Work Text:
[Hannie :]
Can we watch porno?
Will you be a fucking man and watch porno with me?
Minho sighs as he secretly reads the incoming text from his roommate under his table. He’s blushing hard, just picturing himself casually watching porn with his very best friend, Jisung, on their big television. Minho’s such a pathetic loser.
[Minho :]
You made a typo.
Right?
Please, tell me you made a fucking typo Jisung!
Minho’s lashes flutter quickly while throwing panicked glances towards the lecturer in his attempt not to get caught using his phone. Because that bitch of professor Kang loves to make his students read their conversations out loud for the entire auditorium to hear whenever he sees anyone texting during his international law chalks and talks.
[Hannie :]
PONYO*
[Minho :]
You dumbass.
Class ends at 5, cul8r
[Hannie :]
Yay! I’ll download it on my cumputer!
Minho feels his left eye twitch. Why was he stupid enough to have this gigantic, massive, disgusting crush on Jisung when that boy wasn’t even able to text him properly without making the most unhinged typos? The guy that opens his bedroom window once a month, lives in a true battlefield of single socks and old suspicious tissues laying around his bed. The same guy who melted their freaking frying pan —Minho still doesn't know how he made this stunt possible— and thus has the ability to burn their whole building while trying to cook scrambled eggs.
[Minho :]
I’ve never said yes
[Hannie :]
You didn’t said no
Love you bro
Sighing, Minho catches Mr.Kang looking suspiciously towards him. However, the young man is quick enough to hide his phone, just on time. It would have been so excruciating if his professor were to ask him to come down in front of everyone and give away the full content of their exchange. At this very moment, Minho feels glad that he’s the head student of his studying year and that most professors are rather biased towards him. Otherwise he would have been really, really, doomed.
The few remaining minutes of the seminar pass in a blur as Minho’s mind wanders quite a bit. Without a shadow of a doubt, he is fucked. Part of him slightly hoping that those wrongfully sent messages weren’t just a typo. Per se, this is not a very friendly behavior but Minho couldn’t stop himself from hoping for more. Hoping for something more than a silly friendship and more than a typo.
When Mr.Kang dismisses everyone, as Minho quickly gathers his notes and puts them in his bag —not bothering with keeping them intact— a few fellow students slowly gather closer to him as they are discussing the upcoming midterms together. That was the counterpart of being the head student. Having to be present for everything.
“I was thinking… it’s better if we create a studying group and gather up tonight. The café down the street? We could ask Minho to join us and lead us through everything. Should we ask him now?” One of the students purposely speaks out loud, just for Minho to hear him on purpose.
“Yah Jihoon! Don’t you see he’s in a rush?” Kim Seungmin chimes in, a few rows away. “Just let him breathe a bit. Leave him alone!”
Minho will be forever grateful for his timely intervention. Seungmin is the only person Minho considers as his true friend in his department. Since Seungmin was the former head student he was the only one not trying to befriend him out of interest —and was also overjoyed to finally be left in peace.
“Ah, you’re right Seungmin. We don’t even know if he’s free tonight,” a girl giggles.
“I heard Binnie doesn’t have practice tonight. Minho, will you see her tonight?” another one chimes in.
“Yeah, right… Hm, she asked me on a date!” Minho lies with a shy smile.
“Campus hot couple strikes again!” one of the students suddenly calls and everyone present laughs and cheers.
Binnie, that’s right.
President of the swimming club and Minho’s fake girlfriend. The most wooed girl on campus, with her long wavy hair, bright smile, loud personality and big breasts, most of the times tightly hugged by her swimsuit.
A huge lesbian too.
She’s in the closet, not that she isn’t comfortable with her gayness, but because the whole campus doesn’t need to know about her fucking preferences. Boys were courting her tirelessly on campus, until the rumor that she was dating the Lee Minho spread like a wildfire.
Yeah, people saw them locking themselves in the locker-room one day. Who other than Minho —A.K.A Binnie’s very closeted virgin gay bestie— was able to appreciate the full potential of her new nipple piercings? You’re right: no one. Afterward, boys stopped gravitating around her, and she was delighted. Like so, Minho was finally freed from all the girls always flocking around him like moths to a flame. That was the very beginning of their little fake dating arrangement, which made them both delighted.
It was a win-win situationship.
However, it soon appeared to be such a stupid move, really, because even if Minho had found his own peace now that they were supposedly a couple, it almost felt like a curse to him. This way, Minho couldn’t easily get closer to the one he was actually interested in.
Binnie on the other hand, was perfectly happy with their current fake relationship, as he was perfectly fine with her secret girlfriend, ethereal and lunar Hyunie. It appears that only Minho remained the bestie of the basic bi on campus; Jisung.
Jisung is well known for being one of the first openly queer students on campus. He’s not really bisexual though. He just likes almost anyone that he comes across, regardless of their gender, but most people on campus are still so stuck in the past on this matter.
So yeah… Bisexual is a wise choice of word, at least for the stubborn people down there.
As Minho successfully escapes the impromptu study gathering, he shortly exits the auditorium, walking calmly —he has a reputation to maintain— through campus. On his way back home, he almost instinctively dials Binnie’s number. The phone rings for a while and Minho sighs in annoyance. She’s taking too long for someone that is always on her phone.
”Be quick Minou, my battery’s almost dead!” she yells as soon as she picks up.
“Hello to you too, you witch! I’m fine, thank you for asking!” he laughs but soon his words cut short. “Is that a buzzing sound I’m hearing? What are y- ew!” he lets out.
“For fuck sake Minou, yes! You’re interrupting me during my favorite part of a really educational movie!”
“Never mind. I don’t wanna know. I called to let you know that we’re on a date tonight if someone’s aski-”
“Roger that!” Binnie cuts him off.
Minho doesn’t even have time to complete his sentence and and he’s already met with the hanging up tonalities. Binnie really needs to be scolded about this, because it happens more and more often these days. But that’s a matter that can wait for next week's bestie brunch.
When Minho finally reaches home, all lights are turned off and Jisung is mysteriously nowhere to be found within the small apartment they share. Minho walks into his bedroom just to put his bag away and quickly changes into some more comfortable clothes in order to hang and chill around the house. It doesn’t take him too long before he’s already stepping barefoot in the kitchen.
Where did he go? Did he leave a note like last time?, Minho asks himself as he moves closer to the fridge. Nothing... Where did this dumbass go?
[Minho :]
Whatcha doing? Where you at?
[Hannie :]
Groceries
Want something?
Minho thinks rapidly, eyes scanning around the kitchen. He quickly opens their fridge to check if there’s something they might need for the next few days, spotting a missing spot on the door shelf. He then rushes to the bathroom just to check if they need anything else.
[Minho :]
Milk + toothpaste
Pick some snacks for 2nite too
[Hannie :]
‘kay, I'm on it! Porn for tonight it is!
You can set up the laptop while I'm out? It’s on my bed
Minho feels his eyes bulge in their sockets and a vein pop on his temple. He’ll never make it out alive at this rate, dying from cardiac arrest or aneurysm because of Jisung’s foolishness. He is about to reply but the dots signaling Jisung's typing appear almost instantly.
[Hannie :]
Popcorn*
[Minho :]
You really have a problem with spelling
Popcorn is fine
where’s the hdmi cable?
[Hannie :]
Would you like me to grab some butts too while I'm at it?
NUTS* my bad!
It’s in the left drawer of the tv cabinet
Minho sighs, fighting the urge to slam his head onto the edge of the bathroom’s door. Instead, he pockets his phone without even replying back to the latter’s question as he walks back to the living room and crouches in front of their television.
Rummaging through the drawer underneath, Minho finds some of their old Polaroids, he chuckles when he finds one of Jisung, taken during their first university party night. On that picture, Minho doodled a monocle and an imperial mustache on Jisung's face with a pink marker. He wonders briefly what Jisung doodled that day, on his own Polaroid, with his green marker, but the picture isn’t there for him to find out.
Jisung kept it secret.
And Minho never found in him the force to be mad at him for something like this. Because if Jisung was only hiding some little things from time to time, Minho wasn’t even able to be fully honest with his own best friend.
He was there when Jisung came out as bisexual, well, ‘came out’ wasn’t quite the right way to put it.
Minho was here when Jisung brought a girl home for the first time with her boyfriend tagging along. He was there when the couple asked Jisung if Minho would join them too, and just said that he had a meeting to attend before scurrying out of their apartment.
Yeah… he was there when Jisung just shrugged in indifference when Minho asked him if he liked girls and boys, yet still, he never found the courage to tell him he was gay.
Because Minho’s a coward, and Minho was already down bad for his goofy best friend when he had the revelation of his own homosexuality. What could he possibly have done? Greet him in the morning like every other morning as Jisung was drinking his coffee and oh- by the way, I just found out I was gay, can you pass me some sugar, please?
No. That would have definitely led to some unfortunate questions. How did I find out? Ahah very funny story yeah, basically I'm so fucking in love with you. Sorry, all the bro shit we do… is indeed hundred percent homo in my head, oopsie!
But was Jisung Minho’s gay awakening?
Well, not really, because at this point Minho is almost sure he’s just jisexual as Binnie likes to tell him every single time they have brunch together. She knew from the start that he was in love with Jisung, even before he understood himself that he was interested in men. As if he ever was interested in other men to begin with…
Minho should have been used to it by now, his crush should have already faded because it’s not like he was just starting to be friends with him. They had known each other for years by now. And that’s precisely the whole problem.
And at first, it was fine. Him loving Jisung when they were younger was perfectly fine, because it was innocent and it wasn’t really that different from being just friends. It was only just… a little more , but Minho never questioned himself.
Jisung was his best friend, so he loved him the best among his other friends right? Always making sure Jisung was happy, and eating well. They clicked really well, so they were spending a lot of quality time together, and were comfortable enough to be a little touchy towards one another. There was nothing awkward about this.
It was truly fine. Until it wasn’t anymore.
Minho isn’t able to tell when tables really turned, he just knows that one day, not so long after Jisung’s bivelation™, he just popped a boner in the middle of the kitchen when he saw Jisung coming out from the bathroom half naked. Surprising thought, to suddenly want to lick the droplets of water still running on your bestie’s toned and defined pecs and abs...
