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Nobody had ever made Minho feel this way—and if he were being honest, he'd never really expected anyone to.
He'd had his fair share of kisses throughout high school and the first years of college, but the way Jisung's lips moved against his sent his mind spinning and thoughts spiraling in directions he couldn't even decipher.
"Cute."
That made his head spin, too. Almost everything that came out of Jisung's mouth, everything he did ever since they shifted from just friends to this, caught Minho off guard. And, well, being off guard wasn't like Minho at all.
He couldn't help it, though, not when Jisung had him in his lap, holding him close, nearly suffocating him with kisses (in the best way). He whimpered when Jisung's fingers dug into his waist a little more firmly, when his tongue pressed into Minho's mouth and teeth tugged at his lip.
His heart pounded; he had never imagined himself acting like this. It was his first time feeling so out of control at someone else's hands, and it was so bizarre, he couldn't tell if he loved it or hated it.
When Jisung separated their mouths and began to leave hot kisses down his neck, he very quickly came to the conclusion that okay, he definitely didn't hate it.
He held back some embarrassing noise when Jisung's teeth scraped over the skin above his collarbone and subconsciously bunched up the front of the younger's hoodie in his small hands. Jisung was apparently enjoying how humiliatingly flustered he was, because his breath hit Minho's neck in a soft laugh right before he pulled back to smile.
"How are you this cute?" he asked, eyes wide and sparkling, lips wet with Minho's spit. Minho was so unbelievably gone for him in the moment.
"Sorry," he choked out, trying to excuse his behavior. He shifted around to try and regain his composure a little and prayed that his ears weren't as red as they felt.
Jisung's eyebrows furrowed, a pout making its way to his lips. Minho was ready to kiss him again, but the younger's mouth opened before he could make a move, fingers simultaneously rubbing the side of Minho's waist through his shirt and making the skin below scorch.
"No," he whispered, offering a small, endeared smile. "No, don't apologize, I love it. You wanna keep going?"
Minho nodded without a second thought. Sure, this entire experience was making his body overheat to a concerning temperature, but it felt so good—Jisung felt so good—that it was well worth it.
So he leaned in and kissed Han Jisung for the second time.
Yes, this was the first night they'd ever kissed, but that fact alone didn't surprise Minho much. It had been coming for a long time, from the moment they'd met, maybe, and they'd gotten quite close to it more than once.
They were friends—but also not. It had been almost two years since Jisung had started out at Minho's university, since Jisung's friends and Minho's merged to form an unexpected yet tightly-knit friend group. They were all close—almost family-like—but there was something a little different about Jisung to Minho. (And he knew there was something a little different about him to Jisung.)
He was never able to put a finger on what exactly it was, but he figured the difference was obvious enough considering he had spent the past five or ten minutes making out with his friend, something he definitely wouldn't do with anyone else in their group (no offense to them).
Minho figured the rest of their group wouldn't be surprised, either, if they were witnessing the current scene in his dorm room. He and Jisung had attached themselves to each other the day they'd met and proceeded to stay that way, stuck like magnets ever since. It was almost frightening how well they went together, how impossibly close they were able to grow.
They had so much affection for each other, so much trust and comfort, that this sort of thing was bound to happen. (Or maybe they were just strange.)
Still, as much as he had expected them to end up like this at some point, Minho had only done this with a handful of people—never going any further—and he was officially on the verge of some sort of meltdown.
He felt Jisung everywhere. On his lips, his neck, his waist, his mind. And he was starting to have a hunch that he would be feeling him other places, too. Places he had never felt anyone before.
That thought made him dizzy, but he would deal with it when he got there.
Jisung's lips started to suck right below his ear, and Minho's breaths were coming out so quickly and heavily he couldn't stop them. He let his eyes flutter shut, trembling with each sensation Jisung's mouth sent through him, and fisted the younger's sweatshirt tighter, practically tugging it in order to keep himself grounded.
"...Do you want me to take it off?"
Minho tilted his head to the side to allow Jisung more skin for kisses and then froze, the words hitting his brain like a bus at full speed. He pulled back with wide eyes, face warm. Really, he shouldn't have been so thrown off by the question—he was basically yanking on the material—yet his heartbeat began to stutter, brain faltering for a good five seconds before he found the wits to respond.
"Oh?" he breathed, and as much as he hoped he looked at least somewhat composed, he knew it wasn't the truth. "Oh... Oh, if... if you want?"
He wanted to bury his face in a pillow when he saw the amused glint in Jisung's eyes. Honestly, he wouldn't have been offended if the younger had laughed—Minho had been acting like a total moron ever since he had crawled into his lap.
"Yeah?" Jisung murmured, thumbing at each side of Minho's waist, riling him up more than he wanted to show.
He nodded quickly. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen Jisung shirtless before; of course he had. Hundreds of times, probably. They were close, after all, close-close, and spent more nights sleeping together than alone, even showered together from time to time.
(However, those times had happened a while before Minho had started picturing how Jisung's mouth would feel on his, and he knew for a fact if he and Jisung squeezed into a shower naked right now, he would black out immediately.)
Really, though, he figured seeing Jisung shirtless in this context wouldn't be that much different from the hundreds of other times.
He was wrong.
It was like seeing a hot stranger for the first time. His pupils dilated with every bare inch of skin exposed while Jisung tugged the hoodie over his head, his mouth dropping open on its own accord.
He had probably never felt so attracted to someone in his entire life, and the fact that the someone was Han Jisung only made it about a million times harder to control.
Minho probably should've had some self-awareness, but all he could do once the clothing was gone was ogle, body tense and eyes darting across every slice of Jisung from his defined chest to the low waistline of his sweatpants.
He was so hot, and Minho was so screwed.
Before he could come up with a game plan determining he was going to survive this encounter without passing out, he met Jisung's eyes and jolted at the grin on his face like he had been zapped.
Ah, fuck.
"No, no, hey," Jisung said when Minho practically toppled off his lap. He was laughing warmly rather than teasingly. "No, go ahead. Fuck, hyung, you're so cute."
He barely gave Minho time to utter an apology for acting like an idiot (and think about digging himself a grave), grabbing the older boy's hands and encouragingly guiding them to his torso.
Minho's breath hitched the instant his palms settled on Jisung's bare skin. He eyed his friend skeptically to make sure he was reading things right, but Jisung only smiled and pushed back Minho's hair, waiting.
Maybe Minho was going to burst in flames, but again, it would be worth it. No way in hell was he going to reject Jisung's offer to let him feel him up. Even outside of tonight's sudden gay meltdown, the younger was objectively hot as fuck.
He shifted his gaze back to Jisung's body, then, trying not to salivate as his hands began to slowly slide upward from Jisung's stomach and trail over his abs.
Screwed. He was screwed.
He wondered if Jisung felt screwed, too. He clearly wasn't unaffected; his breathing had definitely picked up since Minho's hands had landed on him, though he was seemingly trying to keep his chest from heaving while Minho touched him. When Minho's hands came up to his pecs, he made a soft, choked, noise, and his heart rate felt a little faster than average where Minho felt it thumping below his collarbone.
