Chapter Text
The hospital rose over Jisung like a storm cloud, greying the world around him and leaving him quaking in nervous anticipation. This was it. Once he walked in and made it to his surgery, there was no more turning back. He would be completely out of love with Minho. He might not even remember Minho at all. There would be no more cuddling during movie nights, no more late night phone calls under a tent of blankets so the others didn’t hear him, no more holding Minho’s hand when his anxiety became too much to handle. They’d have to rebuild from the ground up. And it would never be the same. Part of him wished that he’d accepted Chan’s offer to take the day off and stay with him, but there was a good bit of work that needed to be done in the studio that day and he really didn’t want to leave Changbin to take care of it all alone. Besides, Felix and Seungmin had offered to come by and stay with him after it was over. So he was just alone until he woke up.
After it was all over.
After any chance he had with Minho had dissipated like rain evaporating on a summer’s day.
Did he regret it? Regret not take a chance? Not at least considering confessing?
There was a part of him - a little, nagging thing at the base of his skull - that was screaming at him not to go in. To call and cancel the surgery and text Chan to come pick him up and take him to work. To run to Minho’s house and curl up in his bed and disappear into everything Minho. It told him that maybe all his friends were right. That maybe Minho did love him back. That he should have at least attempted to talk to him about everything. That maybe it was all a huge mistake.
But that was just part of him. So he couldn’t actually say he regretted it.
He’d had Chan drop him off early. His anxiety had been itching through his body in a way that made it impossible for him to sit still and do nothing, so he’d left long before he’d needed to. Now he had nothing to do and far too much free time. He could go, check in, and settle down on his phone until it was time, he thought. Or he could take a walk around the area, get some energy out before having to face his fate. It was better than just pacing in front of the doors like he was currently doing.
“Jisung.”
He froze, somebody leaving the hospital almost running into him as he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
How many times was this exact situation going to happen? How many times was the universe going to force him to come face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see?
He turned on his heel, slowly, facing the parking lot behind him. Minho stared blankly at him, hair beautifully ruffled in the light breeze, hands shoved in the pockets of his dark coat. It was like some sort of sick miracle, a divine prank. Only Chan, Seungmin, and Felix had known that he’d changed the date of his surgery, and he’d sworn all three of them to silence.
Minho shouldn’t have known.
He shouldn’t have been there.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?” he asked, voice trembling in the breeze between them.
“I took the day off,” Minho said far too easily, pushing himself from the hood of his car, heading towards the back seat and nodding towards the opposite side, a silent declaration that he expected Jisung to climb in with him. “Chan called me, begging me to talk to you before the surgery. So let’s talk.”
He didn’t have to, he told himself. He could just turn and walk into the hospital and ignore him. Just go in there and call Chan and yell at him for once again meddling after he said he was done. But he knew Chan. Everything he did was what he thought was best for the rest of them. If he kept sending Minho Jisung’s way, it meant that he honestly and whole-heartedly thought that Jisung needed it. That didn’t make it any easier to want to talk to him, though. He didn’t have to.
He didn’t have to.
He opened the car door, climbing inside and finding himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho in the backseat. They sat in awkward silence for a long moment before Minho finally spoke again.
“I’m not here to try and talk you out of this. I want you to get the surgery.”
Jisung didn’t know what else he’d been expecting. Of course that’s why Minho had decided to show up. Chan had probably finally broken and told Minho that it was him that Jisung was in love with. It had probably been his last-ditch effort to try and get one of them confess. One last attempt to try and fix things. Fix them. And Minho, of course, had been disgusted and disturbed to learn that Jisung had been looking at him like that all this time and wanted to be absolutely certain that Jisung lost every ounce of romantic love towards him. Of course. Of fucking course. Why else would Minho be there? What else had he been expecting?
“How long did it take?” Minho asked, his head lolling to the side as he leaned back against the seat, eyes on Jisung. “I mean, to get to the point where you needed surgery. How long?”
Jisung pulled his legs up onto the seat with him, hugging his knees to his chest. Why was he still there? He should have run from the car the second Minho told him to get the surgery. Just bolted into the hospital and escaped.
He coughed.
“About two years. But the doctor did say that my case is more aggressive than normal.”
“Two years,” Minho sighed out. “Good. I have at least two years, then.”
Jisung's heart sank into his guts. Why hadn’t he brought his suppressants with him? He hadn’t thought he’d need them – not that day and not ever again. But he did. He coughed, earth and iron blossoming on his tongue, petals fighting their way between his clenched teeth. Minho noticed, jaw clenching, and handed him a shopping bag to spit them out in. Jisung took it, face heating in shame and embarrassment.
“Alright. So here’s what we’re going to do.” Minho shifted, his back against the door, arm against the headrest, staring Jisung down in that way that always made him listen, even when everything in him was screaming at him not to. “You’re going to go in there and get the surgery. Remove every little piece of whatever sick, undeserving bastard is making you feel like this. They don’t deserve you.”
Wait.
Did he not know?
“Minho, wait. It’s not like that.”
Minho continued on, like he hadn’t even heard Jisung speak. “So you’re going to get rid of every bit of them left in you. Then you’re going to come to me. And I’m going to fill all those empty places left inside of you. And I’m going to spend the next two years or however long it takes convincing you that you should fall in love with me instead. I don’t care if you love me now, Sung. I don’t care how long I have to fight for it. I’m not giving up until I absolutely have to. Because if something’s worth fighting for, I’m going to fight until I get it. And you’re more than worth it.”
Jisung’s ears were ringing, his breath hollow and shallow in his chest in a way that he couldn’t blame on the flowers. All he could do was stare at Minho.
Did he hear what he thought he’d just heard? Because that sounded like –
“That makes it sound like you want me to fall in love with you.”
Minho smiled at him in a way Jisung had never seen before – a small, vulnerable thing, something that he was unused to Minho allowing himself to be around him. “I have for years.”