Not long after that, it happened again. Not that often, because even if they have known each other for a long time and were roommates, they were not seeing each other half naked on a daily basis either. Thank god.
It was all before last summer's heatwave. When it was so hot in the city that they were mostly bare-chest at home, and Jisung’s skin seemed even more tanned because of the time he’d spent at the lake, just like those honey biscuits. Minho vividly remembers that he was sickly jealous of him, because all his skin was able to do was to catch sunburns, horniness aside.
Some people were made to be fashion models, wearing the most luxurious brands, while Jisung —to Minho’s humble opinion— was made to wear nothing. He was made to be naked. Well, at least, Minho thinks he can make an exception for glasses.
Jisung, fully naked, wearing nothing but his gla—
“Glasses!” he shouts in a shaky voice when he feels a hand gripping his shoulder.
Minho hops up to a stand, his knees cracking and sending a sharp tingling electric sensation in both of his legs in the process. He swivels on his feet, only to be met eye to eye with Jisung looking at him with a tilted eyebrow.
“That wasn’t me!” he justifies after clearing his throat.
“I didn’t ask you anything? Why are you so defensive? You were like… zoning out in the middle of the living room,” Jisung greets him.
“Ah! Sorry, I was… thinking about some stuff?” his voice sounds so unsure that he wants the ground to swallow him.
“Why don’t you… like… go take a shower, hm?” Minho frowns at him without understanding, but Jisung continues. “I’ll set everything up while you… think hard and… take care of what's troubling you?” Jisung eyes down quickly as he nibbles on his upper lip, visibly reining in a little smile.
Minho’s eyes follow suit and he lets out a shameful squeal before rushing to the bathroom. The door slams behind him and he immediately bangs his head on the tiled wall beside it. He had never felt more ashamed than this very moment. Why did Minho Junior have to appear out of nowhere and greet them right now of all times?
He folds his clothes neatly, resting them on the marble counter next to the sink and hops right in the shower. Two options stand before him. Well these are not the only things standing, but the options are about this anyways. First, he can just do exactly what Jisung had suggested and… No, no, no. He can’t do that right now, knowing that it was Jisung’s advice and that the latter is right behind the door.
Option number two it is…
The high pitched scream he can’t refrain when the cold water starts to run onto his body is the second utmost humiliating thing of the day that Minho will have to deal with later because he knows it will never fall into oblivion. And even if it could, the laugh Minho hears with certainty in the other room tells him that Jisung would never let him forget.
His shower doesn’t last long, just enough to kill his boner for the night ahead and to use a little of warm water in the end to rinse Jisung’s tangerine body wash he used again. And if he forgets to buy his own body wash sometimes just to smell like Jisung… well it’s just between him and his conscience.
Minho likes to smell like him and, once again, as he puts his clothes back on, he can’t help but sniff on the collar of his shirt. There’s everything: flowery perfume from their detergent and a lingering tangerine scent trapped on his skin. Yet, it's still missing something for it to be perfect.
Feeling a lot better after his shower, but still a little awkward following the previous events, Minho tries the breathing techniques Binnie’s girlfriend taught him the week before to brace himself. He closes his eyes, seeing the brunette wearing high little pigtails made with colorful ribbons smile at him behind his eyelids. His shoulders slump automatically, tension leaving his body as he exhales slowly and Minho can almost feel Hyunie’s soothing presence enveloping him from afar.
When Minho opens his eyes again, the vibration of his phone on the bathroom sink almost startles him. He throws a glance at the notification, seeing a text from Hyunie and he chuckles when he opens it to be met with a cute “whatever’s stressing you right now is not worth of all that stress” surrounded by a load of twinkling stars emotes.
He doesn’t know how she does that, but it’s as if she knows every time.
When Minho eventually gets out of the bathroom, he notices the lights are off. The living room dimly lit by the television screen and scented candles set on the coffee table next to a lot of various snacks. Jisung’s portable mouse is placed on the windowsill only one reach away from the couch, next to another candle.
The younger doesn’t seem to hear Minho get closer as the latter remains still, too caught in scrolling on his phone.
“Scented candles, huh?” Minho asks softly behind him.
Startled, Jisung lets out a high pitched squeak, locking his phone in a hurry, as he adjusts on the couch just to look at Minho with big scared blinking eyes. Minho can't help but laugh airily and Jisung pouts.
“So? Candles?” Minho repeats.
“Oh- Um… They were in promotion so I thought it would be nice to try them out. Smells good,” he shrugs.
The place starts to bathe in a subtle calming scent, not heady. It smells woody, but also a little floral with a twist of a spice. Minho likes it. He could get used to that smell.
“You're right, it smells nice.” he finally says when he plops down on the couch next to Jisung.
But he can't help but think about how it makes all of this feel a lot more intimate, romantic even, in his head. Watching a movie with Jisung in a candlelit room.
“How was your day?” the latter asks as he grabs his mouse to navigate on the screen, opening his files to retrieve the movie.
“Exhausting! Had a four hours lecture with Kang,”
“Hm? I still don’t understand why you chose to major in law.”
“Well, I don’t know either.” he sighs.
“Okay, okay, I got it! No uni talk tonight!” Jisung laughs and grabs a bowl of popcorn and places it right on his lap. “Ready for Ponyo?”
He’s looking expectantly at Minho with happy boba eyes and a broad smile, almost hopping up and down in impatience. Minho doesn't really get why Jisung loves animated movies to that extent, but he started to love them too at some point. Mostly because he’s got to watch them with Jisung.
“Hmm..? I thought we were going to watch some porn,” Minho teases him.
“Hey!” Jisung frowns. “That was a mistake! It happens to the best of us!” he adds with a pout.
“Yeah, yeah…” Minho’s laughing. “Hit play, you misspelling meatball!”
The movie starts under the ocean and Minho’s captivated by the bright colors and the animations unfolding before him on the big screen. Tons of iridescent jellyfishes floating with grace, wonderful fishes and sea creatures, and a weird scientist dropping glowing elixirs in the water. But even if the movie is really appealing, what’s even more captivating to Minho is Jisung.
The aforementioned is watching attentively, even though he’s watching for the umpteenth time, big doe eyes sparkling in wonder when the little goldfish escapes the submarine on top of a jellyfish. He’s eating popcorn slowly, and Minho can’t help but look at him enamored and find him cute. Jisung must feel observed because at some point, with his eyes still focused on the movie, he slowly turns his head towards him, before averting his gaze from the screen to land in Minho’s.
There’s a whole pregnant second during which their gazes lock before Minho’s eyes open wide and he turns into a blushing mess. He’s the first to break eye contact, clearing his throat awkwardly as he tries to refocus on what’s happening in the movie.
At some point, he feels Jisung stir beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees him stretch his arms above his head and his spine cracks a little, eliciting a small whine from him. And then Jisung lays his arm nonchalantly on the backrest behind Minho as he snuggle a little closer, their thighs almost touching now.
Minho can feel Jisung's fingertips subtly touching his shoulder, barely there, but it’s enough to make him tense slightly. Is Jisung even aware of what he’s doing? Minho tries to move without being too obnoxious, adjusting the cushion on his lower back a little then leaning back in place.
After a short while, he feels the tips of Jisung’s fingers drawing little shapes on his shoulder, but when Minho glances not too noticeably, he finds Jisung fixated on whatever is happening in the movie, fingers holding popcorn hanging a few inches from his face as he munch slowly on the food still in his mouth. When he’s done, Minho almost gasps, and his nails dig in the couch material when he sees the tip of Jisung’s tongue licking at his bottom lip, making it shine slightly with spit before he takes another bite.
Minho swallows dryly as his own tongue flicks on his lips to humidify them. He wants to kiss Jisung, so badly, it hurts and burns to refrain himself from pouncing on him right here and then. Jisung is so close, Minho can feel the heat radiating from his body infiltrating all his pores.
He can smell the peppery scent of Jisung’s skin, despite the candles in the room, and feel the subtle drag of Jisung’s fingers against his shoulder, slightly going up to the junction of his neck, he feels it so much, electrifying his body when they touch directly skin on skin.
Jisung’s leg moves to the side, almost imperceptibly, when he grabs another handful into the bowl stuck between his knees, and their thighs touch. It’s nothing, really. But right now it’s too much for Minho’s sanity. It’s too much because Jisung still doesn’t look at him but his body leans a little closer to Minho, his hand rising slowly in his direction and pokes a piece of popcorn against his lips.
Minho closes his lips around the food, tasting the salt on Jisung’s finger just a little. And he might be crazy and completely gone, because no food tastes better than when Jisung hand feeds him, even salted popcorn slightly burned because Jisung never properly uses the microwave. He doesn’t move, too caught in his swirling disorganized thoughts to react, even when Jisung’s thumb lingers a little too long on his lower lip before retreating his hand.
Minho watches him skillfully catch another piece in his palm between his fingers and bring it to his own mouth nonchalantly. And Minho’s brain completely short-circuits, and switches into gremlins mode. He blinks slowly as he averts his gaze towards the tv, but a middle-schooler screams and shouts and jumps in his head.
He just shared an indirect kiss with the man of his life, and in his head he’s just giggling and kicking his feet at the idea.
It can’t get worse than that, Minho thinks. Until it happens.
Because he suddenly feels so tight in his underwear. Is that… Minho Junior rising from the grave he was buried earlier? Eyes wide like saucers, Minho looks down and in horror witnesses his semi hard cock throbbing slightly in his pants, its shape already clearly decipherable underneath the fabric. Coming back to life happily like the character everyone hates in a bad comedy slasher movie. Minho is fucked.
Well he’s not, but popping two boners in the span of three hours in front of the same person —who is also the cause of said boners— and while watching a cute animation movie is humiliating and completely desperate of him.
Minho had thought that every ounce of self respect he used to have was irrevocably gone already. But in this very moment he’s forced to acknowledge that he was absolutely wrong. On his epitaph, we would read something like, “When that bottom touched the bottom of the pit, he kept digging” or “If Minho continued to dig when he reached the bottom he would have found oil”. Fuck, he doesn’t even know if he’s a bottom.
