Work Text:
*knock… knock… knock*
“Minho?”
There were three times Jisung came to Minho's bedroom door with a question.
The first, when he came out to Minho, although Minho won’t deny he thought he already had, came out on a separate occasion. He had asked whether it was okay that he liked boys. The second, when he asked Minho what it was like to kiss someone.
And no, Minho hadn’t kissed him. He wanted to, he would have given his oldest, most precious manga for a chance to be Han Jisung’s first kiss. He just didn’t feel comfortable. It wasn’t right, he was his friend, his oldest friend.
Jisung hadn’t come to Minho, asking to kiss him, only to find out Minho’s experience.
Minho always knew to expect it. The knock on his door after hearing his mum inviting Jisung into the house.
Hi, Eomma, is hyung home?
Jisung was close enough to the family that Minho’s mum cherished the younger boy. The day she told Jisung to stop calling her Mrs Lee. It makes me feel too old! She would reply. He was ecstatic.
Minho remembers how many stars he could count in his eyes at the time.
Six, there were six.
It took Jisung a while to get the hang of it, to remember he’d been granted such a gift from Minho’s mother. She didn’t often warm up to people, a lot like her son, she needed time.
Jisung though, he warped the hands of time and both of them fell captive.
There were three slow rasps on the door, a second between each sound. It’s how they knew it was the other, something secret just for them.
There were three times Jisung came to Minho with a question. Only this time, the third, it was different.
The sight that meets him as he swings his bedroom door open is unfamiliar. Jisung looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at Minho’s door.
The way Jisung was holding himself. It was off. A slim white t-shirt, something he wouldn’t get too hot in with the humidity. Minho looks Jisung up and down, his eyes focusing on Jisung’s hands. His hands wrung his shirt together. A nervous habit Minho had finally managed to break. It was back. He struggles to hold eye contact for more than a couple of seconds. His head hangs lower when it breaks.
Before, any other time, he would be cocky with it. Coming to Minho’s door, one hand rested against the door frame as Minho opened it with the handle. A boyish smile on his lips. Sparkling eyes holding so much mischief.
“H-hi” Jisung’s voice cracks, his pupils shaking as he quickly lifts his eyes and averts them just as quickly.
His hands were still fidgeting and Minho’s worry only rose.
“Hi” Minho’s voice was small, eyes failing to find a centre point to look at. A small pause fills the space between them before Minho awkwardly stands aside to let the younger in, watching his small movements. Feet scuffling across the ground.
“Feet” Minho mumbles. Jisung immediately fixes his posture, lifting his feet as he walks.
The floorboards creak as he moves across the floor, heading toward the bed. Planting his bum on the mattress. He bounces with the movement. The whole time his hands wrapped around his middle like he’s uncomfortable. Minho turns his head back toward the door. His mind is reeling with possibilities. Why is Jisung acting so strange? Stranger than usual. He doesn't want to pry so early on, he knows if Jisung has something to say he’ll eventually say it. Minho just has to trust the process and be patient.
He’s far too aware of how the wood feels under his fingers as he closes the door, his mind busy with traffic, a mixture of red and green lights. He tries to think of their last conversation, but it was simple. They’d discussed how bad Jisung was at video games and said goodbye to each other after a late game on the console. That surely wasn’t the reason… right?
“Why do you look like you’ve shit yourself?” Because that’s the kind of insane question only Minho would ask.
“H-hyung!!” A squeaky sound escapes Jisung. Minho turns his head to face Jisung. It feels heavy. Immediately Minho feels a sense of relief when Jisung’s shy smile plays on his lips. His eyes wide with embarrassment at his friend's abruptness.
“What? You walked in here with your ass cheeks clenched, what else was I supposed to think? You could hold a pencil between those cheeks and it wouldn’t fall”
A strangled whine came from Jisung’s mouth, hiding behind his hands whilst he pulls his knees up onto the bed for better cover.
There he is.
Minho’s heart jumps.
The smile, the one he sees, causes a feeling that settles over him like a calm current, the flow so smooth all his worries float away with it.
The weight is still there though, Minho can see the pressure resting on Jisung’s shoulders. He was there for something, to ask him a question, maybe? Minho wasn’t sure. He always believed he and Jisung had a telepathic connection between them, maybe Jisung had blocked his receptor.
Minho walks closer to where Jisung was sitting on the bed. His footsteps light and his eyes open.
He pokes Jisung’s foot that lay dangling off the bed. Jisung retracts his leg quick enough to give himself a bad bout of cramps and rewards Minho with an unimpressed scowl.
“Don’t touch my feet” A deep mumble comes from behind Jisung’s hands that still lay over his face in an effort to hide.
Minho pokes it again.
“Hyung, c’mon stop, you know i’m ticklish”
Minho grabs his foot instead.
“No! Hyung!” Jisung giggles where he lay, trying to pull his foot out of Minho’s grasp. For the first time since Jisung entered his room, his eyes were sparkling.
“Hey, I thought that’s why we became friends, our shared love for feet, we made a pact” Minho teases, swaying Jisung’s foot back and forth with his arm.
“Yeah, when we were 5 and with a dead roach you found” Jisung deadpans, moving his arms behind him to push his upper body up from the bed. Minho notices the tshirt he’s wearing. It’s his own. One Jisung stole after they camped outside in Minho’s car, Jisung was too cold and Minho was tired.
Minho gasps, dramatically at that, placing his hand over his heart as if he’d been sincerely hurt by Jisung’s words. He just wanted to make Jisung feel easier.
“I can’t believe you’d treat something so special and close to my heart with great animosity” Minho’s voice feigns a wobble.
“Oh give up will you—”
Minho fakes a sniffle.
“That roach, I still have it till this day” Minho bubbles with as much sadness as he could muster. Looking up to the sky and back to Jisung.
Jisung doesn’t recoil in disgust like he anticipates.
“That would explain the smell in here, then”
“You prick” Minho says as he looks down at Jisung and drops his foot. He swears Jisung pouts slightly, before skilling his mouth back.
“I’ve gotten used to it over the years. It’s been hard for me”
“Sure, sounds like your nose is too close to your arse” Minho deadpans, walking back toward his unit. He turns the television on at the wall, flicking the switch and bringing the television to life.
“Do you want to watch a film or anime?” Minho asks, without turning his head back to the bed. It’s raining outside. For the first time he’s actually aware of it. He can hear the droplets hit the window, it’s getting heavier. He collects the television remote, and turns the light off at the wall. The fairy lights around his bed provide enough light for the room, a soft yellow glow around Jisung’s head.
Minho can see Jisung looks a little hesitant again, his eyes unable to mask the busyness of his brain.
“Eh— yeah” Jisung mumbles, rubs his right eye with his hand before laying them both on his lap, his attention trained on them. He’s fidgeting as he doesn’t even answer the question. “Sounds good”
“What’s wrong?” Minho nods to Jisung’s hands. The younger looks up at Minho like he’s been caught, before his head looks back down at his hands. The fidgeting stops immediately. “Is… are we good?” Minho asks whilst scratching his neck, feeling the itch rip through his skin.
Minho cautiously walks over to the other side of his bed, sitting himself at the edge. He’s far enough from Jisung that he won’t overwhelm him. But close enough so he knows Minho is there and within touching distance.
“I’m fine,” Jisung responds, rubbing his right eye again.
It’s a giveaway. The eye rubbing. Jisung only does it when he’s nervous or hiding something. Minho would know, he’s known him for 17 years. Especially the right eye.
The skin has seen irritation and even grazing from how hard Jisung used to rub at it as a child. He’s always been nervous, but Minho’s always been there so he can to stop it. Raising a soft hand to pull the hand away, to remind him everything is ok. He doesn’t know if he can touch him right now. He’s not sure what’s even wrong.
Minho sighs but rotates himself on the bed so he’s lying against the headboard. The sheets pulling to the side and slightly gathering underneath him. He hates that.
A face of tiredness looks back at him when he turns to look at Jisung. He’s been up all night. Minho would know. The bags show up deeper underneath the soft yellow fairy lights, the long night shading them.
“So…” Minho sighs, unsure of where to place himself. His eyes scan the room, looking for anything to give him ideas on how to make Jisung open up.
Jisung hums in recognition, only just loud enough to be heard from the sound of the television. He’s found a thread on the duvet, his fingers picking away.
