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The realization that Minho, despite his quite extensive experience with men both in and outside of the kpop industry, has never kissed a person with facial hair, hits him on a lazy Tuesday morning. It is simply not common for his generation, he assumes, not even considering the industry standards. Nowadays, everyone wants to look sharp and clean, handsome as the men most K-dramas present to the general public.
It’s not something he’s ever really pondered over before. Minho loves kissing men in any way, shape, or form, and not having to deal with hiding potential beard burns after a late-night hook-up is quite convenient in his profession. He has lived a fine life so far, the idea never even a quiet afterthought in the back of his mind. Until Jisung, his best friend, self-proclaimed soulmate, and roommate for the past couple of months, accidentally cuts his cheek and can’t shave for a while.
Minho has known Jisung for a long time, years and years spent in close proximity to the point where Minho even had his mandatory boy crush on him, a fact that he liked to fault on their first meeting not considering that it lasted for the better part of the first three years of their friendship. He had to let it go, get over Jisung as time flew by and his friend remained unaffected by his subtle flirting, despite their touches always bordering on something more, both in front of and behind the cameras. Minho gave up ever pursuing Jisung during one gloomy award show when the younger got asked for his number by a female idol and he gave it to her.
His heart was in crumbles for a couple of weeks after that, until Changbin finally got tired of his sulking and told him to get over himself - the little shit used those exact words - because Jisung only went on one date with her and they stopped talking immediately after. Which he would know if he wasn’t being an asshole and ignoring Jisung’s every attempt to spend quality time with him outside of schedules.
Minho feigned ignorance, pretending like he had no idea what Changbin was implying but he made sure next time to slap the rapper’s ass with just a little more care than usual. The smile he received in return told him that Changbin got the message. Getting over his crush on Jisung was also best for the group, after all, he shouldn’t fuck around when he wasn’t sure what was there to find out.
Back to his current predicament, it’s not like Minho’s never seen Jisung with stubble many times before.
He always found it curious how Jisung, despite what most of his peers in the industry do, preferred to keep shaving in the traditional way instead of getting a laser treatment like the rest. Factually, Jisung is a handsome man, and his five-o-clock shadow has always been attractive. Minho would be lying if he stated otherwise, yet it was never something that elicited such intense interest inside him. Since moving in together after living in separate dorms for quite a few years, Minho also witnessed many more aspects of it appearing in Jisung’s life. He grew familiar with the sight of the darkening shadow over Jisung’s pouty lips, or the rough sound of it as the younger walked out of his room half asleep, rubbing his jaw before taking over their shared bathroom and starting his morning ritual before they had to leave for a schedule. He always emerged from the bathroom with a clean-shaven look and a thin layer of makeup in place, and Minho banished all his wandering thoughts in the back of his mind before he could start mourning the loss of the sight of his bare face.
Only now, something has shifted, and Minho is just a gay man, with a very attractive best friend, whose misfortune opened a long-forgotten box inside his mind that’s felt impossible to seal.
Minho and Jisung spent an extra day in Japan after the concerts, nothing fancy, just a day dedicated to their usual casual exploration of Tokyo, bundled up in warm coats and masks to hide their identity from the wandering public. It was fun; Minho always had fun with Jisung around. He wasn’t lying when he said Jisung was like a vacation home for him — the natural way they fit, how he could always relax and just be his authentic self with Jisung, with no judgment or any expectations whatsoever, has always been a breath of fresh air when life around them got stuffy and just a tad bit too much to bear.
Jisung grounded Minho just as much as Minho grounded Jisung.
It was never one-sided, their relationship, even if the deeper, more selfish, and decidedly less platonic aspects of his feelings remained locked away deep inside Minho’s chest, never to be set free. Desires never reciprocated in the way Minho craved them to be.
Except now that they are back in their shared apartment, on the third day of Jisung not being able to shave because of his scar, Minho is suddenly hit with the unexpected realization like a ton of bricks. It comes completely out of left field, the random thought that he never kissed anyone with facial hair.
Jisung’s never let his stubble grow out this long before, at least not when Minho was around and could experience it so up close and personal.
It all starts one unassuming morning. Jisung emerges from his room groggily just like any other morning after spending half of the night with Chan and Changbin in the studio. Minho’s just got back from an early session with his PT, freshly showered and sore in places he didn’t even know could hurt and is making coffee when he hears Jisung's door opening. He listens to the familiar pitter-patter of feet as Jisung stumbles around, except instead of beelining to the bathroom as he usually would, he makes his way to where Minho is standing by the kitchen counter.
“Good morning, Jisungie,” Minho greets Jisung, forcing his voice to sound exceptionally chipper, knowing it’d irritate a half-awake Jisung to bits.