He’s suddenly brought back to his senses when the tv screen turns dark, before the credits starts with a cute happy song. Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, magic sets you free. Oh, she's a little girl with a round tummy. And panic starts to claw at his throat, his heart rabbiting against his ribs and —oh lord— he feels his dick stir in the confine of his pants, just like Jisung besides him who tries to reach for the lightswitch.
Minho gasps in horror, fumbling nervously on the couch to get up as fast as he can and run in his room or the bathroom but that won’t do. Jisung’s fingertips already press on the button. So, just as the light comes back, Minho does the first thing that crosses his mind. He slams his palm on Jisung’s face to cover his eyes.
“What the– Ouch! Hyung.. hurts!” Jisung whines, trying to pry Minho’s hand off his face.
“Who’s this?” Minho asks in a high pitched voice.
He mentally facepalms himself. Who’s this? Really? He needs an appointment to the neurologist, because he’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with him.
“Minnie mouse?” Jisung tries in an unsure voice.
And Minho giggles madly, seizing a cover next to the couch with his other hand and throwing it on Jisung’s head before running to lock himself in his room and slump against his door.
Minho wants to jump off the window. But he remembers they live on the first floor.
His eyes go south. The tent in his stained sweatpants looks back at him, Minho thinks it’s finally time to do something about it. And as if it wasn't enough humiliating, Minho thinks, of course his dick is already behaving like a fucking meerkat standing in lookout position when he slides his pants and underwear down just a little. Its leaking head bounces miserably against his lower belly, once, twice, and leaves a wet patch on his shirt.
He wants to cry. But instead, he closes his fingers around his shaft and lets out a pathetic sound somewhere between a sob and a gasp when he starts to slowly drag his fist up and down. Right when he hears Jisung knocking on his door.
“Hyung, you okay?” Jisung asks, his voice muffled by the wood panel between them.
“Yes?” Minho says immediately in a weird high pitched wail, his fingertips skimming along the underside of his cock in a barely there touch.
“You’re crying?”
“Yes!” he decides to say, playing safe.
Minho’s thoughts are spinning, clouded by shame. By lust. He can’t think enough to come up with anything else.
“See! I told you it was that good!” Jisung sounds delighted. “But you never listen to me!”
Minho can hear the pout in Jisung’s voice, and he pictures all too well how he must look like right now. And despite knowing he’s right there, just behind his door, and that he should stop, Minho doesn’t. Instead, he imagines it’s Jisung’s hand against his sensitive skin, rubbing his palm on the tip and circling completely his cock with his long fingers.
“’m sorry…” he sobs, guilty as his hips thrust and his shaft throbs in his hand, chasing, seeking pleasure.
“It’s nothing! Take your time, I'll be in the living room when you’re done!”
And suddenly he wants to laugh, because it really sounds like Jisung knows exactly what he’s doing and it’s really not helping. It only makes him want even more. What would his great-great aunt think seeing him behaving this way? Well, nothing. Because she’s blind as a mole. So forgive him for what’s about to happen.
Minho’s hand picks up the pace, and his head tips back, thumping on the door when he slides against it towards the floor. A hot sight bleeds past his lips when he thumbs at the head of his cock. His fingertip dip in its glistening slit, gathering a bead of precum to smear it onto reddened skin, easing the glide of his fingers.
It feels so wrong. Yet it feels so good.
Minho hears Jisung’s footsteps receding down the corridor and tries to contain a lewd breathy moan as he grips harder, jerks rougher and faster, when he closes his eyes. Images flow instantly behind his eyelids, and heat pools and stir under his skin. And it just makes him chase the feeling even more, greedy. He’s feeling the spasms in his thighs, his abdomen, the burning in his gut and the frantic throbbing between his fingers. Every sensation tenfold now that his mind had finally shut. Minho’s lost in it, overwhelmed, arching his back and biting harshly on his lip when he comes violently in his fist.
No strength left in his body, he slumps even more. A whinny puddle on the floor as his hand moves lazily to help him chase the orgasm until the very end. Tears start to run down his face, when his dick continues to twitch pathetically, still leaking in weak spurts. The brief thought that it’ll never cease crosses his mind as he almost works himself into overstimulation, writhing and hissing at the slight pain it causes.
And then it stops, leaving Minho trembling and panting by the force of it.
The Minho is a really pathetic little animal whose sudden and strong ruts are only triggered by a unique individual in his life. He starts to laugh madly at the wildlife documentary voice over in his head and straightens up, his soft dick still out of his pants, as his eyes run across the room. Look at this wonderful specimen, wiggling around with his genitalia out to gather wet wipes: the Minho is a messy animal when it comes to… —what would a wildlife expert call that?— reproduction.
It’s miserable. How did he let himself fall so low Minho asks himself, wiping his cum from his finger and his spent cock. As he wants to tuck himself back in his pants to go back to the living room, he finally sees the mess he just made on his clothes and starts winning and stomping.
He can’t go back like this because if the stain on his shirt can be cleaned enough, the wet patch on the crotch of his gray sweatpants can’t be saved. And he can’t change either without making it suspicious to Jisung’s eyes… Well, he guesses it’s time for him to really cry himself to sleep now, weeping on his pitiful pining for his best friend.
˚ · • . ° .
It’s only Sunday and Jisung already looked at him like he’s just Minho’s copy being left there by the aliens who abducted the original one. Minho wants to watch Devil Wears Prada. So that’s obviously what he’d said when Jisung asked him in the morning what movie they should watch this week. Was that worth of Jisung’s suspicious look? Minho doesn't think so. Why can’t he love Meryl Streep in peace?
“You know that’s pretty gay for a guy to like Meryl the way you like her?” Binnie asks him seriously.
Minho gapes at her in disbelief. She’ll not start acting like this too just after hearing him rambling a few minutes between two bites of avocado toasts?
“I beg your pardon? Meryl is one of the best actresses of her generation and that’s a cult movie!” he just gasps, annoyed.
“That’s what I'm saying, Minou. Very gay of you!” she just laughs before pouring vinaigrette on her salad. “Anygay, you told me something happened during your movie date? D’you mind elaborate a little?”
She sets her chin in her hand and blinks at him expectantly, waiting for his best friend juicy news. Minho pouts and kicks her in the shin under the table but still starts his storytelling after a sip of his sparkling wine. Binnie nods along as Minho explains how Jisung makes him crazy because of his typos, and she bursts out laughing when he shows her their chat.
“He’s so stupid for real, I'm not even surprised!” she giggles behind her hand. “Why do you love him, remind me?”
“Stop it! You’re being mean!” Minho whines. “Should I remind you that you’re dating Hyunie, she’s always head in the clouds and so clumsy!”
He doesn't like it when someone speaks of Jisung like that. Sure, he’s just a goofy idiot, sometimes borderline gross, Minho can’t deny that… But nonetheless, Jisung is his gross and goofy idiot.
Binnie growls, surging from her seat, her breasts bouncing violently, and she bends towards Minho above the table. She frowns and points at him with her forefinger, long sharp blue nail a few inches away from his nose.
Minho squints.
“Hey! Don’t talk about my baby like that!” she angrily replies.
Minho also doesn’t let a second pass as he slams his hand on the wooden table in a clatter of porcelain, and stands up in turn to lean closer to Binnie.
“Then don’t talk about my Jisungie like that!”
A pregnant silence falls between them, emphasized by the silence at the other tables around them, customers watching them with concern. And then they both start laughing, because their bickering isn’t always serious enough that they get really mad at each other.
“Still!” Binnie says, throwing her long hairs behind her shoulders as she sits back. “Just tell me. What happened then?” she asks and swiftly grabs her fork.
Minho feels even more humiliated when she cries of laughter after he told her everything, from his first hard on in the middle of the living room to the mere remembrance of Jisung’s half naked body, until the fake crying masturbation session at the end of the movie.
He didn’t find the courage to face him the whole two days after that, pretending to be sleepy or occupied studying. To be fully honest, Minho still wouldn’t have found it in him to face him if Jisung hadn't managed to catch him before he sneaked out of the house this morning.
“Bro! Jisung is so down for you! You’re just blind!” she breathes between laughs.
“What d’you mean?” Minho mumbles, moving what’s remaining of his avocado tartine around in his plate.
“He lit up your whole living room with scented candles-”
“They were in promotion!” he cuts her off.
“That’s what he said! And stop interrupting me! So first, those candles, then he makes the arm on the backrest move?” Minho opens his mouth to speak yet Binnie just frowns almost instantly. “I dare you, Minho!” she calls and the elder just seals his lips. “And last but not least he feeds you popcorn?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s so homoerotic of him!” she screams.
Minho looks around them, and bows slightly with an awkward smile to the people looking curiously in their direction, before shushing Binnie.
“Can you, please, stop howling nonsense? We’re in public!” he asks, his phone vibrating at the same time on the table. “Plus, we’re friends, best friends actually. It’s no-” his phone buzzes again. “It’s normal for us, we’re always kind of touchy!”
“He’s using rizz techniques on you Min-” another vibration cuts her. “For fuck’s sakes, will you look at your damn phone?!” she asks impatiently just as it buzzes again.
Minho grabs his phone, laying screen down, to look at the notifications. They all came from Jisung. Of course it’s him, he thinks once he opens their chat.
[Hannie :]
Minhooooo
Something just happened and…
oh lord I'm so embraced
embarrassed*
“It’s Jisung,” he informs.
“Wow! Unbelievable!” she mocks in return. “What did he do again?”
Minho just shrugs and quickly types something back. Binnie, being her curious and nosy self, sneakily moves her chair next to him to peer on the screen.
[Minho :]
What happened?
[Hannie :]
Don’t cock me okay?
Binnie starts to laugh, hugging her belly when Minho chokes on his own saliva. Once again this is humiliating, Minho should have been used to it but Jisung keeps surprising him.
[Minho :]
i… wasn’t planning to???
[Hannie :]
mock* me
so, hypothetically…
this is hypothesis okay
but what would happen if, idk…
you put too much detergent in the washing machine?
[Minho :]
worst case scenario would be…
foam all around the room, why?
He rolls his eyes as he puts back his phone on the table and looks up to find Binnie’s place empty in front of him. Something poking on his right shoulder makes him jump with a startled little squeal. Binnie looks at him, expectantly, not saying a thing.