“Is Mercury in retrograde?”
“Is Mercury, what?!” Jisung’s head whips around to face Minho, stifling a laugh with a boyish smirk pulling on the right side of his mouth.
“Oh you know…” Minho says, avoiding Jisung’s eyes, “the saying that goes around”
Jisung doesn’t answer him, only stares in amusing delight.
“I-i” Minho stutters, “okay fine, my friend told me about it,” Minho continues, “something to do with miscommunication going downhill, felt appropriate”
Jisung’s face hasn’t changed, his eyes only closing into crescents as a genuine smile takes over his face.
“Is your friend gay?”
“Of course, if you think i have a straight friend you’re out of your mind” Minho says without batting an eye.
“What about Jungwoo?” Jisung questions, he’s now turned his body toward Minho. It feels like he’s not hiding the same.
“Still counts” Minho replies with as much seriousness as he can carry.
“How?” Jisung questions.
“He’s gay with it”
He hears Jisung laugh, like really laugh. Loud and booming against the walls. Not before silencing himself and covering his mouth.
“Hmm, I thought you said straight people are cursed,” Jisung teases, dropping his hands and biting the tip of his tongue between his front teeth.
“I still love him, I suppose” Minho shrugs his shoulders.
He knows Jisung is looking at him. It’s his favourite feeling, Jisung’s attention. His eyes focused on Minho and Minho only. He might be a little selfish. Aware of the possessive tendencies he held.
It’s then he catches Jisung’s eye. He has that look in his eyes.
That’s the kind of look that usually gets Minho in trouble.
Minho can’t look away.
But, Jisung does.
It tastes bitter. Just like deja vu Jisung’s hands are fidgeting on his lap, grabbing, nipping at any material he can find. The worry is clear as day on his face, taking his bottom lip and gnawing at it with his teeth.
“Minho, I-” Jisung begins, but the words dissolve into thin air. Noises of frustration and anxiety fill the space. Jisung needs to get something off his chest.
“Ugh!” Jisung groans, laying his palms on his joggers. A back and forth movement jerks his hands, his nails catching as he bends his hand at the knuckles. “Why can’t I just—”
“—Jisung, breathe for me” Minho interjects, keeping his voice soft to calm Jisung down. He leans forward slightly so he’s closer to the younger. You could say Jisung has made Minho worried more times than one, but Minho treasures it. Jisung wants Minho’s help. Day after day they would work on good coping mechanisms. Minho studied up hard, he took it incredibly seriously. He wouldn’t let that on to Jisung though, he’d always act nonchalant with him. It helped. He can’t help the worry evident in his eyes, there’s no way to mask that.
“Talk to me” Minho pleads, “please”
“Why-” Jisung starts but the words are taken away from him, he closes his mouth to stop the words from leaving. The roundness of his nose flares and his chest rises with a deep breath he takes. His eyes flicker up again, meeting Minho’s own. It’s silent. Jisung’s hesitating, he wants to speak. Minho thinks if he listens hard enough he can hear Jisung’s rattling heartbeat.
“You-” Jisung sighs, frustration clear as day on his face and scratching his voice. Minho’s on the edge of his seat. Begging Jisung to speak. “Why didnt-”
Rubbing his palms over his face, Jisung groans. Something deep and frustrating. Minho can see he’s half at war with himself. His eyes jump from pillar to post. Hands lost just like his concentration. The weight of the mattress shifts as Jisung stands. Pacing on the small area beside Minho’s bed. A hand reaches up to pull through the strands, far too rough for Minho’s liking.
“Sung-”
“Why didn’t you kiss me?”
Jisung turns to face Minho, looking him straight in the eye as he blows up Minho’s world. His throat bobs as he swallows.
What?
“What?” Minho splutters.
Suddenly he can’t hear himself think. The alarm of bells fill the entirety of his ear canal, a bell so dominantly deafening any other sound around him. He didn’t hear that right, did he? He can feel his eyes pop and his pulse jumps. His heart aches whilst his lungs are begging him to just breathe.
“Last week.” Fuck. “You didn’t want to kiss me”
Minho must be dreaming. He must be.
Why is Jisung asking this? He's going to ruin everything.
“I-i thought, maybe— maybe you’d felt it too. I swear I could see it in your eyes, that, sometimes, you wanted to,” Jisung shakes his head, his confidence drifting slightly. “B-but maybe, I was wrong”
“Wait, wait, w-wait” Minho raises his hands in the air, holding up whatever dam Jisung was about to break between them. “Y-you, you wanted to know, right?. You wanted to know what it was like… so I told you” Minho tries to reassure himself more than Jisung.
Jisung groans as his eyes roll into the back of his head.
“And how else would I find out, Minho?”
Minho is dumbfounded, his mind wandering back to the moment in question whilst Jisung looks at him like a dumbass. He remembers Jisung laying on his bed, his hands folded over his stomach. Eyes locked on the ceiling. His brows pulled together, he was thinking, Minho often said that’s a bad idea. His breathing had picked up, Minho noticed. He always noticed. The exact words Jisung used were ‘hyung, you’ve kissed someone right? what does it feel like?’
“You didn’t ask,” Minho states, his face still masked with confusion.
If he’s honest, when Jisung had said those words he was more shocked than anything. At the fact Jisung hadn’t been kissed before. 20 years old and nobody thought to cherish him in all the time between that. When he heard the words his own head whipped around from where he sat on his gaming chair. The pounding in his chest began a chain reaction throughout his body. Heart palpitations. Heat in his cheeks. A fear so clear Minho could see through it.
Of course he’d thought about it before. The two of them. His mind was filled with a haze of fantasies but one where Jisung takes the leap. Grabs his neck and pulls him down to meet his lips. The white light surrounding them only intensifies, a beam of hope that thunders through Minho’s being.
But it’s not real. None of it.
The bright fluorescent light will never shine down on them. Jisung doesn’t want to kiss Minho and that’s fine. It’s fine.
Minho knew. The looks from his friends, his parents sometimes when they still attended school their teachers passed a knowing look. A look Minho and Jisung were never in on. But he knew.
They weren’t typical best friends, there was always something that floated along the motions with them. A look. A touch. But, they were never really lovers. They’re just friends, and that’s what he tells people. It’s just easier. How would he even begin to decipher the meaning of the feelings that sparked between them both. They weren’t typical best friends. Minho knew that. He was okay with that. Being but a speck of something in Jisung’s colourful life. It was more than he could ask for.
Jisung can take many opportunities away from Minho but the fantasies are safe with himself. At least he has them.
“Oh my god, you’re so dense!” Jisung throws his head back, the heel of his hands pressing against his eyes. Minho sees the white spreading, concerned that Jisung is applying too much pressure.
“Excuse me, have you lost your manners?” Minho veers the conversation. It's a stupid question and they both know it.
“Don’t turn this shit on me”. Jisung groans behind his hands. The sound slightly muffled.
The silence from Minho is enough that Jisung lifts his hands slightly to look at his hyung through the gaps in his delicate fingers from where he stands.
Minho gives him a pointed look.
“… hyung”
Silence.
The anime playing on the television is quiet but fills the space. It’s like the small space between them stretches. He’s never felt so far away from Jisung before. The tips of his fingers yearning to leave evidence of himself there. Maybe for the last time.
It’s not something they’re familiar with. An awkward silence. They’d never experienced it before. The silence usually brought comfort, hearing the other just breath and exist together.
Now though— now Minho feels an incessant clawing at his chest. It doesn’t feel hollow, he can’t even tell if it’s a bad feeling. A feeling of delight mixes within, a dizzy rush at the small indication. Something he doesn’t feel like he has the right to experience. Of course he’s confused. The love of his life has just confronted him because he hadn’t kissed him. But, they can’t.
This is what ruins friendship right? Crossing the line that feels so blurry regardless and becomes a bitter taste. His mouth is dry at the realisation of what Jisung is asking him. It’s not that Minho didn’t want to kiss him when Jisung had said the words, fuck, he wanted to so bad.
But the thought of taking that from Jisung, he didn’t think he had the right. Minho’s older, only by 2 years, but he should still have a responsible head. Guilt is a familiar visitor when this topic is discussed between himself and nobody. The fear of knowing he was selfish or could have been… it paralyzes him.
