Work Text:
The third time Minho has to still Jisung with a firm hand on the back of his neck, Jisung grimaces and says, “Fuck. Am I being annoying?”
Through the full-length mirror on the other side of the room, Jisung watches Minho smile faintly to himself as he continues the intricate tie on his hands, pinned at the small of his back. “You could never be annoying,” he says honestly. “You’re doing good. But I would appreciate it if you could keep holding yourself still. Just a little longer and I’ll be finished, jagi.”
“Mm,” Jisung hums, trying to ignore the urge to continue fidgeting. They’ve been like this for the past fifteen minutes but anticipation is turning his nerves into live wires of nervous energy. Every time Minho’s fingers brush over his wrists as he ties them, Jisung shivers helplessly and resists the urge to spread his legs invitingly.
He clears his throat after a few seconds of silence. “You’re… sure taking your time there, huh?”
Minho presses a kiss to the back of Jisung’s neck in apology. It has him screwing his eyes shut at how sensitive he is, and God, it’s so embarrassing, but he just—it’s been so long since the mere chance of being fucked the way he needs has been so tantalizingly close, and he wishes he could say that it’s due to lack of time spent together but really, he’s been practically glued to Minho for the past few months, so it isn’t that.
No, not at all. It’s all a part of the game they’re playing, and Minho holds the reins to it so easily that Jisung can’t believe he’s actually enjoying it as much as he is. The rules are pretty simple—no touching himself, which is typical. No bratty behavior, though Minho is lenient and clearly fond when Jisung breaks that one without batting an eyelash. And, most notably, the final rule: no coming without permission. And Minho has yet to give him any permission, so Jisung has been effectively kept denied for the past month, and hasn’t come. At all.
Something about it drives him up a wall in a way he didn’t expect when he first agreed to try long-term denial out. It isn’t like he had a lot of experience in the first place to draw from, so when they’d first gotten together, years after delicately dancing around each other, Minho had to teach him how to come off his fingers, his cock, his tongue, essentially training him until all he had to do was slip his cock inside of him to have Jisung shivering and helpless against the onslaught of pleasure. And then, after months of the best sex Jisung knows he’ll ever experience, Minho cupped the back of his neck one day and asked, in public, if they could try something new.
That very same night Minho used his throat until Jisung was aching and needy, and then glanced down at Jisung—panting, drooling, painfully hard—with mild disinterest and very calmly asked him to make them both a cup of tea.
The denial leaves him constantly keyed-up and ready for it. He isn’t the type of person to listen to any rules, but he likes how being obedient for Minho makes him feel. And as cruel as the rules are, Minho is still gentle and warm and has not yet made Jisung feel used in the kind of way he doesn’t like. Instead, he feels… useful. That doesn’t stop him from being so horny right now that he could come off of the hand massaging his hip alone, of course.
Minho presses his lips to his jaw when he’s finished tying his hands. “You’re so pretty, Jisung-ah. Don’t you agree?”
Jisung moans softly and shakes his head, but he can’t ignore how nice the deep red rope looks on his skin. It criss-crosses over his chest and arms and pulls his arms behind his back. Not enough to be potentially uncomfortable, but enough to make him look like an offering at Minho’s personal altar. The thought makes his mouth run dry.
“No?” Minho inquires, amused and all too terrible at sounding offended. “Do you think I could have done better with my work, then?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jisung rushes to say, and then belatedly realizes the trap he’s walked into. “I mean—you… you did a good job.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He sounds genuinely appreciative in a way that makes Jisung instinctively want to do anything to hear that tone of voice again. “Now, do you feel safe? Comfortable?”
“I could never not feel safe around you,” he murmurs.
Minho kneels behind him, hooks his chin over one of Jisung’s rope-clad shoulders, looks at him with so much love in his eyes that Jisung has to look away. “I’m always happy to hear that, jagi. Are you ready for tonight’s reward?”
Reward references back to how well he’d behaved a few nights ago even after being brutally edged by nothing else but Minho’s lips on his neck, his ear, his chest, for an hour. Minho had tested him to his physical limit without even the slightest touch to his cock, and the only thing that stopped Jisung from shattering into a million pieces was his pride. Not that he has much left, but still. “Yes,” he whispers. “Please, hyung.”
