Chapter Text
Minho could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he looked downfield. His wide receiver was breaking left on a route, his tight end was calling for the ball, and the biggest guy he’d ever seen in his life was charging straight at him. His left tackle was nowhere in sight, and he was completely out of time. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen Hyunjin burning past the cornerback, who looked like he was lost. He launched the ball downfield, hoping to get incredibly lucky—praying not to throw an interception with the game tied.
He knew it was risky. His coach had yelled at him time and time again to just throw the ball away when he was in a pinch and there wasn’t much chance for a play. But that’s what made Minho the best quarterback in the league—not to mention his incredible arm. He could make plays happen when most players had to give up.
He didn’t get to see if he’d caught it, since he was slammed into the ground, all the air leaving his lungs as he hit the turf. That’s what he got for throwing a pass at the last possible second.
The crowd erupted into cheers, and he smirked up at the sky. He knew he could always count on him—his best friend in the world, and the best wide receiver he could ever ask for.
His teammates quickly shoved the massive defender off him, the weight crushing his body and making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, the game turned very chippy, since they’d just taken the lead and there were less than two minutes left. Now, all he had to do was count on Chan and the defense to stop them and win the game.
And when the final whistle blew, Minho didn’t even have to cheer—he just looked at the opposing team’s quarterback with a smirk so wide he could see the rage boiling behind his eyes. The quarterback’s fists clenched, and he snarled at him—but that only stirred Minho’s excitement. Maybe he was a bit antagonistic, but that asshole deserved it, gloating before the game like he was better than him.
No one was better than Lee Minho. That was just a fact. Whether it came off cocky or not didn’t matter, because his stats proved it, and the few universities that had a football program all wanted him desperately.
He was a star on and off the field. Everyone knew his name, and everyone loved him. He was practically a celebrity at school—the football captain and the campus heartthrob. He was popular, guys and girls failing at his feet, but that didn’t really matter to him. Football was the only thing he cared about, and he sure as hell didn’t have time for a relationship.
Besides, half the people who showed interest in him just wanted to brag that they’d hooked up with the quarterback and captain of the football team. He wasn’t an idiot—he knew they didn’t actually care about him. However, it did help when he wanted to get laid. At whatever party they went to, he always had a ton of options.
But that’s where it ended. He wasn’t interested in any of those people, and it pissed him off when they tried to make it something more than a one-night stand. Maybe that made him an asshole, but the only romance he needed in his life was the love of the game.
Hyunjin jogged over with Chan and Changbin in tow. The cheering from the stands was so loud, and the marching band blasted their instruments into their ears, making it hard to hear each other. But Minho laughed as they all jumped on his back, congratulating him on the win.
“That was sick, right? Did you see me one-hand that fucking catch?” Hyunjin shouted, obviously hyped up and high on adrenaline.
Minho took off his helmet and pushed his sweaty hair back. “I was laid out flat—hopefully someone caught it on camera.”
“Your arm is no joke, Minho. How the hell did you even make that play?” Chan asked, squeezing his shoulders.
“Luck,” he said—because maybe at the end of the day, that’s all it was. It was a miracle throw, with a team he could always count on to make it possible. He might have been cocky, but he wasn’t ungrateful.
“Well, luck or crazy-ass stupid talent—we won!” Changbin yelled, and Minho winced at his loud voice, covering his ear. But he smiled nonetheless.
“Are we partying tonight? We’re totally partying, right?” Hyunjin asked, pulling on Minho’s arm.
Chan and Changbin also looked at him, waiting for his approval.
He sighed, “Guys, if you wanna go, then go.” He’d told them before—they didn’t need his permission. As long as they showed up on time for practice and made sure their hangovers weren’t affecting their game, then he didn’t care.
“Yeah, but we want you to come with us. You rarely do,” Changbin whined.
That was true. After the adrenaline rush of a game, he was always drained. He also hated dodging the people who lined up to get a chance with him, especially when he wasn’t in the mood.
He shrugged, moving over to the bench to grab his things and his water bottle. That’s when his eye caught the cheerleaders on the track. They were always so loud, always right across from their bench. He never usually paid attention to their halftime performances, and he tried to ignore them whenever they screamed his name—not because he was a dick or anything, but because when he was on the field, he needed to focus and block out everything. It was just him and the ball.
When he looked over, a few of them waved. He would’ve given a tight smile, a quick nod, and gone about his business—but behind the girls waving, there was the prettiest boy he had ever seen, laughing brightly with his green pompoms glittering under the floodlights.
There were four male cheerleaders on the squad, and they were all huddled together in a conversation. He didn’t know their names, but a couple of them looked vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d seen them at parties—or maybe they’d caught his eye on the field before, during practice.
But the boy he’d just locked eyes with—after staring for way too long—he’d never seen before. Minho’s heart skipped a beat when the boy smiled at him, wide and pretty, giving him a small wave. Green glitter dusted over his cheeks and nose, shimmering under the bright lights, and the cutest green bows were clipped into his dark, wavy hair.
Minho was completely frozen. Before he could reattach his brain to his nervous system and remember how to move his hand to wave back, the boy had already turned and hopped away.
The other three cheerleaders followed him, and Minho noticed all of them wearing the same uniform—a top with their school name that matched what the girls wore. The only difference was that the guys had on pants. But the boy Minho had never seen before had on a skirt—the same as the girls. And he’d never cared about the uniforms before, but now he couldn’t stop staring at the pretty green fabric that flowed around his thighs as he jogged away, thinking it looked really fucking good.
Something burned in Minho’s heart when he saw the boy’s eyes light up as he stood by the fence, chatting with a few guys. He twirled his little skirt, and Minho clenched his fists when he leaned in closer to them—and he was pretty sure those guys were from the baseball team.
“Hey,” Chan called, ripping his focus away from the pretty boy flirting and batting his eyelashes at someone else. “You coming, or—”
“Who is that?” he asked quickly, interrupting him and grabbing his arm—maybe with a bit too much force.
“Who is who?” Chan looked around, confused.
Minho pointed off the field near the bleachers, and Chan followed his finger.
“Wait—are you pointing at the cheerleaders?”
“Hold on—Lee Minho is pointing at who now?” Changbin said.
“I thought you didn’t like the cheerleaders?” Hyunjin chimed in, his lips in a wide, shit-eating grin.
Minho blushed. He knew he shouldn’t have fucking asked. Now they were going to tease him for the rest of the night. But honestly, his curiosity got the best of him, so he didn’t even care.
“Him. The one near the fence. In the skirt,” he said, seeing red when one of the baseball guys touched his cheek.
“Oh, Han Jisung?” Changbin asked, sounding surprised.
“He’s the newest cheerleader this year,” Hyunjin added. “And he’s incredibly hot, and he sure as hell knows it. I’d totally hit that.”
Minho didn’t mean to elbow him that hard in the ribs, but before he could think properly, he’d already done it.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
Minho didn’t respond. He honestly didn’t have an explanation. But for some reason, Hyunjin’s words had just pissed him off.
“Are you interested in him or something, Min?” Chan asked with a small smile, but there was no teasing in his tone.
Minho still didn’t say anything. But…maybe he was. He couldn’t stop looking at him, even though the boy only had eyes for those stupid-ass baseball players who were eyeing him up in a way that made his blood boil.
“I’m sure you could bag him if you want—I heard he’s kind of a slut,” Hyunjin added.
That made Minho’s eye twitch, and this time he elbowed him even harder, making him cough out in pain.
“Dude! What the fuck? Why do you keep doing that?”
“I think he’s going to the party tonight, actually,” Changbin said. “All the cheerleaders are usually there.”
Minho froze again. The last thing he wanted was to go to that stupid party. He was exhausted as all hell and just wanted to take a shower and go to sleep.
But he bit his tongue hard as Jisung left the field, those baseball players watching him bounce away in his short skirt with a glint in their eyes that Minho didn’t like.
“Where’s it at?”
“What do you think?” Jisung asked as he finally finished touching up his makeup in the locker room. “Do I look hot, or do I look like a mess?”
Seungmin slowly rolled his eyes. Jisung knew he wasn’t annoyed—he was just impatient. He’d wanted to leave for the party about twenty minutes ago with the rest of the team. But Jisung needed to make sure he looked perfect. If he wanted a chance with that hot baseball player—whose name he’d already forgotten—then he needed to look good.
“You look fine,” he said, deliberately not answering the question.
Jisung pouted. “I knew I should’ve asked Felix to stay behind with me instead of you.”
Seungmin let out a small chuckle. “That is very true, and entirely your own fault.”
He loved Seungmin to death, but he never had any input on this kind of thing. He would’ve asked Felix, but he had been so eager to get to the party and he didn’t want to hold him back. He knew Seungmin wouldn’t care either way. However, now he was left with the uncertainty of whether he looked good or not.
He frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d gone all out tonight with the glitter, and maybe he looked a little over the top, or even stupid—but he loved glitter. He’d sweated some of it off during the game, but he was still happy with the way it made his skin sparkle. His makeup was still a bit smudged, but it would have to do.
“You look really pretty, Jisung,” Seungmin said quietly.
Jisung whipped his head around to see him blushing softly, his eyes on the ceiling.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me—and I’m not saying it again, so can we go, please?”
Seungmin was sweet. He must’ve seen him doubting himself—which he loved to do. But he couldn’t help it. Insecurity was a bitch, and sometimes it was hard to ignore.
He gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and Seungmin groaned loudly before pushing him off.
“Let’s go,” Jisung said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.
The weather was beautiful, a light breeze on his face, and his hair tangling a bit in the wind. He loved this time of year, and he was happy to be cheering again. He’d missed the entire last season due to an injury. Whether or not the spotter had purposely let him fall was still unknown, but Jisung was pretty sure it was intentional, even if no one else thought so. Besides, she had reason to hate him. But it wasn’t his fault that her boyfriend was a loser who spread a rumor that wasn’t even true. Honestly, he knew he probably just wanted to break up with her and used Jisung to piss her off.
Whatever—it didn’t matter now. He had transferred schools, he was healthy again, he was done with the drama, and his new team was full of people he trusted and could rely on.
The party was already bumping when they arrived. To be fair, they were pretty late because Jisung had agonized over the way his face looked for way too long. He was still wearing his cheerleading uniform, since the guy he’d been flirting with had told him how much he liked it.
It had been a while since he’d messed around with someone, and tonight he just wanted to be beneath some guy with big muscles, calling him pretty.
He took off when he saw the guy he’d been talking to earlier, chatting with the other baseball players in the kitchen, but Seungmin tightly grabbed his wrist.
“Hey,” he said, tugging him back. “Be safe. And call me if you need someone to come get you—I’m not drinking tonight.”
Jisung kissed his cheek once more, and Seungmin didn’t even groan or complain this time. He was sweet and not much of a drinker, so he always looked out for them when he knew they were getting tossed.
