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A knock sounds from Minho’s door, and he silently resigns himself to getting no peace at all tonight.
“Come in,” he calls, reluctantly, because as soon as he came into the dorm he’d announced very loudly to not come knocking unless someone’s dying, so whatever it is it must be at least a little important. Granted his member’s conception of ‘importance’ does not always align with his: but he’ll grit his teeth and bear it, for their sakes.
“Hyung,” says an unexpected but not wholly unwelcome voice, followed by a body that is most certainly welcome. “I need your help.”
“Oh, it’s you, my Hannie,” Minho says, unable to help the fondness that blooms in his cheeks at the sight of his favorite person. “What are you doing here?”
Jisung looks a little on edge, a little nervous, but he comes over to take a spot on Minho’s bed like he’s done so many times before. “I have something to talk about but I don’t… feel comfortable talking about it with anyone else.”
“Ah, so serious, you’ll have me thinking someone’s dying.” At Jisung’s somber expression, he straightens up a little. “Is somebody dying?”
Quickly moving to reassure him, Jisung shakes his head, “no, not--” he leans in, hushes his voice down to a whisper, “it’s… a sex thing?”
Minho leans as far away from Jisung as he can. “It’s a. Sex thing.”
Jisung nods, worries his bottom lip with his cute teeth. Minho misses the crooked one in the front. “Um, yeah. And uh, so.” He wrings his hands in his lap, squirms a little. “So…”
“Stop stalling,” Minho says, maybe a little harshly.
“Um, so I’ve been… when I have sex it’s… I mean… hyung, do you think I’m bad at sex?”
All this running around whatever he wants to talk about--Minho’s exhausted, but he’ll humor him anyway. He quirks an eyebrow up. “Have we ever had sex?”
“No? I mean, no.”
“Well then how would I know? It’s not the type of thing you can tell about a person unless you experience it.”
“Oh. Well,” Jisung sighs, and finally gets to the point. “Every time I have sex, I can’t make the girl cum.”
Minho blinks. That’s not what he expected from this conversation. Jisung is a pretty giving person, and he’s a total people-pleaser, so it surprises him a bit. “Oh. Why?”
“I don’t know, I just… it takes me forever to get hard, and sometimes that ruins the mood, but then if we actually get to the sex bit I just can’t get into it and I get all in my head and--” he winces, “sometimes I just go… soft again? And then I offer to eat them out, or whatever, but usually they’re fed up by then and they just go. So I just let them, because, like, I’m not gonna make them stay if they’re uncomfortable, right? But I’m just… I don’t know how to get over this.”
Minho nods. He is being assaulted mentally by images of Jisung having sex with women, which is something that he isn’t particularly enthused by-- not the Jisung having sex part, because he’s had a vested interest in that for awhile now, but the with women part, because that’s never really been on his radar. What he’s kind of wishing wouldn’t be on his radar is this conversation, because it is very quickly sapping his life-force.
“Have you tried doing it differently?” He says, and leaves out that by differently he means with men, or perhaps with me.
“Uh,” Jisung falters. “No? Not really? Is there a different way to do it? Like, I mean, I’ve had a couple girls ride me, and blowjobs are okay, but…”
If this conversation continues then Minho might die, actually. He’ll make his peace with that once he helps his beloved dongsaeng get to the bottom of this conundrum.
“There are a lot of different ways to do a lot of different things,” Minho says sagely. He chooses not to elaborate for the sake of his health.
Jisung sits there for a while, and Minho lets him--sometimes he just has to sort his thoughts through before he can respond. That’s perfectly fine by Minho.
“Are you good at sex?”
Not really the question he was expecting. Not really a question he wants to answer. He answers it anyway, because it’s Jisung, and he’d probably cut off both his legs and fry them up if Jisung offhandedly mentioned he wanted to try getting into cannibalism. It’s a serious and life-threatening disease.
“I’ve been told I am,” he says, trying to affect as much nonchalance as possible. Randomly and without cause, he chooses to rearrange his pillows such that one of them conceals his crotch. “I have no reason to disbelieve the claims.”