The feelings he developed for Jisung, they couldn’t be acted on. It wasn’t fair, it was selfish. He learned to deal with them in time. Wrapping a rope around his feet, with rocks acting as weights to keep him from slipping up. Pulling him under and drowning any hope he could possibly muster. He was never very good at swimming anyway.
When did it change for Jisung?
“D-did you— do, you not want to?” Jisung asks, his voice merely a whisper. His eyes are round and wet with sparkling sadness. Averted to areas that don’t hold power. The brown orbs looking back briefly to search Minho’s face for any clues, hints of carefully crafted tales. In some effort to comfort himself Jisung’s arms wrap around his stomach with care, like he’ll even scare himself with too sudden of a movement.
“J-jisung, don’t—” Minho says, slightly pained as he tightens his eyes closed for a second only to get whatever words could pass out.
A sigh leaving his lips in what sounds like defeat. The air between them feels so fragile. A crack begging to be repaired. Minho opens his eyes to see Jisung’s hand reaching up to rub his right eye again. And the words play in Minho’s head like a broken record, why didn’t you kiss me.
“Right” a broken whisper, “you don’t. I-i was wrong” Jisung nods to himself, biting back the tears that threatened to spell. He takes a step back with his left foot. The floorboard beneath his foot creaks under the pressure. One that Minho and Jisung both know not to step on. During their younger years, if they were up late and wanted snacks, they purposely avoided it. Learning their own dance.
Minho follows, standing from the bed and taking a step forward, closer into Jisung’s space. A sudden timer made itself known in his head. A tick counting down the seconds he had left to make things right.
“N-no, Jisung, no—”
“—you don’t need to try and make me feel better,” Jisung scrunches his nose up in distaste, failing to meet Minho’s eyes. A single tear escapes his reddish tear duct. Slowly falling down Jisung’s cheek. Minho wants to wipe it away. “don’t you dare feel sorry for me”
“I-”
Fuck, what does Minho feel?
Love immersed him during their teenage years. He can remember the exact day he knew. When it all just made sense.
They were waiting on the bus, both too young to drive. It was a hot afternoon, sweating through their clothes that stuck to them like a second skin. Jisung had grown his hair out that summer, the wavy strands passing by Jisung’s ear, touching the bottom of his neck. The edges soaked in sweat.
If Minho looked hard enough, he’d imagine the tickle that it caused on Jisung’s skin. How it would feel in between his fingers, soft, damp and delicate. Minho watched like a man starved.
The way his lips moved caught Minho’s wandering eye first, the plump bottom lip a rose pink. He wanted to bite it. Minho forgot where he was.
“Hey, are you even listening to me?”
“Uh— yeah”
“You’ve always been a bad liar y’know” Jisung teases, no harshness in his tone.
Then the descent into Jisung’s mind began again. He was talking about tilefish, another animal he probably fixated on enough to set his dopamine levels sky rocket and his attention newly earned. Tilefish apparently live near sandy areas, majority of the time in the coral reef. But it was the next fact that Minho felt his breath hitch.
“Do you know the Japanese word for them is amadai, it translates to ‘sweet snapper’” Jisung gave a soft smile, “I thought you’d like that, or it would at least keep your attention on me” Jisung sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry and yet all Minho can think is how he wants the spit residue to land on his skin.
He flicks his eyes up to Jisung’s own, sparkling against the sun's reflection. The golden hue complements Jisung’s own honey skin. Sweat laying a sheen on his cheekbone. Minho wondered if he licked the highest point would sticky residue of the sweet syrup lay thick on his tongue. Minho knew then that this boy had him in a vice grip.
That the thoughts he now associated with his best friend were no longer platonic. There was no escaping. He’d forever belong to the boy that knows the most random facts. Who took the time and effort to somehow involve Minho into his fixation, to keep it personal and connected.
Jisung has wrapped himself around Minho's bones like ivy, threatening and taunting to live within him forever. Tightening thick around the bone marrow enough to leave a mark. The ability to breath at times was trying, the tightening Ivy choking him, killing him softly.
They were each other's saviours at school when the biggest kid thought it was a funny idea to pick on the two anime nerds. Minho was bigger than Jisung, so Jisung got it the worst. Trying to fight back or tugging their sweaters until they ripped, Minho tried his damn hardest to protect Jisung.
And when it was Minho’s turn, a feisty fire took shape within Jisung. Imagine the image of a tiny skinny kid with bambi legs jumping on a kid's back twice their size. All to protect Minho, even though he had no chance. It’s something Minho will never forget.
Gone were the days of Minho thinking of Jisung as just a friend.
Long gone.
The love that derived from Minho wasn’t only emotional. His feelings weren't a matter of opinion to Minho. Fuck no, that would mean he had a choice in loving Jisung. It was chemical. A reaction between one or more substances. It’s a mystery of human chemistry. It’s unexplainable but the results for Minho feel like home.
Jisung runs through Minho’s own chemistry.
“Jisung, I don’t fucking feel sorry for you” Minho’s eyes scatter around the floor as he can’t help but wince at his own tone. The distaste running down his throat from where the words were spoken.
Closing his eyes he tries to focus on the ivy that’s threatening to unwrap from around his bones. The symbolism of how deep Jisung has planted himself within him. He can’t lose him— he can’t.
“Great” Jisung spits in a sarcastic tone, a sour smile on his face. His eyes burning with a rage Minho’s never seen. Jisung lifts his head to meet Minho’s own, a single breath held between them.
Jisung scoffs, his hand rubbing his right eye again. He can tell Jisung doesn’t want to be here, it doesn’t surprise him when he powers towards Minho, kicking up a storm and pushing past his shoulder as he heads for the door.
“Jisung-” Minho feels winded, he’s never seen this side of Jisung before in his life.
Minho’s voice doesn’t even adhere to him.
“Jisung, would you listen to me?”
“You’ve said enough, Minho” Jisung doesn’t even look back to him. He hasn’t said anything, is the problem. Minho can feel him slipping. What they have slipping through his fingers right in front of his eyes. It feels like he can’t stop it. The force of the rain has picked up, hitting against the window. Jisung moves his hand and wipes what he can only think of as a tear, stopping in his tracks before Minho’s childhood door. “You want to fix this? Then do something.”
Memories flash through his mind like a slideshow. His life with Jisung flashes before his eyes. The smiles, the touches, the tears and the warmth. He has to act on his desires, grab hold of his lucky stars and ride the tightening. He can’t let go, he can’t watch him slip from him so easily. He can’t let that happen. It’s enough to get his pulse going again, the adrenaline buzzes beneath his skin. He wets his lip with his tongue.
He loves him. Minho fucking loves him.
Will he ever feel like this again?
Jisung might be fine living without Minho, but Minho sure as hell can’t live without Jisung.
Minho’s never moved so quickly in his life.
“You’re sure as shit I will”
Temptation pulls him in with a taunting grin. Minho grabs hold of Jisung’s wrist, the dainty bone digging into the palm of his hand. He pulls him closer, maybe a little too hard. The world moves around him a million miles per hour, the world tipping on its axis just before Minho makes things right.
“Come here” Minho urges.
Honey glazed lips.
And just like that.
The world slows.
Minho has to hold himself back. He doesn’t want to be too rough with Jisung but he’s been waiting for this moment for so long. Ached for years. Jisung’s lips are soft and giving. The whimper that escapes the younger tastes like a new awakening.
Against his own, Jisung’s mouth feels like a fresh breeze on a summer’s day while sitting at a bus stop. He feels as soft as clouds that linger in the sky. For once in his life he doesn’t feel mortal, like anything is possible for both of them. If he reaches slightly higher could he touch the stars? Could he swim on the horizon and taste the sunset?
This is the closest he’s ever felt to being a wanted man. A bounty on his back that could only be fulfilled by Jisung. Fuck, he’s been running for so long. His feet struggle to even keep him up now that he’s stopped. For as long as he can remember he’s spent his hours panting, sweating and shaking in an effort to escape the feelings he felt growing day by day. Survival was his greatest priority. Pushing past the feelings so he could have Jisung in some capacity. The thought of really kissing Jisung was only that, a fantasy in his head.
But fuck. He’s here right now. His lips melt against Jisung’s. The everlong chase comes to an end with the sweetest of tastes.