“What are yo-” his voice dies when she just tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing wide.
Minho blinks dumbly. She’s trying to pass a message, he gets it, but why can’t she just talk her mind and…
“Oh fuck!” he gasps suddenly, eyes growing wide like saucers, as the whole situation finally hits him.
“Yeah. fuck.”
He takes back his phone, Jisung still hasn't replied to his message, but he doesn't care as he types quickly and hits send. A stream of messages follows suit, as if Jisung was waiting for him to asks.
[Minho :]
Did you…
[Hannie :]
OF COURSE I DICK!
DID*
HYUNG
I’LL DROWN IN FOAM HELP
I’M TOO YOUNG OT DIE
Minho’s first panicked thought goes to the legs of the cute wooden cabinet next to the washing machine, the one he found in a thrift store, he hopes he’s still salvageable. The second goes to Jisung, who is obviously stupid and who still can make something even more stupid happen.
[Minho :]
DO NOT OPEN THE WASHING MACHINE!!!
[Hannie :]
I think it’s too late.
Don’t cream at me!
scream**
“Gotta go!” he blurts out.
“Hm. Please don’t kill him, you love him!” Binnie tries to calm him in a giggle. “I’ll pay, go save the dummy!”
“I’ll end him!”
And then he’s gone, mumbling on his ten minute walk to get back to the apartment. He’d just left the house two hours ago. Jisung could literally end the world in a single day without him around.
When he comes back home, running to the bathroom, he is met with something he would never have thought of witnessing in his entire life. Did he thought of the legs of the cabinet? Yes. But he wasn’t prepared for the idea of the whole piece of furniture to be good for the waste. His whole bathroom floor is drenched and there’s foam almost up to the thighs. But there’s no Jisung in sight. And so Minho panics. Did he really drown?
“Jisung!?” he yells, taking a few steps in the room.
He has to be extra cautious because the tiled floor is slippery with all the water and foam. Oh my god. What if Jisung slipped and hit his head? Minho doesn’t want to find his beloved assigned idiot’s corpse hidden under flower scented detergent bubbles.
He’s about to cry when Jisung surges from under the foam to look at him with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a hat of bubbles adorning his brown hairs. Minho feels relieved tears stream down his face as he smacks the back of his head, bubbles floating in the air.
“Outch! Hyung! It hurts” Jisung whines, rubbing where he just got hit.
“Are you dumb?! How the hell did you end up with this?”
“I don’t know… I just did like you always told me!” Jisung complaints. “Put the clothes in, add three caps of detergent, close and start.” he adds, imitating Minho’s voice.
Jisung’s right, it’s just what Minho always told him, so why did all this mess happen? His eyes land on the bottle of detergent lying on top of the washing machine, and suddenly he remembers. Minho bought the concentrated one the last time, and he completely forgot to tell Jisung.
If he had to find the dead body of his one true love today, it would only have been his fault. He looks at Jisung, still kneeling and pouting in front of the machine and starts to cry and apologize profusely under Jisung’s bewildered gaze. He almost killed the love of his life today, and he feels so stupid. He knows it’s nothing, that he’s just being overly dramatic because the chances of something bad really happening are so low, but still, he loves him so much that he’s just scared to lose him even if he’s not his. No matter how.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jisung says quietly, straightening up to get closer. “I’m fine, I'm sorry I made you panic with my texts, that’s not what I wanted.”
“How can I not panic when you’re capable of melting a frying pan?”
“You’re still mad at me for that one?” Jisung acts surprised.
“Of course! It was a brand new one!”
Jisung grabs some foam around to throw it angrily at Minho’s face.
“Told ya I was sorry! I even bought you a whole new set after that!”
“Oh, you wanna play that?” Minho deadpans, looking at him deadly as he wipes the bubbles from his face slowly and spits the ones that got in his mouth. “Come closer! Don’t be scared.” he beckons him with a mad smile on his face.
Jisung tenses a little under his death glare before trying to curl on himself when he witnesses Minho grabbing foam. He screams when Minho moves and that just makes the latter laugh devilishly.
They start to fight with bubbles, laughter and screams rising in the room as their clothes irrevocably get drenched and sticky with all the detergent. They end up on the floor, breath hitching from laughing too much. Jisung right under Minho, who’s caging him with his knees from either side of his small waist as he grips tightly at the younger’s wrists.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Minho says with a shy pout.
“And I’m sorry I made a mess, we’re even!” Jisung smiles back at him.
They look at each other for a moment. A few seconds too much for Minho’s weak heart. It costs him all his restraint to not dive and bite Jisung’s cheek. He looks so soft, and he’s so round that Minho just wanna eat him like a dumpling.
Jisung’s cheeks are sporting that cute shade of pink Minho loves so much. The shade that blooms on his face, from the shell of his ears to his heart-shaped Adam apple, when he’s genuinely happy. That’s why Minho’s favorite shade of pink is amaranth, because the pink turns beautifully on Jisung’s honeyed skin.
As he comes back to his senses, he sees some questions swirling in Jisung's worried gaze. So he just releases his grip on the younger and straightens up, feeling his waterlogged clothes weigh heavier than before.
“Shall we clean that chaos now?” Jisung asks him. “How do we get rid of that foam?”
“You should eat it since you’re the cause,” Minho cackles and Jisung hits his side with his elbow playfully.
Then he grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it off slowly before throwing it where the laundry basket should be. Minho watches him do without moving an inch, frozen. Just able to blink and blush slightly when Jisung starts unbuttoning his jeans. Minho’s throat suddenly goes dry and he licks his lips without even thinking. Why is Jisung doing a strip tease right now? Not that Minho has something to say against that, but he’s already feeling his cock twitch in interest in the confine of his pants.
“Wha-” Minho starts but voice sounds foreign, he clears his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Hm, I’ll clean that myself, go and rest okay?”
“You sure?”
Jisung pushes him out of the bathroom and Minho complies, Jisung’s too strong for him to even try to go against him anyway. But just as he’s about to get on his own business, Jisung beckons him back.
“Actually, give me your clothes,” he says.
“Why?” Minho asks dumbly.
“You’re wet, you’ll put water and bubbles everywhere! Give me these ones and put clean ones on, okay?”
Minho blushes, feeling his cheeks burning, under Jisung’s expecting gaze. He can’t escape right now so he quickly gets rid of his shirt, pants and socks before hurrying in his room under Jisung’s laugh, his wet boxer brief clinging weirdly to his ass as he runs away.
˚ · • . ° .
It was a lot to handle. Since the washing machine incident, it became difficult for Minho to face Jisung properly. Not because he was angry, he had made it clear that it was not the case and he can’t stay mad at Jisung even if he wants to. And that’s exactly what was so hard for him to face.
Minho is clearly so freaking weak when it comes to Jisung that his feelings are frightening him. It was good as long as it was just a feeling buried deep inside of him, but now… now he’s just making a fool of himself on every possible occasion. He almost doesn't recognize himself anymore, pining so harshly for his best friend. Minho wants to keep him jealously forever, like a magpie finding a shiny object. He became a fucking atelopus léti- laetis—why do they need such hard names?— a fucking Colombian toad who can cling for month to the back of the female he wants to mate with.
A deep sigh passes the barrier of his lips. This is where everything leads him: lying on his bed at five on a friday afternoon, watching the ceiling and reconsidering his whole life and every choice he made until now.
Because he can’t pity himself to his heart's content when they’re together, Minho clearly avoids Jisung for a few days now. At least, he has the excuse of the approaching midterms to stay hidden in his bedroom when Jisung is home. They didn’t watch Devil Wears Prada, they barely shared a meal together and it’s been four days already. An eternity if you ask, Minho almost feels like he’s suffocating, but it’s just because he can’t help but be a dramatic closeted gay.
His phone rings once on the pillow next to his head, extirpating him of his self-pity. He feels around to get it without having to get up. And of course it’s Jisung, it’s always him.
[Hannie :]
I’m with Felix & Jeongin at the café, wanna join?
[Minho :]
I’m sorry Sung, I'm just feeling really down these days
Uni is exhausting, i just wanna stay home now
[Hannie :]
Ooooh :(
You know you can tamk to me
Yeah, technically. Technically Minho can talk to Jisung, like they always did before and still does. They’re always happy to help the other with his concerns, to resolve the problematic situations and then spend some time just enjoying themselves together.
But right now, Minho can’t. Because all his current ruminations revolve around the same main element: Jisung himself. He’s irrevocably in love with him, and physically attracted to him in a very not friendly way. He was perfectly aware of this, composing with that fact quite well. Until very recently.
And how is he supposed to talk about that with Jisung now?
Listen Jisung, I would really be grateful if you could… i don’t know, stop sending me your double meaning typos? Can you, please, proofread yourself before sending me a text? Because the thing is, yes, I'm in fact very gay for you and it’s becoming hard for me. Like my dick actually.
Unfortunately he can’t say that. Because this feels… this feels.
Just because.
[Minho :]
Don’t want to bother you with that
[Hannie :]
I’ll always be there for oral support
moral* support, shit
A mad laugh seizes him, shaking him where he’s laying on his bed, tears pooling in his eyes. Minho can’t deny the comical nature of the situation, but he’s also desperate. Actually he thinks he needs both: moral and oral support. Because, yes, at this point he has developed a Pavlovian response to Jisung’s unhinged typo texts. Maybe at some point he’ll get hard just from his phone ringing to announce a text. This is not good.
Minho can’t do that, but still… he does. Jerking up to a sitting position in his bed, he rummages through the drawer of his nightstand to grab his bottle of lube and slams it on the top, next to his bedside lamp.
He looks at it with narrowed eyes, as if it was a mysterious artifact. The bottle is almost empty, with only a third of the product in it. Is that enough to try something new? It’s not that he’s tired of giving himself a low-five, but at this point it became so mundane that it’s kinda getting redundant.
Freshly showered, alone at home for the evening… It seems perfectly suitable conditions for Minho to step up his game and finally explore this new side. He can’t believe he’s about to do this. For real, he is about to put his fingers in his own butthole just for the fun of it.