Jisung perks up and puts on his bad-idea-face: a face that portends Minho’s doom. It’s a face he knows he will be unable to say no to.
“Hyung, if you’re good at sex, could you show me?”
Minho blinks. Belatedly, he chokes. “Show… you?” He can already feel his treacherous ears turning red.
“Mmhmm. You can fuck me, and then I can take what I learn from that experience and apply it to my sex life!”
Minho wants to say no so bad. His dick disagrees. The little brain down there unfortunately often takes precedence over his logic centers, especially when it comes to Jisung. Sometimes he even wonders what the point of rational thought is if it never keeps him from catapulting his life into flames.
“You want me to fuck you,” he says. “Like… now?”
Jisung shrugs. “No time like the present, right?”
“Right…”
“Do you have the stuff, then?” Jisung asks, getting up to root around in Minho’s drawers.
It takes Minho several seconds to compute. “Yah! Don’t go digging around my room like it’s yours!”
“Sorry, hyung,” Jisung says, entirely unabashed. Minho suddenly regrets not hiding his lube more effectively because Jisung quickly emerges from his closet with his shoebox full of sex things. “What even is half of this stuff?”
Minho groans. “No wonder you’ve been having bad sex if you don’t know what a vibrator looks like.”
Jisung pouts at him. It’s worryingly effective. “Hey! I don’t control my body’s reactions! Besides, I’m like, learning, or whatever, and that’s the whole point, right?”
“Sure,” Minho agrees. “Come here.”
Jisung easily complies, dropping the shoebox next to Minho’s crossed legs and crawling up the bed. They’re face-to-face, now, noses nearly touching. Abruptly Minho is thrown back in time to that accursed aegyo demonstration from the first Two Kids Room they filmed, and his extremely awkward attempt afterwards to suss out Jisung’s feelings for him. To this day he doesn’t know what came over him to ask Jisung something like that on camera.
(He does know--he’s never been particularly good at minding his behavior, and when Jisung’s around it’s even more futile a battle. He lost the second he signed the contract with JYP.)
Deciding not to think about it too hard, he cups Jisung’s perfect cheeks in his hands. Unable to resist he squishes them together until he’s making a fish face. Jisung pouts.
“I thought you were gonna kiss me,” he says, all muffled and garbled from the expression Minho’s forced him into.
“I am,” he says, and then he does just that.
Jisung’s lips are soft, likely from his religious chapstick regimen. Minho can even taste a little of it--milk and honey, the slightly bitter edge of beeswax. He wastes no time licking into Jisung’s mouth, pressing hard enough that their teeth clack. Jisung’s tongue is slick against his. He could live in this moment forever, but his dick starts to tent his loose shorts and he remembers he’s a man on a mission. To… fuck his best friend. Demonstratively.
He moves them until he’s half-straddling Jisung’s lap, hovering just barely over him. He doesn’t want their dicks to touch because he’s embarrassed by how hard he is.
“Hyung,” Jisung manages to whimper in between Minho’s frankly quite aggressive kisses. “ Hyung. ”
Minho doesn’t stop, because Jisung’s hands have come up to clutch at his tank top and the feeling of his knuckles brushing against Minho’s ribs is going to drive him to insanity and possibly an untimely death, as with many things about Jisung. Jisung doesn’t seem to want him to stop, anyway, if the way his hips are starting to kick into the empty space between their bodies is any indication. But because Minho is a respectful and thoughtful lover he checks in, anyway.
“Is this good?” He asks, going nearly cross-eyed in an attempt to look at Jisung’s whole face while staying as close to him as humanly possible without physically fusing their bodies together. He strokes a thumb across Jisung’s cheek.
“ So good,” Jisung breathes. “So so so good.”
“Good,” Minho says redundantly and then decides they’re wasting enough time and dives back in like a man starved. And really, if you consider it, he is: he’s had to put up with so much teasing from Jisung all this time, and he’s been really very brave about it. Now he doesn’t have to be.