There’s a lingering tingle where Jisung’s hand finds residence on Minho’s shoulder. The first touch from the younger since Minho kissed him. The tingle spreads to where Minho’s gripping onto Jisung’s hair. He grips a little tighter, enough to emulate a gasp from the younger. He positions Jisung’s head enough to guide him, allowing Minho’s tongue to slip in and like a true masochist, he ruin’s himself completely.
He shouldn’t have tasted Jisung. He won’t let him go now.
Minho groans into the kiss as Jisung grips onto him just a little tighter. Pulling him closer into his own space if it were even possible. The tighter he’s wound in Jisung’s arms, the lighter he feels. Minho wonders if the summer is aware of the fall. Inevitably ahead with no control. Minho’s familiar with it.
He smooths the hand on Jisung’s waist down his body, enough for his hand to rest on the top of Jisung’s ass. He feels the younger press into the touch. It drives Minho wild.
He hears the footsteps before he feels the sensation of his own feet moving. His nervous system appears to be delayed by the pressure of lips molding into his own. A hand grazes Jisung’s waist and pushes him closer to the door. Cornering the younger in with no escape. What does an animal do when they’re cornered? They submit.
Jisung pulls back and Minho sees the stars in his eyes. They hold a gravity, pulling Minho deeper and deeper with force. He knew he could reach them. It just meant taking a leap and stretching a little farther.
“Y-you kissed me” Jisung stutters, a little out of breath, his eyes wide and revealing.
“Yeah… I guess I did” Minho answers as he catches his breath.
“Y-you wanted to?” Jisung asks, his voice soft.
“You have no idea” Minho smiles, something genuine. “Stupid” he boops Jisung’s nose with his own.
“I like kissing you” Jisung says, his eyes not moving from Minho’s lips. The honesty is enough to knock Minho off his feet. He even wets his lips with his tongue. “Kiss me, again”
Minho feels a primal urge tear away his last shred of sanity.
“You ask so-”
Jisung cuts him off with pressing his own lips to Minho’s. The older must have been taking too long. Jisung never did have the best patience.
Minho groans some hidden truths into Jisung’s mouth that the younger swallows straight from him. He feels Jisung press into the muscles of his shoulders, gripping on for dear life. Minho loves the pressure. He removes the hand from Jisung’s soft waves and lands it flat onto the wooden door beside Jisung’s head.
The sudden movement causes Jisung to gasp. It sounds fucking beautiful.
Through stolen breaths and half assed confessions the kiss grows heated. Jisung finds his footing and gives Minho a run for his money. Biting at Minho’s bottom lip every other breath, pulling him closer until he feels Jisung and how much he wants him. If Minho had a working brain right now he’d have the power to slow things down.
Once again Jisung pulls away first, not out of regret or reason. Minho’s embarrassed to admit a sound escapes him, almost a desperate plea not to stop.
“M-minho, touch me,” Jisung pants before Minho looks down at him, “please?”
Not only did Minho feel vertigo wobble his balance, but the thought is almost agonising. Agony because Minho can’t allow that to happen. He wants to but he can’t.
“Fuck” Minho takes a breather by sloppily moving his wet mouth over Jisung’s cheek. He doesn’t want to move too far away yet. His chest still hurts, the fear instilled in him that this won’t last. If he moves away for too long will it all have been a dream?
“M-minho?” Jisung says, his voice small and shaky.
“Yeah, baby, give hyung a minute” Minho whispers as his head falls beside Jisung’s with his forehead leaning on his forearm.
As he tries to fix his balance and piece together the dizziness taking over his body, he hears Jisung whisper a quiet “baby” under his breath. Minho’s heart soars. He has better judgement than to let the smile that takes over his face stick, but fuck he can’t help it. How could he?
By a miracle Minho manages to settle his thoughts and screw on somewhat of a logical head.
“Jisung-ah” Minho sighs as he lifts his head to look at the man in front of him.
“Hmm… I don’t like that tone” Jisung cooes with a pout from where his head rests against the door. Cocks his brow the cocky shit.
Minho guffs a laugh, the effort Jisung goes to when he knows what he wants is admirable. But he can’t let this go on any farther.
“C’mon, baby, you just had your first kiss. We’re moving too fast”
“Moving too fast my ass,” Jisung quickly responds, “please, Minho?” He cooes again.
Jisung’s hand begins to trail down from where it sat over Minho’s shoulder. A soft finger trailing over his chest.
“Jisung” Minho warns,
“Minho,” Jisung mimics his tone.
“I want to baby, believe me”
“And so do I, so what the fuck are we still doing here?”
“Jisung, I do—”
“C’mon Minho,” Jisung stretches out his name, his hand resting over his chest. The tshirt grazing his nipple. “Don’t you want to show me? You’re so experienced hyung, and I’m not. Want hyung to be my first, want hyung to show me everything. Teach me hyung? Please?” The doe eyes that stare up at him take his breath away.
“Jisung, tell me how you’re a virgin, yet your mouth is filthy”
God Jisung is a handful, but that’s what his hands are for, right?
“Dunno, hyung” Jisung emphasises the roundness of his eyes.
Minho bites his lip at the sight in front of him. He knows better than to fall for it, the bait is too sweet not to latch on and pierce his heart with. He feels starving again, the need to devour washing through him like a tidal wave. He feels his knees weaken at the force.
Only for a second, Minho sees a shift in Jisung’s eyes. Lust being replaced and Minho feels deja vu for the faintest of moments. His Jisung standing before him, the one he knows.
“Minho…” Jisung starts, a nervous tick at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t want to go all the way, if that’s what you're worried about.” He sighs as his head lolls forward for a second. Minho brings his face back up with a forefinger and thumb under his chin. Minho sees a smile. “Just want you to touch me a little.”
Jisung brings his arms up and around Minho’s neck, pulling him close enough that he can feel Jisung’s breath on his lips. The breath itself is electrifying. The front of his sweatpants tighten at the tension, he’s incredibly and embarrassingly hard from some light kissing. Just one movement closer and he’s all Jisung’s.
“Only a little, okay?” Minho warns, he feels the tip of his lip slightly touch Jisung’s.
Jisung sighs, releasing the breath that Minho felt on the horizon.
“Okay, hyung” Jisung whispers. “I trust you”
Minho swallows the words and everything around him feels right again. His fingers entangles with Jisung’s dark waves. A hand wrapping around his tiny waist it was accustomed to. Just like he had imagined. A sting of a scratch, Jisung mustn’t have shaved. Stubble rubbing over the top of Minho’s lip. He relishes in the sting, the feeling of Jisung just taking as much as he wants from Minho. It’s dangerous, almost visceral and Minho would give himself over every time.
The kiss itself is wet and messy. A combination of spit and teeth clanging together. Minho has never felt so awake in his life. He can feel the energy buzzing off him like a lightbulb burning at the highest of temperatures. His torrid skin sears at Jisung’s touch.
He knew Jisung was the sun, he only had to taste him to prove it.
“C’mere baby, 1, 2, 3” Minho instructs.
He removes his hands from situ and wraps them underneath Jisung’s thighs. He huffs with the strength he uses to lift him up and Jisung wraps his legs around Minho’s waist like a dance they’d done so many times before. Out of pure indulgence he squeezes just a little tighter around the softness of his thighs.
Jisung squeals at the sudden movement, but holds onto Minho tighter than before.
“The bed is literally 5 steps away,” Jisung says but his eyes are like crescents.
“Shut up, give me this moment would you” Minho replies, “i’ve been thinking about doing this for so long”
Minho turns hoping his legs won’t give out from how giddy he feels. He’s been imagining this for so long, how he could impress Jisung with his strength. Look after him and take care of him. He takes the steps required towards the bed, he counts them up until the squeaky floorboard makes itself known beneath him.
“Oh you have?” Jisung teases, “tell me just how long, hyung”
“Nope”
Minho drops Jisung on the bed and another squeak leaves Jisung’s mouth. His smile is breathtaking and refreshing. From below, the fairy lights form a beautiful glow against Jisung’s honey skin. Something ethereal and breathtaking.
“C’mon Minho”
“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” Minho diverts the conversation. His voice carries a penchant for love.
Jisung seems surprised, shocked even to hear Minho speak the words. Now that Minho has the chance to, he’ll remind Jisung endlessly.
“M-minho…” Jisung whispers, a sparkle floating in his round orbs.