He really didn't wanna stop touching, and Jisung made no move to stop him, so he continued, dropping a hand back down to Jisung's waist and running his fingers across his stomach to his hip, feeling the plush skin that wasn't abs and muscles.
Minho wasn't even the one being touched, but he felt like his skin was crawling with flames—especially with Jisung's eyes burning into his face. He didn't dare meet his gaze, but just sensing it was enough to have him shaking.
He ran both his hands up to Jisung's chest again, desperately ignoring the way the younger's lips twitched into a small smirk out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed hard when his thumbs lightly brushed over Jisung's nipples, then smiled to himself when he heard a soft Fuck.
All of a sudden, he wanted to devour his friend, and that realization had his entire body stiffening at once. He'd never had the guts to go past subtle touches, not with anybody, and he was beyond unprepared for the day he would even want to go past that.
But out of nowhere, that day was creeping up on him, approaching him at the very moment, even—if the strange way his insides were swirling with heat stood for anything.
He had no fucking clue how to handle that. And then, to complicate things, there was a whole other problem: he would've picked hiding in his room forever over telling Jisung he had never jerked off before.
Just as he was beginning to think his brain was reaching its ultimate stage of shutdown, his fingernails idly digging into Jisung's hot skin, they both jumped at a vibrating sensation.
It was Jisung's phone, lying on the other side of the bed.
"Sorry, baby, who the fuck?" Jisung muttered, squeezing Minho's waist apologetically and leaning over to grab his device. Minho barely stopped himself from choking at the baby that passed through Jisung's lips. It was something he would fully expect from his friend, but his body didn't seem to understand that.
He hummed understandingly, hands still planted on Jisung's torso, and pressed his forehead to his shoulder, attempting to catch his breath and gather himself while the younger was distracted.
"Ah, shit." Jisung nudged Minho off of his shoulder so he could cup his face and peck his lips—which sent his heart straight back into overdrive after his attempt at calming down. "I gotta go, hyung. Changbin's dumb ass needs me at the studio. Do you have plans tomorrow?"
Minho swallowed, reluctantly withdrawing his hands from Jisung to stretch and slowly reverting to his normal, coherent self. Even more reluctantly, he moved off of the younger's lap and leaned back onto his elbows, shaking his head while struggling to avert his eyes from Jisung's torso. "I don't think so."
Jisung nodded and took his hand. "All right, I'll probably just be hanging around studying if you wanna come over." He didn't mention anything about continuing this, but Minho could detect it slightly in his voice, and it made his stomach twist in anticipation.
"Okay," he whispered after clearing his throat. "Be careful. Don't get eaten walking to the studio in the dark."
Jisung scoffed, rolling his eyes while leaning in. "Thanks for putting the thought into my head." The irritation in his voice was quickly cancelled out, though, when he reached Minho's lips and initiated another kiss, this one a lot slower than the previous, deeper, too. It took Minho's breath away, which he still couldn't catch even after Jisung stood from the bed.
And the grin on his face while he pulled his shirt back over his head, unwaveringly staring into Minho's eyes, took away any chance of the older boy being able to breathe normally ever again.
"Wait," Minho croaked before he could turn and leave—because come on, he couldn't just look at Minho like that and then leave without a word, leave him malfunctioning.
He beckoned Jisung forward when he cocked his head in confusion, swallowing down his nervousness and tugging him into one last kiss. This one was messy, frantic. Minho couldn't help himself; Jisung's kisses were suffocating, dizzying in the best way possible, and he already craved more.
Suddenly, Jisung was closer—unexpectedly crawling onto the bed and hovering over Minho without breaking the kiss once. Minho let out a choked gasp into his mouth when his back hit the bed, Jisung on top of him, so close, so warm. He desperately buried his hands in the younger's hair, unable to breathe nor think, and the knots tying in his gut were no aid to him.
Fuck. He'd really, really never felt like this.
Jisung disconnected their mouths, both of them panting, and pressed wet kisses all over Minho's face before whispering, "You better stop that before I decide to stay and get my ass beat by Changbin."
Minho shuddered from head to toe, lips parting with a soft whine that he hoped Jisung couldn't make out. He was probably reading too much into the words—surely, they weren't meant to sound so suggestive—but his mind was wandering before he could stop it. What would happen if Jisung stayed? How far would they go?
How far did Minho want them to go?
In a rushed attempt to not appear like an absolute mess, Minho forced a teasing scoff and gently pushed Jisung off of him so he could sit back up. "You want me that bad?" he taunted.
His attempt backfired when Jisung wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a last kiss—really last this time—and murmured against his lips, "I want you so bad."
Minho felt his hair stand on end, and yeah, the feeling in his stomach was not normal. He tensed, shifting around on the mattress, eyes large. Once again, Jisung may not have meant the words like that, but Minho's mind was so far into the gutter tonight, he couldn't explore any alternatives.
Before he could manage a response, Jisung gave him a knowing smile and got to his feet.
"Okay?"
Minho wasn't sure exactly what Jisung was asking, but in short: no, he wasn't okay. Regardless, he offered a nod and a playful eye roll. "I'll text you tomorrow, loser... or break into your dorm."
"Sounds good," Jisung said, then blew Minho a dramatic kiss. "Don't miss me too much, pretty boy."
He turned and headed to the door to put on his shoes, narrowly avoiding the sight of Minho's jaw dropping. If he had still been in reach, Minho likely wouldn't have had the self-control to stop himself from yanking him onto the bed again.
Since when was he so desperate?
Never. Never, ever, ever.
Minho let out what was arguably the loudest sigh in history when his door clicked shut. He felt good, insanely good, but he was certain his head wouldn't stop spinning for hours, and he wasn't sure when the feeling in his stomach would ease up, either.
Something was going on in his pants, too, but he settled on ignoring that for the time being. He had never really touched himself—or never gotten anywhere with it, at least—and if he started now, with his skin still tingling from Jisung's lips, he would probably die of shame.
He wouldn't know where to start with that, anyway. Besides, Jisung would probably think he was a freak if he found out his sexual experience was in the negatives, and Minho simply didn't want to think about that right now.
What he did want to think about though was how blissed out he felt, more than ever before. Shifting into this territory with Jisung somehow felt way too natural—almost felt like they'd been this way all along. Maybe they had without realizing it.
All Minho knew was that he wanted more. After feeling Jisung's mouth all over him, smooth skin beneath him, hot breath against his ear, hands lighting fires throughout him, he knew there was no going back.
He tried not to let his nerves display when Jisung swung open the door to let him in the next morning.
"Hyung," the younger breathed, hair tousled and a bright smile painted on his face. "I was hoping it would be you."
"Yup, surprise," Minho said, holding up the two drinks he had just bought and nudging Jisung out of the way so he could invite himself in and slip his shoes off before placing them on Jisung's makeshift kitchen table.
"Is that coffee?" Jisung asked, voice rough with sleep, and it was doing things to Minho's head—which he had spent a good hour trying to clear before leaving his dorm.
