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It was a chilly day when Minho awaited his fate, but he was sweating so hard that he couldn’t feel the cold. Jisung sat next to him, offering his hand as they both clicked on their college admission emails. Fingers intertwined, palms wet, they both scanned the words in hope and fear.
The second they discovered they’d continue to be together, Jisung, high off adrenaline, had grabbed Minho’s face and kissed his cheek—a dramatic, silly smack. It should have been nothing but a ridiculous joke between friends, but Minho felt something open up in his chest, like his ribs had been pried apart.
He wanted to pull Jisung close and mold his lips to his own.
He had blinked. Once, twice, a few more times. And Jisung had laughed at his dumbstruck expression, oblivious to how he’d just tilted Minho’s world on its axis.
The shift caused Minho to view everything from a slightly different perspective after that. Or maybe an additional one. Not just Jisung, my best friend, but Jisung, the owner of my heart.
–
Minho and Jisung were always together.
At first, it wasn’t intentional. They were the same age and met in high school when they were put into a couple of shared classes; somehow, be it by chance or fate, they were often on the same team during PE, and paired up for science labs.
Jisung didn’t seem keen on Minho, at first. In fact, he glared at Minho the first time he introduced himself. But when Minho, unperturbed, decided to plop down next to Jisung during lunch one day, noticing the boy sitting alone, there was an instant click.
Minho was immediately curious about the boy, quiet until he was not, impossibly stubborn sometimes and soft at other times. And Jisung was attractive. Even with his bad haircut and acne, even when they were losers before college, Jisung was the most beautiful person Minho had ever seen.
Neither boy was extroverted, but they went together well. They didn’t always have to be doing something—they were perfectly content to just exist together. A rare, precious thing. Jisung and Minho had both been loners before meeting, but becoming friends allowed them to discover the blessings that came with having someone close: anime marathons and horror movie nights, heart-to-heart discussions over packaged snacks, and maybe an evening or two with cheap soju after submitting college applications.
When they entered university, shared circumstances, Minho’s wit, and Jisung’s endearing personality—now that he was out of his shell—enabled them to form friendships Minho hoped would last a lifetime. Yet, no one could match how close they were, how perfect they fit together.
They passed another two years together: time spent making dinner (well, Minho cooking, Jisung talking) in their shared campus apartment, a hike or two (despite Jisung’s feigned protests), and casual trips to cafes to drink Americanos and eat cheesecake.
Their college friends referred to these activities as “dates”. But they were just hanging out.
Well, to Jisung, Minho knew they were just hanging out. To Minho, it would be even better if they were dating.
Because Minho was in love with Jisung. Incorrigibly so.
–
“What do you think? Do I look fuckable?”
Minho nearly spat out his water, eyes flying to catch Jisung walking into their shared living room, clad in tight jeans and a silky black shirt.
Minho’s fingers itched with the need to touch. If Jisung was pretty when they were younger, now—two years into college—he was downright gorgeous. And he was learning his power, using his small waist and big eyes to get what he wanted. Why couldn’t he want Minho?
Jisung cocked his hip, grinning when he saw Minho staring.
Minho swallowed, tried to clear his mind. This wasn’t one of his wet dreams, the kind that wouldn’t leave him alone nowadays; it was reality, and in reality, he’d never get to feel the touch he craved.
Minho somehow managed to pull together his usual teasing expression. “You always look fuckable.”
“Minhoooo,” Jisung whined in protest. Minho blinked and suddenly Jisung was aiming big doe eyes at him.
What the fuck did Jisung want with him? He looked ready to be devoured, sounded like it too . Yet Minho wasn’t allowed to taste. He really needed to drink something stronger than water.
He couldn’t hold eye contact. “You look great, Jisung,” he replied after a moment, blankly staring at something across the room.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jisung cock his head. As if he was trying to get a read on Minho.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Jisung asked eventually.
“I thought you were going on a date with your boyfriend,” Minho shot back.
He had been suffering like this their entire time at university—watching Jisung excitedly seeking out hookups or existing in his latest (short-lived) relationship—and it hadn’t gotten any easier.
It would be risky to try any kind of romantic relationship, given how important their friendship was to both of them. But that wasn’t even the question at hand; it never got to that point, because Jisung wasn’t interested in him like that. Not because he was a guy, but because he was Minho. Jisung never showed any indication that he wanted to pursue anything with him. He’d go on dates, ask Minho for advice on how to dress and occasionally even how to respond to a flirty text, looking completely unaware of how those moments caused something icy to shoot through Minho’s veins. He was aware of Minho’s sex life, vaguely, but rarely asked or commented, never seemed to care beyond understanding how it would impact their plans for the day.
They were the closest of friends, but nothing more.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “I’m going with him, but it’s just a party. Why are you being so grumpy?”
Maybe Minho’s definition of a fun time wasn’t watching Jisung rub himself against a guy that wasn’t him.
“I can play wingman, if you want?” Jisung continued, when Minho didn’t respond. “I know you’re out of everyone’s league, but the party is huge, there’s gotta be someone who suits your interests.”
“My… interests?” Minho felt an evil smirk overtake his face, masking the pain. “And what exactly do you think my interests are, Jisung?”
Jisung knew, at a surface-level, what Minho did. Besides a few offhand comments, he never pressed for details and just seemed to accept that it was a part of Minho’s life, outside of his view. It was slightly out of character; Jisung was usually nosy. Maybe he thought Minho was strange, but Minho wasn’t so sure. They didn’t talk about Jisung’s sex life much, but although Jisung never gave any indication of it being wild, Minho had a feeling Jisung wasn’t totally vanilla. Or, at least, he wouldn’t be, if he knew what he wanted. That was just Minho’s instinct; but he’d been studying Jisung for years.
“W-well, um…” The nervous stuttering was delicious, and Minho nearly had to look away to stop himself from pouncing. Why did Jisung have to be so perfect for him, yet not reciprocate his feelings? “You like telling people what to do, right?”
Minho laughed. He supposed that was one way to put it.
Minho had taken interest in BDSM not long after entering college. He was stressed, horny, and drowning in feelings for his best friend. An acquaintance had dragged him to a club, saying he had the sharp tongue and visuals that would make him ‘perfect’... and Minho joined, curious and a little hot upon hearing the types of things he could be part of. It wasn’t long before he was learning the rules, studying etiquette and safety, and observing seasoned doms so he could do it right. Minho wanted to play the part well.
He was suited for it; he liked taking care of others. And, apparently, putting brats in their place. (Which obviously had nothing to do with his stubborn, teasing best friend.) And his classmate was right; Minho had the face for it, too. With his chiseled features and sharp eyes, he could look cold, even intimidating.
He could be, and definitely was, mean as scenes required. And sure, he liked “telling people what to do” as Jisung suggested. But of course, he would take care of his partner properly after. Making sure they were comfortable, cared for. He prided himself in it. Became known for both his roughness but also his caution.
But Minho had never gotten into a relationship. There were a couple people he more regularly hooked up with, familiar faces at the club and around campus that he’d play with if he was in the mood, but never anything exclusive. A dom-sub relationship didn’t have to be romantic; but for Minho, he knew he’d want it to be. Some guys he’s slept with had asked him on dates, but he knew he couldn’t. Knew he’d just be thinking of Jisung, and that wouldn’t be fair. Plus, he was sure they only wanted to date him to have his dom persona constantly around. And that wasn’t what they’d get.
“I appreciate the offer, but I already have a few someones, if I’m so inclined,” Minho responded finally, deciding to spare Jisung, who seemed uncomfortable stewing in the extended silence.
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”
“Slut shaming me?”
“No, no, of course not! Just… have you seen yourself?” Jisung shook his head, smiling. “I’ve seen people drool over you, Minho.”
Minho knew that people found him attractive. But what did he look like through Jisung’s eyes, the eyes of the person who knew him best, the person Minho loved?
But he wasn’t going to ask Jisung that question. Instead, he merely shrugged, and declined the party invite yet again.
–
Minho, stupidly, hadn’t realized that exploring his sexuality would lead him to become desperate for Jisung in another way. He was just trying to live his life. And it’s not like Minho tried to think of Jisung that way. Much the opposite, actually; he attempted to block thoughts as they sprouted, pulling them up from their roots.
But Jisung gave his mind way, way too much fodder.
Like the other day, when he was minding his own business, eating pudding in the kitchen, when he felt the other’s presence creep up behind him.
“Can I have a bite?” Jisung had asked, as if he didn’t know it was Minho’s favorite snack that he hated sharing. Unless it was with Jisung.
When Minho just rolled his eyes, he heard a whiny “please” and looked back to see Jisung’s mouth open in waiting.
Jisung was born to torture Minho, specifically. It must be punishment for something awful he did in a past life.
Because yes, he still wanted to kiss Jisung’s forehead and call him his, but he also wanted to press his fingers against his pink tongue. The one staring him in the face at that very moment.
This was just part of their normal back-and-forth, but lately it was charged. Well, for Minho.
Jisung most likely hadn’t been thinking about Minho tying him up. But that was the vision that played out in Minho’s mind.
Still, it would be so much easier if Minho’s attraction was just physical. Because then he knew he could get over it.
He couldn’t seem to get over Han Jisung.
–
After Jisung left for his date-slash-party in his “fuckable” outfit, Minho found himself looking for someone at his usual club. Jisung wasn’t planning on being back that night, which meant Minho could make use of his room. It didn’t take him long to identify a guy he had done scenes with a couple of times before. And Minho knew how to satisfy his subs, so he wasn't surprised the man wanted more. Still, they both knew they were just seeking a means to an end. The guy was a decent match for Minho, and probably what he needed that night. A challenge, but not too much of one. Just enough to scratch the itch, not so much that he’d be too drained after.
After they cleaned up and Minho offered the man snacks and spent some time making sure he was okay, he saw the man to the door, telling him to call if he felt bad later.
Minho started to pad back to his room, already thinking about Jisung again. Did his boyfriend clean him up and cuddle him after they had sex?
He paused mid-step when he heard stirring come from beyond Jisung’s bedroom door. The soft sound rustling sheets.
Wait. Wasn’t Jisung at his boyfriend’s? If he wasn’t… Minho swallowed. He knew his guest had been loud.
He took a deep breath before knocking on Jisung’s door.
Silence. He knocked again for good measure, but was greeted by nothing but the sound of his own breathing. He started to think that maybe he was going crazy. “Jisung?”
The door finally creaked open. Jisung’s hair was sticking up—had he been sleeping?—and his face was flushed.
Oh god. He had heard something. He must have.
“Minho?” he asked, when Minho didn’t say anything. There was something nervous and unsure on his face. Fuck.
“Ah, I didn’t think… I thought you weren’t coming home tonight?” Minho eventually managed.
Jisung shrugged, averting his eyes. “We broke up.”
God. Jisung was suffering, probably needed his support, and he was calling someone filthy names and fucking them rough on the other side of his wall.
“I didn’t—I’m sorry, Jisung, I didn’t know.”
Jisung shook his head. “No, I should have texted you or something. But I just crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow.”
“I should have warned you that—”
Jisung laughed, but it sounded a bit strange, as if it was ripped from his throat. “It’s your home too, Min, and I wasn’t supposed to be here. Plus, I was asleep, I just heard the guy leave a minute ago.”
Oh. Was it possible Jisung slept through their scene? He could sleep in almost any situation, always being a heavy sleeper…
Minho looked at him. He was still a bit red, and still avoiding eye contact.
Minho was fairly sure he was lying. But if he wanted to avoid talking about it, Minho was fine with that. He didn’t want to discuss details with Jisung, either. Didn't want to explain why he was calling another man a pathetic slut when Jisung had never heard Minho utter either of those words in his life.
Minho took long enough to respond that Jisung looked back at him again.
“Still, I’m sorry,” Minho finally replied, forcing the words out. “Especially after your breakup. Do you… want to talk about it?”
Jisung shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t even that into him.”
That, Minho didn’t doubt. They hadn’t been dating more than a few weeks, and Jisung rarely talked about the man. Plus, Minho had only met him once, briefly, but he had a feeling the man couldn’t give Jisung what he wanted. In bed or outside of it. (But maybe he was biased.)
Still.
Minho took a step forward, wrapping his arms around his friend.
Jisung’s breathing hitched, but his body quickly relaxed, melting into Minho’s embrace. He buried his nose in Minho’s neck. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, but it drove Minho crazy every time. Even if Minho had willingly set himself up, something sharp shot through his chest. Could anyone see it bleed? Or was it one of those wounds that felt much worse than it looked, something bruised and broken below the surface?
Jisung inhaled against Minho’s pulse point, and Minho tried to steady his heart rate.
“He told me I’m too dramatic,” Jisung mumbled against Minho’s skin.
“You are dramatic,” Minho teased, voice light. “But I like that about you.”
Jisung pulled back, lips turning downward. “Am I too much?”
Minho felt his stomach drop. “No, of course not.” He pinched the other’s cheek playfully. “You just need someone who can handle you.”
Jisung’s frown deepened.
Minho felt the corners of his own mouth dip down. He prided himself on being able to comfort people; yet here he was, messing it up with his own best friend.
“I don’t think anyone wants to handle me,” Jisung muttered, feigning annoyance. But Minho knew Jisung, and he wasn’t annoyed. He was hurt.
He didn’t need to be hurt. Minho would gladly handle him anytime. All the time, preferably.
But Minho bit his tongue. Pulled away from the hug, partially because it had been a while, but mostly because he was worried he’d start shaking with everything he had bottled up, threatening to combust.
“Someone will. There are just a lot of idiots out there. Gotta wade through them.”
Jisung made a noncommittal hum.
Minho cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll let you go back to sleep. But if you want to talk about anything… I’m here.”
Jisung nodded, a half-formed question in his eyes. “Yeah, you always are.”
–
When Minho walked into the living room the next day, Jisung seemed to be doing fine. He was splayed out on the sofa belly-down, elbows propped up so he could play his Switch. It wasn’t a rare scene. But that didn’t make Jisung any less tempting.
Minho plopped down into the egg-shaped chair next to the sofa. Jisung had gotten it on sale, said it was comfortable for gaming on the TV, but then never used it. He liked to stretch out on the couch and torture Minho with a great view of his butt.
Jisung peered over his shoulder to catch Minho’s gaze. “Are you staring at my ass again?”
“It’s a good ass.”
Jisung laughed, but it sounded a bit strained. Weird, they joked about this all the time. Was he feeling self-conscious after his break-up?
Minho got up, deciding he needed a glass of water. Or an intervention.
Passing behind the sofa, he indulged himself, taking advantage of the opportunity to smack Jisung’s butt. Perhaps a little harder than intended.
Jisung moaned.
The boy went stock-still, and Minho felt himself do the same. A butt slap was nothing out of the ordinary for them. But making that kind of sound was definitely not typical.
Jisung spun his head around to look at Minho with eyes wide with surprise. Minho didn’t know what his face showed, would be scared to even guess. But Jisung quickly looked away, stuffing his face into the throw pillow in front of him, hands clenching it in a death grip. Minho could see a flush color his neck, and couldn’t help but find it enticing. His fingers twitch with the need to touch.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” Jisung said after a few heartbeats, voice muffled by the pillow. He sounded so meek. So submissive.
And oh, Minho had been pretty good at controlling himself until then. But something had broken free.
“It’s okay, you know,” he responded, voice taking on a teasing lilt, despite the rapid thump of his heart. “If that’s your thing.”
Jisung must have hurt his neck with how fast his head spun around again, horrified eyes shooting up to meet Minho’s. “That’s not…” Jisung denied, looking and sounding panicked. “I was just really horny already, so.”