Minho stands up, discarding his pants and underwear to the side before he starts thinking too much and chickening out. His fingers play with the hem of the hoodie he wears as he nibbles on his lower lip, asking himself if he should get rid of it too, before he decides that the hoodie stays on during anal discovery. Fully naked feels scary, and weird. Well not as weird as keeping a hoodie belonging to your best friend on, but still… another kind of weird.
He’s a fucking loser. He knows it.
But he didn’t dwell on it, determined to discover today what’s so special about taking something in the ass. He knows there’s some appeal to it, the bunch of anatomical documentaries Jisung can watch for hours making a good job to promote anal stimulation scientifically. Minho must admit that hearing about it made him even more curious about the whole experience.
Kneeling on his mattress, legs slightly apart, he grabs his bottle of lube and squirts a reasonable amount of the cold liquid on his fingers. And he watches his hand dumbly, how is he supposed to proceed now? He’s fucking glad he’s ambidextrous because this is a thing he doesn't have to question, but should he starts fingering himself with his hand going down on the front or on the back?
After quick math, it seems easier from the back, so he bends a little. His free hand clutches around the sheets when he’s looking for leverage as he moves his lubed fingers to his rim, circling it slowly. It’s weird, he doesn’t like that. But he keeps telling himself that it’s mainly because it’s new.
Tentatively, he prods at his entrance, pressing slightly a first lube-slicked digit. The first phalange goes in easily and Minho hums in contentment. It's not that bad, he’s kinda good at that, he thinks. He even feels a little proud when his whole finger is finally in.
It’s… hot and tight. Well he could have guessed without the whole experimentation, thank you. And it’s weird, everything about this feels weird and awkward until now. His nose wrinkles as he wiggle his digit slightly to try to loosen his hole.
At this point, the only thing he feels is his rim contracting slightly around his finger. A giggle seizes him. Does this make him the Lord of the Rim?
He takes his time, adding a second finger, the burn of the stretch is something bearable. Minho honestly thought it would be more painful than that and he’s relieved, feeling the tension leaving his body and helping him on the task in hand, if you allow him the expression.
In a wet squelch, Minho pulls out his fingers to add more lube, aiming to add a third digit. Maybe he’s greedy, but he really needs to understand how it works. He knows what he's looking for but starts to get frustrated because of his unsuccessful research. But then, finally, he starts to feel something building up inside of him.
Three fingers feels good, he feels filled in a way he wasn’t imagining. Oh fuck, he likes that, he likes it even more when he straightens himself, almost sitting on his fingers. His other hand finds its way, closing its fingers around his cock under the fabric to slowly coax it into full hardness. He thumbs at the head, smearing a bead of precum, before retreating his hand, hips jerking in frustration to pursue the lingering touch when it happens.
Minho’s fingers, still buried in his ass, brush against a sensitive point, and he lets out a surprised wail. It’s fucking dizzying, his vision almost turns white and his dick twitches violently in response. Panting, Minho smiles, blissed out to have finally found it.
And now it’s time for the real thing to begin, Minho thinks as he takes a long and steady breath. He rolls his hips tentatively, and moans immediately as the stimulation occurs again. Rubbing the pads of his fingers over it in a circular motion almost makes him cry, it’s sending a pleasurable sensation all the way through his body. Minho feels his neglected cock throbs, begging for the slightest touch as he languidly wraps his hand around his shaft.
He knows he’s not gonna last long as his back arches and his head tilts back in the most obscene moan ever coming from between his lips. He rides his fingers like his life depended on it and it almost feels like it right now. Minho thinks he would die if he doesn’t come soon, feeling his heated orgasm building up in his lower belly. He can sense it, right there within his reach.
The door of his bedroom creaks open, and he looks in a reflex, his eyes landing right into Jisung’s. Horrified, his movements come abruptly to a halt and he feels his cock releasing its load into the hoodie.
After a few seconds —that feels like hours— Jisung’s eyes break the contact to travel on his body. Minho can’t move. This is humiliating. At least Minho’s glad the hoodie —Jisung’s hoodie, oh lord— is hiding the worst to Jisung’s eyes. Bare thighs on display, but three fingers up his ass and cum loaded hand around his dick hidden, thank god.
“Did you take the dog on a walk?” Jisung suddenly asks out of the blue.
“We… don’t have a dog?” Minho blinks all but bewildered.
“Ah, you’re right!” Jisung deadpans. “Continue with… what you’re doing then, I'll check if we still have hot water!”
And Minho watches him walk strangely as he leaves his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. What the hell just happened? Did Jisung just walk in on him playing with the back door? Everything that just happened doesn't make sense.
Slowly he pulls out his fingers from between his cheeks, and stares for a short while at his both dirty hands blankly. How the fuck he’s supposed to grab a wipe without putting fluids everywhere now? He is tired of his own stupidity and decides to just throw the wet wipes packet with everything else.
Once he’s down, Minho just drops back on his bed, the impact of his head against the pillow eliciting a loud huff from him. In complete silence, he finds himself once again staring at the ceiling, a high pitched whine stuck high in his throat as he recalls just cumming from the eye contact with Jisung.
He just fucked himself on his fingers, discovering the joys of prostatic stimulation for the very first time in his pathetic life, hoping to find out if he’s a bottom or not. And now he’s so fucking lost. Is he? A bottom, he means. This was quite an experience, but for real, he just creamed himself in the most undignifying way. His eyes grow wide at the realization and he forgets how to breathe for a second.
Oh no. He doesn’t even know what position he prefers, and now he may have a humiliation kink or something on top of this?
˚ · • . ° .
After a long, interminable, week of exams, Minho blinks dumbly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his image slightly blurred by the condensation formed on the surface. Even blurred like that he looks awful: big dark circles under the eyes and pale skin for being behind a desk, redacting for almost eight hours a day.
But that was not the hardest park of his week. Minho just can’t believe Jisung witnessed him cumming —three fingers deep, it’s important— in one of his favorite hoodies Minho had borrowed —stolen— in his closet a few days prior. It was not premeditated, it just happened, and yet this was the summum of mortification.
They didn't talk about that. Well Minho didn't let Jisung the opportunity to bring the matter on the table because he’s making avoiding Jisung his number one priority since the Hoodie Gate. Staying away from his best friend —slash crush, slash love of his life, slash living fantasy— wasn’t that hard because Minho was out early for his exam, coming home late after his exam, studying, falling asleep from exhaustion. Rinse and repeat.
But tonight, there’s no studying session needed, and even if Minho is exhausted he has no good enough excuses remaining to continue avoiding Jisung. Gladly the aforementioned is currently out “for a while”, as the post-it note Minho found on the fridge told him, giving him a little more respite.
He grunts when his phone rings, once. Fetching him on the kitchen counter before dropping himself on the couch, Minho feels his eyes bulge when he gets to read the notification of his banking application.
“Please, replenish the bank account? What the actual fuck?!” he shouts in disbelief.
The app takes forever to load. Fucking bank. Once he’s done, he’s met with a page showing the money balance on the account designed for the house and a suspicious operation. The amount is quite something and was just appearing on the balance. What the he-
Gripping the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, Minho sighs deeply. “Jisung…” he mumbles to himself. It can only be him, but he still decides to make sure.
[Minho :]
Why is there a 90$ banking op…
waiting on the shared account?
Jisung!!
What did you do???
[Hannie :]
wow chill, you really need to touch some ass
grass*
Oh no he did not!? An outraged gasp passes the barrier of Minho’s lips as he reads Jisung’s elusive answer. Right after what happened the other day? Minho scoffs angrily, he’s sure that this one was made on purpose only to mock him.
[Minho :]
STOP THIS! WHAT DID YOU DO!?
[Hannie :]
I saw your lube was almost empty the other day…
So i thought it would be nice to replace it
[Minho :]
WAT KIND OF LUBE IS WORTH 90$ JISUNG??
NINETY FUCKING DOLLARS
This is humiliating and infuriating at the same time. Minho can’t believe he is having this conversation right now, with the person he’s secretly smitten with since forever to add on top of that. And Jisung saw his lube was almost empty! He’s so fucked, and this one is hard to take, maybe he’ll actually need that fucking ninety dollars lube to help him swallow that motifying though.
[Hannie :]
well i didn't know which flavor was your favorite
so i took them all :)
[Minho :]
YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM??
[Hannie :]
The retailer made me a discunt…
and she looked at me weirdly
He scoffs in resigned disbelief when he reads Jisung’s answer. Of course any sane person would look weirdly at someone buying their weight in flavored lube, what was he even thinking?
[Minho :]
oh wow i wonder why…
LITERS of lube, Jisung.
you just bought liters of lube
He waits, looking angrily at their chat on his phone, but minutes pass without Jisung deigning to answer him, so he just furiously types another text.
[Minho :]
COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!
He sends before throwing his phone on the couch’s cushion beside him as he’s mumbling a load of bird names to pass his nerves. Minho is determined to wait for him in the dark as the sun sets outside.
When Jisung comes back, less than half an hour later, Minho watches with his arms crossed on his chest as Jisung is having a hard time closing the door behind him with a huge carton box between his hands.
Still on the couch, Minho extends his hand toward the lightswitch without a sound, and suddenly turns the lights on as he speaks low.
“Did you enjoy your walk?” he asks.
Startled to see Minho there, Jisung jumps with a high-pitched squeal and the box crashes to his feet, jostling its content out of it, various multicolored plastic bottles rolling on the wooden floor and a small box of condoms pathetically landing with a thud.
“Hyung!” he greets him, dropping on his knees to fetch the items one by one, dragging his cardboard box with him as he crawls further in the apartment. “It was fine, thank you! I was…” he shuts as he reads a label on the bottle he just retrieved, nodding in interest before putting it in with the others. “I was surprised to see you-” he stops again when Minho’s socketed foot lands on the last bottle he was about to grab, “there.”
Jisung slowly raises his eyes to Minho’s face and swallows audibly before offering him an awkward smile. Minho has to focus to not let his mind wander too much because Jisung, kneeling at his feet with big blinking doe eyes raised in his direction, is already too much. But if you add that unholy quantity of flavored lubes to the equation —Minho isn't good at math but he knows that plus and plus equals plus— it’s even worse.