Jisung came up from behind him and placed his chin on his shoulder, then gasped delightedly when he observed the cups. "It is!"
"Sounds like you need it," Minho murmured teasingly, leaving his backpack on one of the chairs. Honestly, he had no clue what their agenda would be like today. Were they actually going to study? End up lazing around, watching movies like usual? Scam old men online? Go out on some weird adventure?
Were they going to kiss again?
"I do need it," Jisung groaned, grabbing one of the cups and taking a large sip. "God, I owe you everything. Let's get married."
Minho snorted. "It'll take more than that to win me over, Jisungie." The amusement drained from his body the second he saw the mischievous look on Jisung's face, and oh, god —he was suddenly a lot closer to Minho than he was two seconds ago.
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
This sort of back-and-forth, in comparison to last night's kissing, wasn't anything new to them. Really, Minho probably would've been freaked out if their teasing had disappeared, suddenly, but still—
With last night irrevocably burned into his memory, the innocent joking seemed to be taking on a whole new meaning.
"Shut up," he hissed, shoving at Jisung's chest to try and cover up how flustered he already felt. "Why can't you just thank me like a normal person?"
Jisung laughed—Minho knew he could see right through him, but he didn't mention anything. He stepped back toward Minho and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him in for a tight hug—again, nothing abnormal, but again, feeling somewhat (a lot) more intense than usual.
"Thank you, my darling," he said, nuzzling into Minho's neck. Minho groaned at the tight hug and at the cheesy words (which definitely didn't make his heart crack), but he linked his hands behind Jisung's neck, more than content to be engulfed in his warmth. "How'd you sleep, hyung?"
"I..." Minho breathed once he pulled back, ready to respond like a normal human being, but it was just then that he registered that his arms were resting on Jisung's bare shoulders. Bare.
He also registered that it wasn't just his shoulders that were bare—it was his entire torso. And as his eyes traveled down Jisung's body, soaking the image in like he hadn't memorized it yesterday, he realized that it wasn't only his torso, either.
Jisung was in nothing but boxers, and Minho was suddenly crazed.
Before Minho could enter crisis mode, Jisung's hand slipped under his chin, tilting his head up until he met the younger's very bright, very amused eyes.
Minho's face flushed in embarrassment at the fact that he had just ogled Jisung once again without any attempt at subtlety—he never learned, did he? He swallowed, sure the look on his face was undoubtedly ridiculous, but Jisung seemed to enjoy it enough.
"Sorry, I was just lazing around," his friend explained. "Do you want me to put on clothes?" (No, honestly, Minho kind of didn't want that.) "...Or would you prefer to keep checking me out?"
Minho's mouth fell open, face warming even more.
"Asshole," he mumbled, shoving Jisung back with hardly any force, but before he could push him too far, he was abruptly distracted by the hardened muscles underneath his palms—the muscles that he had spent a good few minutes feeling up last night.
He inhaled sharply, eyes dropping to Jisung's toned stomach where his hands were planted like cement. He couldn't have moved them if he tried —until he heard Jisung's laugh and jerked back, arms falling to his sides and gaze averting.
"You're adorable," Jisung whispered, which only made Minho want to meet his eyes less. He had been here for what—two minutes? And here he was, somehow acting like a complete fool already.
"Shut up," he muttered back, but Jisung only giggled and tugged him forward for another hug.
"You sleep okay?"
Minho realized he had never answered the question (he had gotten a little preoccupied, you know) so he quickly nodded. Had it taken him hours to hours to fall asleep, mind whirling in dizzying circles, fully caught up in what had happened before Jisung had left? Possibly—but he didn't need to tell Jisung about that.
"I could use my coffee though," he said with an awkward cough, breaking free from the hug to grab his cup (and also to try and breathe, calm his heart rate that was already losing control.) "How about you?"
"Slept fine. Changbin only needed me at the studio for like ten minutes," Jisung scoffed. "I could've just stayed at yours."
Minho didn't want to imagine that. He would've gone insane had Jisung stayed a second longer, never mind the whole night. (Though he did miss his touch the second it was gone; he couldn't deny that.)
"It's okay, I needed my beauty sleep," he said, only in an attempt to keep his mind at bay. He seriously didn't need to be having a sexuality crisis this early in the morning.
"Uh huh, was I distracting you?" Jisung teased, and Minho was half-expecting him to do you-know-what, but his friend stayed put, just sipping at his coffee and eyeing Minho tauntingly. (Minho wasn't sure if that alternative was better or worse.)
"Maybe," he whispered, resisting the sudden urge to throw himself at Jisung. "What's the plan for today?"
Jisung smiled, and Minho had a feeling it was triggered by the unsubtle way he had just tried to change the subject.
"Wanna just lie around and watch anime? I was lying about studying—I just needed an excuse for you to come over."
"Wha—?" Minho felt his ears burn. Jisung had lied just to ensure that he would see him again? "Since when did you need an excuse?"
Jisung bit his lip, then took Minho's free hand in his. "Honestly, I was kinda worried you'd wanna hide from me after..."
Minho froze.
It was true that they hadn't thoroughly talked about what happened, like at all, but Minho figured it was painfully obvious that he wanted it to happen again.
"Well, I'm here now, right?" he murmured, a little less nervous now that he knew Jisung was having his worries, too. He put down his coffee to ruffle his friend's messy hair. "I'm always here."
Jisung ruffled his hair back, eyes fond. "Me too. C'mon."
He waited for Minho to grab his coffee again and tugged him over to his unmade bed, hardly leaving Minho time to place his cup down on the bedside table before practically yanking him onto the mattress. Minho yelped out but quickly settled against Jisung’s side, trying to shift his focus from the fact that the younger was one step away from being naked right now.
“You can check me out, you know,” Jisung said, completely nonchalant, while he set up his computer. “I don’t mind it at all.”
“Huh?” Minho choked out, entire body flaming. He curled in on himself abashedly. “I was barely looking this time!”
"I can read your mind, hyung," Jisung replied with a laugh, "you know that."
He wasn't wrong. The two of them were borderline telepathic when it came to one another.
Minho bit the inside of his cheek. He would've more than loved to take up the offer to shamelessly stare, but he was determined to not appear as desperate today. Instead, he opted to lean against Jisung's side, partially lying on his bare chest when the younger threw on some Netflix show. They never put too much thought into what they were watching; more often than not, they ended up distracted, talking over everything and missing all the best parts or something like that.
He wouldn't have been able to focus, anyway. Jisung was so close, body radiating heat that flowed straight through Minho, and his chest was rising and falling steadily under Minho's palm—which he willed to stay still. He would not feel Jisung up again. He wouldn't.
This was just another day with his friend. Yeah.
Technically, the only difference was the fact that Jisung's arms wrapping around him made his insides evaporate, leaving him with some odd feeling of emptiness that he subconsciously wished to be filled.
Man, he really was screwed, wasn't he?
He wasn't sure how many uncomfortable minutes passed before Jisung nudged him in his arms. He felt the younger's head turn toward him. "Are you paying attention?"