And now, Jisung was even more worked up. Minho wet his lips, and he saw Jisung track the movement.
He waited a few moments to respond, reveling in the way Jisung squirmed.
“Oh? What had you so worked up?” Minho replied eventually, smirking down at the other man. Maybe Jisung had been watching porn earlier, or maybe he had been looking at something lewd on his phone, or—
Jisung bit his lip nervously, the vulnerable action interrupting the older’s thoughts. Maybe Minho was pushing too far. It wasn’t his place, after all.
He took a breath and tried to regain control of his thoughts. “Nevermind. You don’t have to tell me—”
“You,” Jisung whispered, hiding his face in the pillow again. Minho froze. Jisung’s next words were muffled, but he still heard them. “I heard you last night.”
Then it clicked. Minho remembered Jisung looking flushed and guilty when he told Minho he had been sleeping while Minho had been fucking a man on the other side of Jisung’s wall.
“Ah.” Minho sifted through his memories, visions of his partner for the night on his knees, barely holding back from crying as Minho thrust into his mouth. Minho didn’t often get embarrassed about sex, but knowing Jisung heard it made his ears heat up.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” Jisung continued, words tumbling from his mouth before Minho could respond. “Your voice was so intense, and the other guy sounded so gone.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I even… pressed my ear up against the wall. Tried to catch what you said to him. Heard all sorts of noises too.”
Jisung had been listening? On purpose? Minho’s brain may have stopped functioning. But his dick definitely was working fine, the words alone causing him to start to grow hard.
He didn’t respond, his brain cells needing a second or two to reboot. But Jisung was undeterred, face pink as he continued.
“I wanted to touch myself. I really, really did.” Jisung let out a laugh, but his voice cracked. “But I didn’t. Was scared you would hear. But that scene plays on repeat in my mind. I can’t stop it.” He let out a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I feel so bad.”
He did look guilty, staring at the floor, twisting his fingers together. But if Jisung was guilty of something, then Minho was a criminal. He had heard Jisung jerking off more than once, and he certainly never walked away or put headphones on to give him privacy.
Still, Minho wouldn’t let Jisung off easy. Not now that he knew Jisung was interested in him sexually. Alarm bells went off in his head, telling him to spare their friendship and his own weak heart, but all he could do was say fuck it. He was only human.
Jisung shifted, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. Minho took the opportunity to sit on the sofa next to him. Jisung tucked his chin over his knees, avoiding eye contact.
“Listening without permission,” Minho responded after a moment, once he could form a coherent sentence again. “That’s pretty invasive, don’t you think?” His voice was playful, but only after he spoke the words did he realize that Jisung was deaf to his tone; his distressed expression only grew worse.
“I’m sorry.” Jisung stood up, his hands forming fists at his side. He looked like he was going to cry.
It would have been hot if it didn’t give Minho a reality check. He’d definitely gone too far. What was wrong with him?
He opened his mouth to apologize profusely—with what words, he wasn’t sure yet—but then his eyes caught on how Jisung was hunched over and angled, hiding himself.
“Are you hard?” Minho blurted out unthinkingly. Not very Minho-like, but the situation wasn’t exactly expected. He’d never felt so many conflicting emotions in his life, and it was sending his mind into overdrive.
Jisung’s looked down at himself and grimaced. His expression flipped between embarrassment and confusion and back again.
“I’m sorry.” Jisung sniffled a bit.
Minho wasn’t sure if he wanted to comfort him or eat him.
Actually, no, he knew: he wanted to do both. And Minho only had so much resolve, and his limit had been passed the moment Jisung moaned because of him.
“Do you want help with it?” The air shifted with Minho’s words.
“...What?” Jisung’s round, wet eyes met Minho’s. When Minho’s gaze didn’t falter, he laughed nervously. “Minho. What?”
“Yes or no, honey.” The words came out sickly sweet. It was Minho’s dom voice. He was using his dom voice with Jisung.
"Min—”
Minho stood up, leveled Jisung with his gaze. He ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut telling him that he would create his own ruin. "Yes or no." His tone left no room for argument.
Jisung shifted his weight from one leg to another as he stared into Minho’s eyes, probably trying to read what was written there. He was waging some kind of internal battle; Minho could see it play out on his face.
Minho waited. He could have patience. At times.
“Okay,” Jisung answered eventually, voice quiet. Minho opened his mouth to reprimand him, but Jisung cut him off. “I mean yes.”
Minho felt his lips quirk up. Jisung was a quick study. “Good boy.”
Jisung inhaled sharply. Then he looked like he was about to protest against the words, try to defend his dignity, but Minho wasn’t going to spend time indulging it.
“We need some ground rules,” Minho continued. This wasn’t just a normal handjob situation. He would be helping in his specific brand of way.
Jisung looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean?”
“If you say stop, we stop. And we use the stoplight system, yeah? You know that?” Jisung nodded. His hands were now fisted in the hem of his t-shirt. Cute.
“Have you ever used it before?” Minho asked. Partially out of a need to be careful, and partially because a sick part of him needed to be reassured that no one had had Jisung like this before.
Jisung shook his head, and the dark thing inside of Minho cheered.
But his mood was subdued when realized how unsure Jisung looked. Minho traced his face with his eyes, tried to read every line written there.
“Jisung. Are you sure about this?”
The other boy nodded. He caught Minho’s expression and opened his mouth to speak. “Yes. I’m sure.” He looked like he wanted to ask something. And Minho wanted him to feel safe. So he broke character slightly to flash an encouraging smile. It seemed to convince Jisung. “You’ll make it good, right?”
“Good?” Minho laughed, feeling near insane. “I hope it is much, much more than that.”
He watched Jisung swallow.
“So,” Minho continued, “where do you want to do this?”
Jisung bit the inside of his cheek.
“Out here? In your bedroom?” Minho prompted.
Jisung stared at his feet.
“You have five seconds to decide before I rip off your pants right here.”
Jisung gasped. “Minho, what the f—”
“Five.” Minho started counting, simply raising an eyebrow when Jisung looked at him in panic.
“You can’t just—just say things like that. Where is that even coming from?”
“Four.”
“Fuck.”
“Three.”
“Okay!” Jisung raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. My room.”
“Good choice. Not sure I want to get the sofa all messy.”
It was actually a great choice because Minho wanted nothing more than to implant memories in Jisung’s head of Minho making him come in his own sheets.
He knew this kind of thinking would only make him hurt more; he reminded himself that although he loved Jisung, Jisung just wanted to get off. But Minho was so hungry for anything he could get.
Jisung, out of his element, was now looking at him shyly, eyes round and needy, and Minho ached.
“What are you waiting for? Go on. And when I get in there, you better be undressed.”
An aborted noise escaped Jisung’s mouth. “I… is that really necessary? Aren’t you just going to…” Jisung grimaced as he found his next words, “jerk me off?”
Minho chuckled. “No,” he replied, taking a step towards Jisung, staring intensely. He shoved down the soft part of himself that ached. “No, I’m going to spank you until you come.”
Jisung sputtered. “W-what? Minho. ” His voice was appalled. But the way the words had wracked his body told a different story.
“If you want that, of course. I won’t make you do anything.” Minho grinned sharply. “Well, unless you’re into that, because then we can talk.”
Jisung started mumbling something to himself that sounded a lot like whatthefuckwhatthefuck.
He seemed frozen. Maybe Minho was being a little mean, not easing him in gently enough. But he’d been so patient, up until then.
But he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jisung. So he cleared his throat.
“But seriously, Jisung,” he began, waiting until the other met his eyes again, clearly surprised by the change in tone. “You have to tell me if you’re okay with this. Because I will just jerk you off, if that’s what you want.”
Jisung seemed to curl inward a bit, gnawing at his lip. “Wouldn’t it be… weird? What if I don’t like it?”
“Then I stop. Promise. But I have a hunch you’ll like it.”
“Do I seem like the type?” Jisung laughed, incredulous.
“To me, yes. But that’s not something to be embarrassed about, Jisung,” Minho assured him, noticing the crease forming between his eyebrows. “Some people think it’s hot. I think it’s hot.”
“You do?”
“Can you not see how hard I am?”
Jisung’s eyes immediately honed in on where Minho’s cock strained against his sweatpants.
“Oh,” Jisung breathed, still staring, face growing redder. “Then, I guess… we can try?”
Minho knew the vulnerability that came with this, and knew Jisung was entrusting him with so much. He felt a soft smile touch his lips.
After a few moments of Minho not responding, Jisung looked up expectantly.
Minho quirked an eyebrow. “Well? I told you what you need to do next, did I not?”
Realization overtook Jisung’s face. His lips turned downward. “Okay, but… will you not make fun of me? No matter what? Like, I know you probably will during, but I mean, like, after.”
“I’d never actually shame you for anything.”
Jisung smiled shyly.
“Now go get naked. Ass up on the bed.” When Jisung choked on air, Minho rolled his eyes, pretending the noise didn’t make his dick jump. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Jisung scurried off to his room, throwing a single look behind him as he went.
Minho knew he was trading more heartbreak for this moment. But if this was his only chance, he needed to know what it was like to be even closer to Jisung, to confirm that he could give Jisung this kind of pleasure, too.
–
Minho waited just a tad too long to return.
“Why’d you take so long?” Jisung complained, cheek pillowed against his arm. He was face-down, as Minho had asked, which was good, but he was lying flat on the mattress. And his tone needed some work.
“So impatient. Brat.”
“Brat? ”
“Yes.” Minho climbed onto the bed, pushed the back of Jisung’s head lightly, forcing his face harder into his arm. He leaned down to better meet Jisung’s eyes, which shined with both mild confusion and clear want. “And didn’t I say ‘ass up’?”
“But I am—” Jisung’s words cut off with a squeak as he forcefully pulled Jisung’s hips up with his hands. Minho never thought he’d have his hands on Jisung like this. His skin was smooth, and it was nearly impossible for Minho to hold himself back from touching Jisung’s cock, painfully red and erect. And his ass… well, Minho wanted to do a lot of things.
But one thing at a time.
A record may have been broken with how fast Jisung’s cheeks turned impossibly redder. “Oh,” Jisung murmured quietly, in realization. He let out a little huff, or maybe it was a laugh. “This is… wow.”
Minho chuckled. It wasn’t a kind sound. “Are you ready?”
“Just get it over with.” Jisung could say what he wanted, but Minho heard the excitement laced into his voice, the curious undercurrent running through it.
Minho suddenly released his hands. Jisung made a noise of complaint, looking back over his shoulder. “What the hell?”
“You’re pretty demanding. Rude, too.”
“Oh my god. How long are you going to wait there?”
Minho was having far too much fun already. “Well, now that you’re being difficult, I’m going to wait until you ask nicely.”
“Please.” It was so sarcastic that Minho could hear the eye roll. Well, that wouldn’t do.
“Nicely and mean it. Otherwise I’ll leave and go get myself off in the other room while you pathetically listen.” Jisung turned his head to gape at him and Minho smiled. “I wonder if you’d get off to that. Probably. Maybe I should leave you to it—”
“No,” Jisung grumbled, turning his head back. His face was hidden now, but Minho could see him trembling with how aroused he was. “Fuck, Minho, just… please?”
Jisung’s wrecked, quiet voice made Minho burn with satisfaction. Every time he’d heard a plea like that before, he had wished it was Jisung.
The first slap cracked through the room like a whip. Jisung let out a noise halfway between a surprised gasp and a groan. Minho’s heart pounded in a way that was probably dangerous.
“Okay, honey?” Minho whispered in the other’s ear, voice just on the cusp of condescending.
“Y-yeah,” Jisung responded, face glowing redder than his ass.
Minho grabbed his hips again to pull him up from where he’d slipped down. And then he hit him again. A little harder. This time, Jisung definitely moaned. His hips kicked at nothing but air.
“Look how desperate you are. Trying to find something to fuck into. But seems more like you’re the one made to be fucked, hmm?” Minho squeezed Jisung’s waist harshly. His stupid, perfect waist, which he had to resist touching every time Jisung walked around their shared space without a shirt, post-shower or post-workout or just because. And now, for a moment, MInho didn’t have to resist.
Jisung turned his head to glare, eyes a little wet. And oh, Minho could tell he liked the pain and condescension. There was something hungry in those shiny eyes.
Another slap.
Jisung made a wrecked sound, the first tear escaping his eye. Minho brought a thumb to wipe it from his lash line. He brought the finger to his own mouth. Tasted it.
“You’re sick,” Jisung muttered, but the weeping of his cock betrayed his arousal.
“Mhmm. And you like it.” Minho loosely wrapped a hand around Jisung’s cock. Jisung gasped, trying to fuck into the ring of Minho’s fingers. “So wet.” He pulled his hand away.
“Why—”
Minho spanked him again, the other cheek this time. He bit down lightly over where the red was blooming. Jisung pushed his ass closer to Minho’s face.
Minho really wanted to eat him out, edge him until he was crying. But that was too much—too soon—
Minho paused. Too soon? He shook his head. He was crazy. This was not going to happen again. He’d have to settle for this piece of heaven obtained in a moment of weakness, damning him in the future.
Mentally shaking away his thoughts, he settled for brushing a finger against the cleft of Jisung’s ass teasingly. Jisung pushed his ass against the digit, the movement minute, but unmistakable.
“Want something?” Minho laughed to distract himself from the need to beg Jisung for more.
“Stop teasing,” Jisung whined, and Minho wished he could see the pout that Jisung must have hidden.
Something shifted, and Minho saw a hand. He grabbed the wrist immediately, grip just short of bruising. Jisung let out an angry sound.
“Ouch,” he spat, trying to rip his wrist free of Minho’s hold.
“No touching.”
“But I’m so hard, I’m dying, I—”
“You can come from just this.”
Jisung let out a small cry. Oh, this was too good.
Minho had never let himself think about it that much, but of course he’d had suspicions—had thoughts. He bit back a smile. How insanely addictive it felt to be right. Jisung was absolutely perfect.
“You’re crazy, you’re—”
“I might be crazy,” Minho allowed, “but I’m right. You will come from this.” He paused for a moment. Even if Jisung seemed into it, this was a lot, especially if he was new to it all. “Color?”
“Green,” Jisung responded easily.
“Good,” Minho said, pleased. He tapped Jisung’s thigh. “Now turn over.”
Jisung complied, shaking a bit with the intensity of his arousal.
Minho was very glad he had Jisung flip; he could now see Jisung’s belly covered in precum, watch his hazy eyes glisten with tears. Saliva dripped out of the corner of his pink mouth, and Minho wanted to push it back in with his tongue.
He had done well, hadn’t he? Giving Jisung pleasure, and stopping himself from fucking his best friend into the next week? Couldn’t he let himself indulge just a little?
Minho leaned over and licked up Jisung’s chin, forcing his tongue into Jisung’s unsuspecting mouth. The other man let out a sound that was more pleasure than shock.
And of course their lips fit together perfectly. Minho had been imagining this moment ever since they opened those emails over two years ago, guiltily fantasizing about Jisung’s heart-shaped mouth during many sloppy kisses he’d shared with others since, but nothing could prepare him for the way his heart jumped when graced with the real thing.
Minho realized he didn't know what he was expecting, but Jisung tasted like the coffee he’d been drinking all day, and a little like the cake he’d called lunch. Before he could dissect how he felt about that, Jisung was sucking on his tongue. Minho couldn’t help but let out a deep-seated groan.
He felt Jisung smile against his lips. Brat.
But Jisung deserved that win.
Minho didn’t want to pull back, but he had to. Before he got caught up in Jisung’s lips forever. He sat back and pushed one of Jisung’s knees up, the other man blushing at the exposure but letting Minho do what he wanted. Minho’s chest burned. Jisung was being so pliable. For him.