- a confession.
“But you have Hanahaki,” he stuttered.
“I do,” Minho said, leaning against the window, that little smile flickering like an ember ready to go out. “I told you before, Jisung. You’re unfair. You slept with me while being in love with somebody else. You ran off and left me to deal with that realization by myself. I always wondered if maybe you felt the same. I hoped. I saw the way you looked at me. The way you treated me. And then that night happened. And it felt like everything came crashing down around me. That was when I finally realized that you didn’t love me. Not in the way I love you. And I’ve just been wracking my brain ever since, trying to figure out who it could be. Who you’d be this in love with. Who would even deserve to have you be this in love with them. And I can’t figure it out.”
His words rang too true in Jisung’s ears, his own anxieties mirrored right back at him. “Why did you never say anything?”
“I thought I was obvious,” Minho said. “It’s not like I tried to hide it. I figured that if you felt the same, or ended up feeling the same, you’d come to me. I mean, do you know how long the others have been teasing me about how obvious I am?”
“So you have Hanahaki because of me?” Jisung’s stomach rolled, nausea building as tears pricked at his eyes. He’d been hurting Minho and hadn’t even been aware of it. But, then again, hadn’t Minho been doing the same? Did he blame Minho for it? No. Absolutely not. So would Minho blame him for it? Maybe not.
Minho reached out, gentle, and in the same way he tried to befriend stray cats. His fingers brushed against Jisung’s cheek, wiping away a tear that had yet to fall. “Don’t cry, Sung. I didn’t say that to try and make you feel bad.”
“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered, hiding his face in his knees. “I’m so sorry, Min. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know, Sungie. I know.” Minho placed a hand on his back, firm and grounding in the wake of his distress. “But it’s okay, right? I’ve got at least two years to make you fall for me. I’m pretty confident that I can manage that.”
“No, not that,” Jisung muttered. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Jisung took a deep breath, finally lifting his head. He could breathe again. Fully and completely. There was no tug in his chest, no pain of thorns or vines digging into his expanding diaphragm and lungs. He could breathe for the first time in two years. Air had never felt so good.
“I don’t need the surgery anymore.”
“Wait.” Minho stared at him, blinking rapidly, his lips parted in the way they tended to when he was taken aback by something. “I just said I want you to. Does this person really mean that much to you? I–”
“I’m an idiot. Thank you for putting up with me for so long. It must have been really difficult for you.”
“Sung?” Minho asked, his voice tinged with fear, hands reaching out to grab his shirt.
Jisung shot forward, one hand grabbing onto the front of Minho’s coat, the other tangling into the hair at the nape of Minho’s neck, pulling him forward to meet him halfway.
It wasn’t a great kiss, logistically speaking. Their noses were pushed together awkwardly, their teeth hitting each other painfully, cutting at Jisung’s bottom lip. But it was by far the best kiss Jisung had ever had in his entire twenty-three years of life. It was warm as a summer’s day, precious as a diamond, burning and bright and beautiful. Minho’s lips were chilled and chapped and absolutely perfect against his. And Jisung couldn’t ask for anything better.
Minho froze for only a brief second before taking over, raising his hands and tangling his fingers through Jisung’s hair to keep him close as he pressed Jisung back, moving so that he was half between Jisung’s legs and half on top of him. They moved until Jisung was half-lying on the seats, his shoulders and head awkwardly pressed against the door and window. Not that he really cared when Minho was on top of him like that, kissing him like he could draw all the breath the flowers had stolen from him out from Jisung’s lungs. That was all Jisung needed to live. Minho wanting him. Minho kissing him.
Minho loving him.
Minho fucking loved him.
But then Minho was pulling back and Jisung’s world was crashing around him as his eyes fluttered open and he really looked at him. Minho was staring down at him, dark eyes glinting with awe and tenderness, but also something deep and pained. Like he couldn’t bring himself to believe what was happening, but was on the edge of hoping for it.
Jisung had fucked up. For real this time.
Because what kind of way was that for him to convince someone he was in love with them? Especially someone who already thought that he’d used them for sex?
“I don’t need the surgery,” he whispered before Minho could say anything, pressing his hands against the sides of Minho’s face (whether that was to keep Minho from escaping or just to keep him looking at Jisung with those eyes was beyond him). “Because you just saved me, Min. There wouldn’t be anything for them to take out of me. And even if there was, how could I possibly want to walk in there and get rid of you now?”
Minho just stared at him for a long second. Then two. Then three. And then his eyes widened, blinking down at Jisung owlishly as his ears grew warm under Jisung’s fingers. He pressed his hands to Jisung’s wrists, gripping tight, like he was afraid Jisung would disappear if he let go.
After everything, Jisung thought, that was a valid enough fear.
“Oh,” Minho whispered.
Then again.
“Oh.”
Jisung didn’t mean to laugh. Really, he didn’t. But the whole situation was so absurd and he was such an idiot and he really owed the others an apology and –
Minho’s voice quieted him back down. It was tired and small and timid. Everything Minho normally wasn’t. For a second, it looked like Minho was starting to tear up. “Two years? You’ve been sick for two years because of me?”
“It’s not like you knew,” Jisung whispered back, leaning up to press their foreheads together, eyes fluttering closed at the intimate proximity. “I thought you deserved better. I wanted you to have better. So how could I tell you? How could I ever burden you with the knowledge that I’m this helplessly in love with you?”
“Even if someone better than you somehow existed in this world, I’d still want you.”
“Somehow?” Jisung chuckled.
“Somehow,” Minho repeated, leaning in even closer. “Because it would take an actual miracle for me to think anyone could be any better than you.”
He finally looked at Minho. Really looked. Looked at everything his own anxiety and insecurities had been shielding him from for so long. And it was like he really saw Minho for the first time. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, Felix had told him. And he finally saw it. The softness in Minho’s eyes. The gentle adoration. The borderline worship. The desperate love – like if Jisung were to disappear from his life, everything that was Lee Minho would disappear right alongside him.