They kiss until their lips are swollen, until they’re both horizontal, Jisung splayed on his back and Minho hovering over him like a predator. That’s when their dicks finally touch, and for lack of better words: wow. It’s really good. It’s kind of so awesome, actually. If a gunman came in at that very moment and shot them both dead Minho would die the happiest man on Earth. But the gunman is hypothetical, gladly, and so they keep kissing, and now also grinding up against each other.
Because Jisung is hard. Hard hard. This aligns with what Minho thinks is probably true about Jisung, namely that he doesn’t actually have sexual dysfunction and that there’s probably a different element lacking from his other endeavors. Most likely the gender of his partners. That’s all just conjecture, though. He won’t bring it up with Jisung because he believes in self-discovery or some bullshit like that.
“Can I take your clothes off?” He asks, regretfully pulling back, shifting his weight so he can stay up without toppling over and ending the night prematurely with two broken noses and a trip to the ER. His fingers play at the waistband of Jisung’s sweats, dipping just below the elastic of his briefs.
“I might die if you don’t,” Jisung says, in an extremely revealing and honest way. Jisung is very good at that: saying things and then completely ignoring that he said them. Minho is also good at that in a different and less pathetic way. It really sucks that Minho likes how pathetic he is, in large part because it makes his life very, very hard. In more ways than one.
“Okay,” he says, and without further preamble tugs both Jisung’s sweats and underwear down at once, revealing his cock and trembling belly.
Jisung whines, his arms twitching as though to cover himself up, but he aborts the mission halfway through, maybe remembering that genital exposure is a necessary part of the sex they’re about to have. Maybe remembering that it’s Minho, and he doesn’t need to be shy, if Minho lets himself be a little bit hopeful.
“You’re very hard,” Minho comments, because it’s true. He’s even leaking a little.
Jisung pouts at him. He seriously needs to stop doing that. “I’m not usually this hard by now…”
“Well, that’s good. Erectile dysfunction is a serious issue.”
“Ugh, I don’t--!”
“Have erectile dysfunction, I know. It’s quite clear.”
“Can you stop talking about my dick?” Jisung huffs.
“Not really. It’s a great dick, though. Honest.”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Thanks, hyung.”
At no point throughout the conversation has his erection flagged. Minho takes this as a good sign. He moves aside to tug Jisung’s pants the rest of the way off, and makes short work of his top, too.
“Your turn to get naked,” Jisung says, basically lunging at Minho to divest him of his clothes. Minho happily lets him.
Jisung looks cheerful once they’re both entirely nude. He also looks at Minho’s cock like he wants to eat it. Minho will definitely let him, if he wants to.
“Can I blow you?” He asks, which is definitely and in no way a part of their prior agreement, which was for Minho to teach Jisung how to fuck by way of fucking.
Obviously Minho says yes.
Jisung pushes him back until he’s reclined against his many pillows and plushies, braces himself on Minho’s thighs, and then leans down to take him in his mouth. Immediately he chokes.
“What the fuck?” He whines, pulling off and sitting back on his heels. He looks frustrated. Minho is also frustrated. “Am I bad at this, too?”
“No, no,” Minho assures him, “it just takes practice. You don’t just-- go for the deepthroat first thing. Hell, you don’t ever have to deepthroat. Try again, go slower. Remember how, uh, those girls did it. To you.” God, that’s such a turn-off to think about. He encourages himself back into the present moment.
“Okay,” Jisung says, pumping his fists a little. “Okay. I got this.”
“You got this,” Minho says, petting his head.
Jisung leans back down and thankfully doesn’t choke this time, wrapping his lips around the head and using his hands to make up the rest. He swirls his tongue, that damned skillful tongue, bobbing his head a little, and regardless of whether or not it’s the most technically proficient blowjob Minho has ever received in his life (it isn’t) it still somehow manages to be the best. Most likely because it’s Jisung giving it.