He ran into the kitchen, and his heart fluttered when the guy who had called him pretty earlier at the game gave him a wide smile. He wasn’t exactly his type, but he could see in the way he looked at him that he wanted him. And right now, that was all he could ask for.
“Look who’s here,” he said, beckoning him over.
The way all their eyes glanced over at him, looking him up and down, made the adrenaline race through his veins.
“Hi,” he said sweetly, taking the hand that was extended to him.
“Thought you were never gonna make it,” he said, tugging Jisung closer. “I was worried.”
He wasn’t going to tell him that he’d spent way too long fussing over his makeup so he would think he looked good, because that would be embarrassing to admit.
So instead, he just shrugged and batted his eyelashes with a sweet smile. “I’m here.”
The guy lightly brushed his fingers over Jisung’s cheek, and he smiled even wider.
“Dohyun—who’s this?” one of the other guys asked.
“This is Jisung—he’s on the cheer team,” Dohyun said.
Jisung flushed when he realized they were all staring at him—four other guys, all taller and bigger than he was.
“You’re new this year?” another one asked.
Jisung nodded. “Yeah, this is my first semester here. But it’s my second year—I transferred.”
One of them whistled. “Pretty little skirt you’ve got on,” he said, reaching for the hem.
He gasped when someone suddenly grabbed his waist and lifted him, placing him on the counter.
“You’re really hot,” another said, whispering against his ear and making him shiver.
“Oh, thanks,” Jisung murmured, blushing when their fingertips brushed over his thigh.
“And he’s down to play?” one of them asked, glancing over at Dohyun.
Jisung’s heart fluttered as two of them leaned in closer, crowding around him.
Play?
“I think he’s just the type we’re looking for—right, Jisung?” Dohyun asked as he placed a soft hand on his bare thigh, fingers slipping to the inside.
Oh—oh.
Holy fuck. Were they asking to…all of them?
“I—I don’t…”
He’d never done anything like this before. Sure, he’d had sex many times, but never with more than one guy at once.
“C’mon—it’ll be fun. Come with us and be our pretty boy for the night,” he whispered to him, making a shiver run up his spine.
He swallowed nervously. He couldn’t believe he was actually thinking about it. But the way he called him pretty was enough to make him go stupid. And the thought of five of them calling him pretty at once, praising him, made him feel so pathetically desperate for it.
It was a bad idea. He couldn’t afford rumors spreading about him at this new college. It was irresponsible. Potentially dangerous.
But he craved the attention. And he wouldn’t mind being the center of it while they used him.
Before he could reach out and take Dohyun’s hand, someone smacked it away.
“You idiots are blocking the fridge.”
Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, because when he looked up, he saw the famous football captain standing right in front of him. Lee Minho—the absolute hottest guy on campus, if Jisung were being honest.
He’d waved at him earlier because he thought he was looking at him, but Minho had totally blown him off. Which was fine—football players were dicks. And there was no way he had a single chance with him. Not that he wanted one, anyway.
“Whoa—sorry,” Dohyun said, but the irritation in his eyes that he had interrupted them was obvious.
“If you’re sorry, then get the hell out of the way,” Minho snapped.
Dohyun and the rest of the guys stepped back, letting him through. Jisung was about to hop off the counter, but before he could move, Minho’s hand wrapped around his knee, keeping him still.
His breath hitched, and when Minho looked at him, all the air left his lungs. No one had ever looked at him like that before—an intense, angry stare that made his entire body shudder.
Minho didn’t even grab anything from the fridge. Jisung was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, but before he could speak, Minho moved his arm around Jisung’s waist, effortlessly helping him back down to the ground.
Jisung blinked at him, incredibly confused. “What are you—”
“Come with me,” Minho said suddenly, not even giving him a chance to respond before tugging him by the wrist.
“Hey—what the hell?” one of the baseball guys shouted as Minho pulled him away.
“Dude—go get your own whore!” Dohyun yelled, his voice harsh as he spat those words.
Jisung’s eyes widened, his heart sinking to his stomach when he heard that. He flushed—because he had been considering messing around with all of them. And maybe that was enough to put him in that category. He wasn’t the first person to call him that, either.
Minho stopped suddenly, and Jisung almost ran into his back. He gently tugged him around so they were facing each other, and those eyes somehow got even more intense looking.
He reached out, and Jisung’s heart fluttered wildly when Minho placed the softest hand on his cheek.
But as soon as he felt his touch, it was gone—because Minho turned around and shoved Dohyun so hard that his head smacked off the fridge.
“Yo, dude! What the fuck?” one of the guys yelled, catching Dohyun before he fell to the ground.
Jisung’s hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, but Minho grabbed his wrist again and pulled him out of the kitchen.
He was completely stunned—because why the hell did he just do that?
Minho dragged him towards the bathroom, and even if Jisung had tried to yell at him to let go, the music was probably too loud for him to hear.
When they reached an area away from the speakers, Minho finally stopped to look at him. Those intense eyes of his had turned incredibly soft.
“Sorry,” he said gently, letting go of Jisung’s wrist. His entire demeanor had changed from just moments ago.
Jisung just blinked at him, and Minho sighed deeply.
“Look, that guy had no right to say that—I’m sorry, but it pissed me off.”
Jisung honestly had no idea what to say. He didn’t even know him. He probably didn’t even know his name—but he’d just cracked some guy’s head open on a fridge because he’d called him a whore.
“It’s…fine,” he said, his voice barely coming out.
“I heard what they were saying in the kitchen. You know what they were trying to do, right?”
Jisung flushed. He thought about lying, because he didn’t want to prove that he was exactly what they said he was. But he didn’t want to say no either, because then he’d look stupid and incredibly naive.
“I—I know, yeah,” he said, deciding to be honest.
“And were you going to?”
That annoyed Jisung a little bit.
“Sorry, but how is that any of your business?” His tone was sharp, but Minho didn’t flinch.
“I guess it’s not,” Minho sighed.
It was awkwardly silent then, and Jisung knew he should be thanking him for allowing him time to clear his head and getting him out of that situation instead of yelling at him.
“I only…I didn’t want to sleep with all of them. I thought—I just thought the one guy had an interest in me, but I guess…I’m pretty stupid, huh?”
He shrugged with a sad chuckle, and suddenly he felt incredibly embarrassed.
Jisung gasped when Minho reached out and tipped his chin up. “You’re not stupid. They’re just assholes,” he said.
His eyes were intense again, and Jisung’s heart fluttered when he brushed the hair out of his eyes. A few strands had fallen out of his bows.
Minho flinched then, quickly pulling his hand away from his face.
“Oh—I, uh…I’m Minho,” he said, and his flushed cheeks were kind of cute.
“I know. The football captain and star QB,” Jisung said with a smile.
“Uh, yeah,” he nodded, scrunching his nose.
“I’m Jisung—I’m on the cheer team. Obviously,” he said, gesturing to his uniform.
“I know,” he said, and that surprised him a little. He wasn’t expecting him to know him at all.
Minho’s blush deepened. “I saw you earlier, after the game—on the sidelines.”
“Oh, yeah. When you ignored me?” Jisung said, and Minho’s eyes went wide.
“I didn’t ignore you,” he claimed.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Well, I waved and you didn’t wave back.”
Minho blinked over and over, like he was trying to remember or think of something quick to say.
“Sorry,” he said, scrunching his nose again. “I was…I don’t know why I…sorry.”
Jisung chuckled, liking his cute, flustered expression.
“It’s okay. You’d just won a big game—you did look distracted.”
Minho shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. It was quiet between them again, and it was even more awkward when someone turned the corner and walked between them to get to the bathroom down the hall.
He honestly had nothing else to say, and he wasn’t stupid enough to start flirting with the captain of the football team, whom he’d already embarrassed himself in front of. Besides, football players were off limits—that was his new rule, and he wasn’t going to break it.
But before he walked away, he knew he had to thank him.
“Hey, um—thanks for earlier,” he said shyly. “For…you know, stopping me from doing something stupid.”
Minho nodded but didn’t say anything else.
“Well—I’ll see you around,” Jisung said with a wave.
Minho actually waved back this time, even though it was more of a quick hand raised in the air.
He was kind of weird, but he was also very sweet. He didn’t have to save him from those guys, and he didn’t have to stick up for him the way he had. Maybe he was just a nice guy. Either way, Jisung was grateful.
His plan hadn’t been to text Seungmin this early in the night, but he decided it was better to stay close to his friends for the rest of the evening. When he replied that they were still hanging out in the living room, he snuck past the kitchen to avoid the baseball team.
And when he saw Felix dancing with Jeongin, he quickly ran at them, embracing them both in a hug.
“Hey—” Felix kissed his head. “I thought you were busy with that guy tonight?”
Jisung shrugged. “I want to hang with you guys,” he said, not really wanting to talk about it.
“Is everything okay?” Jeongin asked, a little more perceptive than Felix at the moment, since he looked to be a few beers deep.
“Yeah,” he said simply with a smile.
“We should make Seungmin dance,” Felix suggested, looking at the boy leaning against the wall, bouncing his knee with the music as he watched them.
“Let’s do it,” Jisung agreed.
It took a lot of pulling, but they finally got him off the wall. He acted like he hated it, but after a few minutes, he was the one dancing the hardest.
Jisung laughed loudly, his heart full when Felix wrapped him in a hug.
Maybe he didn’t need a guy to make him happy tonight—his friends were all he needed.
Minho couldn’t stop looking over at the sidelines. He was extremely tired because he couldn’t stop thinking about Jisung’s pretty face as he’d rolled around in bed last night—and his little green skirt that flowed around his soft-looking thighs.
He had no idea why he couldn’t seem to get any words out yesterday, but it was ridiculous the way Jisung seemed to wipe his mind. When they were face-to-face, it was hard to even think.
He’d spotted him when he walked into the party, waiting for him to show up. He was the only reason why he’d even gone in the first place. He looked so pretty, wide-eyed and beautiful—and at that moment, Minho decided Jisung was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
He had wanted to approach him, but his throat felt tight as he watched him twirl his pretty skirt as he talked to his friend. That’s when Minho’s gaze locked onto his thighs, and the thoughts running through his head were anything but innocent.
But when he followed him to the kitchen, he saw red again. Those guys he’d been talking to at the field were standing around him, staring at him in a way that made Minho want to tear out their eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away, and after he heard what they’d said and saw that innocent-looking smile on Jisung’s face, his blood boiled.
He hadn’t meant to assault the guy from the baseball team, but his words pissed him off so badly, especially after seeing the hurt expression on Jisung’s face. And there was no way he would let that asshole get away with saying something like that. Not in front of him at least.
Hopefully, the bruise on his skull would teach him a lesson.