“Hmm. I didn’t moved since I got back from campus, and wasn’t planning to.”
“Oh that’s great! You can unbox my gift then!” Jisung exclaims happily.
Fucked. Minho is fucked, falling right into a trap he’d set himself. This was not how he thought the evening would proceed. He wants to scream his lungs into the void.
“Actually it’s already unboxed? You just made everything roll around our floor,” he deadpans instead as Jisung lifts up to sit on the couch and pats next to him for Minho to join him.
“You know what I mean!” he just says, rummaging in the box. “So, what’s your favorite flavor?”
“I don’t know, I just take one and that’s it,” he shrugs nonchalantly —but screaming inside.
Jisung freezes beside him, silence falling between them for a long, awkward second as he watches Minho, lips ajar in surprise.
“Wha-!” Jisung clears his throat. “You know what? That’s not a problem!” he looks in the box and takes beige and orange bottles to put them in Minho’s hands. “You can mix those two, equal parts, it’s fire you’ll see! It’s like you’re doing it at the cinema!”
Minho blinks at the bottles, reading the labels. Caramel and… popcorn flavored lubes. The smileys on the labels are winking at him and Minho’s left eye twitches furiously. So Jisung likes to taste like the movie theater snacks when he’s getting his dick sucked. He can live perfectly fine with this information.
“Thank… you, I guess?” he tries shyly.
“You’re welcome! You can also mix those two!” Jisung smiles at him and hands him two different green bottles this time. Mint and lime flavors. “I think they really taste like mojito when you put them together!” he adds as he continues to fetch bottles from the box.
“What?!” Minho chokes on his saliva.
He’s going to live absolutely normally now, knowing that Jisung likes to suck, lick people tasting like mojito. What the hell is happening right now?
“The mint one also has a cooling effect, I don’t know if you’ll like it actually.” Jisung mumbles for himself, completely unaware of the effect it has on Minho.
“Thank you, Jisung!” Minho cuts him off in a high pitched voice. “I think I'll try the whole… mix and match-thing on my own?” he says, putting back the bottle in.
“Oh…” Jisung lets out, defeated.
As he grabs the box from Jisung’s hands, the latter starts to pout. And Minho hates that pout because how can he go like this now?
“But thank you for your recommendations, I'll make sure to try them.” he smiles awkwardly.
“Really?!” Jisung shouts, his boba eyes sparkling in joy. “So, it means you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“As if I was!” Minho scoffs.
He was just awfully humiliated and still is. But yeah, he’s so madly in love with that stupid goofy boy that he can’t be mad. He just can't. Love is blind, but Minho sees clearly. Minho is just masochistic, and a dummy.
A pining dummy with nearly three liters of lube, offered by the man he’s infatuated with, to store somewhere in his room now.
˚ · • . ° .
[Minho :]
Hey! What are you up to?
[Hannie :]
Getting a facial!
[Minho :]
WHAT?
He chokes violently, and coughs for a while before regaining his posture. This is exactly why Minho never sends the first message to Jisung. Because with Minho’s mind getting more and more desperate over the years of pining, Jisung can summon chaos with only three words.
He comes back to his senses when he feels the buzzing of his phone between his hands. Jisung sent him a picture and Minho discovers again the concept of time relativity as he waits for it to load.
It’s him. With his stupidly round face, smiling brightly in the front. At the back, far behind Jisung, Minho can decipher golden letters on a white marble counter. Oh. He’s at the esthetic center. That makes fucking sense, but Minho is just dense apparently.
[Minho :]
AH! Enjoy then!
Minho wants to slam his head on the wall, but he refrains from it. He’s not sure that the people attending the afternoon event at the amphitheater will understand, and as crazy as it seems, Minho still wants to be perceived as a sane person. At least at university.
He’s not happy to be stuck there for the next six hours on a Saturday, but he got hired with a few other good students by their professors to manage the event logistics. Which means it’s a really important thing because, one: money, second: contacts.
Minho isn’t here to be the teacher’s pet, nor because he likes long ass, straight boring law seminars where jurists, lawyers and judges debate on the newest passed laws and the bills that have been vetoed.
Nope, but he doesn’t let it show. Smiling to greet the newcomers and give them the program of the evening. Nodding politely when the most despicable judge he had ever met throws his car keys on the reception desk for him to park his car. Is valet parking written on his forehead? Last time he checked it wasn’t. He doesn't even know how to drive a sports car, but Seungmin apparently does with how he’s looking at said vehicle.
“Wanna take a ride?” Minho asks him, swirling the keys around his fingers.
“It’s a fucking Aventador LP 780-4 Ultimae! She’s wonderful!” Seungmin exclaims with twinkles in the eye.
“Bless you?” Minho chuckles.
“Lamborghini, for neophytes like you!”
“As long as she is intact in the parking lot by the end of the hour, I don’t give a shit about what you’re doing with her,” Minho tells him before giving him the keys.
And Seungmin runs towards the bright blue car like it’s his present under the Christmas tree under Minho's amused gaze.
After that, whilst his classmate enjoys his life more than he’s doing, Minho greets the last guests and is in charge of closing the big wooden doors of the amphitheater behind them. He then calls the caterer to set the last details about the delivery hour and place, writing every detail on the notebook for others to have the information when they’ll come back from their tasks.
With a loud huff, Minho plops down on a chair in the hall and sighs in happiness to finally be able to rest, relieving his aching feet a little. It was a stupid move to put on his new shoes, he recognizes it now. And now that he sees the girls managing the buffet come his way he only wants to whine.
He’s dragged into setting the tables with them because they weigh a ton. Who had the brilliant idea to not use plastic folding tables? Minho would love to have a little and courteous chat with them now that he’s sore and stuck on fatigue duty, to set two hundred and fifty champagne flutes on the white table cloth to ease the work for tonight’s waiters.
His phone buzzes and rings multiple times in a row against his thigh, making him grunt as he sets the glasses in his hand before he fishes the device in his pants pocket.
[Hannie :]
I think I'm allergic to the facial
I'm all hot and tired
I’m going to bed
[Minho :]
Hm? Call if you really don’t feel well
What happened? Did they use new products at the esthetic center? They know Jisung’s skin is sensitive, everyone knows it, Minho made sure it was written on his card. So how could someone let that happen? He’s going to send an unappreciative review on the internet page.
Just as he is about to open Naver, frowning in deep concern, a new notification appears on the top of his screen, announcing Jisung’s response.
[Hannie :]
dw hyung, i know you’re busy today.
just called Chan to come over and check on me.
What?! No, that won’t do! Minho is deeply against that idea. Not on his watch. He’s the one who should take care of Jisung, not that perfect labrador-like, stupidly cute and always willing to help person that Chan is.
[Minho :]
NO!
I told you to call me!
[Hannie :]
but you’re doing your symposium thing
I know Chan would love to help.
[Minho :]
I don’t want him in my house.
He’s so fucking stupid, but he doesn’t want Chan around his Jisung when the latter is vulnerable. Minho definitely knows, per se, that Chan is an adorable guy. Always there when you need him, always polite and friendly. But he’s also insufferably hot, very openly bisexual and really really close to Jisung.
Minho can’t help but do some of his quirky math here. Two hot bisexual guys, in a bedroom, when one is taking care of the other when he’s “all hot and tired”... Oh my god, is this going to turn pg18? If it was him, it would definitely turn pg18. How is it possible to resist Jisung when he’s all cute and sleepy?
He can picture him clearly right now, in his bed, hair tousled and fluffy dried from the shower he surely took just before texting Minho. Cute flushed cheeks and glossy lips from the sleepy habit he has to lick on his lips compulsively. There’s no way anyone besides him witnesses him like this.
[Hannie :]
Why? wanna be the only one?
to come over and fuck me in bed? :)
tuck* me in bed
Actually, yes. Minho wants this. He wants both.
He wants to be the only one for Jisung. The unique person to tuck him and fuck him in bed if that’s what Jisung wants to. Or he can be fucked in his bed, since he kinda know now that he would enjoy this too.
[Minho :]
YES!
Panic sets in when he realizes he had actually sent that message.
Well, actually he just said “yes”, Jisung is quite a regular when it comes to typos so it should be okay. Oh no, no, no. It’s not okay.
Minho plops down on the floor, fixing his phone with pure fright in the eye. He doesn’t want Jisung to know, and he doesn’t want Chan to check on him. Minho wants to run out of here, go back to their apartment and take care of Jisung, but he’s still supposed to stay here at least for the next two hours.
He’s stuck in his head, completely unaware of the worried glances the other students throw his way. Until a hand lands softly on his shoulder.
“You can leave, Minho.” Seungmin smiles at him nicely.
“But, the buffet and…”
“Don’t worry about that, you’re not in the right state no matter what. Take a taxi to go home, okay?” he dismisses him.
Minho finds a taxi quite easily when he arrives on the main street outside of the campus. He looks by the window, but doesn't see anything, zoning out almost immediately after the car starts moving.
In his mind, he imagines Chan gently taking care of Jisung, tucking him in bed and kissing his forehead fondly. Jisung, cutely fluttering his drowsy eyes open when he feels Chan’s lips against his skin…
Minho is going to throw up, catching a paper bag in the net behind the front seat. The driver looks at him weirdly in the rear-view mirror, asking him to not throw up on the carseats. Minho just shakes his hand in reassurance as breathe loudly in the bag to calm himself, feeling a little better when the taxi pulls off at the end of his street.
When he opens the door of the apartment with a shaky hand, Minho’s eyes land immediately on Jisung. He's huddled in one of his hoodies in front of the coffee table, a hot steaming mug between his hands. He looks at Minho in astonishment before searching for his phone to read the hour. He opens his mouth to speak but Minho cuts him off when he falls next to him.
“You! Listen to me attentively, I'm not gonna repeat myself!” he demands, raising his forefinger in front of Jisung’s face.
Jisung blinks for a mere second but ends up nodding slightly.
“First of all, all your typos infuriate me. That’s it, I said it. They infuriate me because they got me so fucking hard each time now, I know this his pathetic and desperate. But yeah, surprise, I'm so very much gay, and in love with you, and attracted to you, and even more since the last two months or so! So yeah! I want to be the only one to fuck you in bed actually!”