Minho’s breath audibly hitches, and then his eyes darken, and just like that, the scene for tonight has begun. His hands tighten at Jisung’s waist and Jisung’s eyelashes flutter as he resists the urge to start squirming again. “How long have you been waiting for this?”
“So long,” he replies. “Weeks. Months. Years.”
Minho scoffs. “Years? My baby is as overdramatic as always.” He starts smoothing his hands up and down his sides like he’s soothing an agitated horse, and Jisung stifles a small smile even through the haze already shrouding his better judgment, the same judgment that tells him to resist and demand what he thinks he wants. “But you know what comes first, yes?” When Jisung nods, he tuts. “Words, jagi.”
Jisung finds himself worrying at his bottom lip. “Your pleasure comes first, hyung.” It’d been Jisung’s idea, to add that to their dynamic. Once he realized he got off (not officially, of course, but still) on serving Minho yet going untouched, he’d brought it up as soon as he could. Minho, who was clearly more versed in the act of serving others rather than himself, had been wary of the concept, but he likes to think it’s worked out beautifully for them both.
Minho gives him a closed-mouth smile and slowly stands, watching Jisung shiver at the lack of contact. “Good boy. Turn towards me.”
They’ve fooled around with the mirror enough for Jisung to know what Minho wants to do with it. He isn’t quite sure if he’s gotten used to the image of him with his boyfriend’s dick down his throat, but knowing Minho wants to see it from multiple angles has him clenching his fists together and shuffling towards him obediently, looking up at Minho, who stares back down at him with a smirk. “Not even a kiss?”
“Shh,” Minho says softly. “You’ll have all of the kisses you could ever possibly want soon.”
And then, so sudden his slowed-down brain can barely keep up, there are fingers in his hair dragging him in with a kind of harshness that makes him gasp when it belatedly stings. One second he’s looking up at Minho, and the next he’s got his face pressed against the telltale bulge in Minho’s lounge pants, and Minho is saying, “Why don’t you get started on this, hmm?”
Which—Jisung moans a little helplessly, because fuck, he just can’t take how riled up he is. Being pressed up against Minho’s dick only reminds him of the now-faint memory of the aforementioned dick inside of him, which makes him instinctively clench and rock his hips against thin air. He swears he can feel his cock dripping already, and it’s barely been two minutes since the scene started. “Yes, hyung,” he manages to croak out.
He waits for Minho to undo the tie on his pants for a brief moment before realizing Minho likely expects him to do it himself, which makes him blush as he reaches up and takes the string between his teeth, pulling it slowly not to tease but to make sure he doesn’t fuck anything up. And maybe to tease, but if Minho is irritated by it Jisung can’t tell. He knows better than to look up at him with an imploring gaze when he does this, because Minho dislikes performative acts and widely prefers when Jisung loses himself to the pleasure of sucking him off, eyes fluttering shut and shaking with it.
By the time Minho’s pants are down Jisung is eager to get it down his throat. He’s mostly-hard already—always is, when it comes to making Jisung look beautiful for him—and Jisung wastes no time sucking the tip into his mouth, licking over the head.
“Good,” Minho murmurs, and the simple praise sends a shock of pure pleasure straight to his gut that leaves him aching. “Take your time, just like that.”
Except Jisung doesn’t want to take his time. He wants to slide Minho’s cock down as far as he can physically take it and then some, and then wants to listen to Minho’s perfectly-worded praise intertwined with the kind of degradation that leaves him hazy and blissed-out.
So he tries to take him all in one go, moaning when Minho’s cock hardens further, except he’s abruptly stopped by a hand in his hair again. “What do you think you’re doing, my love?” He asks.
Jisung tries to pull off to answer and finds he can’t with Minho’s grip in his hair. Instead he looks up at him pleadingly, not fighting the pace but silently begging Minho to just give him what he wants. Evidently Minho is telepathic because he says, “You’re being impatient again, aren’t you?”