He sighed, knowing he needed to focus today. They had to prepare for the upcoming game—and losing was not something Minho liked.
But when the cheer team showed up, his head immediately whipped over to the track. He spotted Jisung almost instantly. He looked so fucking beautiful, even at eight in the morning with messy hair and smeared makeup from the night before.
He seemed tired, yawning as he strolled into practice. He was wearing a skirt again—but instead of his uniform, it was a tight black fabric—and Minho couldn’t stop watching his every step, the bounce of his ass clouding his thoughts.
A grunt left his lips when a football hit him square in the chest, the tip of the ball stabbing his abdomen.
“Yo! Pay attention!” Chan yelled, running over to him.
Minho reached down to pick up the ball, blushing when he realized how distracted he was.
“What’s gotten into you this morning? I swear you’re all over the place,” Chan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
But Minho’s eyes were back on the sidelines, watching as Jisung started stretching, bending forward, completely showing off his other pretty cheeks.
“What are you staring at?” Chan asked, following his gaze.
“Nothing.” He ripped his eyes away, even though Jisung was bent in half, touching his toes, making it difficult.
“The cheer team?”
“I said nothing,” he repeated, spinning the football in his hand.
But Chan squinted harder in the cheer team’s direction, and a small smile formed on his face.
“Jisung again, huh?”
Minho sighed. “No…it’s not like that.”
“Oh, come on,” Chan nudged him. “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said—and that was the truth.
He wanted to tell him how pretty he’d looked yesterday, but his brain turned to mush when he saw him. None of the words came out, and Jisung had left without him being able to say anything he really wanted to.
“Did you end up talking to him yesterday?”
Minho shrugged. “We talked, but—”
“Yo! Minho!” Hyunjin called out, interrupting their conversation as he ran across the field with Changbin chasing after him.
“You guys are late,” he chided, but Hyunjin completely ignored him as he threw an arm around his shoulder.
“Word on the street is you beat up the ace pitcher on the baseball team yesterday,” he said with a chuckle.
Chan’s eyes widened, and Minho’s jaw set with irritation.
“Who’d you hear that from?” he grumbled.
“People from the party who saw you attack him in the kitchen,” Changbin added.
He shouldn’t have been surprised—it wasn’t like they were alone in there.
“All for a pretty boy, huh?” Hyunjin teased, and he had to jump out of the way when Minho tried to elbow him in the ribs again.
“Fuck that guy. If he didn’t want to get his ass beat, then he should’ve watched his fucking mouth,” he snapped, wincing when he realized he was seeing red again.
“What did he say?” Changbin asked.
Before he could even respond, Hyunjin cut in again.
“Did you really steal Jisung away from him?”
“That’s the rumor going around, by the way,” Changbin added.
Minho groaned and ran a stressed hand through his hair.
“I didn’t steal him from shit. He called him a whore—and they were trying to take advantage of him. So I pushed him as hard as I could into the fridge. Not my fault his big-ass head smacked off the damn thing,” he told them.
Hyunjin chuckled. “Damn, so did you sweep him off his feet and confess your love?” He smirked.
Minho was getting annoyed with his teasing, and before Hyunjin could dodge it this time, he successfully caught him in a headlock.
“Do you want me to kick your ass next?” he warned. But he couldn’t stop the small chuckle that left his lips as Hyunjin tried biting his arm.
“Well, as of now, we’re no longer invited to parties hosted by the baseball team,” Changbin said.
“Who gives a shit about that?” Minho shot back, squishing Hyunjin’s cheeks as he bit him harder. “I don’t want to hang out with those pieces of shit anyway.”
“Just don’t go bashing the soccer captain’s head through a fridge because they throw the best parties,” Hyunjin said, laughing when Minho finally let go of his neck and pushed him away.
Minho rolled his eyes. That guy had been seriously out of line, and there was no way he was going to let Jisung leave that kitchen with him.
Maybe that made him crazy, but those innocent eyes and sweet smile kept popping into his mind. For some reason, he felt this strange need to protect him—and he would’ve taken on all of them at once if he had to, just to keep him safe.
His eyes flicked over to the track again, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Jisung looking in their direction. He froze, but when Jisung gave a sweet smile and waved, he knew he had to snap out of it. He couldn’t risk him thinking he was ignoring him again.
“Morning, Jisung!” Hyunjin suddenly yelled, very loudly, and right in his ear. “Minho thinks you look really hot today!”
Minho’s eyes went wide, immediately choking him in a headlock again.
“Are you fucking crazy?” he hissed, while Hyunjin laughed through his gasps for air.
Chan and Changbin tried to hide their laughs when Minho glared at them, but a few chuckles came out anyway.
He looked over at the track, where Jisung’s friends were pushing his shoulder and poking his cheek, probably teasing him the same way his own friends were.
They were too far away to clearly see the expression on his face, but Jisung had a hand over his mouth as he smacked his blonde friend’s shoulder over and over.
And even though he was a little shit—Hyunjin was right. He did think he looked hot today.
“Hey—let him breathe,” Chan said as Hyunjin pleaded and wheezed for air.
Minho loosened his grip, rolling his eyes when Hyunjin fell to the ground, coughing and laughing.
“You’re dead,” Minho spat.
Hyunjin just stuck his tongue out at him. “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Minho scrunched his nose but didn’t respond.
“You’ve been watching him all morning,” Chan added, making Minho narrow his eyes at him. “What? Don’t give me that look—you’re the one who’s distracted.”
“I’m not,” he denied, even if it was a pathetic attempt.
Hyunjin whistled. “Well, I sure as hell am. Look at that little skirt he’s got on. Tiny waist, pretty face, cute ass—”
“I will rip your eyes out of your skull,” Minho threatened.
Hyunjin’s wide smirk made him sigh. He always fell for his antagonistic remarks.
“If you want him, then you'd better make him yours before someone else does,” Hyunjin said with a shrug.
Minho let out another sigh. Maybe he was right. Jisung was gorgeous, and he swore if he looked away for even a second, someone else would snatch him up—just like yesterday.
But Minho wasn’t going to let that happen again.
Before he could say anything, though, their coach blew his whistle so loud it startled all four of them.
“Let’s go! Morning routine! Get started!”
Minho quickly shook his head, needing to snap the hell out of it. They had a game to practice for, and he couldn’t let himself get distracted by a damn cheerleader.
Even though throughout practice, his eyes kept wandering back over to the track. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring at Jisung’s cute face and pretty body.
Jisung was exhausted as he trudged into practice. He’d definitely stayed up way too late with Felix, giggling about stupid shit as they flopped onto Felix’s bed. They were tipsy and hungry, falling asleep with three open bags of chips on the mattress, which they rolled over and crunched in their sleep.
Getting out of bed had been a struggle, and Seungmin had practically yanked him up by the hair, telling him he seriously had to get a move on.
When they got to practice, Jisung stretched and tried to wake himself up. It was incredibly difficult to even open his sleepy eyes with the bright sun in his face. But they shot wide open when he glanced towards the center of the field, and noticed Minho, the football captain—and it looked like he was staring right at him.
He blushed hard. Maybe Minho was looking at someone else. The rest of the team was warming up around him, so maybe he was being delusional, thinking he was the one Minho’s eyes were on. But after he dropped his bag on the bench and glanced over his shoulder again, Minho’s gaze was still locked on him.
Jisung immediately thought about yesterday evening and how humiliating it had been. That this guy, who he’d never even talked to before, had pulled him away from an orgy waiting to happen. He still couldn’t believe he’d even considered it. But even now, the thought of all that attention at once excited him.
Maybe he was insane for thinking that way. Or maybe he was just pathetic for desperately needing the validation. Either way, he must have come off as a whore yesterday—and that was probably exactly what Minho thought. Not that that was new.
He liked sex—so what? If people wanted to think badly of him because he was sexually active, then that was on them. But when rumors started running rampant, that’s when it started to bother him—stealing his teammate’s boyfriend, performing sexual favors to become head cheerleader, having sex with the entire football team at once—yeah, none of those things actually happened.
But people didn’t care about the truth. They thrived on bullshit rumors and gossip.
“Jisung!” Jeongin called, jogging over with a few of the girls.
He tore his eyes away from Minho, who he was pretty sure was still looking at him.
“What’s up, guys?”
“Oh my god—is it true?” Chaeryeong asked, biting back a smile.
Jisung raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“That you’re the football captain’s property now,” Yeji chimed in with a smirk.
“Property?” Jisung gaped, eyes practically bugging out of his head.
“Wait! Tell me, tell me. What, what, what?” Felix hopped over, incredibly eager, and now there was a small crowd forming.
“Rumor has it Minho claimed you as his last night—fought for your love, beat up a guy, and stole you away,” she added, waggling her eyebrows at him.
Jisung’s heart raced. From the outside, he guessed it could look like that was what happened.
“Okay, first of all—I’m not anyone’s property,” he said firmly. “And no, it wasn’t like that at all. He just happened to be there when the baseball guys were being dicks to me.”
Mentioning that it was because he’d been planning on sleeping with the baseball team felt unnecessary, so he left that part out.
“Did you sleep with him?” Yeji asked.
Jisung’s eyes widened. “What? No, I didn’t.”
“I can confirm—he was with me last night,” Felix said.
But they continued to stare at him suspiciously.
“No, seriously, guys. Nothing happened. He just saw that the baseball team was bothering me, so he helped me out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?” Felix asked, looking a little offended, his eyes big and pouting.
“Because it really wasn’t that big of a deal. I didn’t think much of it,” he said with a shrug. That was the honest truth—Minho had just helped him out. They hadn’t said much to each other, and they definitely hadn’t slept together. There was no way he was even interested in him.
“Well, the rest of campus seems to think you guys did. Oh my god, so many people were talking about it—they’re so jealous of you,” Yeji told him.
He blinked at her, even more confused. “What? Jealous of what?”
“That the football captain has the hots for you. He’s never shown interest in anyone before. But here he is, fighting the baseball captain for you. Oh my god, Jisung, your life is a movie,” Chaeryeong giggled.
Jisung sighed, and when he looked over his shoulder, Minho was staring at him again.
“See? Oh my god, wave hi or something,” Yeji said, softly elbowing his side.
He guessed there was no harm in proving them wrong. Minho didn’t have an interest in him. He was just a nice guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time to help him out. So, he gave a soft smile and waved, knowing it was likely he would ignore him just like he had yesterday after the game.
“Morning, Jisung!” one of his friends screamed across the field. “Minho thinks you look really hot today!”
Jisung’s blush spread across his cheeks and flushed down his entire body, jaw almost hitting the ground.
“Oh my god,” Felix chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.
“It’s not like that,” Jeongin mocked, copying his tone and words from earlier. “Me when I lie.”
“Total liar,” Felix added.
Jisung smacked his arm multiple times. “It’s not!”