Little did Jisung know that Minho would flex, bend, break in any way Jisung asked, if only he’d love Minho the way Minho loved him.
Swallowing the thought down, Minho pinched the tender skin of Jisung’s inner thigh before slapping it, hard. Jisung’s cry was so sweet that Minho’s control slipped for a moment. Before he could think better of it, he bit down on his thigh.
Jisung’s moan was guttural as he came, white coating his stomach and getting in Minho’s hair.
Minho smiled against his thigh. Placed a small kiss there, trying to memorize the feeling of the tender skin on his lips.
When Minho pulled back, Jisung was staring up at the ceiling, looking like he was on cloud nine.
Minho waited for him to speak first.
“Oh my god,” Jisung huffed out, his smile a mixture of amazement and disbelief.
“A good ‘oh my god’?”
Jisung sent a weak glare his way. “What kind of question is that? I came so hard, and you didn’t even really touch me.”
Minho smiled, and this time, it felt light. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Jisung looked Minho up and down, smile falling. He was still fully clothed; was Jisung embarrassed?
Suddenly, Jisung sat up. “Wait. What about…” he looked at Minho’s lap.
Oh. Well, yeah, of course Minho was hard. Any man would be crazy not to be, putting aside the fact that Minho was head-over-heels.
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself,” he replied, smirking.
Jisung snorted. “Don’t ever call yourself a big boy again.”
When Minho snickered and started to get up, Jisung continued, “But really. I, um, want to… I don’t know, help?”
Minho paused. Was he hallucinating? He sat back down on the bed, eyes wary.
“You want to?”
Jisung nodded. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Minho said under his breath, but Jisung caught it. Smiled wickedly. This would really be Minho’s downfall. Making Jisung come was bad enough, but having Jisung beg to get Minho off… that was another monster entirely. But like a starving man, he couldn’t say no to anything Jisung fed him.
Minho swallowed and tried to reconstruct his mask.
“Fine, you little menace, come find out how big I am.” He slid down his pants and briefs in one go and reached for Jisung’s hand.
Minho was entirely unprepared for Jisung’s hand around him.
“Oh. You are larger than average,” Jisung muttered. Minho rolled his eyes.
He saw Jisung swallow. “Do you think it would fit?” Jisung’s words were accompanied by skilled flicks of the wrist and swipes of his thumb; he knew what he was doing now.
“Ji–Jisung.” Minho’s voice was a warning. One that Jisung didn’t seem to take to heart.
“What? Can’t take what you dish out?”
The challenge made something in Minho’s dom self flare up, the words coming before he could control them. “Shut the fuck up or I will push you against the mattress and fuck you.”
He didn’t mean it, not really; his mouth was on autopilot, and his subconscious knew he wanted nothing more than to take Jisung then and there. But he needed to pass it off as a joke.
Unfortunately, Jisung didn’t give him a chance, opening his mouth before Minho could form words again.
“Is that a promise?” Jisung’s voice was teasing, but his big eyes and flushed face betrayed the honesty in the words.
Minho couldn’t respond. Was Jisung serious? That was a terrible idea, no matter how you looked at it. Assuming Jisung didn’t know Minho liked him, it was still a huge risk for their friendship. He knew Jisung had a healthy sex drive, but wasn’t this kind of suggestion too much? But maybe he was kidding, just playing into their back-and-forth. Perhaps Minho was reading his tone and expressions wrong—
“Maybe next time,” Jisung said, cutting off Minho’s spiral. And then before Minho could react, Jisung was leaning down and putting his mouth around Minho’s cock.
The sound Minho made wasn’t human. He grabbed Jisung’s hair instinctually, the strands soft between his harsh fingers.
“Ahh, you—brat. You better get off before I destroy your throat,” Minho warned in between whatever noises were coming out of his own mouth.
Jisung popped off to respond. “Do you think I’d like that, too?”
“Christ.”
Jisung laughed, teasingly, bubbly, almost a giggle.
“Stop being a tease,” Minho muttered. “Just fucking—put your hands back on me before I do it myself.”
Jisung leaned back down—
“Stop. Jisung, I’m serious.” The other’s eyes widened. He looked disappointed, but backed off with no complaint other than a pout.
He wrapped his hand around Minho again. The feeling of Jisung’s fingers sent another zip up Minho’s spine, and he let out a pleased hum.
“Good boy,” Minho praised. Jisung flushed even redder than he already was from his intense orgasm.
It didn’t take much longer for Minho to finish, white coating Jisung’s hand and his own t-shirt. As he came down, Jisung rolled off him, laying on his side to face him. Minho felt the intensity of Jisung’s gaze on his side profile.
“Good?” Jisung asked. Minho turned his head to glare, but found that Jisung didn’t look like he was joking. He actually looked… worried.
“Good? You were great, Jisung.” Minho rolled on his side to brush Jisung’s bangs away from his face. The tension seemed to evaporate from Jisung’s features. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sore, but,” Jisung answered, smiling shyly, “definitely worth it.” His eyes sparkled with something close to mischief.
“Perfect.” Minho poked his nose playfully before sitting up. “Time to clean up, though. Shower? Or maybe a bath?”
Jisung nodded. “A bath sounds nice. But I can—”
Minho shook his head. “Let me do this for you. Think about what you want to eat after, while you’re waiting.”
“Okay,” Jisung allowed. “Um, and Minho?”
Minho raised an eyebrow in question.
“You can hop in the shower first, if you want. There’s cum in your hair.” Jisung smirked.
–
Minho watched Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffed not one, but two pieces of sushi in his mouth.
Jisung caught him staring. “What?” he asked, as best he could with his mouth full. “Don’t judge me. I’m hungry.”
Minho pushed another container across their small dining table. Jisung gave him a confused look. “I can’t take your food.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Minho replied, rolling his eyes, “I got extra.”
Jisung looked at him curiously, eyes narrowing slightly, as if Minho was a puzzle. “Are you this nice to all your hookups, or are you just nice to me?”
“Both? I need to take care of the person after a scene like that. But I also spoil you constantly.”
Jisung made a hum of acknowledgement.
–
Minho couldn’t sleep that night.
He was torn between regretting everything, and wanting it to happen again and again.
The rational side of him knew they shouldn’t do anything again. Maybe Jisung would ignore the entire night, which would make it easier. But if he didn’t, and tried to start something again, Minho should make it clear.
But Minho’s resolve crumbled quite easily in the face of Jisung’s persistence.
–
“So… can you tell me more about what it’s like?” Jisung asked the next morning, before stuffing a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth. When Minho gave him a confused look, he continued, “Y’know… like what we did yesterday.”
“Ah,” Minho responded blandly. He willed himself to maintain his composure.
“Would you talk about it, a little?”
“What specifically would you like to know?” Minho responded, guarded. When Jisung seemed to shrink at his reluctance, Minho joined him at the table and flashed a smile. The other visibly perked up.
“How did you… find out what you’re into?”
It was a fair question, and Jisung was privy to much of his life, so it was strange that there was something he knew so little about. Minho hummed in thought before answering.
“Someone dragged me to a BDSM club. Said I looked the part, and that my sharp tongue fit too. I guess he was a friend, but not a close one. I had a falling out with him—he wasn’t a very caring guy—but then I met Chan.” Jisung’s eyes widened at their older friend’s name; Jisung had actually met him first, but Minho knew a side of Chan that he kept hidden from most people. “He’s also a dom, and taught me the ropes. We started going to the club together often, watching out for each other and vetting prospects.” Minho shook his head, chuckling at fond memories. “But to answer your question, it’s a bit of trial and error, but done carefully. I try my best to not hurt the other person, and make it good for them.”
Minho cocked his head at Jisung, who was soaking up every word like a sponge. “Why are you so interested in my escapades now? You showed so little interest up until your little voyeuristic adventure.”
Jisung slid down a bit in his seat, cheeks growing redder. “I was too embarrassed to ask about it before, even though I was curious.” Jisung laughed a little, looking down into his bowl. “I didn’t want to humiliate myself, or make you feel pressured to share.”
“But I’m into humiliating men.”
Jisung scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Minho could tell his humor made the other a bit more comfortable.
“Don’t be a brat,” Minho warned. “I could have you blushing and begging in seconds if I tried.”
Shit. He fell too easily into his role, something about Jisung bringing out the worst—best?—in him. He shouldn’t be talking like that to Jisung, not if he wanted to draw a line. To protect their friendship. And his already battered heart.
But the words were already out, and Minho could’ve sworn he saw the other’s cheeks pinken immediately.
Jisung peeked up from where his gaze had been glued to his breakfast. “Is… that an offer?”
Minho’s body locked up. What? He must have misheard. Or be imagining things. Right?
But Jisung’s nervous stare told Minho that he had, in fact, heard correctly.
And had it been an offer? Minho himself didn’t know. This felt like the world’s most tempting game of cat and mouse.
Minho tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Is that a… request?”
“If that was an offer, then yeah.” Jisung looked down again, stirring his cereal nervously. “If not, then I’m totally joking.”
Minho made a tsk noise. Felt himself slipping further into his persona, already. “That’s not how this works, honey.” He saw Jisung’s eyes widen and flash back up to his. Perfect. Minho couldn’t contain himself. “You beg, and if I’m satisfied with how you beg, I might give you something.”
“Beg? ” Jisung nearly choked on the word. To Minho, it was a beautiful sound.
“On your knees, if you must.” Images of Jisung on his knees, just hours prior, made Minho’s heart race.
Jisung’s cheeks were definitely red now. He looked like he might actually be contemplating it, biting his lip and staring pointedly at Minho’s lap. His gaze met Minho’s again, and looking into the eyes of his best friend was enough to snap Minho out of it for a moment.
“Fuck, no, wait,” Minho said, running a hand through his hair as he below out a breath. What was he thinking? He shouldn’t have done anything once , much less do it again. It might compromise their friendship and, even if not, it would destroy Minho. “We shouldn’t… we can’t do this.”
Shock passed through Jisung’s face before he scowled. Minho knew it was fair; he’d seemed too enthusiastic, getting too caught up in his secret desires that had finally been allowed to slip through the cracks.
“Then why are you playing along?” Jisung asked, voice laced with frustration.
Minho would also like to know why he didn’t stop himself. He was supposed to be the one with control, but Jisung had become his undoing.
“I’m sorry.” The words were too quiet, too weak. It wasn't an apology enough. “It’s too easy to fall into a back-and-forth with you, Jisung, it always has been.”
He was expecting Jisung to lash out in anger. But instead, Jisung wasn’t looking at him. Jisung was wringing his hands and not looking at him and not saying anything.
Minho couldn’t stand the silence. “I’m sorr—”
“If you aren’t interested in me like that, you shouldn’t have done anything yesterday.”
Minho felt as if his stomach had been turned inside out. “Jisung-ah, that’s not… you’re my best friend, and I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have. You’re the most important person to me, and I don’t want to lose you because we start fucking around and it goes sideways.” True, and Minho knew it would go sideways, because it would end up with him professing his undying love and Jisung rejecting him. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about doing those things with you. We shouldn’t.”
He saw Jisung dig his nails into his palm.
“Whatever.”
–
Classes gave Minho and Jisung a good excuse to avoid each other for a couple days. They did have one lecture together during that time, but Minho skipped it. Felt it was only right to allow Jisung some space. As much as living together would allow.
He’d given in to his desires, and in doing so, he’d both hurt Jisung and stabbed at his own bleeding heart. Nothing was worse than awkward, forced separation between them. It had been mere days and Minho already felt like a part of himself was missing.
He was alone before he met Jisung, but he didn’t think he could tolerate being alone again.
Maybe he had to come clean to Jisung. Tell him how he felt, and explain that he was working on it. That he’d let nothing come between their friendship, but fucking was more than his heart could handle.
–
Minho was holed up in his room when Jisung came home later that week. He listened carefully to Jisung’s footsteps, registering where he was going, picking up on the pause he made outside of Minho’s door before walking past.
It only took a minute before he was back in front of Minho’s door. This time, he knocked.
Minho rushed to open the door. “Hey.” When Jisung just shifted from one foot to another, lost for words, Minho continued awkwardly, “I thought you might still be mad at me.”
“I wasn’t really that mad, I was more… disappointed?” Jisung let out a small laugh, but there was more defeat than humor in the sound.
Minho swallowed, jumbled words on the tip of his tongue—
“But I don’t want you to avoid me,” Jisung continued. “Can we just, like… get over it already?”
Get over it? Maybe that’s what Minho had implied should happen, but he would never be ‘over’ the experience of having Jisung as his own. But if that was the approach Jisung was suggesting, Minho was far too scared to admit to his feelings now.
So he swallowed down the bile and unspoken confessions, and cleared his throat. “Sure. Done.”
The lie burned exiting his mouth.
–
If they were supposed to be over it, then why was Jisung showing up at the club Minho frequented, after a mere couple of days of feigned normalcy? And why was Jisung wearing a sheer black shirt that allowed one to just barely make out his broad chest, his tantalizing waist? Was this some kind of test?
How did Jisung even know where the club was? Chan, maybe, his mind supplied, but that wasn’t the most pressing question in Minho’s head.
There were many important questions, but perhaps the most urgent was related to Jisung flirting with a stranger. A man who Minho didn’t really know, beyond that he was a dom and was probably into Jisung, based on the guys he usually took home. And based on the way he was leaning into Jisung’s space.
Minho moved before he could think, quickly weaving through bodies until he was right next to Jisung. He grabbed Jisung’s arm a bit too forcefully, making the other stumble backwards into his chest.
“Wha—Minho. What the fuck.” Jisung looked down at his arm, tight in Minho’s grasp. Jisung tried to shake him off, but Minho couldn't seem to loosen his hold. Couldn’t risk Jisung disappearing out of his sight, right now.
The stranger next to them rolled his eyes. “Stupid lovers’ quarrels,” he spat. “If you get sick of him, babyboy, come find me.”
Minho couldn’t help but snort. Babyboy? Jisung didn’t even know the guy.
But if Jisung wanted to be called that, well, it could be arranged.
Jisung jerked away from Minho. Glared at him. Waited for any kind of explanation.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Minho said, voice level. “Do you even know that guy?”
“What’s it to you?”
Minho grit his teeth. “You’re new to the scene. And my best friend. I have an obligation to stop you from doing something stupid.”
“No need to babysit me. You don’t know what’s good for me or not. Had no interest in finding out, as I recall.”
No interest? No, Minho had far too much interest. And he was pretty sure entertaining anything with Jisung would be his undoing.
“Jisung, that’s not—”
Jisung held up a hand to cut him off. “Sorry, that wasn’t fair. But like, instead of criticizing me, couldn’t you help? Don’t you know people here?”
He did. He knew a handful of doms he’d trust, as reluctant as he was to admit it in the moment.
“C’mon, Minho. You can’t cause me to have a sexual awakening”—Minho choked on air—“and then hang me out to dry.” Jisung flashed his signature pout. Damn, would that be a weapon in this establishment.
Minho supposed it was a fair request, but he felt ill at the prospect. He didn’t want to fuck up the life they had built. But was this any better? Jisung thinking Minho didn’t want him, and seeking out another person for something that Minho could provide. And Minho knew he could provide it best, because he knew Jisung better than anyone.
And Minho was the one who had opened the floodgates, spanked Jisung and made him come when the other was trying to suppress his new urges.
“You don’t know what you need, Jisung, and neither does anyone else in this room.” Minho swallowed, his heart caught in his throat. “That’s why you need me.”
It looked like Jisung would make a snide remark before his eyes widened in realization.