Yes, Jisung wishes he could say. I’ve waited so long for tonight, and I want to make you feel good. But he doesn’t think he’ll be able to speak anytime soon and instead closes his eyes as Minho laughs and begins rocking his hips shallowly into Jisung’s mouth. Too shallowly in his opinion, but being held in place and used like this makes him clench around nothing uselessly. God, he wants that cock inside of him so badly.
Eventually Minho, evidently too turned-on to bother teasing Jisung for too long, pushes Jisung's head further down, until the fat head of his cock bumps against Jisung's throat and he instinctively relaxes it as much as possible, practically inviting Minho to slide in deep. He doesn't do that just yet, of course, instead running his hand through Jisung's hair and saying, “Look at you. So eager. Tell me, how does it feel to be at my feet, jagi?”
Jisung can't respond and instead whimpers pathetically when Minho slips his cock in and out of the back of his mouth, incessant in making sure Jisung is aware of just who is in control here.
Minho pulls him off of his cock entirely, and Jisung looks up at him with an open, empty mouth and whispers, “Please. Please, keep using me.”
“Answer my question.”
If Jisung could, he would bury his face in the jut of Minho's hip in neediness. He wishes Minho would pick him up and spread him across the bedsheets with every intention of making him come until he was well and truly mindless, he wishes Minho would take his foot and rest it across the expanse of his cock, smiling cruelly down at him and telling him to get off on it or have nothing else, he wishes —he kind of wishes he wasn't about to tear up right now, even as he manages to croak out an answer. “It feels good, hyung. I want you—I want you to take care of me.”
Minho smiles. “Does it make you feel taken care of, being denied so thoroughly?”
He slides the head of his cock against the seam of Jisung's lips, smearing pre-come there, and Jisung has to resist the urge to fight the grip in his hair or tease him with the tip of his tongue. As badly as he wants a cock down his throat right now, he knows better than to disobey after he's been doing so well for so long. “Yes,” he whispers instead, practically salivating when Minho slides his cock against his cheek. Fuck, this is all so humiliating. And yet he’s never felt so safe. “You know better than me what I need. I want you to tell me what to do and how to do it. I like when you force me to wait.”
Minho's composure cracks in the form of a groan and the grip on his hair tightening to a near-painful sensation that only makes Jisung ache and twitch and drip further, hole clenching around nothing. “You are so hopeless, Jisungie,” he whispers reverently, and then pushes his cock back into his mouth before Jisung can agree.
This time there is no teasing. He unapologetically pulls Jisung down, down, down, until he's almost taken him fully to the base of his cock and his eyes are watering from how long he's waited for this, throat tightening up and convulsing around his length. Minho moans and holds Jisung's head in place again, except this time he doesn't just rock his hips like Jisung has never taken a cock before, he draws out and then presses in deep again, the pace slow enough for Jisung's mind to mostly keep up, but so intense that he can't do much else but take it, legs spread wide to avoid any even the vaguest hint of stimulation to anything because he seriously thinks that he could come off of this if he pressed his legs together just slightly and rocked against himself.
And Minho, who is probably taking occasional glances at the mirror as intended, can likely see how well Jisung holds himself off, which is a thought that makes his eyes flutter shut as he swallows around his cock, trying to coax him into an orgasm as quickly as possible. As much as he wants to savor this, being on his knees for his boyfriend, he can't help but want to get to his reward as quickly as possible.
Although this, of course, it's also a reward on its own. Through the haze, Jisung briefly remembers the one week Minho had held him back from even sucking him off, instead mocking him with long, tapered fingers teasing the back of his throat as Jisung was slowly, forcibly driven out of his mind. Yeah, he thinks. This is a privilege.
When Minho rocks his hips in fully, he holds Jisung down on his cock until Jisung feels dizzy with pleasure and lack of air and squirms helplessly against an iron grip. It's only when Minho allows him to pull off that he realizes he'd been mere seconds away from somehow coming untouched.