Minho gasps and slams his hands on his mouth because he wasn’t planning to let out the very last part like this. Jisung just… looks at him. Why isn’t he even reacting? Oh no, Minho thinks. Jisung is... He broke Jisung.
“Hm. You’re done? You good?” Jisung just asks.
Minho nods, but jumps right after when a loud bang resonates before a ton of multicolored confetti rains on him. He blinks dumbly at Jisung who is holding the confetti cannon in his hand.
“Lord, I can’t believe I kept this thing in my pocket for the last three months, hoping for that day to finally come!” Jisung sighs. “Congratulations for your outing Minho, I'm sorry I don’t have written a card, but I can buy a unicorn piñata to make up for it if you want?”
“You knew?” Minho lets out in a high pitched voice.
“Of course I knew, dumbass! I've been your best friend for years, how could I not know? Just waiting for you to be ready to tell, but gosh you were so slow, I had to do something.”
Minho wants the earth to swallow him whole. He’s even more ashamed now that he realizes that Jisung knew all along. It must have been so funny for him, pretending to be perfectly oblivious and watching him falling deeper and deeper into nonsense.
That explains the tremendous amount of anatomical documentaries Jisung was watching for the past few weeks. Oh my god… Minho has been tricked and manipulated into trying anal! Maybe he was just a fucking experiment for Jisung’s persuasive communication classes. That’s why he was completely against the idea of Jisung studying social psychology, he knew something like this was bound to happen at some point and-
“For your information, the only real typo I made was the one earlier.”
“You!” Minho gapes at him, scandalized.
He doesn’t even know what to say to that, he was truly persuaded that it was just Jisung being his usual idiot self. Actually, this kinda feels like trahison, betrayal. Jisung playing with him hurts in a way Minho wasn’t prepared for. It tugs at his heart, makes him nauseous and dizzy.
He hates him, right now.
Yet he’s still in love with him.
If Minho was a wild species, it would have been extinct in less than a decade. Too stupid, making bad choices after bad choices while being perfectly aware of that. Darwin would be, so, so mad at him. Minho’s glad he’s not the human of reference or else he would be worried about the humankind survival.
“Even if I'm really not against the idea, well… perhaps it was a lapsus more than a typo?”
“Wow, you know how to use “lapsus” in context? How impressive of you!”
Minho is so calm right now, he’s frightening himself. Very bold of him, using sarcasm when he’s almost dying inside —because of a cardiac arrest, shit his heart is so happy that he’s beating too fast. If it continues this way, all his blood will go south and Minho will faint because of a massive erection.
“Of course, I’m an expert with slips of the tongue!” Jisungs says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Minho hits him in the shoulder with his fist, all but very flustered. He’s definitely getting hard, this is pathetic. Jisung is so raunchy, Minho wants to giggle like a teenager and shove his tongue down his throat.
“Stop! I got it, you’re really creative when it comes to puns. Happy?”
“But I'm a hundred percent serious right now.” Jisung says, in the most serious and low tone Minho ever heard coming from him.
The atmosphere shifts in less than a second, shivers run through Minho’s whole body when Jisung’s eyes roam over his body. Along his cheeks, almost caressing. Longing on his lips, Minho can't refrain from licking at them and sparks fly on Jisung’s pupils. They go down, along the curve of his neck, then his collarbone. He seems frustrated, outraged, by the presence of Minho’s shirt covering his chest and hiding it from his gaze.
“Minho?” Jisung asks, eyes still roaming on his body.
The gaze elicits shivers running down Minho’s spine, “Yeah?” he says in a raspy voice.
Oh, why does he sound like he just smoked a whole bunch of clove cigarettes now? He clears his throat, waiting for Jisung to elaborate on what he wants to tell him, but Minho sees that he’s kinda uncomfortable in the way Jisung compulsively licks his lower lip and worries it between his front teeth.
“You… About this, are you gonna do like last time, or…” Jisungs starts, gesturing vaguely towards Minho with his hand.
Minho’s eyes follow the movement, dropping on his crotch where a small tent salutes him. Fucking meerkat again. Shit. He looks and blinks at it for a while, almost unphased, because he knows he will never survive that level of humiliation. Yep, this time he’s done. Finished, terminado, erledigt, terminé, finito.
“Or what?” he asks blankly as he raises his gaze into Jisung’s.
“Do you, maybe, need help with it?”
“I know how to do it myself,” Minho deadpans.
Jisung laughs airily, then stops abruptly to slowly lean in his direction. His deep gaze captures Minho’s, leaving him breathless. This is where he dies. From asphyxiation. Because he’s just a man, a blinking idiot whose blood decided to irrigate only one organ at the time. Said organ obviously not being the brain.
Fingers land on his knee, and he watches as Jisung teasingly trails them higher up on his thigh. It’s not a tent anymore in his pants, it’s a whole circus marquee. Very appropriate for the clown he is. If only he was a lion tamer, he would ask his dick to sit down… and bow for the public.
Jisung’s hand nears his crotch now, fingers playing with the seam of his jeans nonchalantly, and his face is mere inches away from Minho’s, a naughty smile illuminating Jisung's features. Minho almost need to squint to see him,
“I know,” Jisung breathes, “but it seems like maybe you wanted a helping hand you know.”
“I thought you were an expert with your tongue?”
“Straightforward! I like that!”
Jisung’s smile grows wider as he finally palms at Minho’s hardening cock above his pants, coaxing him into full hardness, and Minho whines low in his throat.
“The only thing straight about me!” he blurts out in a high pitched tone.
“You’re so hot when you’re all flustered and shy,” Jisung lets out in a whisper, and Minho isn’t sure he was meant to hear.
“37,5°C. I’m average.”
What? Why can’t he say something sexy or clever when the man of his dreams is literally trying to get in his pants, continuing his ministrations.
“Can I shut you up?” Jisung sighs, rolling his eyes.
“Please,” Minho nods eagerly.
And Jisung pounces on him. Wow, okay, he’s also straightforward, sucking avidely on Minho’s upper lip before sliding his tongue between his lips whilst his hands unbutton his pants skillfully.
Minho is absolutely positive that a kiss is not supposed to be wet and sloppy like that right from the start. It is? He doesn't remember how to breathe with Jisung’s tongue swirling around his, exploring his mouth. Their teeth clatter when Jisung starts to get too eager after nibbling on Minho’s bottom lip.
Jisung plump lips, against his, and Jisung’s fingers trying not so subtly to pass under the waistband of his underwear. Minho feels lightheaded, and falls backwards with a dumb smile on his face. Jisung catches him in extremis in a panicked squeak.
“Wow Minho, did you actually forget to breathe?” and Minho nods unabashedly, “Okay, no more kisses for now.” Jisung chuckles.
Minho frowns, not really in favor of what’s being suggested.
“Can we get to the bed instead?” he asks bluntly. “I’ll not fall like that,” he adds, averting his gaze as he blushes.
“Your room!” Jisung is quick to answer.
“Why?”
“You have liters of tasty lubes.” he just grins.
He gets up on his feet swiftly, looking at Minho expectantly. Shit. He’s right. And for an unknown reason, now that Minho is going to use them with Jisung —he’s gonna use them right?— it kinda is appealing. A teeny-weeny little bit. He hops up to a stand with Jisung's help and then they are heading to Minho’s room hand in hand.
Jisung doesn’t even let him the chance to close the door, pushing him to lay onto the bed and Minho falls back, a loud huff leaving his lips when his back makes contact with the mattress. He watches in awe, lips ajar, as Jisung climbs on the bed to hover above him, hands caging either side of his face.
Their eyes met. Jisung’s half lidded gaze falls into Minho’s widened eyes, catching him off guard and pinning him there. Unable to move, unable to think straight and barely able to breathe already. Then Jisung snaps, his lips landing in the crook of his neck, kissing, sucking and nibbling eagerly, his tongue lathers the fair skin, soothing the bite.
Minho is just a puddle of sighs and tiny muffled sounds under Jisung, he revels in the wet erotic sounds and in Jisung trying to literally devour him as he unbuttons Minho’s shirt. Burning lips trail down his skin, slowly, leaving marks and bruises blooming in their wake. He can only whine, tugging clumsily at the bottom of Jisung’s shirt to hint to him that he doesn't want it there.
“Want me to get rid of this?” Jisung smirks when he comes back above him.
Empty minded, and cramped in his pants, Minho doesn’t remember how to speak correctly. Focus! the voice shouts in his head, trying to bring him some sort of clarity.
“Want all gone, mine too.” he still manages to babble with a nod.
And he doesn't know how, but a few seconds later, they’re both naked. Oh no, he’s already developing early symptoms of Alzheimer's, he just witnessed Jisung stripping himself completely bare in front of him and he can’t even remember. How can he miss such onanistic material? How the fuck did he even know what onanism means? Minho’s brain is on loop as he pushes on his elbows to straighten a little, his stunned gaze following each dip and curve of Jisung’s body. How will he live without that memo– oh wow!
Okay, he can live without it, because his eyes just landed on the most pretty dick he had ever seen in his life, and honestly, Minho thinks that it makes up for everything. Not that he had actively seen a lot of them, well actually, he only saw his own in real life, but that’s irrelevant. What’s between Jisung’s legs is definitely wonderful.
A more than respectable length and girth, neither too much nor not enough at first glance, gracefully curving up toward Jisung’s belly. Its skin is made of a little darker shade, but seems so smooth to the touch. Minho’s gaze travels along a beautiful vein slightly defined on the underside, up to its pink flushed cockhead. He can’t rein in the urge to lick his lips and swallow to not drool on the sight.
This is it. That’s the only reason why Minho suffered all these years majoring in law. Being able to gather enough eloquence to state a whole closing argument about Jisung’s dick. Minho wants to be that cock’s court-appointed attorney when he graduates.
“Hi.” he mumbles giddily, blinking like a contented cat.
“Did you-” Jisung frowns in surprise. “Did you just say ‘hi’ to my dick and try to send it a wink?!” he gasps with an offended pout on his face.
“Yeah…” Minho breathes.