Minho swallowed. He figured lying wouldn't benefit him all that much. "No," he mumbled, chewing on his lower lip, a little embarrassed that Jisung was probably fully aware that he had Minho's mind out of whack. "How'd you know?"
He wasn't sure why he was asking—again, telepathy. They were Jisung and Minho. Maybe he was stalling.
"You're all tense," Jisung explained with a soft laugh, gently bumping Minho's ankle with his own. "And because I'm not, either."
Minho stiffened further at the confession, head turning to the side so he could meet Jisung's eyes with his own surprised ones.
Really, he should've seen it coming. But he didn't, so when Jisung was suddenly in his space, forehead lightly pressing to his own, he could only gawk, a stuttered gasp leaving his lips.
His heart pounded. Of course, he had spent a ridiculous amount of time wondering (and maybe hoping) if things would be happening today, but he hadn't prepared himself for this to happen so abruptly.
Regardless, he couldn't help himself from leaning in. He was only so strong, and the sweetness of Jisung's soft lips had him sighing into the younger's mouth before he could muffle himself.
Yesterday was their first kiss, yet Minho had missed this feeling a concerning amount in the hours separating night from morning.
He shuddered when Jisung's hands sneakily gripped his waist, bringing him back to the night before, and looped his arms around the younger's neck to pull him in closer, shyly tasting the lingering coffee on his tongue.
"Is it too hot in here?" Jisung murmured into his mouth in between kisses, something so casual within something so out of place—though, to be fair, nothing about this actually felt out of place to Minho, even if it was only the second time it was happening.
He pulled back with a shaky breath, using all remaining mental strength to process the question. He then raised his eyebrows. "Was that your way of asking me to take my shirt off?"
Jisung laughed, one of his hands leaving Minho's waist to scratch at the back of his own neck, suddenly meek.
"It's not like that," he protested. "I'm seriously asking." He tugged at Minho's hoodie for emphasis, then gestured to his own bare body. "But I mean, if you wanna strip down, be my guest."
Minho huffed, though it was pretty warm in Jisung's dorm, and being tangled up with him definitely wasn't cooling him down. Decidedly, he sat up and rushed to pull the hoodie off, leaving him in a muscle tee. He opted to leave that on; he wasn't sure he could handle anything less than that without exploding. Jisung shirtless was enough to drive him insane.
Jisung smiled, trailing his fingers down Minho's bare arm and leaving goosebumps with every touch.
"Cute."
"Don't call me that," Minho whined, hot even with the hoodie gone.
"You can't just whine at me like that and get upset when I call you cute," Jisung argued, taking Minho's chin in his hand and thumbing at his wet lips.
"Shut the fuck up," Minho whined again, then took Jisung by the shoulders and yanked him forward. "Get back over here."
He was done staying in his shell for the moment. He wanted Jisung; Jisung wanted him. That was all he needed to connect their mouths again and slide his tongue past Jisung's lips, growing more confident with each kiss, more accustomed to the unfamiliar territory.
He couldn't get enough. It wasn't like Minho didn't enjoy kissing people, but something about kissing Jisung was different. Comfortable. It could've been due to the fact that they were so close, but he had a feeling it was more than that.
Jisung was just special.
Minho rolled onto his side to tangle their legs more, throwing a thigh across Jisung's torso like he normally did while they cuddled, somehow feeling his warmth even through the material of his own joggers.
He was probably acting blatantly desperate at this point, but he couldn't be fucked to care. After all, Jisung was the same, dragging Minho's body closer to his like he didn't want a centimeter between them. (Minho didn't, either.)
They barely pulled away long enough to breathe, lips chasing each other almost immediately each time they separated to gasp for air. Minho's fingers somehow made their way into Jisung's hair, holding on tight as he nipped at the younger's lips and let him suck on his tongue, while Jisung somehow slid a hand under Minho's shirt, caressing his back, his other hand gripping Minho's thigh.
Minho was burning everywhere. If yesterday was intense, today was... whatever intense times ten equaled. He wasn't sure why that was—maybe because he had gone all night wanting Jisung's mouth back on his. Or maybe it was because he could feel every part of Jisung pressed against every part of him. Too close but still not close enough.
Shit, when did he start wanting Jisung like this?
He choked out a quiet noise when Jisung began to kiss over his cheek and mouth at his jaw; his fingers clutched the younger's hair ridiculously tight.
This boy was going to be the absolute death of him. No, really, Minho was just about ready to dive into his own grave, because the heat Jisung was passing to him was shooting straight down, gathering in the pit of his stomach, and... other places.
Minho squirmed, trying to ignore it—surely he wasn't about to pop a fucking boner, right here, right now, in Jisung's arms. He didn't get like that very often, and when he did, he did nothing about it. He didn't know where to start with touching himself, and he had never had the urge to learn.
But apparently his body wasn't on the same page as him, because the feeling twisting in his stomach had him dizzy, and it wasn't easing in the slightest. He shifted as subtly as he could, biting back the soft sighs that threatened to leave his lips with every kiss Jisung left against his skin.
One of Minho's hands snaked down to cup Jisung's chest, spurred on by the overwhelming need to touch him, to feel his hot skin. Jisung hummed softly into his neck, shuddering when Minho's fingers dragged down his chest to his stomach, and Minho was more than pleased that he was affecting the younger, too.
Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the needy whine in his throat when Jisung suddenly sucked on his earlobe, tugging it between his teeth (and why the fuck was he so sensitive there?). His fingers dug into Jisung's side, body both scorching and freezing, sweatpants beginning to grow uncomfortable.
"Fuck, god," he whispered, craning his neck and letting out stuttered breaths as Jisung trailed his lips down and sucked gently in certain spots. Minho was seriously bound to crumble at any given moment; he was sure of it.
He only felt closer to his demise when Jisung's hand started to rub at his thigh, letting out an embarrassing whimper that had Jisung pulling back to smile cutely at him, judging his reaction. Minho squeezed his eyes shut—he knew he looked like a total wreck, chest heaving and ears probably cherry red.
"Fuck," he breathed again as he caught his breath, shaking under Jisung's stare although he couldn't see it.
Jisung probably wasn't expecting him to be so sensitive; no one would've. God, he was so embarrassing.
"Hey, cutie, you okay?" Jisung murmured warmly, the hand on Minho’s thigh now cupping his cheek while his other stroked lightly over his tailbone. Minho nodded, deciding to keep his eyes screwed shut until he could get his shit together.
Jisung moved to comb his fingers through Minho's hair, then, softly in comparison to the death grip Minho had on his.
"Breathe," he coaxed, continuing his soft petting—it really didn't help Minho breathe any easier, but he somehow managed to calm himself down within the next minute or so.
"Sorry," he finally mumbled, reluctantly opening his eyes. He loosened his grip on Jisung's hair but kept him close; he would die before letting go, even if being in his arms felt like the equivalent of sitting inside an active volcano. "I just got overwhelmed... You're fucking hot."