“Then what was that, hm?” Felix asked, poking his bright red cheek.
But honestly, he had no response. Because he had no idea why his friend just yelled that—and he was distracted by the headlock Minho had put his friend in, his muscles contracting and looking really, really fucking good…
Jisung shook his head. “Guys, I swear nothing happened.”
“Sure, whatever you say, babe,” Yeji said, shrugging as she and Chaeryeong walked away.
Jisung was extremely annoyed that another rumor had started about him. This was the reason why he had transferred, and it was happening all over again.
“You think he’s hot though, right?” Felix asked.
Jisung just shrugged.
“Oh, come on, he’s so hot. And his friend Chan is hot too. Maybe you could introduce me.”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “We spoke for like a minute yesterday. I don’t even know him.”
“You didn’t say if you think he’s hot or not,” Felix pressed him.
“Of course I think he’s hot. So does everyone. What does that have to do with anything?”
“So maybe we can go on a double date.”
Jisung sighed again. “Felix, I—”
“Please? Pretty, pretty, please?” he begged. “You’re the prettiest, most gorgeous cheerleader on the team. They obviously know who you are, and I just need you to help set me up. I can’t talk to them by myself—they’ll totally blow me off.”
“That’s not true—and if it is, then you can do a lot better than some guy who won’t give you the time of day,” Jisung told him.
Felix groaned. “But I like him. He’s perfect. Help me out. Please?”
After everything Felix had done for him in the last few weeks—making him feel welcome, becoming one of his best friends, never judging him, and being so sweet—there was no way he could say no.
“Okay, fine. I’ll talk to him for you,” he said, and Felix quickly got up and kissed his cheek. “But no double date. I’ve sworn off football players, you know that.”
Felix squealed with excitement and wrapped him in a hug. “You’re the bestest friend ever. I love you so much, and I owe you dinner and like thirty slices of your favorite cheesecake,” he said, making Jisung giggle as he smothered him.
After their coach called for them to practice their routine, Jisung couldn’t help but look once more over his shoulder. His heart fluttered when he realized Minho was looking at him again.
Maybe he did have an interest in him. And he wouldn’t lie that his friend’s words made his body burn with that intense feeling he loved when someone complimented him. Not to mention that Minho’s stare was making his pulse race. And Felix was right—he was totally hot.
This was crazy. After talking with him at the party yesterday, he could clearly tell that wasn’t the case. Maybe he was making this all up in his head—just like everyone else was. It also didn’t help that some silly rumor was going around. God, he hated big mouths who had no idea what they were talking about and spread bullshit gossip like wildfire.
But he had promised Felix he would help him get a date. Minho didn’t owe him anything, but he had to try—because what were best friends for?
There were a few libraries on campus that Minho liked that were close to the apartment, even if they were crowded most days. He was also so popular that people often approached him to say hi and introduce themselves. He was always a little shocked by the recognition, even though he was the football team’s quarterback and captain.
Today, he had his headphones on so no one would bother him. He had a test in statistics, and he couldn’t afford to fail.
He jumped when someone tapped his shoulder, and he let out an irritated sigh. He knew it was probably one of the guys or some girl trying to get his attention again. But when he removed his headphones and looked up, his breath caught in his throat.
Jisung’s pretty smile blew him away as he waved at him.
“Hi, Minho,” he said quietly, his sweet voice making his heart flutter.
Minho didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His breath was stuck in his throat, and even if he wanted to speak, the words wouldn’t come out.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” Jisung added, biting his lip with a soft frown.
“No—no, you’re not,” he rushed out, finally finding his words.
Jisung’s smile grew even wider.
“I just saw you over here and thought I’d say hi. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on campus before.”
Minho’s heart was beating so fast. Jisung had that pretty, sparkly makeup on his cheeks, like at the party the other day. And Hyunjin was absolutely right when he said Jisung looked fucking hot in a skirt at practice yesterday—even if it had made him chuck a football at his head.
They had a game today, and Jisung was in his cheerleading uniform. Minho had seen the other male cheerleaders in their uniforms earlier, but none of them had been wearing a skirt. He couldn’t stop staring at the green and white uniform clinging tightly to his waist—and he had such a tiny waist.
“Can I sit?” Jisung asked, and Minho nodded instantly.
Jisung shrugged off his backpack and placed it on the ground. When he sat down, he leaned in closer. Minho could see every single feature on his face—the sparkles that glittered across his cheeks, the eyeliner he had on, and the cherry color of his lips. His hair had those cute green clips again, holding back his bangs.
“So, what’s up?” Minho asked, needing to say something to distract himself.
Jisung shrugged. “Just got out of class, meeting up with Felix and Jeongin before the game later.”
“The other cheerleaders?”
Jisung smiled excitedly. “Yeah—you know Felix, right? He’s the cute blonde on the team. And I don’t know if you know Jeongin—but yeah. We have a quick meeting before tonight’s big game.”
Minho just nodded, not really sure what to say. He was still a little flustered by how gorgeous Jisung looked, and he wondered if he’d noticed his red cheeks.
“Studying?” Jisung asked. Minho shook his head, even though he had been studying.
“Sorry if you were busy. I just thought I’d sit with you until they got here. Is that okay?” he asked, biting that pretty lip of his again.
“Yeah—you can sit here,” he assured him, which made a crinkly eyed smile come to Jisung’s face.
“Perf,” he said. “I hate sitting alone.”
Minho hated that he didn’t say anything more. Jisung had taken out his phone and started texting, and Minho wished he could strike up more of a conversation, but he had no idea what to say. He was sure that he and this pretty cheerleader had nothing in common. So he went back to studying, even though he could barely focus.
It was stupid, but he couldn’t stop stealing glances every few seconds. And when Jisung giggled at something he must have thought was funny, his heart almost exploded.
“Can I ask you something?” Jisung asked then.
Minho quickly closed his laptop, and maybe that was too eager, but he couldn’t help it. He would answer anything as long as Jisung kept talking to him.
“Sure.”
“That guy Chan—is he dating anyone?” he asked, leaning on the table again, hands resting on his cheeks.
Minho clenched his teeth, and the jealousy that bubbled in his chest burned. But why the hell was he asking about Chan? Had they talked before? Did Jisung like him or something?
“He’s on and off with a messy relationship,” he blurted out. That wasn’t a total lie, but it definitely wasn’t in the best friend handbook to be airing out his dirty laundry.
“Oh, really?” he asked, kind of surprised.
“Yeah—so if you’re looking for a date, I’d pass. He’s a good guy, but—”
“Oh, not for me. My friend Felix wanted me to ask—but don’t tell him I told you that,” he giggled, and Minho’s heart actually exploded hearing the gorgeous sound.
Minho nodded slowly, feeling embarrassed and relieved at the same time. Now he felt like a total dick.
“Oh,” he mumbled. “Well, honestly, he’s been a lot better lately and is trying to move on. Maybe he needs to get out with someone new.”
Jisung blinked at him for a moment before tilting his head with a smile.
“You’re a sweet friend,” he said.
Minho was so distracted by his pretty smile that he didn’t even respond. He probably wouldn’t have thought that if he knew he was ready to throw his friend under the bus to make him look bad, just so Jisung would lose interest.
His heart jumped into his throat when Jisung’s bare knees brushed against his.
“Can I…ask you a question?”
Jisung looked surprised, but nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Why are you wearing a skirt?” he asked bluntly.
Jisung just stared at him, and Minho panicked.
“I just meant—all the other male cheerleaders wear pants. But you’re wearing a skirt, and—fuck, look what I meant was—”
“You don’t like it?” Jisung asked.
Minho panicked even harder.
“No,” he said quickly. “No, I do like it. I think—you’re super hot. I was just wondering…fuck, I don’t even know—sorry.”
That had sounded totally out of line and rude, and Minho wished he understood what happened to his brain when he talked to him—because apparently it had completely shut off. But he genuinely didn’t mean anything bad by it. Honestly, thoughts of his pretty skirt and soft-looking thighs had been in his head for days. It was hard to focus during practice, and he was just wondering why he wore a skirt instead of pants like the others. But maybe that wasn’t any of his business.
“So…your friend was serious? You think I’m hot?”
Minho had never been this flustered in front of another person before in his life. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever been this nervous. But Jisung’s wide eyes and sparkling cheeks were killing him.
“I-I do…I do think that, yeah,” he admitted, gaze flicking to the side.
It was quiet for a moment, and Minho didn’t have the courage to look at him. It was pathetic, really, the way he couldn’t get a fucking grip.
“I wear the skirt because I think it’s pretty. And I like when hot guys compliment me,” he admitted.
Minho’s head whipped back up immediately. The flush that was now on Jisung’s cheeks complemented the sparkles so beautifully.
Jisung wrung his hands together, like he was nervous or something. Minho wanted to say more, to compliment him again, to tell him that his skirt and that tiny waist of his had been on his mind for days—but everything got stuck in his throat when he looked at him with those beautiful eyes.
“Jisung!” someone screamed from across the library.
Both of their heads whipped over to see one of the other male cheerleaders with his hands cupped around his mouth. His other friend immediately jabbed him in the ribs, glaring at him like he was crazy.
Jisung laughed, and Minho almost melted. He waved them over, the other guy shaking his head while the one who had been elbowed rubbed his side.
“…yelling that loud in the library? You’re an idiot.”
“I forgot we were in a library!” he whispered-shouted. “Don’t yell at me!”
The cheerleader shook his head again as they reached the table where Minho and Jisung were sitting.
“Hey, Jisungie.” His friend smiled before giving a quick nod to Minho.
“Hey, Innie. Hey Felix.” Jisung’s sweet smile was so captivating that Minho found himself lost in it again.
“What’re you doing with the Tigers’ star quarterback?” Felix’s eyes narrowed with a smirk, still rubbing his side.
“Minho just kept me company while I was waiting for your slow asses,” he complained, grabbing his bag and standing from the table.
Minho didn’t like that he was getting ready to leave.
“My class is across campus—sorry I didn’t run here,” Felix mumbled.
Jisung turned to Minho with another smile, and he could barely breathe again.
“Thanks for letting me sit with you,” he said sweetly. “Good luck later. I’ll be cheering for you.”
Minho swore he saw a slight blush on his cheeks.
“Later,” Jeongin said, throwing up a peace sign. Felix just waved enthusiastically.
Minho sighed as he watched them leave. He’d completely made an ass of himself.
He picked up his headphones, trying to get back to studying. But he couldn’t help his fluttering heart as he watched Jisung bounce away in his pretty green skirt.
“Wait—so he told you he thinks you’re hot?” Felix asked excitedly, grabbing his arm and yanking incredibly hard.
They were stretching on the sidelines, watching as the football players warmed up for the game.