He lets him go at it for a while until he’s afraid he might bust all over Jisung’s face, and then he pulls him off and tries to steel himself against whatever expression Jisung is making. He cracks an eye open and immediately closes it again, because even just that little peek is driving him closer to climax. He needs to calm down.
“Was it good?” Jisung asks. Minho can hear the pout in his voice. “You didn’t cum…”
“I was about to,” Minho says, voice labored. “And I thought you wanted to get fucked?”
“Oh, well, I figured… I mean… we’re young, right?”
Minho rolls his eyes. “My refractory period is not what you think it is.”
“That’s a shame,” Jisung sighs, genuinely aggrieved. Like he actually wanted Minho to nut all over his face. “Well, onward we tread.”
“Stop being dorky while we’re having sex.”
“You like it, though.”
Minho stays silent because he does like it. Instead of dignifying that with an answer, he reshuffles them until Jisung is reclined against the pillows, legs spread.
“I’m gonna finger you now, if that’s okay,” he says, rummaging around in his sex box for lube.
“I’m already clean down there, so don’t worry,” Jisung says. Minho pulls back.
“Jisung, I need you to be honest with me.”
“Mmhmm?”
“Was this your plan the whole time?”
“Well, I need someone to teach me! So, like, a little bit.”
Minho sighs exasperatedly but also with more fondness than he honestly wishes he held. He dribbles some lube on his fingers and gets to it.
Jisung is less tight than he’d expect from somebody who’s never taken it up the ass before, but given Jisung already cleaned himself out, he supposes he should’ve adjusted his expectations. As he slips the first finger in, he finds himself once again curious.
“Have you ever fingered yourself before?” He asks.
“Ah-huh,” Jisung sighs, relaxing all boneless into the pillows, pure pleasure writ across his face.
Minho thinks that Jisung is maybe the smartest person he’s ever met who still manages to be so dense. It actually has to be a talent of some kind, or maybe extremely potent levels of denial. It doesn’t matter so much: Minho gets to be inside of him either way. A win is a win.
“Cool, and did you like it?” He asks, working Jisung open enough that he can slip in a second finger. He runs the pads of them against Jisung’s walls, searching for his prostate. “Was it good?”
“So good,” Jisung says, still blissed-out, all from a little bit of fingering. Minho has never met someone who’s more clearly a bottom in his life. “Not as good as this, though.”
Oh, so he wants Minho to die.
Nearing death, Minho makes a miraculous recovery when his fingers brush against the right spot and Jisung squirms, pressing down onto his fingers. “Right there,” Jisung gasps, “that’s the-- keep doing that.”
So Minho does, over and over and over again until Jisung starts to whine, back arching off the bed and hands clutching aimlessly at the sheets. He’s begging, but all of his words blend together in his desperation. Minho is so turned on it hurts.
“If I keep going, you’re probably going to cum.”
“ Please. ”
“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
“I can take it.”
Jisung’s eyebrows are drawn tight over his closed eyes, his nose all scrunched and his mouth open and panting. Minho, on the other hand, can feel the angels coming to take him. The demons, maybe. He isn’t so sure he meets heaven’s criteria.
He decides to take Jisung’s word for it. If he says he can take it he can take it. He’s never actually met someone who could orgasm from prostate stimulation alone: it’s like a science experiment. Nevermind that Minho is absolutely disregarding the scientific method.
He works a third finger in, just for kicks, and takes no mercy on Jisung’s prostate. His whines are growing higher in pitch and he’s squirming around like caught prey. It’s possibly the sexiest thing Minho has ever had the fortune to experience.
Jisung comes entirely without warning, except for the squealed-out I’mgonnacumI’mgonnacumI’mgonna--! that Minho honestly doesn’t register until there’s jizz all over his face and breathy ah, ah, ah s are being punched out of Jisung’s throat as he rides the aftershocks. Minho removes his fingers as soon as Jisung starts looking overstimulated.