“‘ning, hyungie,” Jisung mutters back sleepily as he reaches Minho. Within seconds Minho’s waist is circled by two strong arms, slender fingers digging into the softness of his tummy almost ticklishly, and Jisung snuggles his face right in the crook of Minho’s neck.
At first, all Minho notices is the familiar warmth of the embrace, and his body slumps black against the younger’s chest instinctually, a tiny smile playing on his lips while he keeps fiddling with the coffee machine. There’s the beginning of a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue already, something to rile his friend up, essentially helping him to wake up faster, when Jisung suddenly shifts behind him, nudging his face even deeper into Minho’s neck. And that’s when he feels it for the first time.
The unfamiliar sensation of overgrown stubble, not soft enough to be called a beard yet but on the way there, rubbing against his suddenly too-sensitive skin makes Minho’s throat close up, and his next words stuck inside his chest as his mind blanks for a second. It tingles, and goosebumps emerge on his skin involuntarily. His lungs ache with a startled gasp, a choked moan he makes a valiant effort to suppress. Despite his best efforts to remain seemingly nonchalant, his posture must’ve stiffened visibly because the sensation stops in the next moment, and the warmth of Jisung’s face leaves the crook of his neck. His breath ghosts over Minho’s skin, and it feels like being stuck by lightning for his unexpectedly overwhelmed senses.
“Hyung, are you okay?” Jisung’s voice is deep and raspy from disuse, the remnants of sleep still detectable in his timbre. It distracts Minho only for a second before he stumbles over his words with a quick explanation.
“Yeah, I just— It tickles. Your stubble, I mean.”
Jisung chuckles, and Minho hates the self-conscious little edge of the sound. It’s barely detectable but Minho knows Jisung too well, they are one soul placed in separate bodies, after all. He hadn’t heard that sound in a while, Jisung gaining more confidence over the years as he slowly grew into his skin and bones.
“Ah, I can shave soon, my cut’s healing pretty fast.”
“Hm,” Minho can only hum, his heart thumping loudly in his ears, their proximity still sending his mind into a reel before he finds his voice again. “You don’t have to, you know. It suits you, Hannie’s always the prettiest when he is barefaced and just his authentic self.”
After Minho’s admission, Jisung is silent for a second too long. Then his head drops back into its previous place with a sigh, not as close to his skin as before though, with his forehead on Minho’s clothed shoulder.
“Hyung’s always the prettiest,” Jisung mutters eventually, and Minho can’t stop his insides from flipping over, the butterflies long forgotten fluttering to life in his belly. When did it get so hard to breathe , he wonders absentmindedly.
And he knows he is doomed after that one lazy morning in their shared kitchen, the memory of Jisung’s stubble brushing against his bare skin stuck in the forefront of his mind even days later. It’s almost like a fixation, the way his eyes keep wandering to the darkening specks of hair dusting Jisung’s chin, contrasting with his honey skin beautifully, and however subtle he tries to be about his sudden interest, he can’t help but notice the pointed looks some of the other members send his way when the group is together. Changbin’s raising eyebrows and incredulously amused expression gets harder and harder to ignore, and he can only send a certain amount of nasty glares in Seungmin’s way before the others catch on. Before Jisung catches on.
Minho’s not sure whether his friend noticed the constant attention or not, but he hopes Jisung remains just as oblivious as he’s been to Minho’s non-platonic affections all these years. Nothing has to change; Minho tries to make sure his newfound obsession with his facial hair doesn’t mess with their routine, and his deepest desires remain contained just the same as they have been for the past couple of years. Even after his failed date with that female idol and years of self-discovery and subtle exploration, Jisung’s never shown any signs of having romantic feelings for him whatsoever, so Minho’s curiosity and newly lit yearning got to be stubbed out from the get-go.
His dreams though, are harder to control.
The dreams start not only a full 24 hours after their encounter in the kitchen that morning. It’s nothing but an innocent touch, Jisung’s facial hair brushing against his bare arm when they are slumped together after practice, Minho’s blissfully tired and halfheartedly listening to Jisung’s whining about being sore, craving Minho’s attention and empathy as if he wasn’t there as well, drilling their new title track’s choreography time and time again before their comeback in December.
Minho indulges him, he always does, but that one simple touch comes back to haunt him at night. The moment his eyes drop closed he can feel the phantom scratch of it against his skin, memories mixing with wishful thinking, a tickling sensation ghosting down his naked chest, the small of his back, dancing over the insides of his thighs. Brushing against his flushed cheeks, tracing the line of his jaw, dragging over his upper lip as they mold into a long-anticipated kiss that makes Minho gasp to consciousness, still feeling the ghost of a burn around his mouth even hours after leaving the warmth of his bed.