How had he missed it for so long?
“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?”
Minho laughed, barely more than a chuckle, his eyes crinkling in the way Jisung adored. “You are. But it’s okay. I love you anyway.”
“Asshole. You could have at least pretended you don’t agree,” Jisung muttered, yanking Minho back down into another kiss. It was softer than their first, Minho actively adjusting himself to make it more comfortable. It was like the clouds at sunrise – soft and pastel and gorgeous. But he wanted more.
More.
So much more.
It was the first time he’d thought he could potentially have Minho in his entirety. Everything he was, everything he could be. And he wanted all of it – this softness, the vulnerability, the controlled desire, the ferality.
God, he wanted the ferality.
“Coward,” he whispered against Minho’s lips when they broke apart. Minho glowered down at him, eyes dark in challenge and confusion, trying to figure out where the word had come from while also demanding that Jisung continue. “We really just confessed and you’re trying to act all cute with me? Can’t even bring yourself to actually claim what’s rightfully yours? Such a shame.”
Minho growled at that, the sounded catching in his throat. “I wanted to at least try being gentle with you, Sung. Are you really going to be a brat about this?”
Jisung offered his most shit-eating grin. “If that’s what it takes for the love of my entire existence to fuck me, yes.”
“Fuck, Jisung,” Minho grit out. And yes, Jisung thought, that was in fact, his end goal. “I’m really trying here to make sure you know that I actually love you and this isn’t just some little trick to get you back in bed with me, so will you shut up for five minutes and let me prove it?”
“I’m well aware,” Jisung said. “But why don’t you make me shut up?”
“You know, I’d normally like to punish you for that,” Minho said, voice low and dark, sending shivers quivering down Jisung’s spine. “But I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t. I’ll actually let you have your way.”
That was easier than Jisung had expected, but that was the joy of acting like a brat immediately after confessing your undying love and curing the love of your life of a practically incurable illness (apparently).
Minho shifted, and Jisung was startled by the sound of a zipper.
“Wait, wait, wait. Are we doing it here?” he sputtered.
Minho looked at him, one brow cocked. “You were the one propositioning me. Are you really turning me down now?”
“No,” he whispered. “I mean, not entirely. Just…we’re in a car. In a public parking lot. At a hospital.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Minho teased. Jisung felt a flare of heat in his gut. “It’s kind of hot, isn’t it?”
“We could get arrested,” Jisung hissed.
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Minho replied cooly. His nonchalance about the whole situation in turn calmed Jisung. That was one of the reasons he loved him. “Unless you actually want to stop for now. If so, just tell me and we will.”
Jisung shook his head, mouth going dry at the thought. Why would he ever want to stop? When Minho was right there, ready and willing and right in front of him? And fucking in love with him? And Minho was right. It was kind of hot. Even though Jisung needed to sit and think about how Minho already knew so much about his kinks and fantasies (or maybe they’d both been poisoned by that stupid game of Never Have I Ever. Damn Hyunjin and his penchant for public sex), he couldn’t deny he was into it. But that could wait until later.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Then you’re going to suck me.”
Jisung wanted that more than anything he’d ever wanted before. He nodded voraciously, Minho laughing at the sheer force behind it. He wanted it so badly that his mouth was watering, his hands grabbing at Minho’s coat to try and pull him in close.
“Hey, you gotta let me go if you want to blow me, Sung.”
But Minho didn’t pull away either, letting himself get pulled back down into Jisung. He fell into him, nosing into Jisung’s neck. Jisung wrapped his arms around the back of Minho’s head and his shoulders, holding him close as he pressed wet, opened mouth kisses against Jisung’s skin, occasionally stopping to suck a mark into his throat. Jisung whined against his ministrations, apparently only serving to egg Minho on. Minho took a deep breath and bit down where Jisung’s neck met his shoulder, his teeth digging into the soft flesh hard enough to make Jisung gasp at it – sharp and deep and perfectly painful (he knew he had some masochistic tendencies in bed, but fucking really?). Minho licked at the wound before untangling Jisung’s arms from around him, pulling back to offer a shit eating grin. Jisung gawked at him, at the spot of crimson on his pink lips that wasn’t there beforehand. A hand flew to his neck, covering the bite, wet against his fingers.
“Did you just make me bleed?”
“You told me to claim what’s mine.”
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on, as much as he wished he could say it didn’t. But Minho didn’t need to be told that. He knew Jisung inside and out, apparently to a point that Jisung himself had never even considered. Minho grinned, loose and feral, and pushed himself back up to a point where he could unbutton his jeans, trying to push them down past his hips. He moved, trying to find a better angle, and winced when he straightened up too much, smacking his head hard against the roof of the car. Jisung laughed as he worked, pushed his head and shoulders against the roof to steady himself as he wiggled his ass to help push his jeans downwards, past his hips, where they clung to his thighs.
“You could help, you know,” Minho said, glaring down at him.
“Could I?” Jisung asked back. He squirmed under Minho’s body, grinding his hips upwards into Minho’s, biting back a moan at the friction of Minho’s hardness against his own. Minho stared down at him, jaw clenched hard, muscles twitching under his skin as he bit back his desire. “Am I helping like this?” Jisung asked. “Cuz I’m kind of stuck right now and I don’t think you’re really keen on moving, are you?”
“Fuck, Sung,” Minho breathed out, running a hand through his hair, thudding against the roof. “It should be illegal for you to do that shit.”
“It kind of is,” Jisung countered. “Public indecency and all.”
Minho pressed down with his hips, grabbing Jisung by the collar as he toppled himself backwards against the opposite door, pulling Jisung right along with him, leaning against his chest. He hissed at the loud thud of his head hitting the window and smacked it in his frustration, knocking a giggle out of Jisung. “I really wanted to be on top,” Minho whispered, “but I’m kind of tired of hitting my head, so I guess you get to take over. To a point.”