“Fuck,” Jisung wheezes, rolling around like a little dying bug, shoving his face in the pillows and kicking his feet. One of them connects painfully with Minho’s thigh.
“Was that good?” Minho asks, though he already knows the answer.
Jisung proceeds to lie face-down, motionless, and silent (but for his gasping breaths) for give or take about thirty seconds.
“Was that good? ” He mocks into the pillow, before lifting his head up and fixing Minho with a glare. His face is all red and puffy. It’s cute. “Why are you so good at this? Why are you so much better than me with just your fingers?”
Minho shrugs, even though he could most certainly make an educated guess at the answer.
“I hate you,” Jisung huffs, flipping himself back over. His cum is all over his tummy. And probably now Minho’s sheets, too. And definitely still his face, if the salty taste at the corner of his mouth is anything to go off of. Jisung notices that very fact right then, and immediately gets all shy. “Wh-- my spunk is all over your face!”
“Sure is,” Minho says, wiping some off with the inside of his wrist and licking it away. It doesn’t taste great, but it’s the action itself that’s sexy. Jisung appears to disagree.
“Don’t-- why are you doing that?” He whines, grabbing Minho’s arms and tugging them away from his face. “Don’t lick up my jizz like that, c’mon.”
“How many synonyms do you have for cum?”
Jisung ignores him, moving closer until their lips meet again, now flavored by sweat and semen and sex. It’s somehow more intoxicating than the first kiss.
“Will you fuck me now?”
Obviously.
He says as much, pushes Jisung down, and grabs a condom from his sex box. Jisung looks up at him with wet, pleading eyes, and says, “can we do it raw?”
It takes Minho a second to reboot. Does this man earnestly think he’s straight? He kind of doesn’t even want to know.
“Uh, no. I don’t want to get an infection.”
Jisung whines in response to that, throwing his head back, but he concedes. He grabs the condom straight from Minho’s hands, rips it open, rolls it over Minho’s cock, and then leans back to stare at it unabashedly. Minho cannot think anything in that moment other than: Jesus fucking Christ. Bottom.
“You ready?”
“I’ve been ready,” Jisung says, spreading his legs further and lifting his hips to show Minho his hole.
Minho reaches behind him and tucks a pillow under his back to prop him up, and then aligns himself, feeling a bit faint already. He might not last long, in all honesty, he’s been waiting for this moment for so long. The fact that Jisung is the hottest person on the planet does not help at all.
He pushes in, letting Jisung’s expressions guide him--he’s so obvious and open with his expressions, Minho doesn’t even have to try to guess at what he’s feeling. It’s nice having someone you’re so in sync with. It’s nice having sex with them.
Once he’s sheathed to the hilt, he stills, letting Jisung adjust to the totality of his length. He’s so tight and hot around him, it makes it hard not to move, but he doesn’t want to hurt him. Wants this to be nothing but a pleasurable experience for Jisung. Needs it to be a good learning experience, or whatever Jisung has to tell himself to sleep at night.
“C’mon,” Jisung breathes, undulating his hips, pushing down on Minho’s cock a little. Moving up and down as far as he can in his position.
Minho moves, engaging his core, thrusting in and out. Jisung feels heavenly around him. He needs him in his mouth, so he wastes no time leaning down to latch his mouth onto one of Jisung’s pecs, teasing him with his teeth. Jisung moans low and guttural, his hands reaching for Minho’s back, dragging his blunt, manicured nails into the skin. Minho’s hips stutter.
He gets up in Jisung’s face, less kissing and more panting into each others mouths, occasionally brushing lips. He leans down to lick a moan out of Jisung, caressing his soft inner cheek with his tongue. He’s so in love with this man it makes him stupid.
“I’m close,” Jisung whimpers, which is good, because so is Minho, and he honestly doesn’t think he can last more than a couple more strokes without collapsing in on himself like a black hole.
He puts all of his fading strength into the last few thrusts, nailing Jisung’s prostate each time, bringing one hand down to jerk him off in time with each thrust.