He can only hope he doesn’t talk in his sleep this time, at least not loud enough for his voice to carry through the thin walls of their apartment, not coherent enough for Jisung to hear him moan his name in his sleep.
It doesn’t take too long for it all to come collapsing down around him, only a couple of days more pass before Minho cracks. Their day ends like any other ordinary day, he and Jisung are lounging around on their couch, catching up on an anime they started together months ago and then abandoned due to their schedules filling up, with Minho sitting up while Jisung is lying on his side, head resting in Minho’s lap. It’s not different from what they usually do on the rare nights they are both free, Minho’s hand buried in the younger’s hair, playing with his messy hair absentmindedly while Jisung yaps away, letting out content little sighs every once in a while.
It’s familiar, the act of sliding his fingers against Jisung’s scalp, combing through soft locks, trailing the shell of his ear every once in a while. In his absentminded wander, Minho realizes too little too late how his digits move on their own accord, slipping lower and lower, fingers trailing over Jisung’s cheek, feeling out the little scar there that’s almost healed, and ending up tracing the sharp line of Jisung’s jaw dotted in coarse stubble.
Jisung’s suddenly too-loud voice crashing through the white noise in his ears startles Minho out of his reverie. “The cut’s almost completely healed. I think I can try shaving again tomorrow morning before our flight.”
The words make his body stiffen, hand halting its movements against Jisung’s skin almost instantly. Minho can feel his stomach flip uncomfortably, the sickening thought of never experiencing this again, never feeling the same drag against his skin makes him want to curl up into a ball and cry. Brain still a mess, he’s clearly not thinking when his next words stumble from his lips.
“I’ve never kissed someone with a stubble.”
Upon Minho’s admission, Jisung freezes. Minho can feel Jisung’s posture stiffen, head jolting against the flexing muscles of Minho’s thighs.
“Never?” Jisung’s voice is quiet and tight, his question is void of all emotions except a curious little tilt at the edge of it. His empty tone makes Minho squirm uneasily, desperate to read Jisung’s emotions after the random confession he blurted out, yet too scared to look even though he can feel Jisung shift against him, turning to lay on his back, anime forgotten, and his gaze lands on Minho’s face. It burns, and Minho desperately hopes the younger can’t see his ears redden from this angle.
In the end, he simply shakes his head to confirm his earlier words. “Nope, never.”
“Oh, that’s…” Whatever Jisung wanted to say remains hanging in the air between them, unsaid and heavy, tension rising rapidly. Then, just as the silence stretches on for so long it gets almost unbearable, Jisung lets out an unexpected chuckle. He sits up so abruptly that Minho startles, hand falling uselessly from the younger’s face into his now empty lap, and his eyes widen a fraction even though he still keeps them stubbornly at the flashing screen of the television without seeing a thing. Anxiety crawls up his spine, cold and unpleasant, and it takes his numb brain almost forever to make sense of Jisung’s next words, “Do you want to?”
“Do I want to— What?” Minho asks dumbly, mouth suddenly too dry to talk. Realistically speaking, it can be an innocent question, just natural curiosity between friends after a general admission. Just Jisung asking whether Minho wanted to do it, kiss a guy. Any guy with a stubble more than a five-o-clock shadow.
Despite the possibility of it meaning nothing at all, deep inside his yearning heart, Minho can feel a flicker of hope come to life.
“Do you want to try?” Jisung asks again, voice steady, a bit amused, and when Minho’s incredulous gaze finally flits to him, confused and hopeful at the same time, he can see that Jisung is smiling. Soft and warm, his Minho smile , as Hyunjin dubbed it years ago. “Try it with me, I mean. Do you want to kiss me, hyung?”
Minho’s heart skips a beat, his mind going for a spin ride. He knows what the words coming from Jisung’s mouth mean, yet, somehow, they don’t make sense at all. He blinks once, twice. He tries to speak, lips parting but no sound comes out so he snaps them shut quickly before he can look dumber than he already does. Minho blinks for a third time for good measure. Nothing changes, Jisung’s expression remains open and kind, and if Minho looks hard enough, he may even be able to spot a speck of hope mirroring his own in those wide boba eyes.
He gulps dryly, his mouth feels like cotton as his words fail him once again. Minho nods instead, a tentative little motion, and lets a disbelieving smile tilt the corners of his lips upwards. Jisung’s own smile blooms into a heart shape, and Minho watches with bated breath as the younger shifts in his seat, turning his body completely towards him.
“Okay, hyung. How do you want to do it?”
Another question Minho can only answer with one of his own while he mentally berates himself for sounding so slow.