“Minho,” he gasps wetly, then immediately corrects himself. “Hyung. I don't, I can't—I was so close to—”
Minho shushes him, leaning down to press warm lips to his forehead as he wipes the corners of his mouth as though Jisung had just been eating messily and hadn't been choked on Minho's cock mere seconds ago. “I could tell,” he says conversationally, as Jisung's hips strain towards nothing in particular. Mercifully, Minho's hands do not stray towards his waist, his hips, his cock, his hole, because even just the syrupy warmth of his voice is driving him up a wall. “You tremble like a little baby deer when you become close, jagi. You’re really so sensitive that you’d get off on with just a cock in your mouth? Somehow you always manage to take my breath away.”
Jisung opens his eyes to the blurry image of Minho's cock, shiny with spit, still standing tall between Minho's legs. “I wanna make you come,” he whimpers, feeling ridiculously pitiful as Minho giggles. “Please, please.”
“Do you really think you could keep taking it?” Minho asks, a smile clear in his voice. “Do you think that you wouldn’t come if I pushed my cock back down into your throat?”
Jisung groans weakly at his words and then shakes his head in silence.
“Hm. You’re too on edge for me to keep playing with you,” Minho murmurs after a moment of observing him. Jisung is about to protest when Minho laughs and kisses his hair, smoothing a hand down to the small of his back. “You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you?”
“Fuck, hyung, yes, please,” he says desperately. “Y-you said that if I was good…”
“I would reward you,” Minho finishes with an approving hum. “Very true. And do I break my promises, Jisung?”
“No, hyung,” he breathes, so hopeful his voice catches in his throat as he leans into Minho’s space, silently begging for anything. Anything. He’d take anything Minho gave him with open arms. Hell, Minho could casually decide not to give him anything tonight, and Jisung would throw a fit, shiver and cry until Minho hushed him with a kiss to his yearning mouth, and then he’d shut up and listen.
But fuck, does he want a proper reward.
Minho hums as he pulls Jisung to his feet. He’s shaky as Minho presses a hand to the small of his back and pulls him in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Luckily he doesn’t trip over himself as Minho leads him to their bed, steadied by Minho’s grip. Although… maybe if he was sprawled out on the ground, Minho would take him right there…
Shit, he’s losing his mind. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever thought.
Minho kisses him breathless once they’re in bed and Jisung is properly pinned to the sheets; his hands are stuck underneath him but he stays patient, knowing Minho will eventually turn him onto his stomach for comfort. Every brush of skin on skin sends sparks straight to his gut. Minho licks into his mouth and Jisung does little more than pant helplessly into the kiss, hazed-out and trying hard not to buck his hips up into Minho’s. His hyung is being so kind, avoiding his dick like this so Jisung doesn’t lose it too soon. He has to be good. He has to.
“Such a good boy,” Minho murmurs like he’s read his mind when he pulls away. Jisung moans, feeling flushed all over. His cock twitches and drools where it lays on his stomach. Minho laughs. “Hyung’s gonna give it to you so good, baby. Okay?”
“Yes, please, yes,” Jisung moans. “Oh my God, I’m gonna die.”
Minho laughs again, a little startled like this isn’t entirely his fault. “Jagi, you’re so ridiculous.”
When Minho asked him to get ready for the scene earlier, Jisung, nervous and needy and fully aware of at least some of Minho’s plan for the night, asked if he should prep himself properly. A plug, maybe, he’d been thinking, they’d done that before and he was already wondering which one Minho would pick. But Minho gave him a gentle smile from where he lounged on the couch and said no.
Now, as Minho reaches for the lube, he says, “You’re gonna be nice and tight for me like it’s your first time, baby.”
The words, paired with Minho’s soft hands on Jisung’s waist, moving to turn him onto his stomach, make him lose his mind a little. He moans, a punched-out breath. “Fuck.”
“Do you like that thought?” Minho asks. Jisung can no longer see him but he can imagine down to the little twitch of his mouth the catlike smile on his face right now. “It’s been so long, right?”
“Too long,” Jisung gasps. His cock brushes against the bedspread and he chokes on a whine, stars flashing behind his shut eyelids. Minho pulls his hips up and denies him even that. So cruel, so loving, Jisung isn’t going to make it. “Fuck, fuck, hyung, please, your fingers.”
“Mm. Be patient.”