“Minho,” he choked out, “are you serious?”
Minho was so, so fucked. He could try to play it off as selfless—it was true that he didn’t want to see Jisung get hurt—but he knew it was also to satisfy his own craving for Jisung, and to quell the possessiveness that suddenly had him seeing red. Even if he was ensnaring himself in something that couldn’t end well for his heart.
“Maybe I’ll consider it if you ask nicely,” Minho responded, forcefully burying his qualms.
Jisung seemed oblivious to Minho’s internal conflict. A glint appeared in his eye and Minho felt a pressure against his groin.
Jisung’s hand moved slowly, teasing, featherlight touches. He looked at Minho in faux innocence. His actions seemed bold, but the slight tremor in his hands gave away his nervousness.
Minho grabbed his wrist. “If I’m going to teach you, I’m going to teach you properly.” He let out a painful breath. “And that starts with clarity on what you want and don’t want.”
Jisung cocked his head in question.
“We’re going to have a proper discussion first,” Minho clarified. “To be able to explore what you want to explore, this is a must.”
Jisung stuck his lower lip out again, but nodded.
“Use your words, Jisung.”
Jisung’s shocked eyes met Minho’s. “Oh, u-um… yes?”
“Is that a question?”
Jisung swallowed, and Minho watched the movement like a hawk. “Yes, we can talk.”
“Good,” Minho cooed, pinching Jisung’s cheek. The other slapped his hand away and glared. He saw someone a few feet away look on the exchange with shock; Minho didn’t usually let his subs get away with such behavior. But they really needed to have a chat, or three, before Minho would even consider publicly shaming him.
“Now stop acting like a brat,” Minho demanded. “You’re going to ruin my reputation.”
–
The time it took for the cab ride home was enough for Jisung to start spiralling. Minho could feel it, the worry palpable, almost causing the air to vibrate. He wished he wasn’t the cause of Jisung’s anxiety. Needed to do his best to fix it. He grabbed Jisung’s hand and rubbed soothing circles over the back of it with his thumb. Could Jisung feel his emotions flow through that point of contact?
Jisung was quiet as they walked from the car to their apartment, but he spun around to face Minho as soon as they were inside. “You’re not doing this out of… pity, right?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip. Minho tried very hard to not get distracted by how much he wanted to be the one biting Jisung’s skin. “What we did last time…”
Ah. So Jisung was still worried Minho didn’t actually want him. If only he knew half of what Minho desired, he might be scared rather than self-conscious.
“Hey. Jisung.” When he didn’t meet his gaze, Minho continued, “Of course not. It’s true that I don’t want you to get hurt by messing around with random people, but I want this, too. You must know that.”
Jisung shrugged.
“Honey.”
Jisung’s eyes shot up to meet his. A little nervous, a little hopeful.
“I just don’t want to screw up our friendship,” Minho continued, grabbing one of Jisung’s hands and intertwining their fingers. “You’re the most important person to me, you know?”
Jisung eyes grew big before he averted his gaze, looking down to where their hands were connected. “Fuck, Minho,” he mumbled, “you’re making me emotional.”
“Maybe you’re just a cry baby.”
Jisung’s eyes flashed back up and he let out a wet chuckle. “Are you into that?”
The uneasy tension dissipated. Minho laughed. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”
“But I will?” Jisung’s face was pleading. Did he know how weak Minho was to it?
“If you’re good.” Minho pointed to their sofa. “Now sit down.”
It was embarrassing how Jisung’s quick compliance was enough to make him half-hard.
–
Jisung’s list of no’s
No piss kink
Don’t stick anything into my ass without telling me what it is (might change)
I’m not into feet
Minho cackled. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he asked Jisung for his no’s. (His ‘yes’ list… maybe Minho had an inkling. Or some hopes.) He had demanded that Jisung take a day to think things over, and the other man had been vibrating the whole while.
Jisung didn’t seem any calmer as they talked it over. The couple of papers were spread out on Minho’s lap, and Jisung seemed unable to look at them as Minho read.
“Don’t laugh at me.” Jisung pouted.
“Then stop being funny about it.”
Jisung crossed his arms, huffing. “Can we just move on?”
Minho nodded, ruffling Jisung’s hair out of habit. Jisung, as usual, leaned into it.
Maybe they were fine, for now.
“Any questions so far?”
“If we do this,” Jisung started, staring at the coffee table, as if meeting Minho’s eyes was too much pressure. “Will you still… with other people?”
He couldn’t even get the words out. Yet it set a fire ablaze in Minho’s chest, some type of pride at the mere notion that Jisung could be possessive about him.
“Not if you don’t want me to.” It was a reasonable answer. But it wasn’t the full truth. There was no way Minho could entertain something with another person when Jisung was willing.
Jisung looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just. I think I’d be insecure about it. Like, what if I’m not as good as them?”
Minho shook his head. “Impossible.” He could be into almost anything, probably, if it involved Jisung. Jisung could be objectively bad, and Minho would still be obsessed. Yet Jisung was so incredibly oblivious to Minho’s dire need for him.
“But… is that okay? With you.”
“Of course, Jisung. You should never let someone else tell you that requests like that aren’t okay.”
“But you’re never exclusive with the people you fuck.”
Minho blinked in surprise at the crass, but true, statement; he had tried to keep his sex life away from Jisung.
“How do you know that?”
“Word gets around, you know?” Jisung was clearly trying to sound teasing, but Minho knew better; he was nervous, and unfamiliar with this side of Minho.
“Hopefully good words.”
Jisung shrugged. “People think you’re really good. But also think you’re a commitment-phobe.”
Ouch. Minho laughed at himself to cover up every other emotion he was feeling.
“And what do you think?” he asked, leveling Jisung with an intense gaze. Did Jisung also see him that way? See him as someone who didn’t care, didn’t love, that deeply?
Jisung’s eyes flashed. “I know you’re not.”
Minho shrugged, but Jisung was right. No, the issue wasn’t a fear of commitment, it was that he already belonged to the person sitting in front of him.
But Jisung didn’t know that. What gave him the confidence to say such a thing about Minho?
Jisung cleared his throat. “Then… um. What about condoms?” He looked at Minho as if asking an innocent question. But there was a glimmer of something darker in his eyes.
“Your choice.” Minho smiled, but it was anything but kind. He wasn’t going to make it easy; he wanted Jisung to ask for it. Needed it, even.
“What do you want?” Jisung asked, pretending to be unaffected. It was bad acting. Minho knew something was buzzing under Jisung’s skin, noticed his knee bouncing and his fingers twitching.
“I told you. It’s your choice.”
Jisung pouted. “But I care what you—”
“Don’t deflect. You should ask for what you want.”
“Oh.” Jisung swallowed, and Minho wanted to press his thumb against his throat to feel the movement. “I… I want to feel you.”
Minho hummed, pretending his heart wasn’t on the cusp of exiting his chest. “And how do we ask for what we want?”
Jisung looked to the side. His face pinkened, so Minho knew he was garnering willpower to ask. But Minho had been expecting immediate sass. How much did Jisung want this, that he was caving so easily?
“Please?” He looked back at Minho with round eyes, clearly trying to get a rise out of Minho. “It’ll feel better for you, too.”
Minho didn’t need convincing, but he’d take the extra seconds of Jisung blushing.
“Will it, now?”
Jisung nodded.
Minho leaned in closer, so he knew his breath would touch Jisung’s lips. “Think you can satisfy me?”
Jisung couldn’t hold his gaze. “I… I hope so.”
Minho backed off slightly. “Hey. You know I’m just teasing, right?”
Jisung suddenly reached for Minho’s hands, started playing with his fingers. Minho allowed him a minute to answer.
“What if… what if I’m bad?”
“You won’t be.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ll teach you, and you’re a quick learner.” Minho smirked, leaning in close to Jisung’s ear. “And because I like when my subs misbehave a little.”
His words literally made Jisung squirm; he could see the other boy move in his seat.
Minho pulled back and tapped Jisung’s papers where they sat in his lap, refocusing their attention.
“You did good, okay? Now let’s talk about your yes and maybe lists. What do you want to try today?” Minho tried to keep his voice even, but it was a struggle. His mind was going a mile a minute ever since he read Jisung’s words.
He saw Jisung muster up the courage to ask, and felt a little proud and a little endeared when the other man started speaking.
“I… I can’t edge myself. I’ve tried, but I give in too easily. I want you to tell me when I can come or not.” His voice got a bit quieter. “Maybe even threaten to not let me come at all.”
Minho could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He could feel all of his nerve endings.
He smiled at Jisung, slow and predatory. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”
Jisung’s grin widened, so bright, a contrast to how dark Minho’s thoughts were. “I hoped you’d say that. Dreamed of it, even.”
“Yeah?” Minho leaned in a little closer. “Imagined this conversation before?”
Jisung laughed under his breath, a little nervous and a little excited. “Ever since I heard you, a few days ago… I’ve been thinking about it. Letting you drive me to the edge and then taking it away.” Minho was going to break bones with how tight he was clenching his fists. “Letting you control my pleasure. I think it’s pretty hot.”
Minho wanted to take a bite out of Jisung. Instead, he let out a huff. “Who said you’re allowed to fantasize about things like that?”
Jisung cocked his head, playful. “Do I have to ask permission for that too?”
Minho pretended to think, but he already knew his answer. “No, but you have to tell me what you imagine. Deal?”
Jisung bit his lip, but nodded. Minho wasn’t sure if he was actually nervous or playing coy this time.
Minho cleared his throat. “Anyway, we can try edging. But you need to tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
Jisung’s mouth tipped downwards. “I may say it's too much, but…” Jisung looked away, his leg bouncing as he seemingly tried to find the words. “You could keep going? I could, like, use the traffic light system if I’m really not okay, but I guarantee I’m going to whine about it being too much. That doesn’t mean it really is.”
Minho rolled that over in his mind. It seemed too soon. But Minho knew Jisung really well, could read his body language and every kind of undertone in his voice. And he looked so hopeful…
And then Minho thought of Jisung trying with someone else, someone who didn’t know when he really meant no , and that sealed the deal. He’d try.
“Jisung.” The other man met his eyes, waited for Minho to continue. “Please don’t do this with other people. Unless you are two hundred percent sure they are good doms.”
Jisung smiled; he knew he’d won. “Good thing I have the best one in the whole world.”
Batting his eyelashes, he scooted a little closer to Minho. That couldn’t be a good sign. Minho side-eyed him.
“I have a question.” Jisung’s voice was laced with something dangerous, but Minho would take the bait.
“Yeah?”
“What do you want to be called? When we’re doing things,” Jisung asked, reaching towards Minho with a hand. Before Minho could ask, Jisung was dragging a finger down his thigh, tracing the inseam of his jeans.
Minho’s mouth went dry.
“Sir?” Jisung suggested, smirking. “Daddy?”
Jisung was definitely messing with him. Minho rolled his eyes, huffed. “Call me whatever you want. Within reason.”
Jisung made a soft sound of contemplation. “What if I want to call you hyung?”
The word rattled around Minho’s brain and he felt his skin flush. Using the honorific, when they were both the same age… added another layer, a flavor of dynamic, that scratched an itch Minho hadn’t known he had.
And there was honesty in Jisung’s words; he could play it off as a joke later, if needed, but Minho knew he meant it. And Minho was fine—no, more than fine—with the idea.
He knew his ears were red. Still, he barked out a laugh. “I shoulda figured you were into that.”
“Bet you are too,” Jisung taunted. “Hyung, please teach me.” Minho felt his cock twitch. “Hyung, you know what’s best. Tell me what to do, hyung. Hyung, you’re so mean—”
Minho yanked Jisung’s hair abruptly, causing his head to jerk back and a surprised cry fall from his lips. Minho leaned in to press his mouth to the other’s ear. “Are you finished yet?” he whispered darkly. He resisted the urge to lick the shell of Jisung’s ear, gripping his own thigh with his free hand to distract from the intensity of the impulse.
He’d have his mouth on Jisung. But not quite yet.
Not until Jisung had earned it.
“I’m just getting started, hyung,” Jisung replied, tone cockier than it should be. “What about you?”
“Get in the fucking bedroom before I ruin our sofa.” Minho could see Jisung imagining it, watched his pupils dilate. “Hey. Stop thinking about it.”
Jisung blushed.
Minho grabbed Jisung’s wrist as he stood up. “One more thing.”
Jisung looked impatient. And a little worried, as if Minho might change his mind. Ridiculous.
“What do you want to be called? Do you want me to use something besides your name?”
Jisung shrugged, looked at his feet. “Anything’s fine.”
Minho put his fingers under his chin, forcing Jisung to make eye contact. “Don’t avoid me. This is all about clear communication, hmm?” Jisung nodded slightly in his hold.
“I know I said you could call me mean things, but…” Jisung was struggling to hold eye contact. “Can you also call me something nice sometimes? Like… I don’t know.” He knew. Minho knew he knew.
“Jisung. You have to tell me what you want.” When Jisung didn’t respond, Minho took a different approach. “Like babyboy?” he teased.
Jisung looked horrified. “Oh my god, no .”
“Calm down, I was just joking, honey.” Minho hadn’t even meant for the pet name to slip. It wasn’t uncommon for him to use it with Jisung, when it was just the two of them.
But now, it made Jisung freeze.
“Oh?” Minho tilted his head. “You like that?”
Jisung shrugged. But Minho knew.
It was a terrible idea. Minho was bound to use it outside of scenes still, yet he was about to edge Jisung using it. But that made Minho a little hot, and he was a weak man when it came to Jisung.
–
After Minho was satisfied with their discussion, he ordered Jisung to his room. Minho was pleasantly surprised when Jisung voluntarily began undressing, and watched him with half-lidded eyes, refusing to move until he had stripped himself of everything.
When Jisung looked at Minho in question, seeming like he very much wanted to cover himself up, Minho let him sweat under his gaze.
“Should… we move to the bed?” Jisung asked after a long, tense moment, hand going to rub his neck.
“Did you already forget the instructions I gave you last time?”
Get naked. Ass up on the bed. Jisung shook his head and proceeded to follow the unspoken directions. He seemed a little nervous, but much less so now that Minho had told him what to do.
“You’re so quick to present yourself to me.” Minho patted his butt, ignoring the huff that came from Jisung’s mouth. “Would you have done this for that other guy at the club?”
Jisung shook his head. “Isn’t this about trust?” His voice grew softer as he continued, “I don’t know if I trust anyone that much, except for you.” Sweet satisfaction trickled through Minho’s veins. He had just meant his question as dirty talk, but Jisung had turned it into a gift.
“That’s a good answer, honey.” He reached for the lube he’d placed on the beside table. “Are you ready for my fingers?”
Jisung nodded, but then froze, likely noticing Minho’s glare at his nonverbal response. “Yes,” he answered, correcting himself. “Do your worst.”
Minho laughed quietly. “Not today,” he whispered, before breaching Jisung’s hole with a slicked-up finger.
The other boy gasped. Minho leaned down to place his lips against Jisung’s neck.
“Sucking me right in… you prepped, didn’t you?” Minho asked against the other’s skin.
“Y-yeah, I… didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t want it to hurt too much, you know? And I didn’t want to, like, make you do it for me.”
Minho paused. Pulled his finger out.
“Min—”
“I’ll always make sure you’re adequately prepped… unless you specifically request otherwise and we have a good talk about it. I may act mean, but I don’t want to actually hurt you.”
Jisung sighed. “I know.”
“And I want to help you, want to feel you open up for me. Just let hyung take care of you, okay?”
Jisung nodded. Minho let the lack of verbal answer slide.