“How do I— What? ”
Jisung huffs out a chuckle, his expression turning more playful as he moves again, now shifting a bit further away. Before Minho can panic about how his brain freeze potentially ruined his chance of finally kissing Jisung, his friend leans against the back of the couch, legs planted on the carpeted floor securely, and pats his lap as he starts to talk again, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Come on, Minho hyung. You can sit here to make it more comfortable.”
While still speechless, Minho’s brain finally seems to catch up with what’s happening as he processes Jisung’s words, body kicking into motion with a stumble, and he scrambles into Jisung’s open lap without finesse. His legs are trembling slightly as he places his knees on either side of Jisung’s thighs, and he hesitates only for a moment before he can feel warm hands land on his waist to steady him. There’s a pull and the next second he is placed into Jisung’s lap properly, ass meeting thighs as he lets himself be guided. They are face to face now, and Minho silently marvels at how kind his friend’s smile still is. How welcoming he looks, comforting Minho while his head is still in shambles, heart rabbiting against his ribcage frantically.
“Like this, hyungie. I won’t break, I promise.” Jisung helps him get comfortable, hands pressing down on his waist to encourage him to let his weight rest on him.
Minho deflates under Jisung’s careful touch, obeying the instructions almost instinctively. The younger’s eyes are wide, gaze burning as he keeps staring at Minho’s face in search of any sign that he is going too far, and Minho can feel himself blush even more, the redness of his ears slowly traveling down to tint his cheeks too. He has the fleeting urge to pinch himself, just to make sure it’s not one of his more vivid dreams but reality.
His gaze follows the way Jisung’s teeth bite down on his lower lip, breath hitching inaudibly as he feels the hands on his hips slowly descend, coming to a rest right above where Minho’s waist curves into his ass.
“Is this okay, hyung?” Jisung asks, voice more breathy than only a minute ago. Minho manages another nod, one that may come out as a bit too enthusiastic because Jisung’s mouth curves back into a smile and he leans closer.
Minho holds his breath, eyes fluttering closed as Jisung moves in, warm breath ghosting over his slightly parted mouth. Minho waits, tongue flitting out for a second to wet his lower lip, anticipation coiling hot inside his gut, burning him up right from his core. He doesn’t even dare to hope that the shiver running down his spine flies under Jisung’s notice, they are so close it’d be a futile desire.
For a long, scary moment, while Jisung lingers only a few centimeters from his face, a fleeting fear that the younger will lean back with a snort, cocky and brazen about making Minho squirm, crosses his mind. That Jisung will tell him that he’s not serious, making fun of Minho’s rosy cheeks and palpable desperation. That he’ll tell Minho to get off him because he’s not even gay—
The air stutters inside Minho’s lungs, and his heart jumps up into his throat as he feels it. The first press of plush lips against his own chapped ones, mouths slotting together in a perfect fit as if they were sculpted by the universe exactly to mold into each other. To match not only in mind and soul but body as well.
Jisung’s kiss lingers only for a second, then he leans back, and Minho’s already mourning the loss of contact. His eyes flutter open to look at Jisung, the younger’s gaze already set on his face, eyes bright and shining with something inexplicable. Something that makes Minho’s insides flip and fill with warmth.
“Still okay?” Jisung whispers, then lets out a tiny huff when Minho simply nods his head again. It makes Minho frown, seeing the tinge of nervousness seep through the cracks of his friend’s confidence. “Words, hyung. I need to know you’re really okay with this, please.”
Minho has to clear his throat before he can reply, his voice raspy around the plea tumbling from his chest. “Yeah, it’s okay. Please, kiss me again, Jisung-ah.”
Jisung smiles beautifully. “All you had to do is ask.” His words are spoken right against Minho’s lips as he dives back in with renowned determination, eyes flitting closed, and he kisses Minho again. There’s more force behind the action, lips meeting lips with purpose. Minho doesn’t even remember closing his eyes, his head spins with the sensation of Jisung’s wet mouth sliding against his, warm breaths mixing as his lips part around a gasp as Jisung pushes in closer, and his hands slip lower to hold Minho in place by his ass.
Noticing the opening he is presented with, Jisung doesn’t hesitate to press his tongue forward and lick into Minho’s waiting mouth experimentally at first, then as Minho opens up for him more, invitingly, he dives in deeper.
They meet in the middle in a wet clash of tongues, eliciting another gasp from Minho as he shifts even closer, arms winding tightly around Jisung’s strong shoulders to keep himself steady. Jisung tastes like the gummy worms they shared earlier, and something so characteristically Jisung that it makes Minho spiral even more. A need lights deep inside him that he never experienced before, years and years of yearning breaking through the well-crafted dam he built to keep his desires locked up safely, and he tilts his head to the side to angle their mouths better. To be able to taste Jisung more fully.