He lets himself fall back onto the mattress under Jisung’s sudden laugh, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. And it was not that far from reality because if Jisung was the main reason for Minho's gaypanic attacks, he was also the funniest, loveliest person in his life. Jisung is full of happiness and laughter, even in the middle of a moment like the one they’re currently sharing.
“You’re really something!”
“Can we do something instead?”
“Yeah!” Jisung nods before pouncing on Minho’s lips again.
He wants Jisung to kiss him everywhere. Everywhere like along the column of his throat, his chest, his hips, his hands… but also everywhere like in the living room, in the queue for the campus restaurant, at the convenience store when they buy the habitual laundry detergent and not the concentrated one… And Minho’s head spins like the 1800RPM wring dry program when the thought crosses his mind, making him pull away from Jisung’s lips, breath hitching.
“Wanna wash my clothes with yours in the same machine!” Minho blurts out.
Wait! That’s not what he wanted to say. He blushes hard when the reality of what he just let out catches him, turning pink like Jisung’s favorite white shirt after the latter washed it with his new red hoodie. What the fuck was that? Minho blinks dumbly at the ceiling above him while Jisung’s lips are back against his neck.
“Is this your way to ask me to be your boyfriend?” he whispers there, hot breath fanning against Minho’s skin.
“Yes?”
“Okay. Sure, let’s wash our clothes together from now on, Minho.”
The aforementioned keens high in his throat when Jisung licks along his collarbone, then down to lathers circles around a brown nipple. One of Jisung's hands grabs and fondles his pec for a short while before flicking its finger on the other perky bud.
Minho can’t keep his hands to himself when he feels Jisung’s fingers trail lightly on his chest and abs. He wants to touch him too, and decides to be really straightforward, closing his short fingers around Jisung’s throbbing shaft and causing the latter to bite on his nipple.
“Ow!” Minho shouts in pain. “I know you’re a paella aficionado, but this is not chorizo?”
“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung chuckles. “You got me by surprise, ‘m sorry!”
He kisses the nub, again and again, between apologizes. And Minho lets out a contented sigh, sliding his other hand at the back of Jisung’s head to keep him there, playing with the hair between his fingers.
Jisung's cock twitches slightly against his palm, almost urging him to move, to do something about it. So Minho starts to drag his fingers along its length, up and down at a languorous pace. Jisung’s breath is uneven against his chest, and laced with the most lustful sounds Minho has ever heard coming from him. And his chest swells with pride.
Minho’s the one making Jisung feel like this. And even in all his most ineffables wet dreams, he was never the cause of such wonderful reactions. Those beautiful whimpers and moans are only engendered by him, and his thumb almost ghosting over the head of Jisung’s cock. Jisung jerks his hips, chasing the touch on his dick and his eyes rolling back when Minho finally presses the tip of his finger into its slit, gathering a bead of precum to smear it messily, making its wet head glistening even more.
Jisung’s fingers find their way down Minho’s body, every muscle tensing forcefully under the touch that awakens a trail of shivers, until they reach the base of his painfully straining cock, closing around it. And it’s already so good when Jisung touches him like this, that Minho nearly cum pathetically on the spot, panting heavily and arching his back until only his head still rests on the bed, lips parted in a silent cry.
“Where’s your lube?” Jisung presses him.
Minho wiggles a little, getting closer to the edge of his bed to search blindly under his bed with one hand. And when his fingers close around what he is searching he pulls the whole box out of there, untouched since he hid it the day Jisung brought it.
The latter doesn't waste a second, grabs the condom box and rummages into the box to retrieve god knows what flavor, but Minho slowly pries the huge box out of Jisung’s hands and fetches a bottle into it before discarding the package on the ground. Jisung blinks at him in incomprehension.
“I don’t want you to sip me like a mojito or eat me like a candy-” Minho starts, before Jisung interrupts him with a pout.
“But-”
“Yet.” he finishes, eliciting a preening smile from Jisung. “Instead…”
“Instead…”
Minho hands him the bottle, label in evidence saying ‘bourbon vanilla’ and Jisung looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Instead I want us to directly start with making donuts.” he mutters, not so confident anymore now that Jisung only blinks. One, two, three times. Clearly not seeing what Minho has in mind. “You, filling me. With your cream.”
“Oh~.” Jisung exclaims, his features turning a bright red. “You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
“Want me to fill you full like a lil' donut…” Jisung chants with a shit-eating grin placated on his lips.
“Don’t make me say that again, I swear I'll punch you in the guts and tear your dick off until it separates from your body!” Minho growls between clenched teeth.
Jisung makes a quick military salute before pouncing on him, making them both fall back to the position they were minutes before, and grabs the bottle clasped in Minho’s hand to open it hastily, the cap popping loudly, before he squirt a good amount of the clear product on his fingers.
When their lips and tongues meet again in a sloppy exchange, Minho clasps his ankles together in the small of Jisung’s back to keep him there as the latter's lubed hand sneaks between their bodies, down to his ass. Minho lets out a high pitched and muffled scream when he feels Jisung’s cold finger circling his rim at a frustrating pace, before pushing it in ever so slowly.
“Fuck, y’so hot and tight” Jisung hisses, his finger prodding lightly inside.
“You can add more,” Minho says. “It was not a question,” he feels obligated to add when Jisung doesn’t comply immediately.
The second finger slides in as easily, and suddenly their dicks rub together when Jisung manages to grind down a little. Minho sees stars at the friction of their neglected erections, moaning loudly as he clenches around Jisung’s fingers. The latter isn’t in a better state, rolling his hips quicker as he curls and spreads his fingers into Minho’s warm hole to stretch him as best as possible.
“More!” Minho pleads between his moans.
“So g-greedy already…”
“I’m waiting for this since days, months, years, deca-”
He can’t finish, a lewd sound bubbling in his throat when he feels Jisung’s third digit in, aiming right at his prostate. A long wail passes the barrier of his lips as the pads of Jisung’s fingers rub relentlessly at that exact same spot short of a second later.
“You were saying?” Jisung taunts him with a grin.
“Ngghgnnhh”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” he chuckles.
Minho feels the heat pooling in him turn into a fiery inferno and his cock leaking amounts of precum on his lower belly and Jisung’s dick still rubbing against him. It’s too much, yet not enough.
“Ah! Plea- please! Want you in, want to cum with you in me, pleasepleaseplease!”
A litany of pleas bleeds past Minho’s lips, only able to beg even more and claw at Jisung’s broad shoulders, kneading his muscles, as he feels him pulling off his fingers. He’s so empty, he’s gonna die. It’s a fuck or die actually, he is absolutely certain of this.
Minho writhes on the bed, crumpling the sheets in his movements. Unshed tears finally run down his temples as he begs and moans for Jisung to fill him full. His cock, flushed of an angry red and aching for release, bounces and twitches pathetically on his belly at the loss. Until he feels the slicked head of Jisung's dick finally presenting itself against his entrance.
Slowly, Jisung pushes his cock past Minho’s rim, the tightness and heat makes him moan and praise Minho for being so good, taking him so well. And Minho is just a sobbing and moaning mess between Jisung’s hands. He’s finally able to breathe, feeling so full and stretched.
Minho arches his back, flushing his chest against Jisung's, his prostate being stimulated again with each of Jisung's deep and languorous thrusts as the latter starts to jerk him off at the same pace. He knows all too well he’s not gonna last long, but can’t bring himself to care. He wants to come on Jisung’s cock, no matter what, no matter how. And he wants Jisung to come inside him, to keep him warm forever.
He doesn’t know how many of Jisung's skillful thrusts and flicks of the wrist it takes for him to come, but he does. He closes his arms tighter around Jisung’s neck, screaming his name with a broken voice, littles cries following suit as Jisung maintains his punishing pace, chasing his own high. And hips flushed hard against Minho’s ass, Jisung comes in turns, his lips crashing against Minho’s.
When he finally gets back from his high, Jisung manages to pull out his softening dick before he slumps against Minho. The latter, still in a state of dazed bliss, feels him nosing at his neck gently, basking in his smell and warmth as their breaths become steadier.
Minho knows they should clean up, and change the sheets, but he already feels the sleep coming for him, for them both. He just tells himself that this is a matter for future Minho —and future Jisung— as he snuggle to find a comfortable position in Jisung’s arms.
“G’nap my boyfriend,” Jisung mumbles almost inaudibly, tightening his hold on Minho’s body to keep him close.
And if Minho doesn’t scream and jump out of bed to do his little wormy wriggling moves he calls his happy dance, it’s just because he’s already sound asleep, lips slightly ajar in a contented smile.
˚ · • . ° .
Out of nowhere, Minho receives a text when he just got out of the interview after the biggest trial of his career. When he accepted the case, he wasn’t even aware that his client was a huge national celebrity. Now his phone doesn’t stop ringing, and this is infuriating. He sighs as he fishes his phone in the inner pocket of his suit.
[Husband :]
how did you fell in love with me, again?
Forget that, he didn’t say anything, it’s never infuriating when it’s a text from hubby. Minho smiles like a dummy to the screen of his smartphone. Then he remembers to get his shit together because there’s still hundreds of cameras focused on him as he climbs down the stairs of the courthouse.
[Minho :]
why do you always need to ask?
[Husband :]
because
[Minho :]
i don’t know Jisung
you’re just my typo <3
[Husband :]
Aaaawwww! I love you so much!
He laughs at Jisung’s cuteness. Even after years of living together as friends first, then as a couple, the younger still need to get reassurance coming from Minho. And the latter is always more than happy to provide. Unfaltering love, since the beginning and forever, for the goofy man sharing his life.
[Husband :]
you won?
[Minho :]
of course i won!
didn’t you just see me on tv?
how was i?
[Husband :]
literally the sexiest lawyer of the whole court
oh? are you blushing right now?
you’re live on national tv, behave!
Minho freezes and tries to calm down a little bit. A mediatic trial is good publicity, but he really doesn’t need to make a statement because people start to think he’s doing unholy things on his phone. And obviously he’s not! He’s just really flustered by his husband's messages.
[Husband :]
anyway, no one can beat you *^*
we need to celebrate
[Minho :]
what do you propose?
[Husband :]
i wanna eat some dick tonight!
DUCK***
[Minho :]
i mean…
you can have both
After all, maybe he’s sending unholy texts after a trial. Who knows?