“Lay back baby, get comfortable” Minho insists, rubbing a hand over Jisung’s knee. He feels the bone there for a second. It grounds him. Truly taking in what has transpired over the last hour.
Jisung follows Minho’s directions with ease. Like he was meant to follow his voice, Minho doesn’t even know why it’s particularly loud in his mind. Not counting the number of times Jisung could be a brat, could probably count them on one hand, he doesn’t think Jisung ever had much trouble following whatever he said.
Jisung uses his hands behind him to push his body further up the bed. He makes himself comfortable between Minho’s pillows, fitting perfectly in the spot in front of him. Once he settles, he looks expectantly up at Minho, like he’s waiting to be praised for completing a simple instruction.
“Good boy”
Minho falls for it, naturally.
A shiver can be seen running through Jisung’s body, it might even physically glitch, his eye twitching whilst he rubs his thighs closer together. The movement takes Minho’s attention, his own erection pulsing as he imagines the pleasure Jisung gets from the rubbing. He almost feels irked that it’s not himself making Jisung feel that way. He needs to change that. God he needs to feel that.
Jisung’s gaze travels down Minho’s neck, following the slip of his collar bone. His eyes follow the same pattern back to Minho’s face. It settles on his mouth. His throat bobs, swallowing saliva.
“C-come here” Jisung says, his hands tightening into the duvet below him. He softly pats the mattress beside him. Thighs continue to rub back and forth. And Minho’s weak grasp on reality is duly evident.
Minho watches Jisung for a second longer, he honestly believes he deserves the chance. To soak in the fact he has this beautiful person on his bed, in such a different context to what he’s usually rewarded with. He counts his lucky stars for whatever has changed.
The floorboard squeaks yet again with Minho’s weight pushing off the floor and placing his knee on the bed. He ought to stop before anyone in the house keeps hearing it being repeatedly stepped on. After placing one knee on the bed he pushes himself up and uses his hands in front of him for extra leverage. His nerves don’t escape him for a second, the anticipation greater than anything he’s ever experienced before. His one goal is to make Jisung comfortable and feel good.
“You’re comfortable?” Minho asks.
Jisung nods back at him, his eyes almost narrowing as he watches Minho crawl up beside him on the bed. Something similar to prey.
“Good, this is all about you, alright?” Minho asks as he settles himself against the headboard. He looks over to Jisung again, his eyes catching notice of his raw pink lips. An overriding joy at the fact he was responsible for the obscene view.
Jisung raises his eyebrow slightly, like he’s unsure of what Minho’s intentions are for the night.
“I’m making you feel good tonight, don’t worry about me” Minho reassures him, placing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder so he’s pulling him closer. Jisung fits perfectly as usual, naturally sliding into place like Minho’s missing puzzle piece.
Jisung doesn’t look best amused with that. Clearly he’s not only a receiver then, Minho thinks. To Minho’s delight, Jisung agrees after what feels like minutes but in reality was only seconds. The pout on his lip does not go unnoticed.
“W-what— can I touch you next time?” Jisung asks, his eyes shine with a pleading expression.
Next time.
Minho feels giddy, he feels jubilant, even triumphal. It’s so real now. Jisung, here, kissing him, it’s real. He is real. In a matter of minutes his life changed forever.
“Yeah, baby, you can”
There’s a pregnant pause in the air between them, just taking each other in.
“I like when you call me that” Jisung smiles, it’s shy but it’s beautiful. His eyes blink up at Minho, it’s breathtaking.
“Yeah?” Minho replies.
“Mhmm, I used to get jealous when you called Soonie that,” Jisung admits.
Minho barks out a high laugh, his chest feeling the lightest it’s ever felt. He knew, god how could that go unnoticed? He’d sometimes exaggerate it when Jisung helped with feeding time or bath time. Overuse the word until the meaning became empty, until now.
“Oh my god…” Jisung groans, “you knew!”
Minho tries not to laugh but Jisung’s face is a picture. His face is so animated, it’s one of Minho’s favourite things about him.
“Maybe” Minho says as he’s catching his breath.
Jisung slaps Minho’s shoulder haphazardly, barely even any power behind it. The softness in the younger’s face draws Minho in closer, begging for the attention of his lips. For his gentle touch laced with pure magic.
It’s easy, using his free hand to hold Jisung’s chin and position Jisung exactly where he wants him. Jisung’s fluid in his movements when it comes to Minho. Shaky legs and misplaced steps have proven him clumsy, sometimes stiff. With Minho though, it’s like his body moves for him.
A cloud of pink presses against Minho’s top lip, the kiss barely even touches enough to leave a trace. Minho wants to change that, no area of his body should go absent of Jisung’s trace. Next time though, tonight it's about Jisung.
Minho doesn’t even pull back to speak, just lingers the touch of his lips over Jisung’s as he speaks.
“You’ll be good, yeah? Remember what hyung said, this is about you tonight” Minho whispers for clarity. “Quiet too, hyung wants to hear you but only hyung, okay?”
Jisung visibly swallows as he struggles not to cross his eyes at the close proximity. He fails miserably from what Minho can see, but is very hypocritical of him to even point out as he struggles just as much.
“W-what, what will I do with my hands?” Jisung asks quickly.
Minho looks down to Jisung’s laps where his hands are currently wringing in his tshirt again. A soft familiarity spreads in Minho’s chest at the question, sure it’s a simple one, but one he’s heard many times. When Jisung’s brain has too much traffic to divert it.
“Here,” Minho pulls apart the grasped hands with his own free one, laying Jisung’s left hand on his own right thigh, “hold here, just relax”
As soon as Jisung’s nodding, even though his movements face some restrictions, Minho smiles.
He makes his move.
It’s surreal, trying to plan out exactly how he wants to ruin Jisung. He’s never been touched before. A little pure thing. Nobody even scratched the surface. Clear from and untainted with lewd experiences. A blank canvas for Minho to create all the firsts he’s dreamed of, mould the man through touches and pleasure.
He starts with a peck to Jisung’s lips, soft and promising. Moving his head slightly Minho continues his journey over Jisung’s face, kissing every area of his cheek that he can cover before tilting his head enough to bare his neck.
He doesn’t waste any time. His lips map out the soft skin, trailing down the side of Jisung’s neck. He can’t help but give in to the desire to nibble the further he reaches, closing in on the area just below the edge of his tshirt.
“Can I leave marks?” Minho asks, his eyes lifting to look at Jisung from below his eyelids.
Jisung’s almost panting already, his chest shaking with the overwhelming arousal he must feel right now. His eyes meet Minho’s and he closes them just as fast. He throws his head back to hit the headboard.
Jisung squeaks, “F-fuck, Minho you’re so hot”
The words have a worse effect than he could possibly describe. His ears burn in delight. There wasn’t a chance they weren’t already red as it was.
“Can I?”
Jisung barely moves his head back down, his eyes only just visible to show Minho’s in his line of sight. He nods, but Minho needs him to speak. The need to pull him apart is grinding away at him, he wants to move quickly yet pull the pleasure out for as long as he can. Even still, he needs to teach Jisung the importance of verbal confirmation.
“Need to hear you say it, Jisung”
“Yes” He squeaks again, “I might cum in my pants, but yes”
Minho lifts his head then, bringing his eyes level with Jisung’s yet again. He rubs his nose against Jisung’s and whispers a gentle thank you.
Jisung’s head falls to the side on instinct as Minho leans down slightly to touch the skin there with his mouth. His mouth is desperately hot against Jisung’s skin, his teeth sharp as he sucks a mark onto the skin in between Jisung’s neck and shoulder. Jisung’s breath hitches at the nip.
The hand on Jisung’s chin had fallen to rest on his chest. He could feel his heartbeat behind his chest. The muscle pounding with excitement, the intense sensation under Minho’s hand only increasing and solidifying this is really happening. Jisung’s alive and here. And so beautiful.
On a whim, some kind of test, Minho flicks his thumb over Jisung’s nipple. It causes a beautiful hitch in Jisung’s breath. He’s sensitive, incredibly sensitive. It could be a mixture of the two, Minho marking him and playing with him. Either way, Jisung’s body sings for him. He’s perfect.
Perfect for Minho.