The unfamiliar burn of Jisung’s stubble against his lips only registers a moment later. It stings hotly, just the right combination of pain and pleasure to make Minho ache for more. To drive him towards madness with one simple scratch. He moans his need right into Jisung’s welcoming mouth, soft and high-pitched, a wordless plea for more.
“ Fuck , hyung,” Jisung groans as they part for a second to catch their breaths, and Minho can’t help but whine at his dark tone, the simple curse dripping with desperation matching his own.
“Yeah, wan’ more, Jisunge,” he breaths against Jisung’s lips, pecking it a couple of times before he bares his teeth and bites down on Jisung’s plump lower lip. All doubts of Jisung truly wanting this flees his mind the moment Jisung groans in a mix of pleasure and pain as Minho’s teeth sink into his flesh, hips jerking up on their own accord.
Minho’s hips rut back down without thinking, cock already half hard and twitching, meeting Jisung’s prominent erection halfway, making the both of them gasp into the next kiss at the same time. All bricked up, just from a little kissing , Minho thinks smugly to himself as he grinds down harder, their shared moans getting swallowed by the slide of their lips.
“Baby, are you sure?” Jisung mouths the words against Minho’s cheek wetly, his voice deeper than his usual timbre, and his breaths come out in unsteady puffs. If Minho had a little sanity left in his mind he could almost make out the way both of their hearts were thumping to the same beat, they were so close.
“I’ve never been more sure in anything in my entire life.”
Minho’s reply is not a confession, and yet it is. For what it’s worth, it’s enough to make Jisung get back into motion.
Before Minho knows it, he is being kissed again. It’s full of passion and long-repressed desire coming to the forefront. A desperate dance of lips gliding in sync, teeth clashing together, and tongues battling to taste each other deeper, more intensely than before. Jisung’s hold on Minho’s ass grows tighter, holding him against his body in a vice grip, bringing them together impossibly close as he moans into Minho’s mouth with abandon. Their breaths become rigged, gasps getting muted by the other’s lips as they dive in time and time again for more.
Minho’s kissed his fair share of men, and even women back when he was still hanging out with his old dance crew but it never felt like this. Kissing has never felt like it does with Jisung. Minho was familiar with the throws of passion, the burn of need seething in the pit of his stomach, yet the difference of the all-consuming desire crashing over him now, making him half out of his mind with just a simple brush of lips can’t be entirely chalked up to the unfamiliar burn of Jisung’s stubble scratching his skin, rubbing a raw, rosy hue around his mouth.
His whole body feels like he’s being burned alive, and his hips move on their own accord as he keeps rutting down against Jisung, straining erections pressing together deliciously with every thrust of his hips. Minho lets himself feel it, live it, as he moans out loud with every contact of their hard cocks. He rolls his body with a dancer’s finesse despite his trembling legs, trying to ride the wave of pleasure slowly building inside his core restrained only by the fabrics of their sweatpants keeping them apart.
Jisung’s hands on Minho’s ass twitch, his fingers groping his flesh tightly, helping Minho with his movements, encouraging him to rut down into him harder, just the perfect way to increase the friction. Minho’s arms tighten around him, and he can feel the front of his underwear dampen as the tip of his throbbing cock spurts precum, his mind clouded by the messy haze as the violent waves of desire make his whole body tingle.
His lips burn as Jisung tilts his head a bit more to the side, stubble grazing against his skin harshly, and the sensation of it drives him borderline feral. Minho whines pathetically, the heat coiling in his core an almost unbearable pressure.
“More, Sung— ah ,” he moans into the kiss, his front teeth catching against Jisung’s plush bottom lip and biting down hard as his hips stutter, their rhythm faltering a bit while he desperately chases his high. His arms are trembling around Jisung’s shoulders as he tries to keep himself upright, fingers pressing into the younger’s muscles with a force that makes his skin whiten around his nail beds.
Minho wants Jisung closer; he wants to feel him in his bones, molded together until they cease to be Minho and Jisung and become one body and soul.
“S-shit, Minho ,” Jisung stutters, voice deep and throaty. He is almost begging. “Can I— Please, can I—?”
Jisung’s plea remains unfinished, yet Minho starts nodding frantically. Whatever Jisung wishes he can have. Minho’s sure he’d allow him to do anything with him right now. He’d allow him anything, always .
Suddenly, Jisung leans back, pushing out of their embrace unexpectedly, and Minho wails at the loss, high-pitched and needy, only to have the breath knocked out of his chest the next second as he is being moved. His back meets the cushion of the couch before he can even process what is happening, and he lands with a grunt. His eyes fly open instantly, shocked and confused, ready to assess the situation and ask Jisung what’s wrong. Minho’s question dies on his lips as his gaze finds Jisung.