Jisung cracked a grin, eyes glinting. "Oh, sorry, babe. I can't help that."
"God, shut up," Minho groaned, smacking Jisung's chest, though his friend's responding giggle made his heart thump with fondness.
"Okay, okay, let's relax," he said, pecking Minho's lips one more time. "Don't wanna accidentally kill you with sexiness."
"Fuck off, Jisung." Minho still felt red, so he shifted to lie on Jisung's chest, thankful that whatever crisis was going on in his pants was leaving him alone for now.
For now.
"Jeez, what the fuck is happening?" Jisung asked in reference to the anime that was still playing on his laptop by their feet. Minho laughed tiredly—he probably still wouldn't be paying attention, not after all of that.
"Do we ever know what's happening?"
"Good point."
Instead of wasting his remaining energy on figuring out the plot they'd missed, he zoned in on Jisung's even breaths, fingers subconsciously running back and forth along his ribcage.
"Gonna fall asleep?" Jisung murmured after a while, likely spotting Minho's closed eyes.
"No," he protested, but he was lying, and Jisung pulled a blanket over the two of them, anyway. Minho sighed contentedly and threw his leg over the younger again, completely and one hundred percent ignoring the knowledge that the only thing separating him from Jisung's dick was his boxers.
Why on earth would he think about that? Exactly. He wouldn't.
Absolutely not.
Minho wasn't sure when exactly he fell asleep or how long he was out for. All he could think about when he woke up was how scorching hot his body was.
What the fuck?
He had already forgotten what he dreamed, if anything at all, but if it gave any indication, the unbearable, swirling heat in his stomach had returned, and the first thought on his mind was Jisung.
Jisung, who was still breathing steadily below him and still awake, offering Minho a sweet smile when he opened his bleary eyes and lifted his head.
"Good morning, sunshine," he murmured, watching Minho carefully as he continued to blink himself awake while simultaneously trying to figure out why the fuck he felt like he was emerged in a pool of lava. Was he still dreaming or something? Why did he feel so... off?
He soon found out. He found out abruptly, when Jisung's thigh shifted, sandwiched between his own, and he realized exactly why he felt like he was being swallowed by flames.
He had never been so hard in his entire life.
Oh god. Oh god. Did the universe despise him?
"Oh god," he whispered under his breath, momentarily forgetting that Jisung had ears because he was so focused on keeping his eyeballs from flying out of his damn skull at the sight of his own crotch.
He had popped a boner while sleeping in Jisung's arms.
He had popped a boner while sleeping in Jisung's arms.
He froze like ice, inhaling sharply when Jisung reached out to run gentle fingers through his hair, and slowly tilted his head up to meet the younger's eyes.
Oh god, he was horny. He was so fucking horny, and seeing Jisung shirtless and smiling down at him was not buffering that.
How the fuck did this happen? How?
He stared like a deer caught in headlights, somehow unable to break his gaze with Jisung despite the fact that he wanted to disappear.
Jisung only smiled more, softly, and leaned in to kiss his forehead.
"You feel okay?" he whispered.
He knew. He had to know—Minho's dick was practically pressed against him, for fuck's sake.
Minho's mouth opened and closed, and he must've looked as horrified as he felt, because Jisung's eyebrows quickly drew together in concern. He took his hand away from Minho's hair to sit up on his elbows slightly.
"Hey, it's all right," he said. "You don't have to be embarrassed or anything. It happens."
"I..." was all Minho could manage. He had never been in a situation like this, as humiliating, as abnormal as it was for someone his age who didn't fall on the asexual spectrum.
He'd just... never found himself in this position, and anytime he had come close, it didn't feel right.
But this. This was something new, and he was indescribably mortified that Jisung had to be the one to witness it.
"Do you want me to...?" Jisung said quietly, one of his hands moving to Minho's thigh, just barely hovering there. Minho's throat instantly went dry at the thought, forcing out a cough, and Jisung's eyes widened. "No, hey, I won't if you don't want me to." He laughed nervously, cheeks cutely painted pink. "I just want you to be comfortable."
Well, Minho wasn't comfortable—his boxers felt like fucking hell on his dick, and his dick felt... He didn't even know how to describe how his dick felt, because he had never felt the feeling before.
Jisung was never going to look at him the same.
He finally cleared his throat; as mortified as he was, Jisung was one of his best friends, and he felt like he would regret it if he didn't say or do something to try and clear the tension.
"I've... never... I mean, I've... I've never even," he mumbled, averting his eyes. Smooth. Real smooth. In spite of the awkwardness, his dick was refusing to return to its usual state.
Fuck, he was going to die here, wasn't he?
"It's okay—you don't have to say anything," Jisung rushed. Minho ducked his head—fuck, he felt bad. Jisung sounded so worried for him, but he didn't have a clue of how to make it out of this predicament.
"No, it's just..." he continued, squirming. He couldn't explain why, but he felt urged to talk about this, even if the embarrassment melted him. "I've never done... that with someone." Or with myself, he left out.
He waited in silence, waited for Jisung to laugh at him, but Jisung didn't laugh at him—of course he didn't. He was Jisung.
"That's okay, baby," he said, and Minho's heart flipped in his chest. "I won't touch you if you don't want me to." He began to retract his hand from Minho's thigh, but for some stupid fucking reason, Minho's hand shot out and grabbed it before he could stop himself, keeping it glued there.
God, what had gotten into him?
"But..." he whispered, and at this point he had no clue what words were leaving his mouth; he just hoped they'd make some sort of sense and solve all of his conflicts. "But, um, I don't—fuck." His eyes squeezed shut again.
He heard Jisung swallow, and the room stayed quiet for a few seconds.
"Do you... Do you want to try?"
Minho’s breathing hitched, the flames in his stomach suddenly spreading through his whole body.
Do you want to try?
His sweatpants were so tight now it was hard to even think, but he pushed himself to, anyway. Did he want to try?
He knew the answer, but the answer itself had his brain turning over. He couldn't have seen this coming, not even from a centimeter away. The kissing was one thing, but... holy fuck.
He forced his eyes back open and bit his lip, guilty that he had dragged Jisung into his crisis. "I don't want you to think you have to..." he whispered after a few seconds. "Fuck, this is so weird."
"It doesn't have to be weird," Jisung said softly. "I'll touch you anywhere if you need me to. Really." He leaned forward to kiss Minho, lips gentle and cautious. Minho was just about ready to pass out, the words echoing in his brain and making the struggle in his boxers escalate tenfold.
"Fuck," he breathed, letting the need gradually take over him and hesitantly reaching up to cup Jisung's face. He felt Jisung's small smile against his lips before the younger tilted his head and kissed him more deeply.
"What do you want me to do, baby?" he whispered against Minho's mouth. "Tell me, and I'll do it. Promise."
Minho's stomach twisted. "Fuck," he sighed again, separating their lips but leaving his forehead pressed to Jisungs. "Fuck. How are you so hot?"
Jisung let out a soft giggle and kissed Minho's nose. "That's not an answer, but I appreciate it. Just tell me what you want, hyung. I can't read your mind all the time, you know."