“To a point?” Jisung repeated, pulling his legs from under Minho’s body, holding them up awkwardly as he tried to figure out where to put them without accidentally kicking or kneeing Minho. He finally got them on either side of Minho’s legs, straddling him. “I’d like to find out exactly what you mean by that.”
“You will,” Minho said.
He reached between their bodies, fingers hot even through the fabric of Jisung’s shirt as he pushed down the black silken fabric of his boxers before pushing at Jisung’s shoulders, guiding him back until Jisung was eye-to-eye with his crotch. The room had been dark the first time they’d fucked, Jisung suddenly realized. Midnight in a darkened bedroom was a far cry from the middle of the day in a fucking car. Especially a midnight where he was drunk. Which meant that though he’d certainly been fucked by Minho before, but he hadn’t actually taken a good luck at him before. Not in that way. Because he was suddenly looking down at Minho’s dick wondering how the hell it had managed to fit inside him. His breath caught, eyes widening as they flicked up to Minho’s face. Minho stared back down at him and chuckled, lips lifting into a smirk as he stared down at him, chuckling. “Scared, Sung?”
Jisung sputtered, face heating. “What? Scared? Of your dick? Pfft, no. Of course I’m not.”
Minho laughed, full-bodied and gorgeous, his fingers trailing through the strands of Jisung’s hair and leading his head downwards. “Try your best.”
Jisung swallowed hard and nodded, wrapping his hand around the base of Minho’s cock, excitement thrumming through his veins. He wanted. More than he’d ever wanted before. Wanted to make Minho feel good. Wanted to prove to him that he was really in love with him, to prove the depths of his love. He leaned forward, licking at the tip, watching the way Minho’s eyes fluttered, fingers tightening in Jisung’s hair at even the slightest bit of contact. His cheeks were dappled with a flush, the tips of his ears bright pink. Jisung wanted. Wanted to make that blush spread even further, wanted to see just how good Minho was feeling because of him, wanted to do good for him. But those dark eyes were back on him again, looking at him with a mixture of pure, unadulterated lust and soft, gentle devotion. So he took a deep breath and stroked the shaft with one hand, placing the other on Minho’s thigh to steady himself, taking the tip into his mouth. The hefty weight of the head was heavy on his tongue, tasting of salt and skin and dripping precum. Minho’s fingers tightened, a curse dripping from his lips as he tossed his head back, the thud of it against the window echoing throughout the back seat.
Jisung pulled his mouth from Minho’s cock, continuing to stroke it as he did. “You don’t have to hold back, you know.”
“I really think I should,” Minho grit out.
“I can take it.”
“Can you?”
“I’d like to try. You did say I was only on top to a point, after all.”
Minho groaned low in his throat, letting his head loll to the side so he could look down at Jisung more comfortably. “Fine. But don’t forget that you asked for this. Three taps against my leg if you need to stop, got it?” Jisung nodded. “Words, Sung. Use them.”
“Three taps if I need to stop,” Jisung repeated, only slightly annoyed as he tapped his hand against Minho’s thigh three times to prove he knew what he was saying. “I’ve got it.”
Minho’s hands knotted in his hair, pushing him downwards, cock breaching Jisung’s lips again. He opened around the intrusion, blinking up at Minho as he did. Light shined in through the window behind him, filtering through the dark hair fanned across the glass, deep chocolate browns and rustic golds lighting like a halo throughout. An angel, Jisung had thought before. And once again, he was an angel. And Jisung was the lucky guy who got to suck him off. Not just that, he thought as Minho pressed him down farther, his eyes starting to water as he fought against his gag reflex, but he was the lucky guy who was about to get his throat absolutely and thoroughly wrecked by him.
He allowed himself to relax as much as he could, his muscles going pliant under Minho’s touch as he opened his throat up and jaw, letting Minho buck his hips up carefully into his mouth, one hand still in Jisung’s hair, using it as leverage to bob Jisung’s head up and down on his cock, the other gently running over Jisung’s cheekbone in a way that made him want to cry with how loving it was.
You’re doing great, the touch said.
So good. You can stop at any time and I’ll still be satisfied.
You’re so fucking perfect.
Minho moaned as Jisung pressed his tongue flat against the vein on the bottom of his cock, swallowing hard around him to try (fruitlessly) to keep himself from drooling. Saliva slid wet down his chin, only made worse by his coughing around Minho.
“Are you still okay?” Minho asked, easing the pressure on his head so Jisung could slip back up to the head. Jisung couldn’t quite nod from where he still had his lips wrapped around the tip, so he dug his fingers into Minho’s thighs as an answer instead, staring up at him in challenge. He could take it. He could keep taking it. He was fine. “Do you still remember what to do if you need to stop?”
Jisung tapped his thigh three times.
“Alright, good.”
The press was back, Minho pushing Jisung back down his cock, surprising a cough out of him as his throat opened around him. Jisung took a deep breath through his nose, subconsciously trying to push himself back up, only to find himself pushed back down by not only Minho’s hands, but also by the squeeze of his thighs. God it was hot. So hot. It almost made getting choked out by Minho’s cock worth it (actually, scratch that, being choked out by Minho’s cock in general was worth it. What a glorious way to go.) The world reduced down to nothing more than the pressure of Minho’s hands in his hair, the weight of his cock against Jisung’s lips and tongue, the heat of Minho’s thighs on his cheeks, the symphony of Minho’s moans crescendo-ing over Jisung’s little coughs. Nothing mattered but them. But making Minho feel good. The fact that they were both there and they weren’t sick anymore. That was all he needed.