They reach their release at nearly the same time. Minho stills with his hips to Jisung’s ass, tugs Jisung off a couple more times, and then he’s squirting all over the place for the second time this evening. Minho really is impressed by his refractory period: Minho all but passes out the second he’s done.
He collapses onto Jisung, a heap of sweaty bodies, pulls out as slowly and tenderly as he can before he softens completely.
For a long while they lie there, in as close to an embrace as they can manage right now, chests heaving, skin against skin. It feels nice until it starts getting gross and itchy.
“You have any wet wipes?” Jisung asks, casting his gaze around the room. Minho rolls off of him, splays out on his back. The condom is still on his dick and is starting to get a bit uncomfortable.
“Nah, there’s a washcloth in the bathroom.”
“Mmf,” Jisung says, tumbling unceremoniously off the bed and to his feet. He walk-stumbles to the bathroom, a little limp in his step, and although Minho doesn’t necessarily enjoy seeing his jagi in pain, knowing he’s physically affected from their endeavors brings a little smile to his face.
Jisung comes back with a wet washcloth a bit later, cum already wiped off his body. Gently he wipes the drying release from Minho’s face, rolling off the condom and tossing it in the trash can by Minho’s armchair. He collapses into bed next to Minho.
“Thanks, hyung,” he says, pushing his hair back. Minho watches the bulge of his biceps with the motion with interest, but he doesn’t have it in him to get hard again.
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, “hope it helps.”
“Me too,” Jisung says brightly, squirming under the slightly cum-stained covers and urging Minho to follow him. “You’re really good at this. I bet I’ll have great sex now.”
This was your great sex, Minho thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead he nods, follows Jisung under the covers, and immediately passes out.
It happens again like this:
“So you guys agree that that is not straight guy behavior, right?” Minho asks, because he thought about it for so long that he was starting to lose sight of reality and needed to get a second (and third) opinion.
Felix’s brows are scrunched, looking all serious. Hyunjin is on the floor from his last bout of laughter.
“Definitely not,” Felix affirms, planting a hand on Minho’s shoulder. He takes a bite of his burger, chews, and swallows. “It sounds to me like he’s in denial. Or stupid.”
Minho blinks. “That’s what I thought. I mean, he liked bottoming way too much. Didn’t even think about it twice.”
“This is good news for you, though, hyung!” Felix says brightly. Hyunjin is still on the floor, and possibly dead.
“Hmm, I suppose,” he says. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take Jisung to wrap his head around it, but he can fuck him until it takes. He’s self-sacrificing like that.
At that moment Jisung bursts into the dorm, flustered and disheveled.
“Um, hey guys,” he says, toeing off his slides and walking up to the couch. “Why is Hyunjinnie dead?”
Minho stares down at Hyunjin, who convulses periodically, and looks back up. He shrugs. “I dunno.”
“Oh, okay then.” He sounds a little out of breath. Minho wonders why.
“Did you need something?” Felix asks, reaching up to stroke Jisung’s hair.
Jisung looks around shiftily. “Is it-- can I borrow Minho for a sec? Or, like, for awhile, maybe.”
Minho has a sinking feeling he knows exactly what Jisung needs.
“Sure,” he says, groaning as he lifts himself off the couch. “We were done talking, anyway. My room?”
“Please,” Jisung says, and scampers off in that direction without waiting for Minho.
Felix sends him a knowing look, and Minho responds with a scowl. “Revive Hyunjinnie and worry about yourself.”
Felix shrugs and smiles innocently.
Jisung is already on his bed when he gets to his room, sitting at the foot, bag cast aside. He looks depressed.
“What’s up?” Minho barely manages to get out of his mouth before Jisung is springing up and grabbing both his hands.
“You need to help me again,” Jisung says, breathless. “I tried but-- but-- it was worse this time! I just couldn’t get into it, I tried even to pretend I was the girl but--”
Wow.
“--it didn’t work. I swear, if you do it again, I’ll get the hang of it this time, okay?”