Minho groaned. "I want..." He swallowed loudly, stalling. "I want... God, don't make me say it." He dropped his head into his hands, flushing when Jisung giggled.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
It took a few seconds to muster the courage, but he finally nodded, face hidden, and mumbled Yes just loud enough for Jisung's ears to catch. When Jisung remained silent, he lifted his head, panicky. "I mean, you don't have to. You really, really don't—"
"Lie down," Jisung blurted.
Minho felt his insides stir.
"Oh," he croaked, entranced as he slowly rolled to his back, heart pounding pathetically loud. Was this really happening?
Jisung scooted over so he was kneeling beside Minho's torso. "Can I?"
Minho could hardly hear the words over his own heartbeat, but he nodded quickly, breathing picking up.
Jisung was about to touch him. Jisung was abou—
Jisung's hand started to approach him, slowly, as if Minho were a petrified cat, and his mind blanked. He tensed, the anticipation tearing his stomach to shreds.
And then his whole world changed. Jisung's hand just barely grazed over the bulge in his sweatpants, and his vision instantly went blurry, a choked noise rising in his throat.
"Oh—" he gasped, trembling. "Oh my god."
Jisung hardly had a hand on him yet, and he was already falling to pieces. Fucking embarrassing.
"Shhh, you're okay," Jisung soothed, smiling teasingly but fondly. His hand finally settled on Minho's crotch, lightly feeling him up, and Minho's head spun in uncontrollable circles.
Why the fuck did it feel so good? Was this what normal horny people felt whenever they did this shit? Or was Jisung just a sex god?
"Okay?" Jisung checked after a few moments of silence. Minho nodded quickly, the movement making him dizzy. "All right, just try to relax for me, baby."
Jisung rubbed his hand firmly over him, lips twitching into a soft smile when Minho let out an embarrassing whine, hips jolting on their own accord.
Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.
"Oh god," he rasped, anything but relaxed.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
"Tell me if you want me to stop or need a break," Jisung said, meeting Minho's gaze as he cupped his cock through his pants and squeezed it gently.
Looking Jisung straight in the eye while he did that was too fucking much. How was he going to move on from this? Would he even survive it?
"Oh my fucking god," was all Minho responded with, hips jolting again.
“Shit, you’re really hard,” Jisung whispered, sounding awed. “Bet it’s uncomfortable in those sweatpants."
Minho's breath hitched at what Jisung seemed to be implying, but he nodded. It sure as fuck was uncomfortable.
"Do you want me to take them off?" Jisung asked, cautious. "I'll leave your boxers on unless you tell me otherwise. It'll just be easier to touch you—it'll feel better, too."
Minho nodded again without a thought. He would most likely feel even closer to his deathbed being exposed in just his boxers and the tank top, but this was starting to feel so good, he couldn't be bothered to care.
Jisung hummed, satisfied, and inched the hem of Minho's pants down, slowly revealing his boxers, then made quick work of pulling them off his legs the rest of the way and discarding them.
“There we go,” he said softly, staring transfixed at Minho’s crotch. Minho hardly had the time to be embarrassed before Jisung’s hand shot out and rubbed across his bulge again—which somehow felt twice as intense through only one layer.
"Fuck!" he gasped, mouth falling open. His fingers scratched at the sheets before clutching the material, chest heaving as Jisung's hand started to steadily move, gripping him through the thin material and stroking at a moderate pace. "Fuck, oh my god."
“You're doing perfect,” Jisung said softly, then smiled at the choked cry Minho let out. He was doing absolutely nothing to help—only lying there squirming and making horrid noises—but the praise flew straight to his dick, which was straining more and more with every touch.
Then Jisung shifted his hand to thumb at the head of his cock, and Minho felt his stomach do a backflip.
"Jisung," he whined, trembling, body growing hot both from the touches and how embarrassed he was by his over the top reactions. He fumbled for a stray pillow to his side in a moment of panic and shoved it over his face to muffle the next whimper that left his lips, hips rocking against Jisung's hand. "Fuck."
"I know, baby, shhh," Jisung cooed, thumb stroking over his length. "I've got you."
Minho was all but vibrating, every word that left Jisung's mouth sucking more oxygen from his lungs. He let out a soft sob into the pillow and tensed his thighs.
"Minho," Jisung said with a fond laugh. "Don't hide from me."
He touched Minho harder, then tugged at the pillow just as Minho stifled a loud moan. Minho let him take away the pillow but quickly moved to cover his face with his hands instead.
"Jisungie," he whispered, biting back a whine while Jisung resumed his stroking.
"Do you want me to stop or keep going?" Jisung asked, hand slowing, which really made Minho whine. He arched up into Jisung's hand, shy but hopefully sending the right message. "Keep going, yes or no?"
Minho groaned. "Yes," he whispered into his hands, then choked on a moan when Jisung suddenly sped up his movements, each stroke sending a wave of electricity through Minho.
Jisung squeezed a little more firmly and began to rub over the clothed head of his cock again, and Minho was full on writhing against the bed, now, no longer hiding but biting down on his hand to stifle his needy whines as best as he could.
"Please," he whispered brokenly, shuddering.
"You’re doing so well, baby," Jisung soothed, smiling softly at Minho, though his eyes were flashing with arousal. "Let me take care of this for you."
Minho let out a broken cry, the building sensation in his gut almost unbearable. He was so sensitive, and he felt so good he could hardly think.
He could feel his cock leaking considerably into his boxers now, and apparently Jisung could feel it too, his fingers rubbing over the wet spot followed by a teasing grin forming on his face. Minho shook at the sight and muffled a stuttery gasp; he would probably leave a mark with how hard he was biting his fingers.
"Hey, stop devouring your hand," Jisung murmured after a while, pouting. "It's okay to be noisy, hyung. You should hear me when I jack off."
Minho let out a breathy laugh, somehow comforted enough to slowly pull his poor hand away and grip the sheets again, though he was still plenty horrified by the uncontrollable whines he produced. He tried to squeeze his thighs together when Jisung's hand sped up again, head tossing back with a choked cry, every cell in his body on the brink of a meltdown.
"God, you're so cute," he heard Jisung whisper. His hand slowed down. "Do you feel good?"
(Minho didn't need to answer that; Jisung damn well knew.)
"Hey!" he croaked at the loss of stimulation, head snapping up so he could unabashedly glare at his friend.
"Okay, okay," Jisung giggled, firmly palming him again. Minho moaned, then abruptly threw an arm over his eyes, reverting to embarrassment.
"I can't," he gasped, hips rutting on their own. "I'm so embarrassed right now."
Jisung gave him a disapproving hum. "Do you wanna try another position? Would it calm you down more if you were facing away?"
"I don't think I'll calm down no matter what," Minho said, proud of himself for managing full sentences in this state.
Still, he forced himself into a sitting position, clumsily crawling into Jisung's lap to bring their bodies close and feel the warmth radiating off of Jisung's skin again—though Minho really didn't need the extra warmth.