Just as suddenly, the pressure was gone and he was pulled upwards, leg slipping off of the seats and nearly sending him sprawling as Minho surged forward, hands on Jisung’s cheeks. The moment of reprieve, the deep breaths he was finally able to catch up on were broken as Minho slammed their lips together, desperate and all-consuming, nipping at Jisung’s bottom lip until he could taste blood. Which, he was almost terrified to admit, was almost a delicacy compared to the taste of flowers he’d grown accustomed to.
“Min,” he whimpered out when they broke apart again.
Minho hissed a stream of curses under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut. “I know, Baby. I know. I don’t want this to end yet, but it’s too cramped in here.”
Then he was gone, sliding out from under Jisung like it was nothing. Jisung blinked in confusion, unaware of when he’d moved, let alone zipped up his pants, before Minho was in the driver’s seat, yanking on his seatbelt and starting the car. It took a second for Jisung to realize what had happened, to get his bearings back, before he was able to control his limbs again, clamoring over the center console and collapsing in a ragdoll mess in the passenger seat. His face flushed as he tried to pull himself together and back into something resembling a human, buckling himself in as Minho pulled out onto the road, speeding down towards his home.
The drive was quiet, but not as awkward as the last drive with Minho had been, and much faster, despite the further distance. Minho barely gave him a moment to breathe when they came to a stop, going around the car and yanking open the passenger door, pulling Jisung out surprisingly gently by his wrist, dragging him behind him into the house. Seungmin was once again perched in one of the chairs in the living room, typing away on his computer. He glanced up when the door opened, eyes widening as he took them in, slamming his laptop closed on his lap. His eyes raked over Jisung, from the cut on his lip to the bite and marks on his neck. Jisung shuddered under it, flushing as he pressed a hand over his neck to try and hide at least some of what they’d done. “Well, I guess you didn’t go through with the surgery.”
“Are Felix and Jeongin here?” Minho asked.
“They both had prior engagements. I just got back from work myself, actually.”
“Good. Tell them not to come back for a while. And you get out.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t really think I want to be here for what’s about to happen,” Seungmin said, already moving to stand and collect his things. “But where do you suppose I go?”
Minho groaned, rolling his eyes as he yanked Jisung close to his body, hands on his ass. It wasn’t anything new, Jisung thought, but somehow it felt so much more intimate than it ever had before. After a second, Minho huffed in victory, pulling Jisung’s key ring out from his back pocket, tossing it in Seungmin’s direction. “I trust you can text Chan and let him know you’re spending the day over there.”
Seungmin sighed but grabbed the keys, staring at Minho. “And why couldn’t you guys go do your business over in the empty townhouse?”
“I’m more likely to be able to bully you guys into leaving than bully Chan and Changbin into not going home after work,” Minho stated, a brow raising like it was obvious.
Seungmin rolled his eyes as he headed to the door. “Just tell them you’re fucking Hannie and they’ll avoid the place like it’s condemned. But fine. I’ll leave the comfort of my own house only minutes after getting home from dealing with work shit. No big deal. Thanks, Seungmin, you’re an angel. You’re welcome, Minho.”
The door slammed behind him, and before Jisung had time to say anything, or even just laugh at Seungmin’s antics, he was pressed up against the wall, Minho’s mouth on his. Minho kissed him like he was trying to suck in the air from his lungs once again, like if he couldn’t steal Jisung’s breaths, he wouldn’t be able to breathe himself. How, Jisung wondered for a second time, had he missed it for so long? He kissed back, just as desperately dragging Minho’s face closer as Minho’s hands slid down his sides, under his ass and picking him up, Jisung wrapping his legs tight around Minho’s hips in surprise. They didn’t break apart, even as Minho stumbled his way blindly into the bedroom, backing up through the doorway until his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he tumbled back, the air punched from Jisung’s lungs as they landed hard on the bed. But Minho just laughed underneath him despite having taking most of the brunt of the fall, including Jisung falling on top of him (he was pretty sure he’d felt one of his elbows dig into Minho’s gut on the way down, too). But Minho just seemed to be happy that Jisung was on top of him and didn’t care about any of that.
Minho pulled him back down into another kiss, holding him there as he switched between nipping at his lips and licking at the seam of them, until Jisung got the hint and opened for him, Minho swallowing down his moans as he bucked his hips upwards into Jisung’s. He couldn’t move, not with Minho’s hands on his face and his thighs bracketing Jisung’s legs. But he didn’t want to, he thought as he collapsed onto his elbows, falling into Minho. Minho used his hands, still on Jisung’s ass, to hike him upwards on the bed, their crotches rutting together as Minho broke the kiss, saliva hanging like a spider’s thread between their lips. Jisung tried to chase after him, eyes locked on his swollen, kiss-reddened lips as they curved upwards into a smile, a chuckle falling from them as Minho’s hands finally moved, brushing strands of hair from Jisung’s forehead.
“Sungie, if you don’t want me to cum in my pants like an inexperienced teenager, let me take a break.”
“Maybe I want you to,” Jisung breathed out. And when he really thought about it, maybe he did want it. To know that Minho wanted him so bad that he couldn’t control himself, that he couldn’t fend off his own desire any longer. That he had to cum right there, just like that.
“I can’t fuck you if I cum right now,” Minho said, leaning upwards and pressing a chaste, unbearably innocent kiss to Jisung’s cheek. Jisung whined at the words. “So what’s your priority? Watching me need you so badly I’m willing to embarrass myself? Or getting fucked the way you want?”
“Both?” he whined out, knowing that it was just selfish of him to want. “I don’t know, Min. I just wanna feel good.”
“And I’m going to make you feel good,” Minho whispered, his fingers gentle where they spread across Jisung’s cheekbones. “Promise. Gonna make you feel so good, Sung. So just be patient, alright?”
He whined again, but dropped his head into the crook of Minho’s neck and nodded against his sweat-dampened skin. All he wanted was to feel good, to feel like Minho wanted him. To remind himself that this was real. That it meant more this time. That it wasn’t just another drunken fling, but their first time together as…boyfriends? He wasn’t sure if that was the right word for what they were, but they could talk about that later. After he’d been thoroughly fucked.