“Okay,” Minho says. What else can he say? You’re gay, and a bottom, and you need to stop with this farce? No way in hell. He’s too selfish for that.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I swear I’ll pay next time we go out, you’re an angel, hyung.”
Well he’s not about to contest that notion. “Get naked,” he says, “are you already clean?”
“Oh. No, I’m so sorry-- I totally forgot.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go shower and get yourself ready. I already worked out today, so you can ride me this time.”
Jisung visibly perks up. “Really? Yay!”
Minho watches him go, and doesn’t wonder how he got himself into this mess: he knows exactly how. The answer always comes back to it’s Jisung.
Jisung is really good at riding. He’s got those hips of his, and he knows how to move them. He also looks so pretty up there, sweaty and glowing and godlike. Minho marks him up because he can, though he makes sure to keep it to places that can easily be covered up--his chest, his belly, his thighs, his back. Jisung does not return the favor. There is now a giant, sloppy hickey on his neck.
They’re lying in bed again, talking nonsense, and Minho brushes the slow-groing pit in his stomach away: this might be temporary for now, but Minho’s a hard worker and a go-getter. He can keep playing this game until Jisung wises up. He can.
It keeps happening. Jisung will go out, find someone discreet to fuck, come back, and beg Minho to fuck him. Sometimes he waits a day or two. Sometimes he comes to Minho directly afterward, still trembling, and Minho takes care of him.
“Why do you think it’s not working?” Jisung asks, as Minho works a red spot into his inner thigh. They’ve started getting adventurous, these days, not even really keeping up the ‘teach me’ facade anymore.
“Maybe you’re just a bottom,” Minho says, releasing Jisung’s skin with a pop , and he’s pretty sure the rest of the sentence is implied. Namely the gay bit. He trusts Jisung to be smart enough to figure it out.
“Hm… I guess I could find a girl to peg me? But how?”
Okay, maybe he should stop trusting Jisung. At least in this particular context.
“There’s a girl Chan hooks up with pretty regularly,” Minho suggests, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. For all he knows Jisung could actually be bisexual. “I could get you her number.”
“Chan…?”
“Bottoms sometimes, yes.” It’s something he wishes he didn’t know.
“Really? Thanks, hyung. You do so much for me.”
I do, don’t I?
“What if you fuck me today? Just to try?”
Jisung’s face screws up. “Don’t wanna, though.”
“I could ride you?” He offers, because he’s benevolent like that.
“Sure, I mean-- that’s fine.”
Minho cocks his head. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want. I’m perfectly happy to continue doing what we’re doing.” It’s almost a confession, just like every other thing Minho has ever said to Jisung.
“No, it’s-- I mean, we have to get to the bottom of this, right? Let’s try it, and then if it’s bad we don’t have to do it again.”
“Well, it won’t be bad, at least not for me. But hopefully you’ll enjoy it even if it doesn’t end up being your thing,” he crawls up so he can look at Jisung properly, scanning his face. Jisung starts whining the way he does when Minho looks at him too intensely, but Minho doesn’t bother to stop. He leans down to peck Jisung right on that cute little mole of his.
“I’ll go clean myself, you just lie here and look pretty, alright?”
“Ugh, hyung--!”
But Minho is already walking away, immune to Jisung’s complaints at his compliments.
Riding Jisung is fun. Jisung has slightly less fun, but he still enjoys himself, still cums.
“I don’t think I want to do that very often,” Jisung says, pouting as Minho sets up some trash anime that they definitely won’t be paying attention to on his computer. “It wasn’t as nice.”
“Hmm, I figured,” Minho says, trying to ignore the implication that they’ll continue having sex even after Jisung’s little experiments are over. “You looked kind of constipated when you came.”
“Hey!” Jisung protests, landing a slap on Minho’s bare pec. “Don’t be mean to me!”
“Sorry, jagi.”
“Ah, it’s okay. You’re probably right. I guess I’ll see what happens with that girl Chan knows. Will you help me write a text?”