“Is that why you spent so long getting ready?” Seungmin teased.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “No,” he mumbled, even though that was a lie.
After Minho had said that earlier, he couldn’t help but try to make himself look as pretty as possible. He wanted to catch his gaze—and maybe he’d hiked his skirt up a little higher on his waist.
His no football players rule was still in place, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the attention.
“Oh my god—so he is into you,” Felix said, sounding way too excited.
“He just said I was hot,” he told him, and Felix rolled his eyes.
“Why are you denying this so hard? He thinks you’re hot, you think he’s hot—I think you guys should kiss.”
“I told you. I don’t want to mess around with any football players,” he reminded him.
Felix sighed. “Okay, yeah, I get it. But Minho is so hot. And you said he’s been nice to you. I think you should make an exception.”
Jisung chuckled. Maybe he was right. But the last thing he wanted was to get his hopes up or embarrass himself—again.
“Also,” Seungmin said, stretching his legs, “he’s totally looking over here again.”
Jisung’s heart fluttered. He wanted to look over his shoulder, but he was way too nervous.
“He’s always looking at you,” Jeongin smirked, elbowing his side.
“He’s probably not even looking at me. Do you know how many hot people there are on this team? I’m probably not the only one he thinks is hot either.”
“He’s literally staring right at you,” Jeongin added. “I think he’s waiting for you to—oh my god, he’s coming over here.”
Jisung’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?”
“Swear on my life,” Jeongin said.
“Holy shit, he’s literally running,” Seungmin chuckled.
“Jisung, you have to turn around,” Felix told him.
When Jisung turned, his heart got stuck in his throat. Minho was actually running, his hair pushed back by the wind as he held his helmet under his arm. He could see his friends on the field behind him, watching intently.
Minho jogged up until he was right in front of him, and Jisung was so shocked he honestly couldn’t get any words out. Suddenly, it felt like the entire stadium was looking at them—and maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but there were still a lot of people watching from the stands. He could feel the eyes of the entire cheer team, and most of the football players too.
“Hey,” Minho smiled.
Jisung blinked at him. He needed to snap the hell out of it and respond, but he just couldn’t believe the game was literally about to start, and Minho had jogged all the way over to the track just to talk to him.
“Um, hi,” he squeaked out.
Minho cleared his throat. “I…I wanted to tell you that you look really pretty tonight—and I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”
Jisung flushed, and he wanted to grab Minho’s helmet and chuck it at Felix for cooing so loudly behind him.
“Oh, you don’t have to apologize,” he told him, but Minho shook his head.
“Yeah, I do,” he said softly with a slight frown.
He really hadn’t been offended. He knew Minho wasn’t trying to be mean—he was familiar with people who were.
Jisung’s breath hitched when Minho’s fingers brushed the hem of his skirt.
“I really like it—your skirt, I mean. It looks good on you.”
He thought he might pass out if he complimented him like that again.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice definitely a little unsteady.
Minho nodded, and the smile that came to his lips stole every breath from Jisung’s lungs.
“Minho! Get your ass over here! We’re seconds away from kick off!” someone yelled behind them.
Minho winced, closing his eyes for just a second, like he was coming back down to reality, realizing what he was doing.
Jisung thought Minho was about to say something, but instead, he turned and jogged back to the field. His friends shoved him in the chest, obviously teasing, but he ignored them as he slid his helmet on.
“Jisung! Come on!” Felix yelled, snapping him out of it.
He needed to focus. He was just apologizing for earlier—even though he literally didn’t have anything to apologize for. But he was sweet, and Jisung’s cheeks were burning red.
“Coming!”
He cheered extra hard, and he wondered if Minho was watching him during their halftime routine. Honestly, he was way too nervous to check, and the last thing he wanted was to fall out of his stunts—even though he knew Jeongin would never let him hit the ground. Still, his heart was racing.
“Go Tigers!” the team yelled in unison, hitting their ending pose.
After a flawless routine, waving his pompoms high in the air, he chanced a glance at the bench. The entire football team was in a huddle with their coaches. But his heart lodged in his throat, because even in their tight gathering, Minho’s focus was on him.
This time, there was something intense in his eyes as he stared. Or maybe he was just overthinking it. Either way, he turned back to the crowd and focused on cheering. They had a game to win, and the team needed all the energy they could get.
Minho felt like he was going insane—and maybe he was. He kept going to the library every single day, not even studying, and just hoping that Jisung would show up again.
He didn’t know anything about him—not where his classes were, what his major was, or even what year he was in. It was driving him crazy. He wanted to ask Chan, Hyunjin, or Changbin if they knew anything or if they knew one of the other cheerleaders who would have that information. But he didn’t feel like dealing with their teasing.
All week long, he’d had Hyunjin and Changbin in his ear, nagging him about how he’d sprinted over to the track before the game. Honestly, when he saw Jisung, his mind had gone completely blank. His pretty skirt flowing over his soft-looking thighs, his cute cheeks dusted with green sparkles, and that tiny fucking waist peeking out through his top was enough to drive him insane.
He hadn’t even been able to focus during their halftime huddle, losing his sanity as Jisung was hoisted into the air, his pretty skirt twirling as he did his stunts. And Minho tried to ignore the jealousy bubbling in his chest when the other male cheerleader wrapped his hands around his waist to bring him down.
They’d won the game, even though he’d been horribly distracted by Jisung’s cute cheers on the sidelines. When he threw the winning touchdown, he caught the excitement in his wide, impressed eyes—and Minho couldn’t believe how turned on he was in the middle of the fucking field during a game.
If he had it his way, he would’ve jogged right over to the track, grabbed him by the waist, hoisted him into his arms, and slammed him against the fence. He’d have kissed him so hard he’d need to beg him to breathe, held him so tightly that his fingerprints would tattoo his skin, claiming him so everyone could see. He’d lifted that teasing little skirt, run his hands up his soft thighs, and—
“Bro—are you alive?”
Someone waved their hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his outrageous thoughts. Hyunjin leaned over him with an amused smirk on his lips.
“Incredible. I’ve never seen somebody fall asleep with their eyes open.”
“I’m not asleep,” he groaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
“I called your name like three times. You were completely out of it,” he said, shrugging off his bag and sitting across from him.
“Sorry. I think I’m just tired.” He was exhausted from practice all week, and from lying in bed, thinking about Jisung until ungodly hours of the night.
Hyunjin sighed, laying his head on the table. “Yeah, me too. Classes are killing me, and I’m still so sore from that hit.”
He’d gotten bodied during the game, laid out on the field, groaning as they helped carry him to the bench.
“Are you feeling any better?” Minho asked, worried about his friend, but also worried that if he wasn’t able to play this weekend, they’d probably lose.
“Yeah, I think so. A few more days of rest and I’ll be good as new,” he assured him.
“Good—I need you out there,” Minho said, and Hyunjin’s smile spread wide.
“Don’t you know it.”
The thing that kept Hyunjin incredible on the field was his almost insufferable confidence. But Minho loved it, and he loved playing with a guy who knew what it took to win.
“Oh, by the way. Changbin told me to tell you that we have practice at—”
Minho’s focus completely shifted when he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. The words Hyunjin had been saying stopped like he’d hit mute, because over Hyunjin’s shoulder, Minho caught sight of a pretty skirt flowing over soft-looking thighs.
It wasn’t the cheerleading uniform this time that caught his eye, but a pink and black plaid skirt with a black long-sleeve varsity crop top.
Minho’s mouth went dry, and when he looked up from those soft legs, he met Jisung’s smiling face.
But Minho’s blood boiled again when he realized he wasn’t alone. He was talking to some guy who was leaning in way too close for his liking. Minho could see his eyes roaming up and down Jisung’s body, and his chest burned with jealousy.
He stood from the table, not even caring that Hyunjin was in the middle of telling him something important. He heard him call his name, but he ignored it, stomping over to where Jisung was laughing brightly at whatever the guy had just said.
He must’ve been out of his mind, because he slipped an arm around his waist, fingers gripping tightly on his warm skin. Jisung let out the softest gasp, looking over at him with the cutest, startled face.
Minho was frozen for a moment, lost in those beautiful eyes.
“Minho?” Jisung’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.
But Minho’s anger bubbled again when the guy glared at him.
“Uh, hey man, we were—”
“Get out of here,” he growled.
Fuck. He sounded crazy. But maybe he was.
He felt Jisung’s body tense in his hands.
“I’ll—I’ll talk to you later?” Jisung said to him, and Minho couldn’t help but tighten his grip on his waist.
The guy rolled his eyes and slung his bag onto his shoulder, eyeing Minho one last time before exiting the library.
Minho took a deep breath, realizing he needed to back off—but it was incredibly hard to let go. Jisung’s skin was just as soft as it looked.
“That was kinda rude, you know,” Jisung said, but there was a soft smile on his lips.
“The way he was eyeing you was kinda rude,” Minho muttered, and Jisung let out a short chuckle.
“He was just saying hi. We have a class together,” he said with a shrug.
“He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you right here,” he blurted out, unable to hold back his irritation.
Jisung’s eyes widened, and a soft blush dusted his cheeks.
“That’s…not true,” he said softly, looking down at the ground.
“Yes, it is,” he told him.
His heart clenched when a small, frustrated frown came to his lips.
“And so what if he was?”
Minho’s eyebrow twitched. “So you shouldn’t give those losers the time of day.”
“Why not?” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because—because you shouldn’t.” He honestly had no reason. He just didn’t like it. But he couldn’t just say that. He already looked crazy enough.
Jisung slowly rolled his eyes. “Because I shouldn’t? That’s not a very good reason.”
Minho clenched his fists. He was right. It wasn’t a good reason at all. He took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. He needed to calm down—and he needed to apologize.
“I’m sorry,” he said, softening his gaze.
“I think you should apologize to him, not me—”
“I don’t give a shit about that guy,” Minho cut him off. “I’m sorry for touching you without your permission. That was wrong of me.”
Jisung blinked at him, surprise in his wide eyes. “Oh.”
“Just…stay away from guys like that, okay?” he pleaded, not even sure why he said that. But he hated the thought of Jisung being looked at by these disgusting assholes—not to mention the thought of their hands on his waist or anywhere else on his body. The thought had him seeing red again.
“Why?”
That was a good question—one Minho didn’t know how to answer. So he didn’t.
Jisung gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know at the party I almost did something really stupid, but we can just forget about that.”
Minho scrunched his nose. There was no way he couldn’t worry about him. But those were selfish feelings, and he wasn’t sure how to express how much he hated the thought of Jisung even glancing at another guy.
“I’ll be careful. I promise,” Jisung said, hooking his arms behind his back as he leaned forward.
Minho wished he could believe him, but that sweet, innocent face told him otherwise.
He glanced over his body again, his pretty skirt twirling slightly as he moved his hips.