Minho petted through his hair, chuckling against him, Jisung’s body bouncing slightly with the way his chest shook with it. “Thank you, Baby.”
Minho shuffled out from under him, leaving Jisung flopping face down on the mattress, raising his face to watch as Minho opened the drawer on his nightstand that had so terribly offended Jisung the first time they’d slept together, tossing the bottle of lube over on the bed. He reached back inside, paused, and glanced over his shoulder, brows quirked in something between confusion and concern. “Condom?” he asked. “I know last time you said you didn’t want to use one, but I don’t want to assume.”
“Would you feel more comfortable with one?” Jisung asked in return.
Minho’s face softened, so subtly that Jisung thought for a moment that he’d imagined it. “All I care about is making sure you feel good. So if you don’t want to use a condom, I won’t use one.”
Jisung pouted at him, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “And I want you to feel good. You can be a selfless little angel for me later on, but not during sex. Do you want a condom?”
Minho’s shoulders heaved with a relieved sigh, a smile so soft that it made Jisung feel like he was floating on clouds crossing Minho’s face as he crawled back across the bed, taking Jisung’s face in his hands, looking at him with those eyes that made him feel like he was maybe the most precious thing in the world. “No condom, then. I want to feel all of you.”
They dove back into each other, all tongues and teeth and roaming hands, Jisung surging upwards to chase after that feeling, the heat in his gut and the hazy, dazed fog coating his brain. He wasn’t sure when Minho had readjusted them, but suddenly Jisung was on his back, head on Minho’s plush pillows and Minho hovering over him. He blinked up at him, displeased as the fog started easing in his head, leaving him too aware of himself.
“You’re so perfect,” Minho muttered, so quietly that Jisung wondered if he was even meant to hear or if it was just supposed to be a secret between Minho and the air between them. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
Trying to hide his embarrassment, Jisung grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down into another kiss, searing against his lips. He let him go after a long moment, glaring up at him. “You can sing my praises later. Can we stop being sappy for now and just fuck?”
Minho laughed again, leaning down and pressing his lips to Jisung’s throat, right over the bite mark from earlier, laving over the sore skin there as his hands pushed Jisung’s shirt up. Minho only pulled away long enough to push his coat and shirt off, tossing them blindly over the side of the bed as he pressed back down, lips roaming over Jisung’s chest and abdomen, leaving small, red marks and light bites in their wake. Jisung’s hands pressed into Minho’s hair, silky strands slipping through his fingers as Minho kissed further and further downwards, his kisses lingering just over the waistband of Jisung’s jeans, a knife strike of a smirk scratched across his face. Jisung propped himself on his elbows, watching in awe (when was he not watching Minho in awe, though?) as Minho undid the fly on his pants, easing them and Jisung’s boxers down his legs and tossing them into the void around the bed with the rest of Jisung’s clothing. Again, he felt open and exposed, comforted only by the sheer fact that it was just Minho there. It had been hot the last time, in his drunken haze and with pure lust surging through his veins, but this time, under the new circumstances, he just felt vulnerable. He supposed Minho must have picked up on it, because he pulled back, tossing his shirt off easily. As he began taking his pants off, Jisung swallowed hard and took in the sight before him.
They were all used to seeing each other shirtless. Hell, Chan had a tendency to forget that he didn’t live alone and would walk around the townhouse completely nude. But Minho was generally an exception. Jisung took every single moment he could to appreciate him – the defined muscles of his chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the faint scar across his stomach. Years of dance had done him well, Jisung always thought, and it was a shame that one little scar kept him from showing off more. But that was nothing compared to the sight that greeted him when Minho dropped his pants and boxers, stepping out of them and hovering back over Jisung on the bed. His legs were long and toned, strong muscles rippling under pale skin, his cock still standing hard between them. He pulled Jisung up into him, chest-to-chest, the skin contact hot enough to scorch, Jisung’s blood turning to lava inside of him as their lips touched, Minho leaning them back down into the mattress easily.
He'd found, over the past however long they’d been doing this, that kissing Minho came easily to him. As easily as loving him did. Which meant it was easy as breathing. As easy as existing.
His first instinct was that he was absolutely fucked.
But that wasn’t true, was it? Not anymore.
Because he was finally allowed to want Minho. To love him.
He was allowed.
He was back against the pillows, all soft and comfortable, when Minho pulled him back into himself as he moved away and spread Jisung’s legs, grinning down at him. It was a promise and a sort of threat all rolled into one. His hands were burning hot where they held Jisung’s knees apart, branding his fingerprints into his skin. He dipped down, eyes locked on Jisung’s as the bottom part of his face disappeared below Jisung’s body. He was confused, to say the least, until–
“Shit–” he whimpered out.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit–
Because Minho’s tongue was on him, hot and wet as he licked at Jisung’s hole, tapping his knees in a silent request to keep them where they were before moving his hands down to spread his cheeks apart. His own hands fell to Minho’s head, grasping at his hair, fighting the urge to pull at it as desire and pleasure surged through him, shivering up his spine and jerking his head back. He was already almost painfully hard, dripping precum against his stomach as Minho licked at him, taking little breaks to nip and suck at the flesh of his ass and thighs. The room was stifling, filled with the scent of sex and sweat, his own broken moans and quiet curses echoing off the walls.
He bit back a yelp as Minho’s fingers dug into his skin, pressing him apart as his tongue prodded at the ring of muscles of his ass, pushing inside of him and licking against his insides. Jisung raised one hand from Minho’s hair to his mouth, biting at the flesh under his thumb to try and quiet himself, his eyes screwing shut against the pleasure. Minho’s tongue was moving inside him, fucking into his body and Jisung could honest to god feel himself shaking, like his bones were vibrating under his skin with each movement, with each thrust and lick. His legs tried to squeeze shut, but Minho lifted one hand from Jisung’s ass to shove his knees apart again.