Carefully, Minho added a second finger, and a third, checking in with Jisung all the while. When he was confident Jisung was comfortable, he decided he could take things a step further. He angled his fingers just so—
Jisung moaned. “H-holy shit,” he huffed out, trying his best to turn his head enough to throw Minho a dirty look. “You were avoiding that on purpose before, weren’t you?”
Minho didn’t respond, just rubbed against Jisung’s prostate until the other couldn't form coherent words. The other boy was vibrating, veins straining against his neck as he visibly held himself back, just barely suppressing his orgasm. He was truly on the brink when Minho pulled out abruptly, removing his hands from Jisung’s body entirely.
“Wha—why?”
Minho suddenly spanked him, the movement causing Jisung to slide against the bed slightly. Jisung let out a cry of pain. He was beautiful. So damn beautiful, grasping at the sheets, neck flushing red, hair falling into his eyes.
He turned his head as best he could to glare at Minho. As if the pain wasn’t making him impossibly harder. Ridiculous.
“You ask me to edge you, and then complain when I do?”
“I just can’t, hyung. It’s too much—”
“It’s not.” Minho’s words rang with finality. “You’re my sub, and I say it’s not too much.” He leaned in to lick the shell of Jisung’s ear and whisper: “You don’t know what you can take. Or what you need. But hyung does.”
He heard Jisung’s breath catch. Saw Jisung’s hand move.
Minho laughed meanly. “Touch yourself and I swear I will not let you come tonight.”
Jisung let out a sob.
Minho trailed a single finger down Jisung’s side, from his ribs to his hip, watching him shiver in response to the small point of contact.
“You’re so sensitive,” Minho mused. He blew a breath against the back of Jisung’s neck, eliciting a gasp. “Maybe I should blindfold you sometime.”
“Hnngh.”
“What was that?” Minho grabbed Jisung’s hair and pulled his head up slightly. There was a spot of drool where his face had been squished against the sheets. Minho burned.
“W-want that.”
Of course he did. He had it towards the end of his ‘yes’ list. It looked like it was written quickly, with nervous strokes of the pen.
Minho also happened to be very into that. And with Jisung? Sensitive, vocal, squirmy Jisung? Minho didn’t know how he ended up so blessed.
Still, he was going to make Jisung beg. “You’ll have to ask nicer than that.”
Jisung turned his head slightly again, meeting Minho’s eyes with his own. Desire was flowing off him in waves. “Really want that, hyung, please.”
“We’ll see if you earn it after today.” When Jisung let out a soft noise of complaint, he added, “one thing at a time, remember? Anyway… today, I want to see those eyes when you take it.”
Minho hit his ass, just enough to see it slightly pinken. “Turn over.”
Jisung scrambled to obey. Minho’s smile was so sharp it could cut, if he wanted it to.
“Someone’s desperate.”
Jisung laid back and rolled his eyes. “Like you aren’t?”
“I could wait here all night.”
Jisung tilted his head and looked up with a glint in his eye, exposing his neck in the process. Unmarked, because the few bites Minho had given were in places easier to cover up. But god, was Jisung tempting him.
Focus, Minho.
“You’re really into biting, aren’t you?” Jisung observed, voice teasing. Of course he noticed. Minho wasn’t really trying to hide it.
“You just look like you want to be eaten.”
“Do I taste good, hyung?”
Something in Minho broke. Or, not some thing, but another thing. And he was already so, so fucked. So what was the harm in indulging himself a little?
He moved down Jisung’s body and forced the other’s legs above his shoulders lightning fast.
Jisung gasped.
“I guess I’ll find out,” Minho finally replied.
And then he pressed his tongue against Jisung’s rim.
“Holy—what the fuck, Minho.”
The usage of his name only spurred Minho on, and he was ready to give Jisung the time of his life. But he paused, remembering Jisung’s list.
He pulled back slightly, leaning his head against Jisung’s thigh and meeting the other’s eyes. Jisung looked a little tense, but mostly, he looked so fucking excited.
“You told me to ask before I stick things in your ass,” Minho said, by way of explanation. He saw Jisung swallow. “How do you feel about me eating you out?”
“You don’t need—”
“Honey.” It was demanding, but Minho let warmth slip into his voice. He saw Jisung visibly relax.
“Want that, hyung,” Jisung admitted, blushing. “Just thinking about it makes me feel so good I could—”
Before he could finish, Minho was pushing into his hole with his tongue, Jisung’s body giving way after being stretched so thoroughly by Minho.
He grabbed Jisung’s hips to stop him from wiggling so much. Jisung moaned, unsuppressed, and Minho pulled back to grin against his thigh. “You sound so sweet, honey.” And then he dove back in.
“You’re driving me nuts, hyung. You can’t… hah… ” Jisung’s words faded out as he became overwhelmed by pleasure. His hands had come to grasp at Minho’s biceps, and now his nails were digging in. Minho knew they would leave marks. He’d happily wear them.
When Minho was satisfied with how close Jisung seemed, he gave him respite from one sensation only to subject him to another, placing little bites over the inside of his thighs. He laved over each one with his tongue while ignoring Jisung’s cock, hard against his stomach and wet with precum.
And oh, Minho couldn’t resist. He pushed himself up slightly to run his tongue along the underside of the other man’s cock.
“Shit, are you ever going to fuck me?” Jisung muttered.
Minho smirked up at him. “I’m not done playing with you if you can still be mouthy.” He squeezed Jisung’s hips, making a noise of contemplation. “What next…”
“Hyung. Hyungie,” Jisung begged, grasping at his face now. “Please? I need to feel you. I can’t wait—”
“You can. I’m trying to give you what you asked for and you’re being a brat about it.”
Jisung dug his fingers into Minho’s hair.
“Color, honey?”
Jisung’s fingers twitched. “Um, green, but…” But? Minho frowned.
“Ji—”
“Green, I swear! I just… really want to feel you soon. But you can edge me more during? If, um, that’s what you want?”
Minho stuck his tongue past those lips, belatedly realizing he was making Jisung taste himself, but the groan he elicited proved that Jisung did not care. Was probably into it, if Minho had to guess. He traced all the bumps and curves of Jisung’s mouth with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
Scratch that, it was obsession. Minho knew it. But Jisung was holding Minho’s head so close, little breaths and moans so sweet, that Minho understood the strength of his desire wasn’t one-sided.
Minho pulled away after a moment, and Jisung looked totally wrecked, mouth glistening from how hard Minho had just been fucking into his mouth with his tongue.
“Okay, honey. Hand me the lube again.”
The way Jisung’s face lit up was inappropriately pure. Minho wished he could’ve captured it in a photo.
Jisung paused once he’d retrieved the lube and Minho had thrown his own clothes off at record speed.
“What’s wrong?”
Jisung shook his head. “Nothing, just… can I?” His eyes raked over Minho’s body hungrily.
Minho snorted. “Sure, honey, you can touch my dick.”
Jisung coated him with warm hands, eyes hungry all the while, as Minho used all his willpower to stop from thrusting into the ring of Jisung’s fingers.
Jisung was unnecessarily slow, and he knew it, based on the pleased curve of his mouth.
Minho lined himself up. “You’re a brat,” he said, pressing in. But not too quickly; he wanted to give Jisung time to adjust.
However, Jisung didn’t seem to want that.
“Hyung, stop going so slow, I can take it."
“You’ll take whatever I give you,” Minho whispered into his ear. Maybe they could be rougher, next time, if Jisung wanted it. Next time. Just thinking the words made Minho feel insane.
When he bottomed out, he checked in with the other man again.
Jisung brushed Minho’s bangs away from his face, only for them to fall back down. The sweetness of the gesture made Minho’s gut twist. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you if I’m not, okay?”
Minho took Jisung’s words as permission to start moving. He slid out, only to thrust back in shallowly.
“Hyunggg,” Jisung whined, jerking as he tried to pull Minho in further with his whole body, trying to reach his high.
Minho decided to oblige and push in further, but missed Jisung’s prostate on purpose. Jisung kicked his side.
Minho slapped Jisung’s thigh where it was wrapped around his torso, and he felt Jisung clench around his cock.
Holy fuck.
Jisung laughed. Did Minho say that out loud? With a twinkle in his eye. Jisung clenched again. Minho felt himself twitch inside Jisung.
“Oh my god,” Jisung choked out, gripping Minho harder, “that is so fucking hot.”
Minho pulled most of the way out again and paused. Jisung slapped his arm. “Stop it.”
“Fucking hit me one more time and I will tie all your limbs to this bed.”
Jisung momentarily froze. His expression was one of shock, but the way he tried to pull Minho closer again with his legs when he recovered was all-telling.
“Oh. You’re into that.” Minho laughed darkly. “You little slut. You really just want me to use you. However I want.”
Jisung swallowed, and it made Minho hungrier.
He brought his mouth to Jisung’s chest and bit at a nipple while thrusting in suddenly, harshly. Jisung nearly screamed.
“Let me come, please, hyung. You can tie me up or whatever else you want to do, just please.”
“You’d let me tie you up, even after you come?” Minho asked, pulling back from Jisung’s chest to meet his eyes. “When you’re all spent, tired and sore?”
Jisung nodded, eyes glassy.
Minho was losing his mind.
He continued his rough pace, grabbing Jisung’s cock and deftly stroking him one, two times, and Jisung was already coming.
Minho paused as Jisung came down from his high, but the other tightened his legs around his torso.
“Keep going,” Jisung murmured, smiling up at him blissfully. “Come inside.”
“Ji—”
“Please,” he begged, “I want you to feel good too.”
He pulled Minho down by the neck to capture his lips and suck on his tongue. Minho’s hips stuttered a couple times before he came with a low groan, arms shaking as he held his weight above Jisung.
He flopped onto his back, heart beating impossibly fast. After a few moments of blinking up at the ceiling in disbelief, he looked over at Jisung. “Are you okay?”
Rather than answer, Jisung rolled on top of him. Before Minho had processed enough to ask, Jisung was sliding down his body and taking his soft cock into his mouth.
Minho was embarrassed by the sound he made, half-suprise and half-animal. He pushed on Jisung’s shoulder lightly—not wanting to pull on his hair after everything they’d just done—and Jisung sat back after swirling his tongue around once. He opened his mouth. Full of Minho’s cum. Then he swallowed.
“Only fair that I get to taste hyungie too, right?”
Minho looked down at where Jisung was leaking his cum and nearly slid right back in.
“Honey. Get in the shower now, before I fuck you again.”
“Well—”
“No,” Minho reprimanded. “We did a lot for one day. Get your ass in the shower.” Jisung pouted, so he continued, “If you’re good, I have a gift for you.” Jisung visibly perked up at that, jumping out of bed and bouncing over to the bathroom.
“I know you want to join me,” he sing-songed, winking back at Minho.
This was not how it was like with his other partners.
This is what it would be like with a boyfriend.
Minho wasn’t dense. But maybe he was a bit delusional.
–
Minho’s insides burned pleasantly as Jisung hummed contentedly at the sensation of Minho massaging shampoo into his hair. When Jisung offered to do the same, Minho initially laughed—Jisung was the one who needed special care, not Minho—but quickly gave in when his initial rejection left disappointment in the other’s eyes.
When Minho slipped a t-shirt over Jisung’s head, it was one of his own. And one he knew Jisung would know was his, even if the other didn’t say anything when he looked down and saw what he was wearing.
Minho dragged Jisung to the kitchen by his wrist, nearly giddy as he got a box from the fridge. He knew Jisung would like it, and he loved nothing more than Jisung smiling because of him.
Sure enough, when Jisung opened the box and saw the slice of cake inside, his eyes sparkled in excitement. The force of those eyes directed at him almost made Minho’s knees buckle.
“When did you get this?” Jisung asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.
“Earlier. Since we’d be having a scene today. I figured you might want something after.”
Jisung’s gaze was soft, yet intense. “Hyung.”
“Don’t look at me like that unless you want me to ruin you again.” Jisung quickly looked away, but there was a small smile on his face. “And you really like the hyung thing, don’t you?”
Jisung shrugged, but before Minho could worry, he saw Jisung’s smile grow.
“I feel like it’s fitting. You always take care of me, you know?” Jisung said it as if it was just another offhand comment, and not something that could break Minho in two. Minho couldn’t get emotional, not now, not when they were both so vulnerable. “In more ways now, though,” Jisung added, winking lamely.
Minho rolled his eyes and pretended to steal a bite of his cake.
But he didn’t; he put his own fork into Jisung’s mouth, feeling the sweetness on his own tongue as the other man hummed around the tines.
–
“You’re sleeping with Jisung, aren’t you?”
Minho nearly spit out his Americano. He’d agreed to grab coffee with Jeongin—his younger friend who he introduced to the BDSM scene as well, somewhat recently—but wasn’t expecting him to catch on so fast.
Was Minho giving off ‘I-fucked-my-best-friend-I’m-actually-in-love-with’ vibes?
Jeongin seemed to take Minho’s silence as answer enough. “Did you finally confess?”
Minho glared at the table in front of them. He was worried what his eyes would show, if he let the other boy see them. “No. He just wanted to try things out with a dom, and I didn’t want him looking in the wrong places. You know how impulsive he can be.”
“That’s…” Jeongin trailed off. Minho looked up to see the other’s mouth twisting downward. “That’s not your best idea ever, to be honest.”
Minho laughed. What an understatement. “You think I don’t know that?” He took another slow sip of his drink. “I try… I try to be a good friend. But in the end, I’m just selfish, aren’t I?”
Jeongin put a hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort Minho, even though Minho was the older and more experienced one.
“You’re not. I know you’re not. You’re just human. And he’s hurting you.”
Minho’s chest flared up, irrationally protective. “He doesn’t know it,” he responded, gripping his coffee tighter. He was very glad it wasn’t in a to-go cup.
“It doesn’t change the fact that he is.” Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “I know you’re really defensive when it comes to him. But this situation isn’t fair to you. How can Jisung not know?”
“He doesn’t. I know he doesn’t.”
“He’s stupider than I thought,” Jeongin mumbled. “Didn’t you go on a date to that new sushi place the other day?”
“That’s just us hanging out. We do it all the time.”
Jeongin sighed, shaking his head. “Just be careful? I know it’s weird for me to say that to you. But seriously.”
Minho nodded.
But he was a liar. He wasn’t being very careful at all.
–
Minho was greedy. So when Jisung turned to him in between episodes of their show a couple nights later, eyes hopeful and a little nervous, Minho didn’t hesitate.
“What do you want?”
Jisung wasted no time crawling into his lap.
“What do you want, hyung?” he asked, blinking in a way he probably thought was cute. (Minho did think it was cute.)
“Let’s start with what you want to try, and we can go from there, hmm?”
“But what about your list?” Jisung leaned in, smirking deviously. “You haven’t shown me. Is there anything you like that isn’t on mine?”
“Jisung.” Minho pushed him back by the shoulder, giving them both room. “That should not influence your stance on what you want and don't want.”
Jisung frowned. “But what if something didn’t come to my mind?”
Minho sighed. “I can get you a standard list if you want some ideas that you maybe didn’t think about—”
“Hyung.” Jisung’s voice was pleading. “I want to know what you like, and think about whether I might like it with you. ”
Minho swallowed. This was a bad idea. But he was weak. And he could try to start off tame. Well, relatively. “People tend to like my thighs. Do you like my thighs, honey?”
“A stupid question,” Jisung mumbled. “I have eyes.” Minho was pleased with the answer, even if he didn’t need it. He’d seen Jisung looking hungrily many times since they started… whatever they had going on.
“I think you’d look pretty riding my thigh. Maybe with your hands tied, so you really have to fight for it.”
Jisung whined.