He familiarises himself with the nub, flicking back and forth with some gentle rubs in between. Jisung’s thighs begin rubbing together again, enough to cause Minho to stop his handy work and his eyes to wander down. His cock is visible now under his grey sweats and he looks big. Minho’s mouth waters at the thought, a sensation of the weight already laying on his tongue.
“Minho, hyung, please” Jisung rambles the words out in one breath. The words merging into one.
“What do you want, baby? What do you need hyung to do?” Minho’s eyes drift up Jisung’s body, until he finally reaches his face.
Jisung makes a disgruntled noise, like he couldn’t decide if he even tried. The hand on Minho’s thigh tightens, grasping hard and enough to cause Minho’s breath to hitch.
It’s automatic, the response from Jisung upon hearing Minho make a noise.
“Touch me, please”
“Where?”
“Minho, don’t” Jisung replies with discomfort in his face. He’ll be embarrassed, of course he will. But he doesn’t need to worry about that, not with Minho.
“Maybe just kissing sounds nice”
Jisung jumps, “N-no, no, you can’t do that, hyung. Minho, you can’t”
“Oh, but I can,” Minho teases.
Jisung takes Minho’s wrist in his hand, gently rubbing a thumb over the bone that protrudes there. He rests Minho’s hand on his cock, his very hard cock, “T-touch me here”
Minho lets out a sigh, his eyes not leaving Jisung’s as he gets to feel him. Jisung lets out a hiss at the touch, probably not expecting such a light hold to feel so good.
“Want hyung to touch your cock?”
Jisung nods, before quickly remembering, “yes, please”
“Good, bug” Minho lets the nickname slip and Jisung moans deep in his throat.
“You like that too?” Minho muses, his eyes probably seeping with endearment.
Jisung nods, a light dust of pink spreads over his cheeks. “Like everything you call me”
“Jisung-ah, don’t feel nervous with me okay?” Minho asks, before he goes back to learning Jisung’s body. He rubs his thumb gently over Jisung’s shoulder where his right arm remains. “Hyung, likes to know exactly what you want. It makes hyung feel good. So, don’t be nervous, okay?”
“Okay, hyung” Jisung agrees, his voice quiet. He feels a gentle squeeze on his thigh. His heart is feeling an intense amount of energy tonight, he wonders if it will make it.
A groans pulled from Jisung’s throat when Minho grips his cock a little tighter. Just a little bit of pressure, enough that Jisung shakes with it. Again, Minho wonders if he’ll wake up soon that— that if Jisung really did walk out his door earlier, would he survive it? If this is a dream, will it shatter? but fuck. Even if that’s true, if it is the case, Minho isn’t ruining his chance. He won’t waste a moment.
Touching Jisung causes Minho his own intense pleasure. Something he’s never experienced, purely because he’s giving to Jisung. His cock twitching in the confinement of his boxers, he can already feel the material is soaked through. He won’t even bother to check if it’s visible through his sweats. He continues to apply pressure to Jisung’s cock before he flicks his thumb over the head, still within the safety of his boxers.
“M-minho” Jisung moans, “please do more, you’re not touching it”
Minho lifts his head until his mouth is touching Jisung’s ear, “touching what?”
He feels the heat of his breath bounce back, making Jisung shiver in his arms.
Jisung grumbles a sound before lifting a hand to cover his eyes, as if it will make him invisible, “M-my— fuck, my cock”
Minho rewards him by pushing his hand beneath Jisung’s sweats. The only thing separating Minho’s bare hand from Jisung’s weeping cock is his boxers, “that’s my boy”
Jisung bucks his hips and moans, “Hnnggg”
His hand wraps around his cock with more freedom, still a little restricted but Minho feels like he’s ran a marathon already. Steadying his own breathing is half the battle.
“Ohmygod this feels insane” Jisung wheezes trying to get the whole sentence out in one breath. Minho can see his tummy tightens with pleasure.
“I can make it feel a whole lot more insane, y’know”
“Will I survive it, hyung? Seriously, I feel like i could nut right now”
“Don’t say nut when my hands down your pants”
Jisung replies with a sarcastic tone, “Sorry, I might skrr—ah!”
Minho’s hand might have slipped. The grip on Jisung’s cock is that little tighter.
“Don't you dare” Minho warns.
“M-minho, take them off, please” Jisung's tone seems to have changed with the grip Minho now has on him. Those round doe eyes are more prominent than ever, Minho thinks if Jisung keeps saying please he’s going to give him the world. He wasn’t born to reist Jisung nevermind Jisung begging. Jisung could cut Minho deep and tell him to press into the wound and he would.“Hyung I’ll die if you don’t”
“You idiot” Minho smiles, pressing a kiss onto his temple. “Help, hyung, then”
Jisung being the keen and generous person he is, totally not because he’s on the receiving end, grips onto the waistband of his sweats. Minho removes his hand. His thumb riggles around to also slip into the waistband of his boxers. Kill two birds with one stone, so they say. He pushes them down mid thigh, before looking back up to Minho, his face expecting praise. Surprisingly, he’s not as embarrassed about being naked in front of Minho, like he expected. Maybe the arousal really has taken control.
“What?” Jisung questions.
“I-i helped…” Jisung mumbles, his face dropping slowly, “you’re supposed to-”
“I’m supposed to what?” Minho blinks, one, two, three.
“You-” Jisung doesn’t finish his sentence, his pout resting.
Minho snorts, having had enough of the teasing. Jisung doesn’t find it funny in the slightest.
“Take them off, baby” Minho instructs.
“All of it?” Jisung asks,
Minho hums, his left hand moves to rest on Jisung’s honey toned thigh. His thumb rubs the tufts of hair, the softness helping to calm his own nerves. It’s an area Jisung doesn’t shave and Minho is forever grateful. Jisung follows his instructions, bending his legs higher in order to remove them successfully. Minho refuses to move his hand through the whole ordeal, afterall, if he stops touching him, he might disappear.
“Kiss me, hyung” Jisung says, waking Minho back up from whatever daydream he lost track to.
Minho blinks— and again, taking in how bare and open Jisung is. His skin melts beautifully into the white of his duvet cover. He’d imagined it more times than he feels comfortable admitting, a twinge of guilt still lays flat on his stomach.
Jisung brings his hands up to cup Minho’s face, his thumb running over the high point of his cheekbone. His hands are warm and grounding, maybe just a little clammy. Minho fools himself into believing it’s an issue, it definitely isn’t.
In an emboldening move, Jisung pulls him in for a kiss. Minho moans into the kiss, the surprise move taking him aback. Jisung’s mouth encapsulates his perfectly. The kiss borders that of tenderness and pure want. The tip toe and teasing burning something deep.
As the kiss grows heated Minho’s hand tenses around Jisung’s thigh, grabbing at the bulked muscle.
Jisung pulls back from the kiss only quick enough to plead a ‘please, touch me’. Breathless and needy.
Before Minho can even function or register what he’s being asked, Jisung’s mouth is back on his, like he can’t get enough of Minho. It lights a flame within him, his mind cloudy with the smoke, his heart rate rising from the heat.
If Minho thought Jisung sounded beautiful with the slight touch, he hadn’t heard anything yet. The lewd keen that fills his ears as he wraps his hand around Jisung’s cock fuels him and the fire like he’s been doused in with gasoline.
The slick wetness seeping from Jisung’s cock is filthy, the sticky residue creating a messy glide. Minho doesn’t headbut any trouble, his boy is leaking for him. From barely even a hand laid on him.
He gains a stable pace, guiding out babbles and mewls from Jisung’s own mouth. Ready to swallow anything he’s willing to give. One particular glide catches the head, resulting in a nasty bite from Jisung on his lip. He hisses at the sensation, the sharp sting causes a twitch in his sweats. The warm coppery taste sweeped by his tongue, he’s not even mad.
Jisung apologizes immediately, his hands rising further up into Minho’s disheveled hair. He holds him in place as he apologies with little sorries in quick succession. Pecking his bottom lip whilst probably tasting the copper.
“Shh, bug, it’s okay” Minho whispers.
“M’sorry” He mumbles again, pecking his cheek.
“C’mere, you” Minho responds, his heart melting at Jisung’s expression.
He lets go of Jisung’s cock for a second, the complaints he’s expecting follow. Jisung became even more vocal, all to Minho’s delight. Ignoring the complaints, he spreads Jisung’s legs. Bending the farthest up towards Jisung and letting it flop to the side.