“You’re…wearing a skirt,” he said, the words falling past his lips before he could stop them.
Jisung looked down before glancing back at him with a shy smile. “Uh, yeah,” he said, moving his hips again.
“So…you wear them, like, even outside of cheer?” he asked, his brain short-circuiting as he stared at his thighs.
“I like wearing skirts,” he said. “Does it bother you?”
Minho panicked. “What? No, not at all.”
“Then why do you keep asking?” Jisung chuckled, a blush on his cheeks.
“Sorry—I just…thought that…I mean—”
Fuck. He was just surprised to see him in such a cute skirt that wasn’t his cheer uniform. And he was so distracted by it that he wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Some people think it’s weird, but I don’t really care what other people think,” Jisung said, his eyes shifting away with a soft frown again.
Minho swallowed nervously. That wasn’t what he thought. Not in the slightest.
“It’s not weird. I think you look really pretty. So I was—um…”
Jisung chuckled again, and Minho wished he could disappear, possibly melt into the floor, embarrassed by his stupid, nervous rambling.
“So you like it?” he asked, gesturing to the pleated fabric that flowed over his thighs.
“Yeah, a lot. Like—a lot, a lot.”
Jisung bit his lip, and his cheeks were bright red.
“You’re really sweet.”
Minho’s heart fluttered. He wished he could snap out of it, but he couldn’t stop staring at the pretty pink bows laced on the sides.
“Jisung, I…”
He trailed off, because he had so many things he wanted to say, but he had no idea how to say them.
“I actually have to get to class,” Jisung told him, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
“I’ll walk you,” Minho blurted out. He didn’t want him to leave just yet.
Jisung giggled. “Don’t trust me to walk across campus all by myself?”
Minho didn’t want to say yes, just in case it would offend him. But the thought of some other guy trying to hit on him in that pretty pink skirt was enough to make him skip his own class just to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Just—wait here for one second,” he told him, and Jisung nodded obediently.
Minho rushed back over to the table where Hyunjin was giving him the biggest smirk.
“What on earth was that about? I thought I was gonna have to break up a fight.”
Minho ignored him, shoving his laptop and everything else into his bag.
“I gotta go,” he said, and Hyunjin chuckled.
“Dude—are you really ditching me for that pretty boy in a skirt?”
Minho glared at him for a moment before a blush spread across his cheeks.
“Yeah—later.”
He ran back towards Jisung, who was standing there waiting for him patiently, twirling his pretty skirt back and forth with a smile on his lips.
“Well, don’t forget about early practice today!” Hyunjin yelled after him, and was immediately met with at least ten shushes from the people around him.
Jisung chuckled. “I think he and Felix would get along really well.”
Minho smiled, his heart racing again as he stepped up to him.
“Ready?”
“I guess,” he shrugged. “You wanna hold my hand, too?”
It was just a joke, because he turned immediately and headed for the doors, but Minho would’ve if he’d meant it.
Minho was also aware of the people staring at them as they walked across campus. To be fair, he was used to it, but now he could see them whispering as he walked closer to Jisung, who had slightly skipped ahead.
“Have you heard the rumors?” Jisung asked suddenly, looking over his shoulder.
“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry about that.”
Jisung chuckled. “Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault people gossip.”
Minho knew it wasn’t, but it definitely didn’t help that everyone loved to be in his business—and he’d dragged Jisung right into it that evening by bashing that guy’s head off the fridge.
“Besides, I’m used to shitty rumors.”
Minho looked at him carefully. “What do you mean?”
Jisung twirled his skirt again, and Minho needed to force himself not to look or else he’d get distracted.
“Well, you know I transferred this year, right?”
Minho shook his head. He didn’t know that. He hated that he didn’t know anything about him. He wanted that to change.
“Yeah—well, a rumor made one of the spotters on my old team drop me during practice on purpose,” he said, and Minho’s eyes went wide.
“Seriously?”
Jisung nodded. “I can’t actually prove she dropped me on purpose, but she’d never dropped anyone before. And the rumor was that I slept with her boyfriend—which wasn’t even true.”
Minho’s hands tightened on his bag straps.
“I missed the entire season because I got hurt. And I love cheering,” he continued, a small frown on his pretty face. “Then everyone on the team took her side, and all my friends turned on me, so I decided to leave.”
The anger boiled in Minho’s stomach, bubbling up into his throat and making his words come out hot and seething.
“They’re fucking stupid assholes, then.”
Jisung chuckled again. “Yeah, I agree.”
Minho was just happy a smile returned to his pretty face.
“It just sucks that I can’t seem to shake a rumor. My friend from my old college said it was because I was too easy—so maybe that’s true.”
Minho gripped his elbow, bringing them to a stop. “Don’t say that.”
Jisung shrugged. “It’s okay. I am easy. Some guy calls me pretty and I’m done for,” he admitted, a soft, embarrassed blush on his cheeks. “But…I like hearing it. So that’s why I was talking to that guy in the library, and why I was gonna let those guys from the party do what they wanted.”
Minho’s grip tightened on his arm, thinking about that night again. The image of Jisung being used by those guys made every single nerve in his body burn with rage.
Jisung sighed. “Anyway—that was totally TMI—”
“If you want someone to call you pretty, then I’ll tell you,” Minho blurted out.
Jisung just stared at him, blinking over and over. “What?”
“I’ll tell you every day.”
Minho was definitely out of his mind, but he meant it.
“Just come to me, and I’ll tell you.”
Jisung flushed even darker, hiding his burning face with his hand.
“Are you…are you crazy?” he asked with a slight chuckle at the end.
He was totally crazy. But he didn’t care.
“I mean it. Fuck those other guys—don’t talk to them. Come to me.”
He let go of Jisung’s arm to brush his hair out of his face. He wasn’t wearing those pretty green clips like he usually did with his uniform, so his bangs fell in his eyes.
Minho’s heart pounded, especially when Jisung blinked at him with those wide, pretty eyes.
“Okay,” he whispered, his tone obedient, and Minho felt something stir in his stomach.
He had to pull back when he realized people around them were actually staring.
“I’m going to be late,” Jisung said, glancing away awkwardly.
Minho cleared his throat. “Let’s go, then.”
He started to walk again towards the buildings, and he heard Jisung jog behind him to catch up.
It was quiet between them, but honestly, he wasn’t expecting Jisung to say anything after he’d said those crazy words. And Minho’s heart was too busy choking him to get anything out.
They reached the building Jisung had class in, and Minho felt ridiculous for being disappointed that he had to leave.
“I guess…I’ll see you later?” Jisung said.
All Minho could do was nod.
Jisung smiled and started walking towards the door, but as he reached it, he paused and turned on his heel.
“Minho?” There was a bright blush on his cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“I want you to tell me now,” he murmured, blinking at him again with those big, round eyes.
Minho’s breath hitched as Jisung gripped the bottom of his skirt, looking shy as he bit his lip.
He couldn’t let his words get trapped this time. So he stepped closer, and he probably didn’t need to cup his cheek, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out.
“You look really fucking pretty today,” he said softly, and Jisung’s eyelids fluttered.
“So pretty you couldn’t keep your hands off me?” he said with a small smirk.
“I’m sorry,” Minho winced, apologizing again.
“You don’t have to be.”
He wanted to tell him he couldn’t help but wrap his hands around that tiny waist of his. He wanted to tell him he wanted to wring that guy’s neck for even taking one look at him. He wanted to tell him that his pretty skirt made him lose all his rationality, that he kept thinking about his soft-looking thighs, wanting to trail his fingers under the fabric so badly. But he bit his tongue.
Minho clenched his jaw, noticing that people were staring again. To be fair, they were blocking the entrance.
“Do you have practice later?” Minho asked, knowing he had to let him go, but needing to know when he’d see him again.
“We have off today.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, we do tomorrow,” he said, his smirk widening.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Jisung nodded with the sweetest smile, and Minho had to clench his fists at his sides to let him go. He tried not to stare at his ass as he skipped away, but that pretty skirt was driving him insane.
When Jisung disappeared into the building, Minho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tilting his head back and letting it out towards the sky.
He was supposed to be in class. Oh well—skipping was worth it.
Jisung had spent the last two nights dreaming about Minho. His soft voice and gentle touch made him roll around in his bed like a lovesick schoolgirl.
But he was so hot, and the way he’d looked so jealous at the library the other day was driving him absolutely crazy. The first time he’d jumped in, he’d thought he just felt bad for him or something—that he was a nice guy, not wanting Jisung to get taken advantage of by a bunch of jocks, and that was it. Now, after doing it again, calling him pretty, and practically telling him to stop talking to other men, his body buzzed with excitement.
The rumors on campus kept spreading, especially since they’d been seen together now. He didn’t particularly like the glares and stares he was getting, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
There wasn’t anything going on between them—they barely even knew each other. Minho didn’t like him or anything. They both just thought the other was attractive, and Minho wasn’t shy about admitting he thought Jisung was pretty.
And Jisung craved the attention—whether that was pathetic or not didn’t really matter to him.
He wore one of his favorite skirts to practice—short, tight around the waist, and a pretty dark red. He wanted Minho to notice him again, so he put pretty red sparkles on his cheeks and wore a white crop top, hoping he’d attract a glance.
The football players had been working hard since they arrived. Minho was focused, throwing passes to his friend Hyunjin downfield.
He had said he’d see him today, so Jisung was hoping that when practice was over, Minho would jog over to the track again.
“Look at you, pretty boy,” Felix said, poking his cheek.
“Hi, Lix.”
Seungmin walked over with him. “Trying to impress someone?” he asked, smirking widely.
“And would this someone happen to be the football captain?” Felix added.
“Maybe,” he mumbled.
“What happened to the no football players rule?”
Jisung shrugged. The rule was still in place, but maybe he was bending it just a little.
Felix slapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh my god, so are the rumors true?”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “What have you heard this time?”
“That Minho almost beat up another guy talking to you in the library,” Seungmin said, stretching his sides as they warmed up.
“He wasn’t going to beat him up,” he grumbled. God, he hated rumors—even though Minho did have a terrifying look in his eye that day. But Jisung found it hot.
“But it’s true that you were talking to another guy and Minho butted in?” Felix asked, and Jisung wasn’t sure why he sounded so damn excited.
“Yeah—I guess that’s true,” he shrugged.
“Oh, he wants you so bad,” Felix teased, tickling his sides. “And here you are dressing up so pretty for him.”
Jisung pushed his hands off. “I didn’t…dress up for him.”
“You’re wearing glitter to practice, and I know that’s the cutest little skirt you own, and you’re gonna try to tell me you’re not trying to impress him?” Felix asked, clearly not buying his lie.
“He probably won’t notice anyway,” he muttered, twirling the edge of his skirt.
Honestly, part of him was terrified to even try to get his attention. If Minho didn’t notice the effort he put in today, prettying himself just for him, he would die of embarrassment.