“Would you like that?" Minho continued, spurred on by Jisung's reaction. "You’d probably come so quickly, though. Wonder if you’d still let me use you after.”
Jisung let out an aborted noise. “Don’t tease, hyung.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m offering.”
Jisung let out a small gasp. “When?” he asked, impatience clear in his tone.
“Can you wear something that covers your wrists tomorrow?” Jisung nodded eagerly. “Then we can do it today, if you want. Or we can give you some time to process, think it over. Or if you’re not in the mood—”
“Please, can we do it now?”
“Now, as in right this second?” Minho feigned surprise.
“You’re wasting time,” Jisung shot back. Minho smiled, predatory.
“My bedroom. Everything off.”
Jisung scrambled off the sofa so quickly that Minho would have laughed, if he wasn’t equally as excited.
–
Minho felt his arms strain with the effort not to touch Jisung. Jisung, who was attempting to ride Minho’s thigh. His wrists were tied behind his back, wound together by rope Minho had selected carefully from his closet.
Jisung rutted helplessly, no arms to help him keep balance or guide his desperate movements.
Minho wanted to touch him, grab his narrow waist and force him to grind against his leg properly. But more than that, Minho wanted to see Jisung struggle. Watch him frantically searching for the right angle and more friction, almost falling over as one of his knees slid on the sheets.
“H-hyung,” Jisung whimpered. It sounded a bit wet; Minho could almost taste the oncoming tears.
He grabbed Jisung’s face, and could have sworn Jisung was vibrating under his hands. He licked a tear from Jisung’s cheek, reveling in the way the other’s breath hitched.
“Delicious,” Minho murmured. He thought Jisung might try to laugh at him for that.
Instead, he whispered, “You should taste me more, hyung.”
Oh. Minho felt a wave of arousal flow through him, and he saw Jisung smirk when he felt Minho shift under him.
But Minho wasn’t going to let Jisung try to tell him what to do.
“You’re in no position to be making requests.”
“Then put me in one,” Jisung retorted. His mischievous grin created a stark contrast to his tear-stained face. It made Minho hot. At first, he had thought Jisung might not put up much of a fight in his eagerness to get off. But instead, he was proving to be a challenge.
Minho hauled Jisung off his lap and forced him to spin around, pinning him against the mattress belly-down with a firm hand against his lower back. Jisung moaned.
“I hate you, why are you so fucking hot,” he muttered, cheek squishing into the sheets.
“That’s not a very nice way to talk to your hyung.”
“Maybe if you fuck me properly I’ll—”
“I’ll fuck you when and if I damn feel like it.” Lucky for Jisung, Minho wasn’t feeling particularly patient.
He roughly forced a couple fingers into Jisung’s mouth. Jisung got the memo, sucking and lapping at them until they were sufficiently wet.
“Can you take two? Did you open yourself up earlier?”
“No,” Jisung said quietly, “I didn’t. Wanted to wait for hyung. But you don’t have to go slow, I can take it.”
When Minho pressed both fingers past Jisung’s rim and they slid right in, he confirmed what he already knew: that Jisung had lied to him.
“I get it. You’re a slut,” Minho accused.
“No, my body just knows hyung now,” Jisung replied, and Minho’s heart fell to the floor. He swallowed the feeling down.
Jisung didn’t mean it like that. He was trying to make Minho feel good, and build up the tension for both of them. He didn’t want to belong to Minho the way Minho belonged to him.
Minho pushed the emotions down for now, mind focusing back on the role he had to play. He added a third finger.
“I could slip in at any time and you’d take me well, wouldn’t you?”
“Any time, hyung,” Jisung sighed.
Minho wouldn’t speak of the images that passed through his mind at those words.
“You’ll have to put limits on that,” he said carefully, looking at Jisung pointedly.
The other man had the audacity to laugh. “No, you’ll have to, otherwise I’ll just sit on your cock 24/7.” Jisung smiled. As if he hadn’t just given Minho a vision for who knows how many orgasms.
Not that Minho needed that kind of help. Not when he had a willing Jisung around him.
“Beg for it, honey,” Minho said eventually, removing his fingers and flipping Jisung over. He sat back against the headboard, gesturing for Jisung to crawl back into his lap with a single teasing finger.
Jisung struggled to move with his arms tied, forcing himself up by his knees, his thighs shaking from exhaustion. He shot Minho a pitiful look.
“Hyung? Please?” Minho cooed condescendingly, but grabbed his waist and dragged him onto his lap.
Minho wasted no time in forcing Jisung down onto his cock. He guided him by his waist at first, but when Minho started thrusting up into Jisung, the other fell over with a cry. Minho let Jisung lay on top of him, sticky with sweat and half-dried tears, watching him quickly come undone. But he continued to drive his hips upwards at a brutal pace until Jisung was nearly crying in oversensitivity, until his cum was beginning to dry on his stomach.
“H-hyung,” Jisung managed, fingers digging into Minho’s shoulders.
“Does it hurt, honey? Beg a little, and maybe I’ll let you off easy.”
Jisung’s hands tightened further, and Minho wouldn’t be surprised if his nails drew blood.
“No, I want hyung to come. Don’t I feel good, hyung? Why haven’t you—”
“Because I want to overstimulate you, honey. I can hold myself back. Unlike you.”
Jisung hid his face in Minho’s neck, body shaking. He gasped wetly when Minho thrust upwards again.
“I’m almost there though, honey, all you’ve gotta do is figure out how to convince hyung to go over the edge.”
He felt Jisung gasp.
And then he was sucking a hickey onto Minho’s neck.
Minho’s hands twitched around Jisung’s waist as he came. Hard. He felt Jisung smile against his skin.
–
It wasn’t just Jeongin who noticed something was different between Minho and Jisung. They’d been having sex for a few weeks—trying out things Jisung was curious about, testing the limits of Minho’s patience, discovering just how many times they could come—and he supposed the shift was evident, even if they had already been attached at the hip.
And perhaps some of the signs were obvious. Like the faint rope burns on Jisung’s wrists, visible for a short moment when he pushed his sleeves up habitually. Minho’s pointed glare made Jisung scramble to pull them back down, but not before Felix got an eyeful.
They were playing Uno in a circle one evening with their friends, beer cans around their feet as they sat cross-legged on the floor of Chan’s apartment. Felix—Jisung’s closest friend after Minho—looked worried for only a second before he was breaking out into a teasing grin at Jisung’s fumbling. But the pause made Minho suspect that Jisung hadn’t told Felix what they were doing. Was it really something Jisung didn’t want anyone to know?
Perhaps another neon sign of their development was the way Jisung leaned very close into Minho’s space, pretending to cheat. His hand was definitely far too high up Minho’s thigh to be innocent.
Minho had an inkling that Chan knew about his obsession with Jisung from the first time he saw them together, a couple years prior, but never questioned it. But now, he did send Minho a funny look, eyeing the nonexistent space between the two. Yet Chan didn’t say anything, and Minho was grateful.
The cheating was definitely an excuse for Jisung to breathe down Minho’s neck; he wasn’t actually paying attention. Minho smirked as he put a card down, screwing over Jisung in their game.
Jisung clearly didn’t think before he shouted. “Hyung!”
Chan turned toward the younger boy, as he was the actual hyung in this situation. His eyes widened when he caught Jisung looking at Minho instead.
“Did you just…” Seungmin asked Jisung, narrowing his eyes. His gaze slid to Minho, whose ears were definitely turning red. “Oh, gross,” he muttered.
Jisung chuckled, awkward and forced. “Guess I’m too used to yelling at Chan during these games—”
“You don’t whine at me like that,” Chan pointed out. If he wasn’t currently mortified, Minho would laugh at the dirty look Jisung sent the older.
“I’m not whining.”
Minho couldn’t help himself. “You are.”
Jisung glared at him, now, but it had little effect as it was offset by the clear want filling his eyes. Seungmin made a gag noise.
“There are children here!” Hyunjin pointed to Jeongin.
“He’s been to the fucking BDSM club with me,” Minho retorted, eliciting a jaw drop from Hyunjin.
“Wait, really?” Hyunjin asked the youngest, leaning closer.
“Oh god, now I understand how Seungmin feels,” Minho complained.
Chan redirected the conversation after that, and Minho was grateful, even if the rest of the game was a bit awkward. Even if he couldn’t look at Jisung, who he was sure would crawl into his lap if he let his desire show, endlessly eager for anything Minho had to give.
How long would that last, he wondered.
–
The next week, Minho had grudgingly agreed to dress up for a party, given it was one of their friend’s birthdays. He had put on his best going-out clothes, gelled his hair, even put on a trace of eyeliner. He knew that objectively, he looked good. In the eyes of Jisung, he was sure he looked irresistible. So he was expecting Jisung to take in an eyeful when he stepped into the living room.
When Minho walked up to Jisung, the other was already waiting, slouching on the sofa as if he wasn’t about to leave for a night out. But his outfit gave him away; dark jeans, sheer shirt with a jacket thrown on top, black-and-silver choker that was giving Minho far too many ideas.
“What took you so long?” Jisung complained, staring at his phone as he scrolled. When Minho didn’t respond, he looked up, doing a double-take when he saw Minho’s appearance. He didn’t try to hide how he checked Minho out, eyes tracing over his tight pants, low-cut shirt, leather jacket, carefully applied makeup. He sat up straight, making room for Minho on the sofa.
Minho sat down next to him, thighs touching.
“Like what you see?” Minho quipped.
Jisung twisted to face Minho better.
“Hyung,” he began, and the look in his eyes spelled trouble. It was desperate, but determined. “If you don’t fuck my face right now, I’m going to die.”
Minho’s mind was quick to conjure up images of Jisung on his knees, looking up at Minho pathetically as he whined for his cock. Drooling all over himself when Minho pushed him off, leaking in his pants when Minho spit into his mouth and forced his jaw closed.
Minho was more than game for that.
Still, he laughed, a bit meanly.
“Dramatic. You don’t want to ruin the entire night because you’re impatient, do you? What would our friends think?”
“I don’t care.”
Minho shook his head. “You’ve become spoiled, thinking you can get away with this.”
Jisung moved in front of Minho and kneeled on the ground. He grabbed his calves, rubbing one of them with a finger, teasing. It definitely stirred something in Minho’s gut.
“Hyunggg,” he whined. “Don’t you want my mouth?”
Minho really, really did, but he wasn’t about to give Jisung the satisfaction. “You’re too sloppy,” he criticized, rolling his eyes. “You’d make a mess, and embarrass yourself when we’re out tonight. Do you really want that? For everyone else to know you couldn’t show up presentable because you’re too much of a slut?”
“If it was for hyung…” Jisung batted his eyelashes coquettishly, which should have made Minho laugh, but just served to make him feel more unhinged. “I would.”
“Hyung wants you to behave,” he replied. Definitely a lie; he wanted to see what Jisung would do next, how desperate he would become.
As expected, Jisung didn’t back down. When Minho ignored his pouts, he pushed off the floor and threw himself into Minho’s lap, straddling him. Wound his arms around Minho’s neck and lowered his hips, grinding down.
Minho snapped his eyes to meet Jisung’s glassy ones. Oh. It was getting to that point already.
“Take me right here. Please. Please, hyung.” His knees slid against the sofa, making his moves clumsy and uncoordinated. But Minho loved the desperation. Clenched his fists, so as not to grab Jisung and guide his movements.
“Fuck, baby. The others will be here soon.”
Jisung sighed, a sweet little noise, as he found a rhythm. “Don’t care.”
Minho shuddered. Groaned. Tilted his head back, eyes cast downwards to continue to watch the other man rut against him.
“Oh? You want to ride me here in the open? While everyone watches you be a little slut?”
Jisung’s agreement came in the form of a broken moan.
“Well, too bad. I don’t want anyone else to see you.” Minho grabbed his hips suddenly, stilling him.
Jisung was unfazed. Wiggled his ass as much as he could in Minho’s death grip. He tilted his head, knowing Minho got a little feral when he exposed his neck. “Then lock me up in your room. Take me captive.”
Now that was a concept. But rather than images of Jisung tied up, thoughts of all the ways he could violently edge the boy and the number of times he could make him come, Minho found his mind going elsewhere. Jisung with bedhead, the soft morning light hitting the side of his face as he squinted. A boy in nothing but Minho’s shirt—his favorite—stretching a pair of clingy hands towards Minho. The soft kiss he’d press to Minho’s sternum when Minho cuddled closer, pulled the covers over the two of them. The cold toes Minho would push into Jisung’s thigh, just to hear the noise of surprise, capture the sound with his mouth. The way they would dissolve into giggles when Minho pressed butterfly kisses all over Jisung’s cheeks, forehead, nose. And his mouth. Nothing but a peck.
“What do you say, hyung?” Jisung’s teasing brought Minho back to the moment. He tried to refocus his mind on the present. On what he had, and should appreciate.
“Wish I could, honey. Fuck you whenever I want.” Minho’s voice went quieter. He knew he shouldn’t be speaking such words; they were too honest. “Protect you from everything.”
He felt as much as heard Jisung’s sharp intake of breath. Minho squeezed his hips again before sliding his hands up to fit against Jisung’s waist.
“Hyung always knows what’s best for me.” The possessive thing inside of Minho cheered.
A notification sound on one of their phones jolted Minho out of a near-trance.
“What’s best for you is to learn some patience.” He moved Jisung off his lap but grabbed his hand, squeezing it. He needed to coax Jisung back from his near-subspace. “C’mon, Jisung. I’ll play with you later. Once our friends have left.” He poked Jisung’s cheek playfully.
Jisung pouted. Bottom lip protruding, spit-slick. But his eyes were clearer as Minho moved to readjust Jisung’s jacket.
“Later? You promise?” Jisung asked.
“Don’t drink too much, honey, and it’s a deal.”
Jisung pumped his fist in victory. Minho laughed.
Minho made sure to reward Jisung’s patience greatly when they got home later, but not before making him beg a little more.
–
That night, after their… activities in the living room, Minho carried a sleeping Jisung to his bed, carefully tucking him in. He should have left immediately, but instead, he indulged in a few moments of watching Jisung breathing softly, his chest rising and falling.
Minho thought he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. But could their friendship really stay as-is, forever? One day, they’d be in committed relationships—or, at least, Jisung would—and their dynamic couldn’t stay quite the same.
What would he do when Jisung moved out? Went to live with a boyfriend? Who would Minho cook for, watch movies with, yell at for being messy? Who would he wrap his arms around after a stressful day? Where would he place all the love in his heart? Would the love formed only for Jisung dissipate when he was no longer within Minho’s reach?
Suddenly Minho felt like he had a high-grade fever, a thought crossing his mind that he could tell Jisung how he felt. What was the worst that could happen?
But he couldn’t be rash. He’d give himself some time to think it over, contemplate it when he wasn’t entranced by Jisung’s angelic, sleeping face.
–
Minho had just walked out of class the next day when he saw Jisung talking with someone. He squinted. No, not someone; Jisung’s ex. Not his most recent one—Minho may have gone on a warpath if it was—but a relationship that had ended just as quickly. Though more amicably, perhaps.
Jisung was smiling, and the other guy laughed at something he said. Was Jisung interested again? Maybe, now that he was learning more about what he liked in bed, he would start to move on from Minho.
And sure, Minho had tried to mask his feelings as best he could. But an unfair part of him was upset at Jisung for not feeling how real it all was for Minho. They had such a strong emotional connection; was Jisung really that oblivious, or was he ignoring the signs Minho knew were present?
He blinked rapidly and tried to stop the onslaught of emotions. But when he focused his eyes again, Jisung was grinning, allowing his ex to squeeze his shoulder before walking off.
Minho felt so, so stupid for how he had been digging himself a deeper grave.