His breaths turned into harsh pants and desperate gasps as Minho kept going, until one of Minho’s hands was on his knee, holding it in place, as the other groped blindly across the bed until it grasped the bottle of lube, pulling it towards him as he finally pulled away. Jisung could faintly hear the bottle’s cap pop, but he was more distracted by Minho’s lips leaving marks up his thighs and hips, kissing onto his stomach, taking a second to lick up the slick line of precum sliding down Jisung’s abdomen, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of his cock.
Then there were fingers inside him, hot and slick and stretching him so good. He whined, high and desperate as Minho worked his fingers in and out of him, continuing to kiss up and down Jisung’s exposed skin – laving his tongue over his nipples, marking his ribcage and collarbone, pressing wet kisses and scraping bites against whatever parts of Jisung’s body he could reach. He fucked into Jisung’s body with two fingers, fast and rough in the way Jisung liked it, but still somehow overwhelmingly loving. It was too much, Jisung thought, as Minho licked up another spurt of precum.
“I’m gonna cum soon, so you might want to hurry and fuck me.”
Minho hummed, the sound vibrating against the sensitive skin of Jisung’s stomach, as he kept kissing against it, muttering into his skin. “I’ll fuck you even if you do cum first. You’d look cute all overstimulated and crying on my dick.” Jisung keened at the words. “But if you really want, we can speed things up. Do you think you can go ahead and take it?”
He nodded voraciously. He didn’t even care if he actually could or not, but he absolutely wanted to.
“Jisung,” Minho said, pulling away from him and staring him down, his voice taking on a serious, no-nonsense quality that he normally only saved for his students. “Do you think you can take it?”
Jisung whined at the distance, squirming at Minho’s two fingers inside of him, begging him to continue moving where they’d stopped. He was starting to hate that Minho knew him so damn well. “Fine. One more finger.”
“Good boy,” Minho purred, adding another finger, continuing to fuck them into him. “So good. How does it feel?” All Jisung could do in response was whine. Minho chuckled at the sound, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Words, Sung.”
“Feels so good,” he panted out around the fingers still pressed to his mouth, his voice muffled against them. “Can’t take it anymore. Want more, hyung. Please.”
He needed to stop talking. If he didn’t, he’d just start babbling. Minho seemed to know, dropping the subject and taking over instead.
“Haven’t even gotten dick inside of you and you’re already so needy. It really shouldn’t have taken me so long to confess. Imagine how much fun we could have been having this entire time.”
He pulled his fingers out. The only thing that kept Jisung from whining at the resulting emptiness was the sound of the lube bottle popping open again and the promise that he was about to have even more inside of him. He focused on deep breaths, relaxing the muscles in his body as Minho lubed himself up before grabbing Jisung by the hips, yanking him down the mattress towards his body, hefting him upwards and balancing on him on his thighs. Minho leaned forward, one hand on the back of Jisung’s neck, holding him in place as he pressed their foreheads together, eyes boring into him as his other hand guided his cock into Jisung, smoothing across heated skin of his ass after he was fully seated, their bodies pressed hip to hip. The feeling of fullness, the push of somebody inside of him, punched a pleased gasp from Jisung’s lungs, his eyes fluttering, only the desire to keep staring into Minho’s eyes keeping them from closing entirely.
“Minho,” he whispered, his voice low and strained. “Has anyone ever told you how good you are at this?”
Minho chuckled, dark eyes sparkling like they held the entire universe inside of them. “It means a lot more coming from you. You’re the only person I want to make feel good.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, the words shooting like a lightning bolt straight to his cock. Minho still wasn’t letting him go, holding his head still against him. “Are you going to move or not?”
“I will,” Minho said, cocking his head slightly to the side, Jisung going cross-eyed as he tried to keep his focus on him. “But I want to cherish this moment. I mean, it’s our first time as us. So give me just a little bit to have this.”
What could he do, he thought, when Minho put it like that? Despite his desperation, the fullness and pressure inside of him, the lava of pleasure already pooling in his stomach, he couldn’t say no to Minho. Maybe that was his biggest sin – his inability to turn Minho down. Minho’s hands cradled his cheeks, kissing at his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids – everything he could reach, feather-light and sweet as sin. It took a long moment before Minho pulled away from him, smiling so fondly that Jisung hurt at the force of it, and crouched back on his haunches.
“Ready?” he asked.
Before Jisung could answer, Minho slid almost all the way out and slammed back into him, knocking the air from his lungs and leaving him scrambling for purchase in the sheets. Minho went in immediately with a ruthless, breakneck pace that punched broken noises – a litany of curses, a chorus of Minho’s name, and incoherent, babbling pleas – out of his throat. His own noises melded with Minho’s soft grunts and his quiet, reckless praises, a constant reminder of how pretty Jisung was underneath him, how good he felt around him, how much Minho loved him, creating a symphony that Jisung wanted to transcribe into his songs. To create something that sounded as beautiful and perfect as they sounded together. Tears dripped down his face, burning hot as the sun as they rolled down his temples, leaving wet spots in the sheets beneath him. Jisung wanted to bottle up the desire and pleasure he was feeling in that moment – the white-hot lava burning in his gut, the lightning surging through his nerves, the complete and total overstimulation he felt through every inch of his being – to hold on to it and keep it dear, to feel it every time he needed it. Or wanted it.
Wanted Minho.
Minho, who was still fucking into him, face reddened with effort, sweat dripping onto Jisung’s chest. Who looked so gorgeous and perfect that for a brief moment, Jisung thought that it was all a dream. Maybe he’d never had Hanahaki at all. Maybe the past two years had all been one long, never-ending dream.