His body shook, face stuffing in Jisung's neck and hips moving against the younger's hand when it cupped him through his boxers again. He still hadn't come, and that terrified him. Could it possibly get more intense than this?
Too crazed by arousal to save himself from future embarrassment, he wrapped his fingers around Jisung's hand and held it against his crotch while he rocked his hips forward, whining into his skin. Jisung stayed still, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and letting him use his hand to get off.
"Horny baby," he whispered against the shell of Minho's ear with a soft laugh. "You're fucking adorable."
"Shit," Minho cried, precum seeping through his boxers. "God, fuck." He pulled back, suddenly coming back to his wits and realizing that he was shamelessly grinding against Jisung's hand. "Sorry, shit, I'm an ugly mess."
"You're perfect," Jisung corrected, kissing his lips briefly. "Do you want me to take off your boxers to touch you better?"
Minho felt a wave of heat crash over him. He blinked a few times, trying to calculate the probability of his instant death if Jisung's hand touched his bare skin.
"I... might die," he whispered.
"Yeah, okay," Jisung said understandingly, laughing and kissing him again. "No pressure. I just wanna make you feel good. Are you close?"
"I have no idea," Minho admitted. "Probably. Also, you... You can..." He glanced down at his boxers.
"Take them off?" Jisung supplied.
Minho nodded, stomach twisting with anticipation. "I'm not letting you see my face, though," he mumbled, scooting to turn his back to Jisung.
Jisung's giggle tickled the back of his neck. "Fair enough." His hands moved to Minho's hips to shift him properly, the older boy on his knees, heart throbbing painfully while Jisung kneeled right behind him, chest pressed right up to Minho's back.
Minho had no clue what to expect from what was about to happen, but he had a feeling it would blow his mind to bits.
Jisung's arms snaked around his waist, one settling on his lower stomach and rubbing comfortingly while the other slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and—
"Ah!" Minho cried, then instantly slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes bulging (and thank god Jisung couldn't see his face anymore.)
"There we go," Jisung murmured against his shoulder, hand stroking cautiously before he pulled Minho's cock out from his boxers. Minho stifled an overwhelmed whine, eyes squeezing shut.
He tipped back, leaning against Jisung's chest when the younger started jerking him off properly. Minho muffled moan after moan, thighs shaking, and if it weren't for Jisung's body right behind him, he was certain he would've fallen flat by now.
"Holy fuck," he cried into his hands.
"You don't have to muffle yourself if you don't want to," Jisung reminded him, his free hand rubbing at Minho's lower stomach again while he sped up his movements. "It's just me, Minho."
Minho tensed, but he gave up and let his hands drop so he could properly breathe, fingers clutching the material of his boxers.
"Oh god, oh god," he choked, head falling back to rest on Jisung's shoulder, shudders periodically passing through his body, muscles tensing and relaxing, whimpers bouncing off his tongue before he could stop them.
"Keep going?" Jisung murmured into his ear before kissing it.
"Y-Yes," Minho managed, then snapped his head up when he felt Jisung prop his chin on his shoulder to look down and watch himself jerk Minho off. "Oh." Somehow, his body managed to heat up even more, hands fisting his boxers painfully tight, head spinning at the fact that Jisung could see his leaking cock now.
"Oh, baby, look how wet you are," Jisung murmured, kissing his neck before he focused his attention on Minho's cock again. "Fuck, you're so pretty."
Minho whimpered, staring down as well, still embarrassed but too enthralled to look away. He was throbbing in Jisung's hand, shaking against his chest, and he really, seriously didn't think he would ever feel better than this for the rest of his days.
"Don’t stop, please," he begged.
“I'm not stopping,” Jisung reassured, rubbing at the slick head of Minho's cock and making him keen. “I’ll make sure you finish, baby, don't worry—just relax, okay? Can you do that for me?”
Minho nodded with a whine, letting Jisung hold him flush against his chest and moaning softly with each rough stroke. He narrowly resisted the urge to rock his hips, using all his strength to stay still while Jisung continued to draw stuttered breaths from him—how he hadn’t passed out yet was an absolute mystery to him.
Intrigued by the sight of Jisung's swift movements, one of Minho's hands hesitantly crept forward, then paused, lingering in the air.
Jisung slowed his strokes a little, craning his neck to kiss Minho's cheek.
"Baby, you ever get yourself off before?"
Ah. He saw right through Minho.
"Not... really," Minho finally said with a swallow, ashamed, but there was no point in lying. "Fuck, I didn't want you to know that. It's kinda weird—"
"Quiet," Jisung cut him off, using the hand that wasn't on Minho's cock to pull his head back and sloppily kiss his lips. "There's nothing wrong with that. But you can try if you wanna.” He went back to peering over Minho’s shoulder. “Whatever you want, baby."
Minho nodded, too curious to refuse the offer, inhaling sharply when Jisung's fingers left his erection to take his hand and guide it up to wrap around his own cock.
"Here," the younger whispered, patiently moving Minho's hand with his own. Minho gasped out loud—honestly, he hadn't expected to feel anything with his own hand compared to Jisung's, yet here he was, mind blown.
"Oh, fuck," he whimpered, eyes glued to their hands. He gulped down a deep breath of air, gathering the courage to wrap his hand more tightly around himself and take some of the burden off of Jisung's wrist.
Jisung took that as a cue to let go, pressing a kiss to Minho's shoulder when he tensed in shock and whimpered.
"Let me see you touch yourself," he breathed into Minho's ear, watching over his shoulder more. The words sent a jolt through Minho’s whole body, and before he knew it, he was stroking himself scarily fast, like he had done it a million times, no longer attempting to hold back his needy whines.
"Jisung," he choked. Jisung wasn't even touching him anymore, but the feeling of his gaze fixed intently on him as he got himself off was nearly as intense. He was burning everywhere at this point, shaking so hard that Jisung had to hold him still by the waist.
"Just like that, good boy," Jisung praised, kissing across Minho's neck when his head fell back to the younger's shoulder again. One of his hands snuck down to the hem of Minho's tank top and slid under it to stroke his torso. "Can I touch your chest?"
Minho hummed affirmatively, not thinking much of the question, but suddenly, Jisung's fingers were brushing across one of his nipples and then tugging at it, and Minho was letting out the most borderline pornographic moan, hips stuttering into his fist. "Ah!”
"Does that feel good?" Jisung murmured, moving to play with the other nipple. Minho could only reply with a whine, hand working his cock so fast it was creating an ache in his wrist, but he was certain he was close to orgasm, and he was so desperate to feel that release for the first time, feel it with Jisung.
"Almost there," Jisung whispered, somehow sensing Minho's state. He pulled at Minho's nipple again, reaching his other hand to the leaking head of Minho's cock and rubbing his thumb over the sensitive tip while Minho continued stroking himself. He cried out a high-pitched whine that echoed throughout the room, back arching and hips jolting.
"Jisung, I—" He trailed off, whining and shuddering profusely.
"Gonna come?"