“You’re asking me to help you write a text? Aish, you must be desperate.”
“C’monnn,” Jisung pleads, tugging at Minho’s hips. “I don’t know how to come on to people like that--I usually just say yes when people ask.”
Minho tsks, landing on some stupi isekai and deciding it’s good enough background noise. “Maybe that’s your problem. And besides, you came on to me.”
“I mean, kinda, I guess, if you wanna look at it that way. I was just asking my beloved and trusted hyung for help.”
“Well, just do that. Again.”
“I can’t admit to having sexual dysfunction with a stranger!”
“Your sexuals don’t seem very dysfunctional to me,” Minho shrugs, reclining back into Jisung’s warm embrace. He can practically feel the puppydog eyes as Jisung rests his chin on Minho’s shoulder.
“Yeah, but, like, my sex with girls is always dysfunctional.”
Minho chooses silence. It’s the next best thing besides shaking Jisung by the shoulders and shouting Do you even hear yourself? YOU’RE GAY! YOU’RE GAY!
The girl with the strap doesn’t pan out as expected, because two weeks later, Jisung is back in his bed, moaning about how he’ll never get some if things keep going the way they are.
“You have sex with me all the time,” Minho helpfully points out.
“True,” Jisung sighs, turning over onto his front. “It just-- I mean, I thought this would be the answer! I’m just a bottom, so what? But she can’t fuck me like you can, hyung.”
That goes straight to Minho’s dick.
“Then just fuck me, jagi. Why go searching?”
“You’re right. But, like--”
Minho sighs. He’s tired of this. “Jisung. Listen to me. You have trouble getting it up for women, right? And sex with them feels awkward?”
Jisung nods. He seems to be following so far. Good.
“You don’t have any trouble with me, though, right? You always get hard fast, and it’s fun for you.”
Jisung nods again. Then he opens his mouth to speak: “it’s just so natural with you, hyung, I don’t know why.”
Dear fucking god. “Hannie. You’re gay. I’ve been trying not to tell you this because I figured you’d figure it out on your own because you’re smart, the smartest person I’ve ever known--”
“Aw, shucks, hyung--”
“--but it’s starting to physically hurt me, watching you grasp at straws and come up empty-handed.”
“Good metaphor!”
“Not the point! You’re a gay bottom, and you should just keep having sex with me forever.”
Jisung takes all of three seconds to process before his jaw drops. “I’m gay?”
Minho nods solemnly. “It’s extremely obvious.”
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“It’s-- you’re supposed to figure it out on your own!”
“Yeah, but clearly I wasn’t gonna!”
Minho huffs, “which is why I told you just now!”
“Thank you, hyung-ah. I’m gonna go process this now,” he says, not moving at all.
Minho waits. “Are you-- do you want me to leave, or…?”
“No, I think I’m good now. I mean, I’ve been having gay sex all this time, right? It’s not like anything will change.”
“I guess not,” Minho shrugs. He puts his face in Jisung’s face. “We should be boyfriends.”
Jisung looks puzzled. “We should?”
Minho blinks. “I don’t want you having sex with anyone else. Just me. No other men. Or women either. So we should be boyfriends.”
“Hmmm…” Jisung wiggles around, “you should try and convince me.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“I think you know how, jagi,” Jisung purrs, rolling over onto his back and stretching his arms above his head so the hem of his hoodie rides up over his bellybutton.
“I think you should tell me what you want.”
Jisung pouts. “You know what I mean.”
“Maybe I don’t,” Minho says, even though he does, and then proceeds to pretend to consider, “maybe you want me to guess what number you’re thinking of.”
“Ughhhh,” Jisung sits up, turning his back, and then casts a look full of fake disappointment over his shoulder. “Guess we’re not meant to be, huh. Probably shouldn’t be boyfriends, then.”
“Aish, just come here,” Minho says, pulling Jisung back by his hood and relishing in the little choked noise he makes. “I’ll prove to you just how good a boyfriend I can be.”