Jisung is hovering over him, kneeling between Minho’s parted legs, his arms outstretched and resting next to Minho’s torso on the cushion to keep himself upright. He looks breathtaking with his eyes blown wide, gaze darkened with desire, his round cheeks flushed red, matching the dark cherry color of his lips shining with spit. His chest heaves and his shirt sticks to him with every intake of breath, showing off the outline of his defined pecs and a hint of abs, and oh god—
Minho’s mouth falls open around a silent moan as his eyes take in the straining bulge of Jisung’s erection, the gray material of his sweatpants sporting a dark splotch where his cock head is pressing against the material.
What truly shakes him to his core is Jisung’s warmth, the solid weight pressing down on him, grounding him even through the haze of his lust. Jisung’s looking at him as if he is the best thing on Earth, a treasure to be kept safe at all costs. Minho’s heart skips a beat when Jisung opens his mouth to talk.
“You’re so beautiful, hyung,” Jisung whispers almost reverently, dark gaze unwavering as he continues to take in Minho’s state under him. Minho can’t help but flush even deeper, the butterflies in his belly are flopping around happily at the praise. His lips curve into a smile, and Jisung’s eyes flit to the movement, widening slightly as if he just now noticed the redness of Minho’s skin around his mouth his stubble caused. Instead of making him shy away, it seemingly only fuels his desire, his gaze scorching hot, and a feral hunger spreads over his features Minho’s never seen on him. It makes him feel like he’s going to combust.
Minho’s arms reach out on their own accord, straining to grab Jisung and coax him closer. His words are hoarse, pleading. “Don’t stop, Jisungie.”
“Fuck, you are everything .” It’s a deep rumble that resonates with Minho down to the marrow of his bones, and with that, Jisung is back on him, kissing him with a newfound fervor, licking into his mouth hungrily. The kiss breaks all too early but there’s no time to complain as Jisung’s lips find Minho’s neck, eagerly tasting the exposed column of his throat as Minho’s head tilts back into the cushion of the couch to give him more room to explore. It’s hot and wet, and goosebumps appear all over Minho’s tingling body as the tickle of Jisung’s stubble ghosts over his sensitive flesh. A full-body shiver wrecks through him violently, and his aching cock gives a jump.
The wet lips leave his neck soon after, abandoning their work with a couple of nibs and licks to soothe the flushed skin there, and Minho’s eyes snap closed while Jisung moves lower between his legs. He can feel cold fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards to free his abdomen, and Minho can’t hold the loud moan ripping from his lungs as Jisung’s mouth meets his skin once again, warm lips tracing patterns and leaving marks behind as he moves with purpose. A wet tongue dips into his navel playfully, making Minho’s hips kick in response as Jisung’s scratchy chin grazes his sensitive flesh. He can feel his core tighten with need, muscles twitching under his skin when Jisung’s front teeth catch against the supple flesh of his tummy, and he doesn’t even have time to feel insecure about his body because the next second Jisung practically growls into his skin.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Jisung groans, voice wrecked and slightly muted as he buries his face deeper into the soft flesh of Minho’s tummy. Minho’s cock jumps at the words, right where Jisung’s chest is pressed against him, and Jisung has the audacity to chuckle, his smile a familiar heart shape against Minho’s bare skin. The scratch of his chin burns deliciously. “You’ve been driving me crazy for a long time, hyung.”
One of Minho’s hands flies to Jisung’s head to bury his fingers into the sweaty hair at his nape while the other flits around aimlessly next to him on the couch, trying to find something to hold onto. He is so close to falling apart under Jisung that it’s actually ridiculous.
“Hannie, please, more,” he whimpers, eyes tightening and hips kicking upwards to seek the friction he so desperately needs.
“Hm,” Jisung hums against him, a tiny, raspy sound, and Minho doesn’t miss the teasing tilt of it. “Is that what hyungie wants? More?”
Minho nods eagerly without shame, a series of frantic jerks of his head up and down, and his hand presses down on Jisung’s scalp to urge him into motion. His breath hitches inside his chest when he feels clever fingers dance across his twitching abdomen, playful and teasing before they slip under the waistband of his sweatpants.
“Can I—?”
“Yes.” Minho’s answer comes without hesitation. He feels like he’s going to explode if Jisung doesn’t hurry up and do something in the next two seconds. All this madness, just because he wanted some kisses.