Minho’s hands brush up the back of his thighs. Jisung shivers. He curls his fingers a bit so his blunt nails drag over skin—Jisung moans into the pillow, legs shaking as he tries to keep himself up. His fingers clench and unclench where they’re bound. His head spins. Minho smoothes a hand over the soft skin of Jisung’s ass and his eyes burn with impending tears. This soon, it should be embarrassing, but Jisung has waited so long. He’s been so patient.
He feels Minho’s other hand on his ass. Pushing the skin together, then pulling apart, exposing him to the cool air and Minho’s gaze. Minho makes a soft noise and then thumbs over the skin right below his hole, and Jisung feels his cock kick, gut clenching at how fucking sensitive he is. Minho presses his thumb into his perineum and Jisung makes a strangled noise, toes curling. “Ah, hyung,” he whimpers when Minho trails his fingers over the soft skin of Jisung’s balls. “Please, y-you’re teasing.”
“I’m just admiring you, jagi,” Minho says. His voice is a little higher than it usually already is, kind of breathy like he’s been holding it. Jisung wants to see that feral look he knows is in his eyes so badly, but he loves this position too, loves how vulnerable it makes him especially when he’s tied up. “You’re so cute like this. I haven’t gotten to touch you here in a while because you always get close so fast, remember? Let me look a little longer.”
Jisung’s face burns with shame. A week ago Minho had tried to edge him with his fingers, and as soon as he’d pressed them against his sweet spot Jisung had curled up and in, a hand flying to the base of his cock to squeeze, but it was too late; a pathetic few drops of come had already spilled, wholly unsatisfying and leaving his cock hard still. Minho had tutted and slapped him across the face for it anyway, calling him a stupid little boy, so bad at this. It almost made him come again.
So he lets Minho look and grope and inspect for as long as he wants to. His cock drips pre-come onto the sheets below him and his legs shake with restraint, but he does his best to stay good.
And he gets his reward for it in the form of Minho’s breath ghosting over the backs of his balls and the skin above it, his hair tickling him, before he presses a sweet little kiss to his hole.
“Hyung,” Jisung moans. “That’s—that’s gonna be too much, too much, ah—” Minho cuts him off with his tongue lapping softly at his rim, already soaking wet with spit. His stomach clenches as waves of arousal slam into him. Jisung’s cock jerks and twitches almost uncontrollably. His fingers and toes curl up. All he manages is a weak, “Nn, o-oh, oh.”
“Sweet boy,” Minho murmurs. He’s still so close to him as he speaks that Jisung can feel his lips on his skin, and it drives him up a wall. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”
Jisung makes a nervous little sound. “Y-you always make me feel good, baby, this is gonna make me… f-fuck, it’s gonna make me come, hyung, please d-don’t.”
He toys at his rim with a thumb, pressing the pad of the finger just slightly in to tease at an intrusion, before he bends back down to lick him open again. Jisung’s entire body is throbbing. “You won’t come, jagi. Did I give you permission?”
“No,” Jisung half-sobs into the pillow.
“Then you won’t come. You’ll take it.”
Jisung takes it. It’s heaven. It’s torture. Minho hasn’t put his mouth on him for so fucking long, and he’s so horribly talented Jisung is unsure how he’s still breathing. He laps at him like a kitten until Jisung’s hole relaxes enough for him to push the tip of his tongue inside, and when he does the moan he lets out, heady and satisfied, goes straight to Jisung’s cock.
The thing about Minho is that he doesn’t hide his reactions once they’re deep in a scene. He’s as worked up and needy as Jisung is, despite the fact that he gets as many orgasms as he wants while he strings Jisung along. The little moans he lets out while he licks at him only serve to drive Jisung crazier—it’s further confirmation that his boyfriend loves this, wants him, needs it, and that…
Minho distracts him from that train of thought when a hand moves from his hip to slip between his legs. When Jisung feels a thumb teasing at his leaking slit his whole body tries to drive up and away, knees slipping against the sheets in a feeble attempt to close his legs. “Hyung, stopstopstop,” He begs, tears squeezing out of his eyes. Pleasure whites his entire mind out, so much of it that it’s almost painful. “No, please, don’t do this to m-me—”
Minho has the audacity to laugh at him. He circles his hand around Jisung’s cock and gives it a long, aching pull that has Jisung tensing up and nearly biting through his bottom lip to stave off an instant orgasm, breath leaving him in an embarrassing squeak. And then his fingers come up to curl around the base of his cock, squeezing so tight it hurts.