“M-minho” Jisung almost cries.
Minho looks back towards his face, a space in his chest where the sun shines brightly toward him.
Yeah— Minho’s never been this hard in his life.
Jisung looks back at him with sparkling eyes, his iris’s dark pebbles smoothed slowly by the trickle of his tears. His breathing is even worse than before. The poor thing getting himself worked up by the loss of touch. Minho— he gets it. He’s there, he’s been there for so long just like Jisung. They’re both terrified the other will disappear. Jisung blinks, his lashes mush together with the weight of the wetness. The reflection of the fairy lights create a warm sparkle. Minho wishes he could frame this moment, the look on his face caught him completely.
Minho gasps a, “Oh, baby” and a “shhh, I know, shhh sweet thing”
Jisung pulls Minho back toward him, the strength only driving him even further into depravity. Minho fixes his position, his arm returned securely over Jisung’s shoulder. He gently takes the leg closest to him, lifting the limb until it lays over the top of Minho’s thigh. Spreading him out like a devine dinner ready to be devoured.
“There you are, my pretty boy” Minho whispers into Jisung’s hair as he takes the younger’s cock back in his hand, “always been my pretty boy”
Jisung moans, his pitch high enough to indicate it was positive. Maybe he’s agreeing. Minho quickens the pace almost immediately. Enough to confuse Jisung and catch him off guard. His voice becomes a symphony in Minho’s ears, but he’s just a touch too loud. The last thing they need is someone knocking, Jisung would never recover.
“Gotta be quiet baby” Minho whispers into his hair.
“Feels t’good, hyung”
Jisung sounds drunk, his voice a slur trying to manage the pleasure coursing through him. If he delves deep enough could he get drunk too?
“Here” Minho says, he uses the hand resting over his shoulder to push the youngers head into the crook of Minho’s neck, just as Minho feels the wet lashes flicker on his skin, his hand catches onto the swollen head of Jisung’s bright red shiny cock.
The sound he draws out of Jisung is filthy. He feels the rumble against his neck, the deep voice he’s come to love so much, “shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Let it all out, baby”
Jisung, he’s so good isn’t he, he always listens. He lets go.
Like a starting line, the gun flares from Minho’s approval and Jisung crosses the line. His voice breaks as he lets his pleasure be known, and fuck Minho is so grateful.
“A-ah Minho” Jisung moans.
“Nobodies touched you like this before, have they?”
“Mmm, no,” Jisung struggles, his chest rising against the weight.
“Only, hyung, gets to make you feel like this hmm?”
“F-fuck, Minho it’s— fuck it’s s’good” Jisung struggles against Minho’s neck, his entire body trembling at his inability to resist the pleasure, “only hyung can touch me”
A wet sensation catches Minho’s attention, an agonising dip at the thought of Jisung drooling from the pleasure. His wet mouth, rubbing against his skin, kissing and nibbling. He probably doesn’t even know what to do with himself.
“That’s right” Minho praises him, and lets his thumb push into the slit at the tip of his cock. Jisung locks up at the sensitivity. He tries to close his legs, but Minho wasn’t about to let that happen, no. Bending his own knee, he brings it up enough to pull Jisung’s thighs apart. He was so close to seeing Jisung in a way nobody had ever seen him. That alone— fuck, it creates a feral state of mind. Of being. The possessive response is one of several. It’s just the dominant one. Driving Minho to fever level insanity.
“You’re doing so well, baby” Minho praises him again. He finds he’s pointlessly grasping for useless reasons just to praise him. His hand quickens its pace, guiding Jisung closer to his peak, if his sounds are any indication. Like a domino effect, Jisung’s reactive and thrusts his cock up to meet Minho’s hand. “S-sound so pretty for me”
Jisung’s entire body trembles with a tidal wave of a rush. His leg being held down alongside the protective arm wrapped around his shoulder, it was hard for him to escape. His mewls become frequent, targeting Minho and his concentration especially. Toying with him.
“O-oh m’close, Minho can’t—” Jisung’s hiccups, struggling to speak coherently. His head shakes back and forth where it’s nestled into Minho’s neck.
“Oh, Jisungie— you’re trembling,” Minho points out without a response from the younger.
He feels something wet on his skin again, except it’s not drool, it’s nothing like before— no, it’s dripping in droplets, it takes him a second to realise. Fuck, it’s tears. “S’too much, hyung, please”
“Baby— my sweet boy, you wanna cum?”
He refines his strokes and focuses his attention on the head of Jisung’s cock. Rubbing his palm round in circles around the swollen tip. His hips are uncontrollable, and Minho doesn’t have a spare hand to hold him down, lucky for Jisung the bucking will have to persist.
“Ah! Hyungie—” Jisung squeaks, not only his body but his voice gives into the pleasure. He’s being broken down piece by piece.
“You’re perfect Sungie, so perfect”
Mustering all his energy Jisung takes a breath, his voice sounds numb and ruined. Minho might genuinely cum in his pants tonight. He’s not a teenager anymore, but anything’s fucking possible at this point.
“Mhmm, hyung?” Minho thinks Jisung’s asking a question.
“Oh?”
A soft peck is placed on the wet bend of his neck. Minho’s heart sings.
“Love you, s’much”
It’s immediate. Minho’s world falls like the season. Gripping hold before its icy cold descent. Minho envies the leaves, carefree, unaware of the fall. His heart batters against his chest, rattling the cage it’s been contained in for all these years. Begging to be released. To feel that love it’s yearned for.
Upon hearing the words, Minho releases into his own boxers. Hips only shaking slightly and a tight noise at the back of his throat. Masking his climax with how gone Jisung was at this point.
The hand resting on Jisung’s shoulder trails up to run his fingers through the younger’s hair. Roughly, he pulls Jisung’s head back, until he’s facing him.
Holy fuck.
The sight bore before him looked something utterly sinful. The red of Jisung’s wet eyes, all glazed and shining bright against the fairy lights. His nose, snotty and mouth, perfectly wet. You can easily detect the tear tracks and more specifically the drool tracks on his chin.
“Jisung-ah” Minho breathes at the sight, his chest feels light, he feels himself choke up in his throat. The entirety of this thing that’s just happened is in all honesty overwhelming. But Minho knows how he feels, he’s lived with it in silence for so long when he finally says it he can breathe, “Fuck, I love you”
Lips and teeth clash, albeit a little lazy in Jisung's part but Minho doesn’t have the heart to blame him. His lips barely move as Minho tries to keep his mouth somewhere on Jisung. He moves between his lips, his cheeks, his nose alternating between them.
His hand doesn’t stop through the words and touches shared. Only pushing Jisung closer and closer to the edge. He can tell he’s so close, his deep voice raises to the highest octave. Begging for Minho to finish him off. The begging is enough for Minho, fuck cuming in your pants at 22 being taboo.
“C’mon baby, that’s it, cum for hyung” Minho struggles, his own hips canting into nothing.
Like clockwork Jisung’s whole body vibrates before he even squirts into Minho’s hand.
“Mmhmmm, cumming” Jisung cries into Minho’s mouth.
The white spurts decorate both of their bodies, mainly on Minho’s hand and Jisung’s stomach. It’s endless, the amount Jisung has released. It’s so fucking hot. His head falls to the side and out of Minho’s grip, laying there on Minho’s shoulder.
He notices a few droplets land onto Jisung’s tshirt, but that can be something they talk about later. He’d rather avoid that for as long as possible.
It takes a moment for both of them to calm down from Jisung’s high, the two of them sinking back into reality. Minho’s chest squeezes tight around him, the thought of Jisung regreting what they did terrifies him. He can’t loose this, not now that he’s had a taste.
Jisung’s the one to break the ice, “Woah” he says. His voice breaking from the beautiful noises he made.
“Y-yeah” Minho replies, he’s already removed his hand. He wipes the reminants of Jisung’s seed onto his tshirt. It wasn’t his favourite anyway.
“H-hyung, are you okay?” Jisung asks, his head lifting up to give Minho his full attention. His eyebrows have pulled up in worry, his red and freshly bitten lips in his signature pout. The rain hadn’t stopped but it’s the first time Minho acknowledges the sound since tasting Jisung.