–
It was no surprise that Minho was still angry (at himself? At Jisung? At life itself?) a couple hours later, when they met up with a couple classmates to work on a presentation. The groups had been randomly assigned, but as usual, Jisung and Minho had somehow ended up together.
Minho wanted it to be fate. But maybe it was just coincidence.
“That’s not the right way to analyze the data. You should check your notes,” Jisung critiqued a classmate rudely, interrupting the other student’s explanation. Minho sighed. Jisung was always a bit too cocky, too defensive of himself when he needn’t be.
Jisung turned to glare at him, seemingly having heard his sigh. Minho was used to it, so normally it wouldn’t bother him. Jisung needed a firm hand in these situations, and Minho was often the one to calm him down.
“Jisung.” Minho’s voice was reprimanding. Usually, it would get Jisung to back off a little.
But Jisung also seemed to be in a bad mood. And Bad Mood Jisung really, really hated being criticized.
“What, Minho? I don’t see you contributing any ideas.” Jisung was difficult when he got like this. He didn’t really mean it, though; the rudeness was always a cover for some insecurity or worry he had. But Jisung didn’t seem to be very attune to Minho’s insecurities and worries. Minho grit his teeth.
“I’m waiting to let other people speak first. Which you might want to try out, too.” He tried to make his voice as neutral as possible, but probably failed; at the moment, he felt like his head was steaming, like some sort of ridiculous cartoon character.
“I’m just trying to be efficient, I don’t know why we’re spending time on something that clearly isn’t the right approach,” Jisung criticized, rolling his eyes.
“How do you know, when you won’t even listen? Do you hear anything but yourself?” Their two classmates looked shocked at Minho’s outburst, but Minho was too busy watching the minute changes on Jisung’s face to care about what the others thought.
The stubborn set of Jisung’s jaw. The look in his eyes, like he thought Minho was stupid. The clench of his fist, like he’d continue to fight, no matter what Minho said.
“Do you ever listen? I didn’t ask for your opinion, I was talking to him,” Jisung spat, gesturing to one of the others next to them.
After all the times Minho had helped Jisung, smoothed out his spikes and edges when he got like this, the words of attack hurt. Minho tried so hard for Jisung, and all he seemed to get was a slap in the face.
Minho snapped. “You always have to be a brat, don’t you?”
Immediately, Minho knew: he had fucked up. Sure, he was annoyed and maybe a little disappointed with Jisung, but did that give him an excuse to act so wrongly? Why would he say something like that to Jisung, when he knew it meant something to him, to them ?
Jisung’s hand twitched. One of their classmates raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to humiliate me,” Jisung mumbled, the words quiet but deathly sharp.
Regret tore through Minho, violent and destructive. Why was he letting his feelings turn him into something ugly? Or maybe he had been ugly the whole time, a monster created by his own emotions, and had merely been masking it.
Minho heard one of their classmates clear their throat and continue talking about the assignment. But he couldn’t listen. He was entirely focused on Jisung. Who had gone eerily quiet. Suddenly, he looked like he was about to cry, a complete shift from mere seconds ago.
Minho had fucked up.
But by god would he try to fix it.
“C’mon, Jisung.” He grabbed Jisung’s wrist before he could debate it with himself, dragging him out of the room before anyone could form a question. Jisung didn’t protest more than a single weak attempt to rip his arm back, a gesture for show, for dignity, rather than for purpose.
Minho pulled him down the hallway, into a large single bathroom at the very end, and closed the door. His hand scrambled to find the light switch in the dark room, the white fluorescence temporarily blinding him. But after a few blinks, he could see Jisung clearly.
He was expecting Jisung to be sad and teary-eyed; instead, he looked livid. Jisung shook his wrist free of Minho’s fingers.
“I don’t feel like talking with you right now.” Jisung crossed his arms. Yet he didn’t make a move to leave.
That was a good sign, at least. He knew as well as Minho that this conversation needed to be had, and it was best to do it immediately. Or else they both would avoid it.
“No, Jisung, I really need to apologize.” Minho touched Jisung’s arms lightly, ducked his head to try to catch the other’s downturned gaze. Jisung’s scowl only deepened. “That wasn’t okay at all. I shouldn’t have said that kind of thing with other people around. Especially not when we actually use that term, in other situations. I really fucked up.”
“I know.” Another stab to his heart.
Minho had never messed up that bad; prided himself in being a responsible dom, a caring one. But he’d hurt Jisung, of all people. He looked down, ashamed.
Unfortunately, that put Jisung’s groin in his field of vision.
“You’re hard,” Minho said, before he could stop himself. He wanted to bang his head into the wall. That was the worst possible thing he could have said—
“Of course I’m hard, and it’s embarrassing.” Jisung’s voice was bitter. Minho’s eyes flickered back up. “ So embarrassing. Why should I be into you reprimanding me even when it’s in front of other people? ” Now Jisung was the one avoiding his eyes.
“Maybe…” Minho took a breath. He had to be careful with this one. “You could be into that. But it doesn’t matter. Either way, I shouldn’t do anything like that without a discussion.” He shook his head. “And I didn’t mean it that way, either.”
“I know,” Jisung mumbled, “and that makes it so much worse.”
“Don’t be embarrassed, honey,” Minho whispered, daring to reach for Jisung’s hand.
He tore it away. Minho burned with shame.
Minho didn’t know how long they stood there—minutes, hours?—before he saw Jisung grab his hands. He barely felt it. Huh. “Minho. You’re shaking.”
Oh. What? Minho pulled his hands back and stuffed them in his pockets. “I’m not.”
Jisung tilted his head, watched Minho’s face closely. Jisung’s own face was no longer full of anger, but rather, scarily blank. His expression was rarely so unreadable, his heart usually on his sleeve for everyone to see. Each second that went by made Minho feel like he was inching towards the brink of insanity. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Jisung’s voice hit his ears again.
“Would it help if you hugged me?”
Minho blinked. Help? Him? Why? “This isn’t about me?” Minho hated the pitch of his voice, high and near-frantic. It was uncharacteristic of him, and made him feel raw. “What do you need?”
“Just come here.” Jisung wrapped his arms around him. Minho felt warm. He buried his nose into Jisung’s neck, smelling a hint of cologne and the shampoo he’d stolen from Minho. He felt the his body loosen a little. He hadn’t known he was tense.
“You’re so good, honey,” Minho whispered, lips brushing against Jisung’s collarbone. “So good, putting up with hyung’s temper. Hyung’s sorry.” He swallowed, feeling like something heavy was lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Jisung rubbed circles on Minho’s back, letting him ramble like that until the words faded off.
“Maybe hyung should get punished,” Jisung said eventually.
Minho jerked his head back. Jisung’s heart-shaped lips were upturned in a soft smile. He was teasing . Minho could cry, he was so relieved. Actually, his eyes felt kind of wet…
“Anything you want, honey.” And he meant it. His voice was pleading, desperate. “I’ll get down on my knees here for you. If you want.”
Wait. Fuck. Was sex really the right approach right now? Minho looked down and swallowed, trying to clear his voice. “Or you could tell me to fuck off.”
Jisung sniffled, prompting Minho’s eyes to move back up. When had he gotten sad? “You… you’d do that?” Jisung’s voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“Anything for you.” Fuck it if someone heard them. Fuck it if they strolled back to their classmates far too late, faces flushed.
Jisung’s lip wobbled and, for a moment, Minho thought he might actually start crying.
“You’ll be gentle?” Jisung asked, voice small. Minho hated how unsure he sounded.
“Very. I’ll keep my hands behind my back if you want.”
Jisung shook his head. “No, just… don’t say anything too mean, okay?”
Minho smiled at him. He hated how his own eyes still felt a little wet, but knew Jisung deserved it.
“I can be sweet.”
“Prove it,” Jisung responded, but the words came out strangely soft. It felt like more of a request than a demand.
Minho dropped to the ground fast enough to break records. Opened his jaw and stuck out his tongue. Making his eyes round, he looked up at Jisung.
It felt vulnerable. But Jisung had given him so much vulnerability, Minho owed some in return. Especially after what he had done.
Even if Jisung didn’t know how much it meant; Minho was giving himself over to Jisung, even though Jisung wouldn’t rip his heart out for Minho in turn.
“Oh.” Jisung chuckled a bit, perhaps to distract from the heat creeping up his face. “I kind of understand the appeal, when I do this for you.”
Minho closed his mouth, swallowed before responding. “Believe me, you look way better than I do in this position.”
Jisung blushed deeper, fumbling with the button and zipper on his jeans. Minho helped him push his pants down, but let Jisung guide his cock past Minho’s lips.
It had been a while since Minho let someone take the reins like this. He had allowed it a few times, as he was studying how to treat submission the right way; but never in a situation where he wasn’t learning, but just pleasing someone else.
Jisung seemed hesitant to grip Minho’s hair, at first, but Minho felt the pull against his strands get more forceful as he took Jisung deeper.
He tried to keep his hands behind his body, at first. But Jisung extracted one of his own hands from Minho’s hair to guide Minho’s palms to his thighs.
“I want to feel your reactions. And don’t you need a way to tell me if I need to stop?” Jisung’s words caused Minho’s eyes to shoot up and meet his gaze. Jisung gave a small smile and Minho felt his heart lighten.
He squeezed Jisung’s legs through the denim as Jisung pushed in further, hitting the back of Minho’s throat. Minho felt his throat spasm, couldn’t help but let out wet, choked coughs. He had a perfectly functional gag reflex, but also figured Jisung wouldn’t mind; Jisung liked messy things. And Minho felt that trying his best, despite struggling, would be a testament to how sorry he was, and how much he cared for Jisung.
Jisung pulled him off, and Minho worked to catch his breath. “Are you okay, honey?” Jisung asked, and Minho momentarily froze at the usage of the term on him.
“Y-yeah,” Minho responded. Surprised at how wrecked his voice already sounded, he attempted to clear his throat. “I’m fine, you just gotta ignore the gagging. I can take it.”
“Minho,” Jisung replied, surprisingly stern, “you don’t have to do this.”
Minho shook his head. “I want to.” He wasn’t sure what his face showed, exactly, but he’d bet it was a mixture of desperation and adoration. “Please, Jisung-ah?”
Jisung let out a breath heavy with arousal and nodded. Minho opened his mouth again, and Jisung took the invitation.
And as Jisung used Minho’s mouth, he choked out Minho’s name, despite his attempts to be quiet. And it wasn’t a slip-up; his name was repeated like a mantra, no hyung’s at all.
It felt like devotion. Something in Minho felt soothed, even as his jaw ached.
–
“Where did you go?” one of their classmates asked, when they finally made their way back.
“Bathroom break,” Minho responded flippantly.
“Together?”
“I get scared going alone.”
Jisung snorted.
–
Things had been a little different since then. They hadn’t done anything together in a few days; Minho was having difficulty reading what Jisung wanted. Which was unusual, but he was confused about a lot of things recently.
So when Jisung came home upset after class one day, Minho felt extra need to care for him. He wanted to make up for anything he’d done wrong.
And he felt like he’d done a lot wrong. He just couldn't make sense of exactly when the wrongs started.
“I’m just kind of stressed, you know?” Jisung answered, when Minho asked. “I didn’t do so well on that exam I was worried about, and I haven’t been sleeping well, and…” He shrugged. “I just feel off.”
Minho didn’t know what that meant, exactly. Still, he walked over and wrapped Jisung in his arms.
“Let hyung make it better.” He felt Jisung nod against his chest. “What do you want? Do you want to cuddle? Or…” Minho would let Jisung fill in the blanks.
“Can we… um…” Jisung began to answer, sounding abnormally self-conscious.
“We can do whatever you want, honey,” Minho responded, pulling back a little to see Jisung’s expression. Jisung bit his lip and looked pointedly at the zipper of Minho’s pants before meeting Minho’s eyes again. They were practically sparkling with an unasked question. Ridiculous. “You want my cock in your mouth?”
Jisung nodded his head aggressively. It would have been endearing, if it wasn’t about sucking Minho off.
But Jisung was vulnerable at the moment. Was this really a good idea? Minho took a deep breath.
“If that’s what you want,” he allowed, “but why don’t you control the pace today?” He didn’t want to fuck Jisung’s face in his current mental state; he was responsible enough to know it was risky.
Jisung pursed his lips. “Can I…” His neck flushed. Minho waited. Jisung looked physically pained, trying to get the words out. “Can I, um. Just hold you in my mouth. Just for a little while?” He twisted his fingers nervously. Minho hated it.
Jisung was being so good. He shouldn’t feel anxious. Minho took Jisung's hands in his own, smoothing his fingers out.
“Since you were good and asked for what you want, I’ll give it to you,” Minho agreed, smiling. Jisung’s face lit up a bit. Minho’s tone turned teasing. “I didn’t know you wanted to cockwarm me, honey. And with your mouth, at that. I guess we missed it on the list.”
Jisung swallowed. “I didn’t know I wanted it until now. Never really thought about what it’d be like. But now… I kind of just want to feel you in my mouth.”
“You’re so…” Minho laughed lightly at himself, shaking his head. Jisung was literally out of his wet dreams. Except better. Very real, and more surprising than Minho would have thought.
Jisung cocked his head, waiting for an answer. Eager for praise, probably. Minho would come back to that.
“But you do know that I’m going to get hard, right? You don’t have to do anything. But just know, if you tease me, I will react. But tell me to stop whatever I’m doing and I will stop.”
“Okay,” Jisung agreed, and then he was dragging Minho to the sofa.
–
Jisung didn’t have Minho in his mouth for very long before he started fidgeting. At first, it was just his fingers moving against Minho’s legs. But soon, his mouth was no longer unmoving around his cock. Minho nearly jumped when Jisung started tonguing at the slit.
“Jisung,” he warned.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung replied, after popping off and wiping some spit from his chin. “I’m okay now. Promise. You can rough me up a little. Just let me come, okay?”
“Honey.” Minho frowned slightly. “When have I ever not let you come?”
Something glimmered in Jisung’s eyes. Not the sad eyes of earlier, but his usual, playful eyes. “Well. There’s always a first time,” he kissed the tip of Minho’s cock, and it looked so sweet that Minho couldn’t process it in the context of how lewd the rest of the sight was. “Just not today.”
Minho roughly lifted Jisung up into his lap and pressed their mouths together.
The kiss was messy; Minho tasted his own precum on Jisung’s tongue, saw an excess of Jisung’s saliva run down his face whenever Minho pulled back for a moment. It felt slick against his tongue, wet against his cheek.
“How do you want to come?” he mouthed against Jisung’s ear.
“I get to pick?” Minho nodded against his neck. He felt Jisung swallow before answering. “Untouched.”
“That can be arranged.”
Mere minutes later, Jisung was spread out on his bed, and Minho was hitting his prostate over and over with his fingers. Removing the pressure at the right moments, even pulling them all the way out when Jisung was too close.
“H-hyung,” Jisung hiccuped.
“Too much?”
“I don’t think I can last much longer today, I’m sorry, I’m so—”
“Stop apologizing, honey, you’re perfect.” Minho kissed the corner of Jisung’s eye, tasting just a hint of a tear. He slid in, Jisung gasping all the while. The feeling of Jisung tight around him evaporated any brain-to-mouth filter he had. “No one else takes me as well as you.”
“No one?” Jisung’s glassy eyes looked up at Minho like his answer was the only thing that mattered.
“Not even close.”
Jisung’s breath hitched, nearly sounding like a sob. “Fuck, hyung, keep talking like that, I beg you, please plea—”
“You’re perfect, honey. Made for me.” Minho paused. Was that too far? He was too wrapped up in the heat of Jisung’s body to think clearly. “Or I’ve molded you to me. Which is it?”