“You look really pretty,” Seungmin said, patting the top of his head with a smile. “He’ll notice.”
Jisung’s heart swelled, knowing Seungmin would only say those kinds of things when he knew Jisung was doubting himself.
“You look hot, Jisung. Seriously, he’s probably gonna come running over here again,” Felix teased, elbowing him gently.
Jisung flushed. He really hoped he would come over after practice ended. He desperately needed to hear him say he was pretty again—even if that was pathetic.
“Where’s Jeongin?” Jisung asked, wanting to change the subject.
“He’s out today. Stomach pains,” Seungmin told him.
Jeongin was one of his bases, and without him, they’d need someone to cover during his stunts.
“I can catch you for practice,” Felix said, and Jisung nodded. He was definitely picky about who caught him, still a little traumatized from his last team and his season-ending injury. But he trusted Felix more than anyone else.
After warmups and a quick run-through of their routine, they were ready to practice stunts.
Jisung hadn’t noticed if Minho had glanced over yet, but he hoped he would watch as he was twirled into the air. He wanted those intense eyes on his body, wanting him to think he was pretty—so fucking badly.
But he didn’t have the chance to look again as Seungmin and Felix called his name.
He jogged over and took a deep breath. He loved this part of cheering, but he hated that his past injury caused him a bit of anxiety. He could still remember the pain as his leg bent in a way it wasn’t supposed to.
“Ready?” Seungmin asked. And he was—he was ready to feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he was hoisted into the air.
As he twirled up perfectly into position, he caught those familiar eyes from across the field. Seungmin and Felix held him steady, but Jisung was now completely distracted. Minho was staring at him, his eyes intense, and even from afar, he could feel them burning into his skin. And Jisung’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed him lick his lips.
The next thing he knew, he was falling, arms trying to grab him before he hit the ground.
It was completely ungraceful as his ass smacked the field.
“Oh, shit—” Felix swore. “You okay?”
He’d cushioned his fall pretty well, ending up with only a slightly sore ass. He would live. But his heart was racing, and he struggled to breathe, terrified as another panic attack hit him after he fell out of his stunt.
He heard his name being yelled from across the field, but it was muffled by his anxious breaths.
“Jisung, you good?” Felix asked, kneeling next to him.
“Yeah—yeah,” he said quickly. He was fine. He was just having a moment.
“Hey—is he okay?”
Minho.
Jisung looked up, and Minho’s sweaty hair was pushed back, with a helmet mark on his forehead.
“We broke his fall. He’s fine,” Felix told him.
This wasn’t the first time he’d fallen. Felix had even suggested switching from flyer to base, but Jisung didn’t want to give up being a flyer. He loved it so much—even if just the thought of falling terrified him now.
Minho knelt down on his other side, eyes wide with worry.
“Hey, are you okay?” His voice was so soft that Jisung’s insides melted. Minho placed a soft hand on his knee, and his touch was so warm it felt like his skin started on fire.
He was totally fine. But he grabbed his ankle with a wince.
“I think I hurt my ankle,” he mumbled.
Minho blinked at him, extremely worried.
“Here, let me see,” he said, gently moving his hand down to where Jisung was gripping his leg.
His heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest as Minho touched him, fingers so light that it almost tickled.
“It looks a little swollen,” Minho said, thumb brushing carefully over his skin. “Can you walk?”
Jisung shrugged, and when he tried to stand, he wobbled. Minho immediately caught him, strong hands under his arms, lifting him easily.
Behind him, he could see Felix’s knowing smirk and Seungmin’s narrowed eyes.
“It hurts,” Jisung whimpered, not putting any weight on it.
“You didn’t even fall on your—”
“We should get some ice on it,” Minho said before Seungmin could finish his sentence. “We have some in the locker room.”
“I don’t think I can walk there,” Jisung told him, blinking at him with the biggest eyes he could muster up.
“Come here,” Minho whispered, hooking an arm under his knees and lifting him effortlessly.
Jisung quickly wrapped his arms around his neck, the smell of Minho’s cologne and sweat driving him fucking crazy. He was so close to him, hanging on desperately as he carried him off the field.
Over his shoulder, he saw Felix shaking his head with a wide smile while Seungmin rolled his eyes.
“You’re such a faker,” Seungmin mouthed as Felix gave him two thumbs up.
He stuck his tongue out at him—he was one hundred percent faking—but he wanted Minho to take care of him, desperate for his attention.
Minho carried him across the field, ignoring the whistles and calls from his friends.
After they entered the locker room, Minho placed him on a table, his legs dangling off the edge.
“One second,” he said, running a hand through his hot, messy hair before jogging over to the cooler. He pulled out an ice pack, wrapping it in a towel before rushing back over.
He knelt in front of him, and Jisung’s heart raced when he gently touched his ankle. He winced for good measure, really playing it up.
“Does it hurt that bad?” he asked, his worried tone back.
Jisung shook his head. “It’s better now with some ice.”
Minho nodded, and Jisung thought he might actually die with him kneeling between his legs like that. He knew if Minho glanced up, he would see the skin of his thighs hidden beneath his skirt.
But Minho’s eyes were locked with his.
“You should be more careful,” Minho whispered, and Jisung couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Me? What about you?”
Minho raised an eyebrow at him. “What about me?”
“You’re the one getting bulldozed to the ground every single game by those big guys.”
Minho smiled. “Yeah, but I’m wearing a helmet and padding—and you’re smaller than me. You look like you’d break easily.”
His hand slid a little higher up his leg to his knee, and Jisung’s blood raced through his veins.
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“Are you?” he teased with a smirk.
Jisung nodded. “I can take it,” he told him.
Minho bit his tongue between his teeth.
“I’m sure,” he whispered, standing up and leaning in closer. “But you should still be more careful.”
He reached up and brushed his hair back behind his ear, and Jisung struggled to catch his breath.
“Worried about me again?” he smiled, trying to keep his voice steady as Minho touched him gently.
“I guess I am,” he admitted, and Jisung didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to his lips.
“Then you should catch me if I fall,” he murmured, heart lodged in his throat as he leaned in closer too.
Jisung could see the redness on Minho’s cheeks and the bob of his throat.
“I won’t let you fall,” he declared, making Jisung chuckle.
“How sweet of you.”
Jisung bit his lip when Minho’s hand slid up to his thigh, his skin just as hot as when he’d touched his ankle earlier.
“I was looking at your pretty skirt before you fell,” he said.
Jisung’s heart pounded as his fingers crept up his thigh.
“You were?”
“Yeah. You look really pretty today.”
“Do I?” he asked again, needing more of his words desperately.
Minho nodded. “Did you wear it just for me?”
Jisung’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head at his sultry tone.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, not wanting to outright admit it, but wanting him to know that yes, he did dress up all pretty for him.
Minho smirked—even if Jisung denied it, he knew the truth.
“Can I tell you what else I was thinking?”
Jisung sucked in a sharp breath. “Y-Yeah.”
“I was thinking your pretty thighs would be so soft—and I was right,” he murmured in his ear.
Jisung’s entire body melted. “Fuck,” he whispered, goosebumps rising all over his skin.
Minho slipped his other arm around his waist, pulling him in even closer, and Jisung was seconds away from passing out.
“You’re so fucking pretty, it’s driving me insane.”
Jisung couldn’t believe he actually just whimpered.
“You like being pretty for me, don’t you, baby?”
Jisung nodded desperately, too embarrassed to find his words. But that wasn’t good enough for Minho.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
Jisung whimpered again. He was so damn easy, and Minho knew just what to say to make him go stupid.
“I—I like being pretty for you,” he whined, getting as close to him as he could. Just one push forward and their lips would connect. But Minho held back, muscles straining in his neck.
“Yeah, you fucking do.”
Jisung whined louder, grabbing onto the front of his jersey.
“Minho,” he said, his tone so pathetic.
“What do you want, pretty boy?”
Pretty boy. Holy fuck, he was gonna lose his mind.
“You—please,” he begged.
“Tell me exactly what you want me to do for you.”
At this point, Jisung would let him do anything—even though they were in the football team’s locker room.
“Kiss me, touch me, something, anything. I—”
Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, Minho threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. As he let out a groan, Minho slammed their lips together, wasting no time slipping his tongue into his mouth.
The pathetic whine that left Jisung’s lips was devoured instantly. Minho tightened his grip around his waist, sliding him to the edge of the table and pressing their bodies together. There was no space between them as he kissed him deeper, tongues sliding together desperately.
Jisung had no idea what to do with his hands. He wanted to grab and pull him even closer, but he was pretty sure they were already as close as they could get. He clutched Minho’s jersey so tightly he honestly thought he might rip it.
Minho’s touch on his waist was sending him into a spiral.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Minho groaned against his lips before kissing him even harder, bruising his lips from the force and desperation.
Jisung whimpered again when the hand on his waist slid between his legs. Minho’s grip curled tightly around the inside of his thigh, and Jisung knew the strength in his fingertips would leave marks—but he fucking loved it. The thought of little bruises from Minho’s touch, branding him as his, only made him whimper louder.
“Sorry,” Minho whispered suddenly, loosening his grip on his thigh. “I’m being too rough.”
“No—no, it’s okay,” Jisung breathed out desperately. “I’m not delicate—you can be rough with me.”
A clipped breath left Minho’s chest. “Fuck.”
“If that’s how you like it—I told you, I can take it.”
He was acting so fucking pathetic, letting him do anything he wanted.
Jisung gasped when Minho gripped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“I want to know how you like it,” Minho said, his tone serious.
Jisung swallowed nervously. “I like it however you like it. I—I want you to use me.”
Minho’s eyes rolled back, tongue pressing hard to the roof of his mouth.
“You’ll give me whatever I want?”
Jisung nodded so desperately, so pathetically—and he felt like a total slut, but he didn’t even care.
“Even if I break this small, pretty body of yours?”
Another whimper left his lips—he wanted that so badly. Whatever Minho wanted to give him, he would gladly take.
“You’d let me fuck you here like this? Flip you over, pull down that pretty skirt, and fuck your pretty little ass right here?”
Minho’s words were driving him crazy.
“Yes…anything,” he breathed out. “I’ll take it.”
Minho chuckled, brushing his thumb across Jisung’s bottom lip.
“You just want to be a good boy, don’t you?”
Jisung’s heart was racing.
“That’s what you want—you want to please me. To be good for me. You want to be praised for being so good, letting me do whatever I want, as long as you’re told how fucking pretty and good you are.”
Maybe he was just that easy to read, or maybe Minho simply knew how to read him. Either way, he was right. That was exactly what he wanted.
“Tell me, baby—you wanna be my good, pretty boy?”
Tears pricked at his eyes. He needed it so fucking badly.