Minho doesn’t really know if he’s okay to be honest. He has no idea what to expect from this now. He needs to minimise the damage wherever possible. From what possibilities could transpire. An inordinate amount of negative thoughts hang over him. He’s on the cusp of a mental breakdown, he can feel it buzzing underneath his skin. Out of pure dread. What was the end game here? To ruin everything?
“I-” Minho can’t do this.
Despite being naked from the waste down Jisung twists his body so he’s facing Minho. He takes his hand, lifting up Minho’s chin with his finger. The action causes a feeling of deja vu to pass through him.
“Hey, Jagi, what’s wrong?”
Jagi
Minho’s eyes whip up to Jisung, the dark abyss staring back at him with a worried expression.
“You called me, Jagi”
“Yeah, do you not want me to?” Jisung asks with no judgment in his voice, just complete curiosity.
“Y-you want me to be, jagi?”
“Um yeah? I just came all over your hand”
Minho huffs a laugh, he could feel his eyes getting wet. Welling up with realisation from how real this whole situation with Jisung was becoming. His silence must warn the younger that it’s something holding power over him.
“M-minho, did you think this wasn’t-” Jisung gestures his hand between the two of them, his voice confused. “I don’t know, special?”
Minho shakes his head, the tears becoming harder to see through and hold still. His honesty raw and pure. The motion lets a couple droplets pass down his cheeks. Jisung’s eyes hurt as he watches Minho break down. His eyes searching every inch of Minho’s face clearly trying to think of a way to stop it.
So he grabs both of Minho’s cheeks, holding him in place whilst he captures Minho’s attention, making sure he’s looking at nothing other than him.
“It’s you, Minho,” Jisung begins, “it’s always been you, I don’t want anybody else.”
The tears fall freely at the confession, Minho’s heart has been restored. The world no longer feels empty, no it doesn’t— doesn’t feel like Minho has no purpose. His purpose was for himself but together with Jisung was his superpower. As the words are spoken, Jisung pulls Minho back into his space. Their lips lock loosely, rather messy and lazy. He'd heard about kisses like these, intimate and private, something to be shared behind closed doors whilst waking up naked in the sheets.
“You mean it? I-i” Minho hiccups against Jisung's mouth, “I don’t think I can lose you Jisung, I can’t” Minho’s basically begging at this point, laying his cards out on the table for Jisung to see.
“I’m not going anywhere” Jisung whispers whilst placing a peck on Minho’s forehead. “We belong with each other Minho, you don’t feel that?”
“N-no, I do, i really do, Jisungie”
“Perfect, baby” Jisung replies with a teasing tone.
Fuck, Minho hadn’t thought about the petnames, his heart might give in at this rate.
Everything that’s gone unsaid, that's lay beneath a well hidden secret. It shows through Minho’s tears, his overwhelming desire and love.
Trying to mask the wobble in his lip proves the hardest part. Wouldn’t you be the same? Years of denying himself the things he truly wants. Watching from afar and cheering him on from the sidelines. But now, he has the option. He can love the way he was made to.
“Here” Minho’s voice shakes as he grabs the closest blanket. “L-let’s get you covered up”
“Hey” Jisung accepts the blanket, but ensures a hand lays softly on Minho’s cheek.
“I meant what I said” Jisung says, the pupils of his eyes slightly dilated.
“When?”
“Before you wanked me off and gave me the best orgasm of my life”
Minho tries not to give into the joke but fails miserably. Doesn’t want to give Jisung the sick satisfaction. A deep laugh threatening to surface. It breaks through eventually as he can’t hold it in.
Jisung laughs with him and everything falls into place just like it should. It feels reminiscent for a moment. Familiar and comfortable.
The laughter slowly fades out between them and Minho collects himself. He blinks, 1, 2, 3. His eyes tire out struggling to find a point to focus on.
“Okay?” Jisung questions, his hand dropped from his face to intertwine it with Minho’s hand but it's flaccid.
“Minho” Jisung tries to gain his attention, “hey, you big baby, hold my hand”
An unforeseen sign, something so significant and yet simple charges through him at Jisung’s words. Why does the sentence hold such sentimental significance in his heart?
He giggles as Jisung manoeuvres his hand, grabbing it with a firm grip-like purpose. Manually intertwining the fingers and lifting it up in front of Minho’s face. He doesn’t expect it, but the aftermath of butterflies are ignited as Jisung places a kiss on his hand. Holding it close to him.
Minho looks down, basking in a shy smile. He feels like a teenager again. Anticipated touches and unspoken promises, it feels like too much but not enough at the same time.
Minho says, “Jisung- ah”. His eyes flicker up, faking whatever confidence he finds within himself to look Jisung in the face.
It’s inevitable, he finds. The tears.
“I-I need to hear you say it” his lip begins to wobble again. The weight is far too familiar for Minho’s liking. In an effort to try, he squeezes the hand merging with his own. Watching Jisung’s expression come to a realisation of what Minho’s asking him through his own wet tears.
Minho whispers, “Please”
The dark pebbles shake as they search Minho’s face.
Minho needs to hear him say it first, he has to. He can’t put his heart out on the line, especially when it’s staring right back at him. A fifty fifty chance with odds clearly in his favour yet he can’t stop the niggling in his mind taunting it will all go to shit. And even still, he’s being selfish. Pushing Jisung possibly into the corner he never wanted to venture.
Jisung visibly swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing and pulling Minho’s attention to the marks he’d left. The purples developing under his intense gaze. At least if there’s nothing past this, he can still live through it a little longer through Jisung’s marked skin.
“M-Minho, I-”, Jisung’s voice catches in his throat. He swallows again with a palpable nod, and Minho mimics the action unconsciously.
Minho feels his own eyes shake, probably revealing the patterns of his mind that all relate to Jisung. But he can’t force himself to look away, not even if he tried. The fear chains him down to offer him a front row seat at his own sentencing.
Jisung’s testimony begins and Minho’s own heart stills, “I-I do, y’know, I love you”
The breath Minho had no idea he was holding, firmly between the spaces of his chest, releases. He can breathe.
“I want to be there for you, and hold your hand through everything” Jisung looks down at their intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of Minho’s calloused knuckles. “Fire and rain”
There he goes. Surely there must be a leak somewhere inside Minho with the tears that surface. Sure, he isn’t bulletproof, he has his moments. But through time, it’s become easier to run than face reality. He isn’t used to his emotions getting the better of him, of winning. His eyes sting as they well up, he doesn’t even mind the burn, not when Jisung is sitting in front of him, saying the exact words he’s been waiting to hear. For years.
“My hand?” Minho sniffles, looking down and back up again, “you want to— it’s real?”
His brain feels like mush, no sentence he tries to structure is making sense.
Minho tries to pinch himself, if he’s about to wake up from this euphoric dream he’s in for a rude awakening.
Jisung’s eyes flood with sorrow as he watches Minho, so gentle and accepting. When Minho fails to wake up, he looks back up at the younger, he sees it. A face he’s never observed before is looking back at him. Minho can see the emotion clear as day now, how could he have missed it? That fond gaze that lights up his entire face.
There’s a soft nod that follows, Jisung reassuring him with a rub over his wrist bone. His thumb translating all the words he couldn’t say.
“I do too,” Minho confirms despite not being asked. It’s unspoken really.
Jisung’s eyes turn to crescents, his head leaning to the side with a soft, “Yeah?”
Fuck, he’s beautiful like this. An adoring shine in his eye, the reflection shaped like Minho.
Maybe a telepathic kiss is shared between them, Jisung understanding the words are hard for Minho to speak. He will say them, eventually. Right now though, he’s overwhelmed and trying to hold back every atom in his body from jumping on top of Jisung.
Something inside Minho, something that laced his mind with dejection. It’s now complacent. As if it’s settled. Telling him that things will be okay. And he believes it. With Jisung holding his hand, he knows he can accomplish anything. That his emotions, his heart will cherished never mind in safe hands
“You’ll stay?” Minho asks.
“Yeah,” Han whispers, a soft flicker from his eyelashes, “yeah, i’ll stay”
There were three times Jisung came to Minho's bedroom door with a question.
The first when he asked Minho if it was okay that he likes boys.
The second when he asked Minho what it was like to kiss someone.
The third, well— he had a lot of questions. The most memorable for Minho though, he asked him to hold his hand.
And Minho? Minho asked him to stay.