurred, eyes locked onto Minho. That look makes Minho feel so small. Like Jisung can see right through into his soft, sticky center. Jisung adjusts their position, pulling Minho’s right leg over his shoulder to fuck in harder. “Feels so good, jagiya, i like this so much, like you, love you—“
Oh. Oh.
Minho’s brain completely melts as he comes, spurting white over his tummy. His mouth hangs open around a silent moan as Jisung rocks him through it, and it isn’t long before Jisung’s gasping and spilling into the condom. Jisung lets Minho’s leg fall from his shoulder and presses their foreheads together, eyes shut. The room falls into silence save for their heavy breathing, sweaty bodies sticking together.
When Minho speaks, his mouth feels dry and his tongue is heavy. “You.. you love me?” he whispers and he watches Jisung’s eyes open, watching those squishy cheeks redden. Jisung swallows and meets Minho’s eyes.
“Thought you knew,” Jisung whispers back and he sounds so small, so vulnerable, like he’s afraid. Afraid of how Minho will react. “I, uh, tried to make it obvious. I’m sorry, it slipped out, I didn’t mean—“
Minho presses their lips together before Jisung can ramble. This kiss is softer. unhurried, tender. Minho feels tears prick in his eyes as Jisung cups his face, holding Minho like he’s something that’ll break if handled too roughly. This time, Minho doesn’t stop the tears, lets them run, hot and salty, down his face. Jisung’s thumbs wipe at his cheeks.
“I love you,” Minho rasps once they pull apart. His heart pounds, throbs in his ribcage like it’s too big for his chest. “For a long time. I'm surprised you didn’t notice, I thought I was being obvious.”
“Guess we’re both stupid.” Jisung giggles with a sniffle, eyes shiny with tears. “Does this make us stupid boyfriends now?” He takes Minho’s hand and intertwines their fingers, squeezes Minho’s palm. Butterflies explode in Minho’s tummy, so many that Minho thinks they might flutter out of his mouth.
“If you want. I'll gladly let you be my stupid boyfriend.”
They kiss some more, lazy and sweet, until eventually they remember that there’s a party going on right outside the door, and Minho would rather not be caught half naked with Jisung’s dick still in him. “Get off of me now, it’s hot.” Jisung has the audacity to cackle at him.
Jisung pulls out with a soft hiss of overstimulation, tying off the condom and tossing it into the small trash bag by his bed. Minho sits up, wincing at the ache in his lower back, gets his shoes off and crawls up the bed to properly lay his head on Jisung’s pillow. He doesn’t hide his staring this time as Jisung undresses, kicks off his boots and those horrendous pants before locking the door (“You didn’t lock it before?!” “It was kind of hard to focus on that when you were sucking my dick!”) and sliding into bed next to him.
“You don’t wanna shower?” Jisung asks, smushing his face into Minho’s neck, kissing over a hickey.
“Mm, later.”
Their fingers interlock again, fitting together like a puzzle.
Minho has never felt more whole.