Minho nodded with a whimper. He had no clue what to expect, but his eyes were already watering, chest heaving with stuttered breaths.
"Go on, baby, it'll feel good," Jisung coaxed. "Show me how pretty you look when you come." He thumbed hard over Minho's slit while twisting his nipple, sending a delicious shock to his core. “Come on, Minho. Let me see.”
Minho considered himself lucky he didn't black out on the spot.
"Oh my god," he sobbed, hips bucking, and then all of a sudden, there was cum shooting out and leaking all over his fingers, an intense shudder wracking his body and the most powerful sensation he had ever felt in his life swallowing him whole. "Jisung!"
Holy fuck.
"There you go, pretty baby."
Minho practically choked over his own heavy breaths, vision blurry with tears, but his hand continued to move in a desperate attempt to cling to the feeling.
Holy fuck.
"Ji—" he whined, unable to process anything aside from Jisung's sturdy body behind him and the ecstasy drowning him.
"Good boy," Jisung whispered into his ear, fingers still stroking Minho until he whined and removed his own hand from his length. "Shit, look at you, hyung."
"Fuck," Minho muttered weakly, chest heaving.
What the absolute fuck was that?
"Feels good, right?" Jisung said fondly. "Sensitive?"
"S-Sensitive is an understatement," Minho wheezed. "Holy fuck." He swallowed hard, flushing hotter as the reality of the situation settled over his brain.
He had just come. For the first time. With Jisung at his side. Touching him.
"Can you stay right here for me?" Jisung asked, rubbing Minho's waist with the hand that didn't have cum on it. "I'm gonna get a washcloth, okay?"
"Okay," Minho croaked, shimmying forward and flopping to his back, no longer bothered to hide after all of that. "Wait, first—"
He reached toward Jisung until he bent forward and gave him a kiss, then shooed him away with a hum, smiling at the sound of Jisung's giggle.
And then he went into meltdown mode.
"Oh my god," he said to himself. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."
He. Jisung. They.
That...
He gave up on rebooting his brain, staring dazedly at Jisung when he swiftly returned and began to wipe at the mess on Minho's dick and torso, rubbing his thigh when he whined at the sensitivity. "Gimme your shirt. I'll throw it in with my laundry."
Minho hummed tiredly, struggling to pull it over his head and tossing it to Jisung. He mustered the strength to pull his boxers back up while the younger was gone, wondering what the actual fuck he was going to say to his friend now that everything was done, but words were instantly lost on him when Jisung crawled back on the bed, still naked aside from his boxers.
His boxers, which had an enormous bulge in them.
Minho swallowed, blinking in shock at the sight, then bit his lip shyly when Jisung's eyes followed his line of vision.
"Don't worry about—"
"I wanna see your dick," Minho breathed, cutting off whatever Jisung had been planning on saying. He instantly cringed at his own wording. "Sorry, fuck. That was weird."
Jisung laughed, looking something like an angel despite the fact that his dick was hard and almost within Minho's reach. "You really wanna?"
Minho nodded. He was beyond curious to see how affected Jisung was, and no way was he going to brush off the younger's arousal after all of that, even if he had no fucking clue how to get him off.
His jaw dropped, brain short-circuiting when Jisung pulled his boxers down enough to take his cock into his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, it was pretty big. Minho hadn't seen too many dicks, especially not hard ones, but he knew that much.
(And... why did he kind of want to put it in his mouth?)
His eyes stayed locked on Jisung's hand as it started to move, soft noises leaving the younger's lips. Minho had no clue how he was keeping his chill—he had been a flustered wreck —but the fact that Jisung was comfortable enough to do this in front of him did something to his heart.
"You're... so hot," Minho whispered. He moved up into a sitting position, shyly meeting Jisung's eyes, then instantly averted his gaze when he saw the hungry glint in Jisung's irises. Yeah, he'd probably, definitely pop another boner if he looked into those eyes for longer than a second.
He reached out his hand on instinct but quickly faltered. He really didn't know how to go about this sort of thing, as humiliating as it was, and the last thing he wanted to do was screw Jisung over.
"Shit, I—I wish I knew what I was doing," he sulked.
"You don't have to do anything," Jisung reassured. "C'mere."
Minho didn't need to be told twice. He scooted forward and flung himself at Jisung, meeting his lips in an instant and kissing him hard. He was so exhausted after the experience, but fuck, he could kiss Jisung all night.
He moved an arm to feel up Jisung's torso (he'd never get enough of it, now that he was hooked), hesitantly brushing his fingers across his nipple like Jisung had done to him. He tensed, pleased when Jisung let out a whine, and continued to touch his chest while he licked into the younger's mouth.
It took everything in him to keep his tired dick calm each time Jisung moaned into his mouth. Eventually, he pulled away, forehead dropping to Jisung's shoulder so he could look down and watch him jerk himself off—it was so hot, Minho understood exactly why Jisung had wanted to watch him.
"Close, baby," Jisung choked out, and Minho held his breath, completely set on watching Jisung fall apart. He wrapped his hands around Jisung's biceps, watching intently, and just a few seconds later, Jisung groaned, muscles flexing and hips stuttering as he released over his own hand. "Shit."
"Oh," Minho breathed out as well, eyes wide.
Jisung only panted for a while, chest heaving, his own forehead pressed to Minho's shoulder. Minho soothingly rubbed at his arms, unable to tear his eyes off of the cum leaking down Jisung's cock.
"You're amazing," Jisung mumbled, slowly lifting his head to kiss Minho. "God."
"I didn't even do anything," Minho said with a shaky laugh, fumbling for the washcloth and handing it to Jisung. He had no clue where the fuck they were going to go from here, but if he wasn't hugging Jisung within the next minute, he'd lose his mind.
Luckily, Jisung was on the same page. "Come here," he murmured as soon as he was clean, tugging Minho forward, and Minho melted against him, not even bothering to form words.
"Was that okay for you?" Jisung asked, shyly meeting his eyes. "I know it wasn't anything special for your first time, but—"
"It was perfect," Minho cut him off, cheeks burning. "It was perfect."
Jisung beamed and pulled him in for another kiss. "So you've really never..." he started, but his voice was too gentle, too curious to embarrass Minho.
He shook his head. "No, I... I don't know, I was too hesitant. Kinda stupid, but it just never felt right."
Jisung nodded understandingly, shifting so they could flop down onto the mattress, and Minho couldn't care less about the fact that they were both sweaty and smelled like cum—he had no plans of moving anytime soon.
"What made today feel right?" Jisung murmured, brushing back Minho's tousled hair.
"You," Minho said, offering a meek smile. "You did."
It looked like Jisung was going to cry for a moment, and then he pulled Minho flush against his chest. Minho could've gone further into detail, explained to Jisung how he trusted him more than he'd ever trusted anybody, how Jisung made him feel safe, how he filled him with life. How Minho was almost certain that he was lying beside his soulmate right now.
But he didn't elaborate—because he knew Jisung knew. He knew Minho inside out, always knew.
Nobody else had ever made Minho feel that way.