Legs trembling, Minho lifts his hips to help Jisung get his pants and boxers over his ass in one motion, hard cock springing free from its confines and resting proudly against his stomach. He hisses as the cool air of the room meets the heated flesh of his erection, and for a moment, Minho can’t hear anything but the ringing of his ears and the mix of their labored breathing.
Then Jisung gasps. “You’re so big, hyung. Can I taste you?”
The request makes Minho’s mind bank instantly, white noise filling his senses all at once. A heady “Please,” slips from his parted lips, and it must’ve been the appropriate response because the next moment he can feel Jisung shift over him, and his face lowers until he is breathing right against Minho’s exposed erection. His cock jumps at the damp sensation, and he can feel another spurt of precum trickle from his tip at the proximity. At the promise of what’s to come.
His fingers clench in Jisung’s hair, pulling slightly, silently encouraging him to do something. Anything .
Jisung chuckles again, warm puffs of air hitting the wet tip of Minho’s cock, making him ache for his touch even more. He desperately wants to look, take in the sight of Jisung lying between his legs, yet he can’t will his eyes to open as two strong arms loop around his tights and white-hot pleasure crashes over him the moment Jisung’s tongue darts out and meets the leaking head of his cock curiously. Jisung hums, the same satisfied little sound he often does when Minho cooks him something exceptionally delicious, and it makes Minho’s gut clench. He knows he won’t last long, not with Jisung’s plush lips stretched around the head of his cock, enveloping him in a burning heat like nothing ever. Not with the flat of his best friend’s tongue dragging down the underside of his length as he sinks lower.
“Fuck, Hannie,” Minho moans, hips stuttering and fingers flexing in Jisung’s hair, pulling so harshly it makes Jisung groan around his cock. The sensation wrecks him to the core, and it takes everything in him to keep his hips flat against the cushion to not fuck up into Jisung’s throat. His fingers slacken as well as he is suddenly hit by a speck of worry seeping through his lust-filled haze.
Jisung lets go of his cock with a wet pop and Minho mewls at the loss.
“You can, hyung,” Jisung murmurs, voice raspy, yet filled with certainty. Minho’s eyes fly open and they stare at each other for a moment, before one of Jisung’s hands leaves his thigh to find Minho’s still in his hair and press down on it. “You can pull my hair, I like it.”
Jisung looks like a dream. Lying on his front on the couch between Minho’s legs, his beautiful, flushed face only centimeters from Minho’s straining cock, strong arms looped around his quivering thighs to keep Minho in place. To keep his legs from closing and suffocating him.
Jisung smiles, head tilting to the side a bit to catch against the sensitive skin of Minho’s inner thigh, stubble rubbing against him roughly as he nudged his face into the hard muscles there. His teeth are out, nibbling on Minho’s flesh a bit before he sucks a mark there, soothing the sting of it with a soft peck. Minho’s head trashes back, eyes flying shut as the pleasure washes over him. His heart almost bursts.
Jisung’s words are nothing but a whisper. “You can fuck my mouth, too. Hyung, I want you to.”
There’s a pathetic little sound stuck in the back of Minho’s throat.
Then Jisung’s mouth is back on his cock without warning, enveloping him in wet heat again, sliding down on his length and taking him deeper than before. Jisung’s fingers grasp Minho’s thighs tightly, holding them apart to keep his legs from crushing his head as the sudden burst of ecstasy makes Minho’s entire body clench up. Minho is trembling now, cold sweat matting his shirt right against his chest, and he can’t stop his hips from rutting up into Jisung’s willing mouth as heat coils in his core dangerously fast.
“‘m not gonna—” he tries to warn Jisung, knowing that he’ll burst the moment Jisung takes him all the way in, pouty lips a tight circle on his cock while his tongue swirls maddeningly around his length.
Minho’s fingers ache from the force he is holding onto Jisung with, digging into his scalp harshly and probably taking a few strands of hair out. It must not matter to Jisung though because he doesn’t stop. He keeps bobbing his head dutifully, making small hums and groans in the back of his throat, the vibration of the sounds sending chills up Minho’s spine.
With the next downward motion, Minho moans loudly the moment the head of his cock hits the back of Jisung’s throat and he can’t hold back from rolling his hips forward, and fucking his length further into the tightening heat. Jisung chokes, the walls of his throat fluttering around Minho, sucking him deeper as he gags. He doesn’t pull up though, his pace steady and confident, while the excess saliva coating Minho’s cock only makes the glide of Jisung’s mouth smoother, easier to slip deeper and deeper into his convulsing throat.
If anyone asked Minho to describe what the word perfection means, he’d start by recalling the feel of Jisung’s mouth around him. It feels almost like an out-of-body experience, something you only read about in smutty romance novels, a mirage that doesn’t exist in real life, yet Minho’s rapidly building orgasm says otherwise.