Another hard thrust, this time with Minho smirking down at him as he shifted his angle so that it hit Jisung’s prostate directly, brought Jisung back to earth. His eyes widened at the shock of it, his hands finally leaving the sheets as he flew up, grabbing onto Minho and holding him close as he panted, burying his nails in the skin of Minho’s shoulders. Minho just laughed, settling back and pulling Jisung into his lap, kissing at his neck as he continued thrusting up into him.
“Don’t let your mind wander,” Minho whispered directly into his ear, the roughness of his voice sending shivers down Jisung’s spine. “Don’t think about anything but me until I’m done with you.”
Jisung nodded, burying his face in Minho’s neck. “Just you,” he muttered, voice muffled. “Just you, Minho-hyung.”
Minho exhaled hard, hands clenching into fists on Jisung’s back and hip before spreading back out over his skin, grasping him hard enough to bruise as he bounced Jisung up and down on his cock. “Just like that, Jagi. All you need to think about is me.”
And then Minho was kissing at his neck, biting into him and continuing to bounce him up and down like a toy, his cock caught between their stomachs and rubbing between them. It was too much, all around him, completely surrounded by Minho. So he emptied his head the way Minho wanted him to. All he could think was Minho.
Minho.
Minho.
Minho.
“Gonna cum,” he rasped. Minho kissed his cheek, placing a hand on the back of Jisung’s head, pressing his face into his neck. “Minho, gonna cum.”
“I know,” Minho whispered back, voice tight. “Go ahead, Jagiya. I’ll be right behind you. Promise.”
Jisung panted into Minho’s neck, clawing into the damp skin of his back, brain frozen with the increasing pleasure.
Minho, he thought.
Minho, he needed.
He keened and bit into Minho’s neck to muffle the scream he could feel building in his chest as the pleasure finally chased him over the edge, his vision blanking out entirely as he came hard over their stomachs.
As he came down from the high of his orgasm, he could faintly feel Minho continuing to fuck him, but his senses were hazy and blurred, like it was happening to somebody else entirely. Minho hissed into his ear, exhaling sharp and hot as his hips stuttered, holding Jisung impossibly closer as he finally stilled inside him, filling him with cum.
They panted into each other as they came down, Minho falling forward so that Jisung fell back onto the mattress, resting on top of him for a few seconds before slowly pulling out and turning to lie next to him. Jisung whined at the emptiness, squirming a bit as Minho’s cum leaked from his aching hole, surprisingly sexy but unsurprisingly uncomfortable.
Minho smiled over at him, reaching out to brush Jisung’s bangs from his forehead. “You okay?”
Jisung nodded, flopping over onto his side ungracefully to face Minho, offering him a tired smile. “Perfect. More than perfect.”
Minho chuckled, holding the palm of his hand against Jisung’s cheek. “So…I’m going to need to gag you if we ever do this when there’s somewhere else around, I guess.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Minho hefted himself up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the bedside drawer. As he turned his back to him, Jisung cringed at the reddened scratches and the bleeding marks left by his nails across Minho’s pale shoulders. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. He’d never want to. But Minho didn’t seem to care at all about it, only rolling his shoulders out and grabbing some water and wet wipes from the drawer, like he had the first time.
“I’m going to go grab–” he started, only to freeze and stare at Jisung, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark and worried, his lips parted in concern. A wave of panic wracked through Jisung. Had he done something? Had Minho started regretting it already? Had he realized he’d made a mistake and he wasn’t actually in love with Jisung the way he thought he had even earlier that day?
The realization crashed down onto him.
He had fucked up. Really.
But he could make it better.
“You know,” he started, his voice low and deep. “I could really use a shower right now…if you wanted to join? Then maybe we could grab some fresh sheets, maybe order some food and dessert, and spend the rest of the day cuddling?”
Minho’s face broke into a smile so bright that it could put even Felix’s to shame.
“Yeah. That sounds perfect.”
Jisung grinned back at him and reached over the side of the bed for his jeans, fishing for his phone so he could start ordering food. He was met with a series of unread text messages.
Seungminnie: Congrats. But can you not traumatize me next time? I really don’t want to have to imagine you guys having sex. Ew.
Channie-hyun g: Seungmin texted me, congrats :)
Channie-hyung: Really glad it worked out alright for you guys
Channie-hyung: Like. Really glad.
Hyunjinnie: YOU GUYS WEREN’T ALREADY TOGETHER???
Hyunjinnie: Now I owe Changbin money!
Hyunjinnie: How could you betray me like this???? I thought we were friends!!!
Seungminnie: But really though. I’m really happy for you guys. If Minho-hyung doesn’t take care of you properly, let me know. I’ll take care of it.
Seungminnie: Love you, Hannie. Glad you’re better now. Give Minho-hyung my thanks for curing your ass.
Binnie-hyung: HA!
Binnie-hyung: You just won me ₩100,000
Binnie-hyung: I guess I'll give you some as thanks
Jisung: How do you already know?
Binnie-hyung: We have a group chat dedicated to your relationship :)
Binnie-hyung: Seungmin texted us there
“Jisung?” Minho called out from across the room, staring at him in concern. “Is everything okay?”
“I was just reading some texts,” he replied, pulling himself off the bed and pattering his way after Minho, wincing at the feeling of cum dripping down his thighs. “Let’s go clean up.”
Minho took his hand and smiled at him, squeezing at his hand as he pulled him forward and kissed his forehead, holding him against his chest.
“We should probably tell the others sooner rather than later,” Minho whispered against his hair.
“Don’t worry about that. They already know.”
“Of course they do.”
He wasn’t sure where they stood with each other. They’d never been the type to put any sort of label on their relationships. ‘Friend,’ ‘best friend,’ ‘soulmate’ – all those terms had always felt applicable, but were somehow both too soft and too strong. Where did that leave them after their confessions? Calling each other boyfriend also felt too weak, but it also felt right. Like it had always meant to be. But maybe, he considered, there was no need to label things between them. Whether they called themselves boyfriends or soulmates or anything else, they were still Jisung and Minho. And that was all they needed.