“Relax, jagi, I’m not gonna let you go,” he soothes, which is an objectively cruel thing to say when Jisung is completely incapable of relaxing right now. But he sounds so sweet and certain of Jisung’s success that the words curl around his heart like an embrace, and he moans.
Yes. Yes, his hyung will keep him where he needs to. Safe and kept and on edge until he decides when Jisung is allowed to let go. The knowledge has him melting into Minho’s grip. His boyfriend coos at him when he sees it. “There we go, Jisung. You’re so good. Pretty little slut.”
The derogatory term makes him dizzy. “Hyung, fuck.”
Minho hushes him. He pulls away a little and Jisung is too mindless to question it past a whine for him to come back, which he doesn’t respond to. And then there are two fingers prodding at his hole. Jisung gasps and tenses again, burying his face in the pillow.
Minho lets go of his cock. Jisung feels more pre-come leak out as soon as he lets go, and it makes him whimper brokenly. He’s quickly distracted by the same hand smoothing up his spine, curling around the back of his neck for a brief moment, and then moving to the back of his head. His fingers tangle into Jisung’s messy, sweaty hair, and then he pulls so hard the pain is a sharp, immediate thing that he feels down to his fingertips. It drags him off the pillow and forces his neck into an uncomfortable arch that exposes his face.
“Don’t hide your sounds from me.” As Minho talks, he pushes the tips of his fingers in. The stretch makes his mouth drop open, spots in his vision. “Won’t let you come if you keep hiding, jagi.”
The threat, the tug, the stretch of too much at once—Jisung tenses again, hurtling straight towards an orgasm. Or really, it feels like he’s been on the precipice of orgasm the entire time. Maybe he’s about to do that pathetic leaking he does, sometimes, when his willpower just barely edges out his body’s basest urges. He can’t tell, he doesn’t know, his neck hurts and those fingers feel so good inside him and he’s—“Nngh, ohhhh, fuck, hyung, sorry, I’m—”
“Jisung-ah,” Minho snaps. He lets go of his hair, and Jisung limply drops his face back to the pillow, turning his cheek to the side as he squirms. Minho shoves his fingers all the way in and Jisung moans, long and loud, and he feels his balls draw up tight right as Minho smacks his fingers against them. More pain. More arousal.
Jisung comes, helpless to the sensations.
His brain whites out, back pulling into an arch that hurts with how tense he is. His legs shake, and his feet kick out, and he tries to escape but Minho practically digs his fingers into Jisung’s prostate as he grabs a hip to hold him still and Jisung nearly passes out at the oversensitivity in the midst of his orgasm, sobbing. His cock jerks and drips. His ears ring. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, hyung, please, I’m sorry,” he gasps.
Minho doesn’t respond. Despite how Jisung clenches down on his fingers, subconsciously trying to milk an orgasm he wasn’t allowed, Minho simply drips more cold lube over his hole and then presses a third finger inside, like he’s just mechanically prepping him, like Jisung isn’t still coming.
The orgasm feels endless. It’s his first one in a month now and he doesn’t think—for a second he doesn’t think it’s gonna end, not with Minho continuing to open him up silently. For a second he can’t breathe, and then his breath hitches on a sob. “Hyung,” he moans. His voice is thready and weak.
Minho pinches the back of his thigh. Jisung flinches, unable to get away. “You couldn’t wait for me to give it to you, jagi? You had to be a stupid slut and come so soon?”
“I’m sorry,” Jisung whimpers. Tears leak into the pillow underneath him. It hurts, where Minho scissors his fingers open inside him, stretching him wide open for the first time in so fucking long. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“You’re cute when you apologize, baby.” Minho pulls his fingers out. Then he flicks the tip of Jisung’s barely-softened cock, laughing meanly when Jisung squeaks. “So fucking hot. I need to make you apologize more. I’m gonna make you come again, okay?”