“C-close,” Minho gaps, words tumbling from his lips in a desperate jumble, and his mind opts out as he can’t think of anything but Jisung anymore. Jisung, between his trembling legs. Jisung, with his fingers digging into the hard flesh of his thighs, probably leaving bruises behind. Jisung, and the tight heat of his wet mouth sucking him deeper with every bob of his head Minho’s stuttering hips match with their own thrust. “Ji- sung , Ji—”
Minho’s fingers tighten in Jisung’s hair as he makes one last, desperate attempt to pull him off of him before he tips over the edge, but the younger doesn’t budge. Minho comes with his lips parted in a silent cry, spurting strings of white-hot cum right down his best friend’s throat. Jisung swallows around him, taking him so deep he can feel his nose meet Minho’s abdomen, and Minho’s cock throbs as he keeps coming.
His ears are ringing, mind blank, and all he can feel for a moment is the ecstasy of his orgasm washing over him, Jisung’s harsh breaths hitting his skin as he tries to breathe through his nose, and the scratch of his stubble grazing against him as his hips kick up repeatedly.
Jisung lets him ride out his orgasm until Minho’s hand slackens in his hair, hips laying flat on the couch, and only comes up for air again when Minho’s spent cock’s done twitching against his tongue and starts to soften inside his mouth.
When Minho’s finally conscious enough to blink his eyes open, his gaze immediately finds Jisung. He looks as if he got ravished by an animal. His hair is sticking up in all directions, his mouth a dark, angry red, and Minho can see that his chin is wet, a mix of excess saliva and cum dripping from the corner of his lips. His round cheeks are flushed, matted by sweat, and tear-streaked.
It’s his eyes that knock the breath out of Minho, heart squeezing painfully inside his chest and spent cock giving a tired little twitch against his stomach. Jisung looks at Minho as if he’s famished, the borderline feral heat dripping from his dark gaze burning Minho right down to his soul.
It takes a moment for Minho to notice the repetitive movement through his post-orgasm haze. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight, and a whine slips from his throat involuntarily as Jisung’s red lips open around a guttural moan.
Jisung’s pants are down to the middle of his thighs, probably dragged down in a hurry. His hard cock is out, tip red and leaking, while the hand he’s not using to hold himself up moves up and down, jerking himself at a rapid pace, gaze unwavering as he keeps staring down at Minho’s exposed body. Something about it, watching Jisung getting himself off to Minho, makes his chest tighten in a different way, his earlier desire giving place for affection.
He wants to reach out and touch Jisung, and wants to make him feel just as good as he made Minho. He opens his mouth to ask, to offer, or even beg Jisung to let him, but his words die on the tip of his tongue as Jisung’s pace suddenly increases, and he starts to get vocal.
“ Minho ,” Jisung moans loudly, hips rutting forward shakily as he keeps fucking inside his own fist, then he is leaning forward, and Minho’s eyes slip closed as Jisung crashes their mouth together. It’s not a proper kiss, it can’t be with how harsh Jisung is breathing, and Minho can feel Jisung’s speed increase to an almost impossible pace as he wounds his arms around the younger’s torso. One, two, three more tugs before Jisung gasps out a choked sound that almost sounds like Minho’s name on repeat, then his mouth slackens against Minho’s and he can feel warm cum dripping onto his exposed stomach as Jisung comes.
Minho’s arms tighten around Jisung’s trembling form as he slowly deflates, weight pressing Minho into the couch. Jisung’s hips give a couple of more kicks, thrusting his softening cock into Minho’s as he milks himself dry. It feels sticky between their bodies, yet Minho wouldn’t let him move for his life.
There’s a stillness that follows after, they simply lay there, pressed together in silence as they slowly catch their breaths. Even with his body calming, the remnants of lust seeping out of his veins the more time ticks by, Minho can feel his heart rate stay fast and steady inside his chest.
He’s not scared though, not anymore. Not with his soulmate . The overwhelming love and affection he feels for Jisung melts his insides, and suddenly, he can’t keep the words in any longer. “I love you, Jisung-ah. I love you so much.”
Jisung stiffens inside his arms, and for a long moment, Minho waits with bated breath for the aftermath of his confession, even though he’s sure they are on the same page. He lets out a relieved sigh as Jisung finally relaxes against him again. He nudges his face into the crook of Minho’s neck, and Minho can feel his smile pressed against his skin. Heart-shaped and tickling, followed by a gentle kiss.
Jisung’s arms sneak under Minho’s back, holding their sweaty bodies just a tad bit closer, and Minho wonders just what he thought happiness was before Jisung’s muffled words settle into the center of his chest.
“I love you too, hyung.”