“I-I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” he mumbled, mind starting to get hazy.
Minho smirked, pressing their lips together again. Jisung whimpered pathetically, wrapping his arms around his neck as Minho pulled him closer.
“Then you come to me, and only me,” Minho growled suddenly. “No one else. I better not see you talking to another guy who looks at you like that again.”
A few tears slipped past his eyes. He hated the disappointment in Minho’s tone—and he’d do anything to change it.
“I won’t, Minho,” he rushed out, nodding quickly. “I promise, I won’t.”
As long as Minho made him feel like this, then he wouldn’t need anyone else. His heart had never raced like this before. His body had never felt this hot. He’d never felt so desperate.
Minho’s smirk widened, his eyes lidded with lust. “That’s my good boy.”
Jisung’s breath hitched when Minho kissed him as deeply as he could, both hands sliding up his thighs and bunching up his skirt until his bare skin showed.
He knew this was insane—they were supposed to be at practice. But he couldn’t stop his desperate need for him, threading his fingers through Minho’s hair as they devoured each other.
Minho’s hands gripped his thighs again, squeezing tightly before forcing them open. When his palm pressed against his cock, Jisung let out a loud moan.
“Fuck,” Minho whispered, and Jisung felt dizzy.
He teased the tip behind the fabric. “You’re so wet—that’s so fucking hot.”
Jisung knew that was embarrassing—his cock leaking so much that his skirt was probably damp, soaking through the spandex underneath.
“You keep…saying things…that’s why…” he mumbled, biting his lip and averting his gaze.
“Don’t be shy,” Minho whispered. He kissed his neck, making Jisung whimper again. “You’re pretty like this—so desperate for me.”
That was true—he was desperate. So desperate that he spread his legs even wider.
Minho groaned when Jisung pressed their lips together so hard he almost bumped their teeth. But he didn’t care—he needed his mouth, the taste of his tongue, devouring him until he couldn’t get enough.
His body was so warm, he thought he was going to melt.
“Take—my spandex off—but I want my skirt on,” he begged between kisses.
“Jesus fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he growled, kissing him deeper. “You’re really gonna let me fuck you right here?”
Jisung bit his lip with a nod. “I wore my prettiest skirt for you today. You should fuck me with it on.”
Something in Minho must have snapped, because his cheeks flushed bright red, and he slammed their lips together again.
But before Minho could dip his fingers into the waistband of Jisung’s spandex, the door to the locker room creaked open.
“Minho? Yo, are you in—oh.”
Jisung immediately yanked his skirt down, and Minho quickly stepped away from him. Both of them were breathing heavily with flushed cheeks and messy hair. Even if they’d pulled away from each other fast enough, their appearances made it incredibly obvious as to what they’d been doing.
“Whoops—sorry to interrupt. I didn’t know you two were fucking in he—”
“What do you want, Hyunjin?” Minho snapped, wiping his bottom lip where Jisung’s tongue had licked over it just seconds ago.
“Well, coach was wondering when you were coming back to practice—but I can tell him you’re busy if you want,” he said with a smirk.
Minho took a deep breath, running a stressed hand through his hair.
Hyunjin smiled widely, looking over Minho’s shoulder at him. “Hi, Jisung. I’m Hyunjin—I don’t think we’ve formally met yet.”
Jisung flushed even deeper, giving him a small wave before flicking his eyes away. “Hi.”
This was totally embarrassing.
“I think it’s safe to assume you didn’t get hurt too bad if Minho’s eating you up and pushing you around like—”
“Get out. I’ll be out in a minute,” Minho growled at him, making Hyunjin chuckle.
“My sincerest apologies for barging in. I’ll make sure to knock next time,” he said sarcastically.
He jogged back to the door to leave, but not before looking over his shoulder. “But seriously—if you guys wanna fuck, I can tell coach you’re taking a shit or—”
“Hyunjin, I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t shut up and get out.”
Jisung had to bite back a laugh, especially after Hyunjin let out a short chuckle.
“Alright, alright,” he said, giving a wave before he left the room.
It was awkwardly quiet between them as they both took a minute to calm down. The ice pack Minho had wrapped and placed on his ankle had hit the ground at some point during their heated moment.
Jisung fixed his skirt and moved to get off the table. Minho quickly grabbed his waist, helping him carefully to the floor.
“Thanks,” Jisung mumbled, remembering to play it up a little as he limped slightly. There was no way he was going to admit he’d faked an injury just so Minho would give him attention and carry him back to the locker room.
He was embarrassed enough right now.
He couldn’t believe his friend walked in on them, seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let Minho fuck him in the middle of the damn locker room.
But the way Minho called him pretty left his head empty, with nothing but his sweet words. And every time he called him a good boy, his mind would get hazier and hazier.
“I’m sorry about him,” Minho said. “And I’m sorry for…I shouldn’t have acted like that.”
He was always apologizing. He was too sweet, really.
“I’m sorry, too. I was…that was probably too much. I was kinda…out of my mind.”
If Minho hadn’t thought he was a whore before, he definitely thought he was now. He was about to let him bend him over some shitty table in a sweaty locker room, begging him to fuck him with his skirt around his hips—all just to hear him praise him for it.
He blushed, and usually he wouldn’t care, but he was constantly embarrassing himself in front of him—this hot guy, who he said he wasn’t going to get involved with. But here he was, with swollen lips and red little fingerprint marks on his thighs.
“It wasn’t—I would’ve—if Hyunjin didn’t—I mean…” He trailed off with a soft sigh, clearly struggling with his words.
The awkward quiet settled over them again, and Jisung knew they both needed to get back to practice.
“We should probably…”
“Yeah—yeah, we should—get back,” Minho said, completely flustered. That made Jisung feel a little better, knowing he wasn’t the only one affected.
Minho’s hands were still on his waist, and Jisung tried to play it cool instead of completely melting into his firm touch.
“Can you walk?” Minho asked.
Jisung gave him a soft smile as he picked up the ice pack from the floor. “I think so—it feels a lot better already.”
Minho looked relieved, and Jisung’s heart fluttered.
Too fucking sweet.
“Then come on,” Minho said, taking Jisung’s hand and leading him out of the locker room.
He wished his pulse would slow down. He felt like he was going to pass out and tumble to the ground again, which wouldn’t help in the slightest. His touch was so much different than it had been a few minutes ago—soft, gentle, and sweet compared to rough, heavy, and hot.
If Jisung wasn’t careful, he’d absolutely fall for him. But he couldn’t fall for the hottest guy on campus, and the star quarterback. There was no way he could have a crush on the football team’s captain. Besides, football players were liars and bad news. It was better to stay away from him, because the rumors would only get worse. And there was no way he would risk not cheering again.
But every single day, he was pulled in deeper. Those intense eyes, sweet words, gorgeous body, and beautiful face made it difficult to convince himself that this was a bad idea.
Because if Jisung liked one thing in this world, it was a hot guy’s attention—and he’d never liked a hot guy’s attention quite like this before.
Minho walked him back to the track where his teammates were in the middle of their dance routine. He let go of his hand, and Jisung could tell he was reluctant by the way he clenched his fist at his side.
“So…” Minho mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Jisung thought it was really sweet how flushed his cheeks still were.
“Minho! Let’s go!” His coach yelled from the field, making Minho wince.
Jisung had to get going too, especially when he heard their routine music end.
“I’ll see you on campus?” Jisung asked, unsure what else to say.
Minho nodded. “The library. I’ll be in the library.”
Jisung smiled, giving him a small wave as Minho backpedaled for a moment before turning to jog back to his team. He watched as he put his helmet back on, his teammates pushing and punching his shoulders with teasing grins on their faces.
Jisung sighed and walked back to where Felix and Seungmin were taking a water break on the track.
“Well, look who it is—you big faker,” Seungmin said, lightly kicking his thigh.
“Sue me for wanting a hot guy to dote on me,” he shrugged
“Oh my god, the way he ran over here instantly,” Felix said, fanning himself. “Please tell me you let him kiss you better.”
Jisung bit his lip, and Felix’s jaw almost hit the ground.
“Spill. Right now!”
“We kissed,” he admitted. “And…if his teammate hadn’t walked in on us…we might’ve done more.”
Felix smacked his shoulder over and over, and even Seungmin looked shocked.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! I knew he was into you—did you make the first move, or did he? Tell me everything.”
There was no way Felix would let him leave anything out, and even if Seungmin liked to pretend he wasn’t interested, his curious ear was definitely tuned in.
“I guess…he did.” He kept calling him pretty, and the next thing he knew, Minho had pressed their mouths together.
Felix practically screamed when he told him the rest, having to slap a hand over his mouth so people would stop staring.
“So are you gonna date him?” Felix asked then.
Jisung was surprised by his question. He hadn’t even been thinking about that. Usually he just fucked guys who were interested in him—they never wanted to date.
“I don’t think so. He probably just wants to fuck me.”
That wouldn’t have been anything new. He was used to guys just wanting sex from him—and it worked out, because he liked sex. And Minho was a football player—and those guys were always assholes.
“Well, you should be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt by this guy. He has a rep for ghosting people,” Seungmin said, and Felix smacked his shoulder aggressively.
“Ow! What?”
“Don’t be a dick,” Felix glared at him.
“I’m not! I’m just worried,” he grumbled, glancing over at Jisung. “Look, I don’t want you wanting more from this guy and then him just ditching you. And if I have to be the voice of reason here, I will.”
Jisung gave them both a soft smile. They were sweet for worrying about him. But he had it under control. If Minho just wanted to fuck him, then he was fine with that. As long as he got the attention he desired, then that was all he cared about. And when he decided he didn’t want to give it to him anymore, then Jisung would just find another hot guy.
Even though finding someone hotter than Minho was going to be borderline impossible.
“I’ll be careful. I promise,” he said, letting him know he really didn’t have to worry about him.
Seungmin let out a small sigh, and Felix gave a tiny pout.
“I think he likes you. There’s no way he’s stealing you away from other guys, looking at you the way he does, and totally ditching in the middle of practice because he’s worried you hurt yourself, just to fuck you.”
Seungmin shrugged, and honestly, so did Jisung. Who knew what Minho was feeling? Besides, lust could make people do crazy things.
But Jisung knew one thing for sure—Minho made him feel absolutely insane. And he definitely needed to kiss him again.
“We should get back to practice,” Jisung said, needing to move on before he started thinking about the way Minho kissed him, touched his thighs, whispered in his ear…
Felix let out a deep sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled.
“Come on. Let’s run through the routine again with Jisung here,” Seungmin said, and Jisung was thankful for the suggestion.
As the music started and he got into position, he had to remember to favor his ankle a little, because as he danced, he could feel Minho’s eyes on him.
And maybe he twirled and lifted his skirt a bit more than usual, revealing his marked-up thighs, just for him to see.