Jisung wants that as much as he doesn’t. “I…”
“Shush. You don’t get a choice.” Minho leans over him to press his mouth to his ear. “As many times as I want, jagi. Got it?”
Jisung shivers almost uncontrollably, legs shaking as Minho runs his hand over his back. “Y-yes, hyung.”
Minho stays sadistically true to his words. He makes Jisung come twice more on just his fingers, and Jisung feels like he’s going to die during each orgasm, chest tight and stomach clenched up so hard it hurts. He can hear his cock dripping come completely untouched all over the sheets. It’s humiliating, so good and so terribly cruel that Minho isn’t giving him his cock yet. He tries to voice as much and Minho holds his cock in place so he can smack the backs of his fingers against the spot just under the head in response. Jisung gasps and apologizes and feels another orgasm bubbling up again at the spark of pain.
After so long of nothing at all the orgasms are overwhelming enough to leave his heart racing, tears and sweat soaking into the pillow beneath him. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling this much all at once. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t gone into cardiac arrest yet, but it’s so beyond good. So good. Jisung can’t think anymore, everything about his existence reduced to the sensations Minho gives him.
Finally, finally, when Minho decides to stop torturing him with just his fingers, he stops and reassesses Jisung. “Are you okay, baby?” He asks, voice soft. “How are you holding up? Do you need a break?”
Jisung licks his lips and tries to shake his head. “W-want your cock, hyung.”
Minho huffs in endeared exasperation.
“I wanted to make you ride me, you know,” he murmurs into Jisung’s hair as he presses the tip of his cock to Jisung’s stretched entrance. “But I don’t think you could now, right jagi? You’d be so useless in my lap if you tried.”
“I could try for you,” Jisung whines.
“Of course you'd still offer,” Minho says fondly.
And then his boyfriend starts to press in and his brain blanks out. He goes fully offline. Jisung’s been opened up well but Minho’s cock is still a torturous stretch that makes him moan so loud it should be embarrassing, except he’s completely incapable of thinking about anything other than Minho, his cock, the way his body’s draped over him, the hand he lets Jisung hold tenderly between his own as he sits back up, and—
“You’re gonna come again?” Minho asks, incredulous. “Fuck, jagi. Are you gonna come?”
Jisung barely manages to wheeze out confirmation before he does. This one is painful, wracking his body with spasms. His hole aches around Minho’s cock and he thinks he’s close to coming dry. He tries to apologize but then Minho starts fucking him at a merciless pace and he can do nothing but lay there and take it with his mouth dropped open in what he thinks would be a scream if he could get one out.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Minho is hissing. He sounds wrecked, too. He must look so beautiful right now, pulling Jisung apart and then putting him back together. He lets Jisung’s grip on his fingers turn crushing as he gets fucked. “Should do this to you more often, jagi, leave you all high and dry for weeks before giving it to you just to make you come over and over like you’ve never had an orgasm before. You look so fucked-out right now, fuck, wish you could see yourself.”
He’s rambling, which of course means he’s already close. Jisung whispers little thank you’s that he isn’t even sure Minho picks up on. Everything is pain and pleasure, which are the same thing at this point. He can’t tell if he’s coming again, or if he’s ever stopped coming at all—it’s all so much he feels like he could pass out at any second.
“Come in me,” he manages weakly. “Hyung, please… come… come in me.”
Minho’s giggle is a little maniacal. “Did you think I wasn’t going to, baby? But look at you, still begging for it. You’re so good.”
When Minho comes, he presses himself all the way in and pays no mind to the way Jisung whimpers at the ache. He feels Minho’s come inside and wiggles his hips. Minho wraps a hand around his waist and tugs at his spent, oversensitive cock, and Jisung bites his pillow as he cries through one last orgasm, completely dry. Or. he can’t tell anymore. When he opens his eyes everything is blurry and nothing feels real. his fingers and toes feel numb, and Minho is a heavy, comforting weight above him.
“Don’t pass out on me, jagi,” Minho says, warm and teasing, but Jisung finds himself lost to a level of contentment he's never felt before, eyes drooping shut.