“M-made for you,” Jisung managed, in between gasps. “Don’t want you… to mold anyone else.”
Minho’s heart clenched, something pink and warm growing in his chest. He would think about that later.
“Possessive,” he accused simply, gripping Jisung’s hips just a bit harder.
Jisung squeezed around him. Minho swore he saw stars.
–
When Minho finally let himself think about the words they’d exchanged that evening, it made him feel crazy. Holding Jisung in his arms after, he’d felt more overwhelmed than ever.
Because sure, Minho was taking care of Jisung after a scene. But it was more than that. It was selfish, the way he carded his hands through Jisung’s hair, the way he fed Jisung cake with his own fork. The way he kissed Jisung’s back as they showed together, carried Jisung to his bed and threw a blanket over him.
And when Jisung made grabby hands, whining and kicking his feet childishly until Minho leaned in close enough for Jisung to hold his face and kiss him sweetly, it felt like Jisung treasured him. Minho felt something sickeningly close to hope.
He had to end this. Before Minho forgot that he was just the means to an end.
–
When Minho returned to their apartment after class the next day, Jisung was all over him in a second. Wrapping an arm around Minho’s neck, he impatiently dragged their faces together. Minho pushed against Jisung’s chest before their lips could meet.
“We should stop this.” The comment was out of Minho’s mouth before he could think of a better, nicer, more appropriate way to phrase it. But he needed to stop this before he caused himself yet more pain from experiencing something that wasn’t his, something temporary.
“Did I do something wrong?” Jisung asked, voice strained.
Minho had seen Jisung with every kind and combination of expressions on his face. But he wasn’t sure what was painted on his features now.
“No,” Minho answered, and it felt like a lie on his tongue, ashy and burnt, “you wanted me to show you, and I did.” Now that the words were tumbling out of Minho’s mouth, they kept flowing. “It can’t go on forever, you know? Don’t you want to be in a relationship again?”
Jisung’s lip wobbled. “Hyung.” A distressed noise escaped his throat. “Are you joking with me?”
Minho felt confusion fill his own face. Joking? Did Jisung think he was that cruel?
“No? Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re only mean to me when we’re playing. Why are you being mean to me now?” Jisung explained, pulling at a sweatshirt sleeve anxiously. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m being serious here, Jisung. I can’t give you what you want forever.”
Minho watched a movie play out over Jisung’s face: confusion, comprehension, shock, anger.
“Fine. I’ll find someone else to fuck me, if you’re sick of me,” Jisung said sharply. “Now that you taught me what I like.”
Unhinged Minho wanted to do nothing more than call him brat and take him right there, against their apartment door, until he remembered nothing but Minho’s name.
Responsible Minho just took a deep breath. Tried to keep his voice neutral.
“Just be careful? Jisung-ah.”
Jisung rolled his eyes.
Minho’s face twitched. “Ji—”
“I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself, you know?”
And maybe he could. And maybe Minho hated that. That Jisung didn’t need him, after all. That the closeness and domesticity they had could vanish in a moment, if Jisung willed it. But Minho needed Jisung.
“Jisung,” Minho pleaded, “I’m sorry. I don’t want this to ruin us.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you pretended to be interested for so long.”
Minho couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know what words should come next. Didn’t get a chance to say anything, before Jisung was turning away and storming towards the door.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we can’t do this anymore,” Jisung said quietly, back to Minho.
Then the door was slamming against the frame, and Minho was left in silence when the echo faded.
Jisung didn’t grab his keys. Wallet. Jacket.
Minho looked at the counter and saw Jisung’s phone.
Fuck.
–
Minho called Chan. He knew that if Jisung was going to stay elsewhere, it would be either with their reliable older friend or Felix, and Felix had been… at Chan’s apartment more often than not, these days.
Minho just told Chan they got into a fight; he gave no real details, but the tone of Chan’s responses made Minho feel very seen.
“I’ll just… go on a walk, or something,” Minho told Chan, gripping his phone too tightly. “Just have him grab his stuff. Or I’ll stay elsewhere, if he wants to be home.”
“This is ridiculous. You know how important communication is, Minho. Just talk it out.”
“I…” Minho laughed humorlessly. The sound was a little wet.
Minho didn’t cry.
“I don’t think either of us are in the mindset, right now,” he continued.
Chan didn’t respond to that.
–
Jisung stayed at Chan’s that night, after the older man stopped by to pick up his phone and keys. Chan gave Minho a rather sharp look, but didn’t say much as Minho handed over Jisung’s stuff.
Minho wondered how long it would be until he saw Jisung again.
–
It turned out to be only the next day, but not in the way he expected. He had gotten a call from Felix, worriedly saying Jisung was drinking too much and asking for Minho. He hadn’t gotten any message from Chan; maybe the older thought he didn’t deserve to know. And maybe that was true.
It didn’t take five minutes before Minho was in a car on the way to the bar.
He didn't even make it to the door before Jisung was stumbling outside, shivering in a mesh shirt.
Minho’s hand twitched. Moved of its own accord.
Jisung squeaked in surprise when Minho dropped his jacket on his shoulders. But he didn’t resist; he pulled it around his neck. Stuck his face in the collar—inhaling Minho’s scent?—and grumbled unintelligibly.
“Put it on properly,” Minho demanded, softly.
“You don’t get to boss me around anymore,” Jisung grumbled.
Minho bit his tongue to prevent anything toxic from slipping out. He grabbed the other man and started to force his arms inside the jacket sleeves.
“I got it.” It was Chan’s voice. Surprisingly chilly, making the already cold air around them tick a few degrees lower.
Minho felt a strong hand push him away from Jisung.
He could only watch as Chan walked away with Jisung, Felix looking a bit guilty as he trailed behind.
–
Minho was debating how loudly he could scream into his pillow without getting the police called on him when he heard his phone buzz.
He was expecting a text from Chan, maybe, or Felix.
He was not expecting a message from Jisung.
It was a picture of Jisung—well, Jisung from the neck down—in nothing but Minho’s jacket.
Even drunk, Jisung was able to get the angle right, cover up his body just enough to not be entirely explicit, but reveal enough to let the viewer know everything they were missing.
[1:03AM]
Might get ur jacket kind a messy
Minho wasn’t even given enough time to process before he was receiving a call. He shouldn’t pick up. It wasn’t fair to him, nor Jisung. Jisung was just drunk. Horny. Recalling memories of a good fuck.
But Minho couldn’t help himself. Even if it had only been a day, it had been too long since they’d turned into this mess.
Minho answered on the last ring. “Jisung.”
“Hyung,” Jisung whined. Minho pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the images of a Jisung he now knew all too well: the man on his knees, grinding his palm into his cock. Minho registered a wet sound, followed by a groan. He really would have to apologize to Chan. Profusely.
“Jisung. We stopped this. Remember?”
“But I miss you,” Jisung breathed, barely audible. He heard Jisung whisper his name, Minho, like a mantra. Minho’s chest burned.
There was the sound of fumbling as Jisung switched him to speakerphone. Undoubtedly to make both use of his hands. His hands, which might’ve been bound behind his back if Minho was there.
Minho shook his head to dispel the thought, and then grimaced when it triggered a headache.
“You’re drunk,” he said, as much for himself as Jisung.
“Because I miss you!” It was half-shout, half-sob. Jisung was crying? Because of him? “And I like you so much, Minho, don’t you know? W-why would you tell me to find a boyfriend?”
Oh. Jisung had really confused himself, hadn’t he? As much as Minho wanted the words to be true, he feared Jisung couldn’t separate reality from their scenes, or parse out his feelings for Minho from his feelings for how he felt during submission. Jisung craved what Minho’s dom self provided. And that was only one piece of Minho. The rest of him Jisung had known for ages, and Jisung hadn’t wanted him before, not like that.
“You’re drunk, Jisung. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Don’t leave me,” Jisung choked out, and oh, he was definitely crying.
Minho swallowed down the bile that threatened to escape his throat.
“I said we’ll talk tomorrow, alright?” he repeated. “Just get some sleep.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, honey.” At that, he heard another sob. It made something flare in Minho’s chest, and he had to calm it down by remembering how Jisung was always weak for pet names, praise, attention. Minho wasn’t special.
Jisung finally hung up, but Minho heard his voice all night.
He didn’t get a second of sleep.
–
Minho texted Chan the next day. He didn’t need to explain the situation, given how loud Jisung had been; the older agreed to leave his apartment for a bit, to give Minho and Jisung some space.
“Just figure out your shit, finally,” Chan demanded. Minho flinched when Chan’s hand came up to his arm, but it was merely to offer a reassuring squeeze. Chan’s voice turned softer. “You both deserve better than this, yeah?”
Minho could only nod.
After Chan closed the front door, Minho called Jisung’s name. The other came out of Chan’s bedroom—had he slept in there? Minho wasn’t going to think about that—and immediately crossed his arms over his chest.
He was wearing one of Chan’s shirts. Of course, because he had left all his shit at home. Minho sighed internally, pushing down the dark jealousy that would compromise his plan.
Awkwardly, he held up a bag, weighed down by a heavy container.
“Hangover soup,” Minho explained. When Jisung just stared at him, he continued, “Your hangover is my fault, right?” Jisung rolled his eyes. “Gotta take care of my honey,” Minho added, quieter, almost pleading.
Jisung glared. Or, attempted to, but mainly it looked like he had a migraine. “You can’t call me that.”
Minho swallowed. The lump in his throat wouldn’t go away. “You don’t want me to?”
Jisung mumbled something that sounded like a bunch of expletives. Then, jerkily, he moved towards the kitchen table. Sat down, facing away from Minho.
Minho knew that was as much of an invitation as he was going to get.
He went to work getting out bowls and utensils, silently dishing out the meal for both of them.
He was grabbing a cup of water when Jisung finally spoke.
“I want you to mean it.” Jisung met Minho’s eyes with red-rimmed ones. “When you call me honey, I want you to really mean it.”
Minho almost dropped the glass.
“Jisung. What are you saying?”
Jisung looked like he tried to smile, but it came out too wobbly, unsure.
“I love you.”
Minho’s mind was nothing but static. How he’d longed to hear those words for years . In his dreams, his wandering thoughts, his subconscious attempts to weave such meaning into little things Jisung did and said.
But it couldn’t be true. He’d tried to make it real so many times, so he knew. It couldn’t.
“Minho?” Jisung’s voice brought him back. The other man was worrying his lip, looking so vulnerable, like he didn’t know he had Minho’s heart on a platter.
Minho wanted to believe his words so badly. But he had to be clear. This would ruin them both.
“No,” Minho said, hating how his voice shook. “You love what I give you.”
Jisung’s face changed from insecurity to concern. “No, Minho-yah. I love you.”
Minho felt his jaw clench. Forced the words out from between his teeth. “It was your first time in an arrangement with that kind of dynamic. It’s not unusual that you’d feel attached.”
“It’s not just because of the sex.” Jisung’s voice was near-pleading. Did he even believe himself?
“It can bleed over, Jisung. Hints of the dynamic, emotions tied to how being dominated makes you feel. You can get confused.”
Jisung scowled, his eyes bordering on angry. There was a certainty in his gaze, a stubbornness Minho knew too well. Maybe he did have confidence in his words.
“Don’t patronize me. You think I haven’t thought about this carefully?”
Minho shrugged. Minho wouldn’t be able to live through Jisung having a crush that faded out when he wasn’t everything Jisung expected, or when the novelty wore off. He worried that Jisung didn’t really understand the extent of the damage he could cause, if Minho let him.
“If you don’t want me, just say so,” Jisung continued scathingly. “Or if you just want sex, then tell me clearly. But I won’t stand for you invalidating my feelings.”
Minho couldn’t stand the look on the other’s face—self-deprecation mixed with sadness and a twinge of disappointment. Disappointment that grew, deepened Jisung’s frown, the longer Minho stood there in silence. Even if he was scared, he needed to wipe the hurt from Jisung’s expression.
He placed the cup in front of Jisung. Took a deep breath.
“You said you wanted me to mean it when I called you honey,” Minho started. Jisung gave him a questioning look, irritation still clear on his face, but nodded. “I do. Always did. I never once threw around such words without feeling their weight, even if I knew you didn’t feel the same.”
It was almost comical how Jisung’s features were overcome with shock, the indignation evaporating immediately. “What?” he croaked.
“You were just looking for someone to teach you. I knew it wasn’t smart to indulge you, to indulge myself, but I did anyway.” Minho shook his head at himself.
Jisung swallowed, and Minho’s eyes instinctively tracked the movement.
“It sounds a lot like you’re saying you like me.”
“Like you?” Minho huffed. “I love you, Jisung. Isn’t that what you’re trying to force out of me?”
Jisung’s jaw tensed. “Then what makes you think it’s one-sided? I told you, I don’t just see you as someone who can teach me. Or just fuck me.”
“But you were never interested in me before we started having sex.”
Jisung’s eyes widened. Whatever he saw—Minho was so torn up inside, who knows what the outside showed—seemed to cause his mouth to twist sideways.
“Is that really what you think?” He whispered.
Minho laughed humorlessly. “We’ve been so close for so long. But the only thing that made you realize you like— love me, is being fucked the way you want? Don’t you understand why that is difficult to believe?”
Jisung blinked. “Years?” he whispered, disbelief coloring the word. “Since when?”
“Probably from the first time you looked at me and glared.” The confession tumbled from Minho’s lips. In a way, he finally felt like he could breathe.
And despite everything, Jisung laughed. The sound caused an unexpected warmth to touch Minho’s chest.
“You know…” Jisung responded, “I think I had a crush on you immediately, too. Do you know how pretty you are?”
“What?” Minho truly thought Jisung had hated him at first, that there was something inherently unlikeable about him. Or that he looked unlikeable, before Jisung got to know him.
“And when you befriended me?” Jisung continued, either oblivious or pretending to be oblivious to Minho’s shock, “me, the loser with no friends? It was unbelievable. And we became so close that any kind of surface-level, crush-like thoughts just faded to the background. Our bond is deeper than that, you know?” Minho nodded. He did know. “Which is why you should realize that I just don’t want you for sex. You owe our friendship that much respect.”
Jisung had a point. But Minho was afraid. So afraid that he felt himself shaking.
“What if your feelings change?” he whispered, almost too quiet for Jisung to hear. “Or you realize you were wrong?”
There it was, Minho’s insecurity. His anxieties, laid out on the cold, brightly lit table for anyone to pick apart. He couldn’t lose his best friend. And he wouldn’t survive being rejected, not after he was given a chance. What if he wasn’t what Jisung wanted, after all?
“Can’t we both take the risk?” Jisung’s voice was quiet. He was holding so much tension in his shoulders that Minho could almost feel it in his own. Jisung took a step closer, reaching for Minho with a pair of trembling hands. “Can’t we try, Minho-yah?”
Minho realized there was fear on both sides. He knew he was important to Jisung, and that Jisung was being vulnerable, sharing his inner thoughts—even if Minho was in disbelief.
And Minho knew what Jisung looked like when he wanted something. When he craved cake, or needed help with an assignment, or desired that Minho take him. But he’d never seen Jisung as urgently desperate as he was now, reaching for Minho’s sweater sleeves and gripping them tightly.
He saw a tear escape Jisung’s eye and realized how much he’d hurt them both. How had that happened, when he had been trying to preserve their friendship, and protect his own heart? He was the one who’d been touting clear communication, yet he’d been hiding from Jisung.
And above all, he loved Jisung. Didn’t know how to live without him, and didn’t know how to live with distance between them, now that he knew what it felt like to be impossibly close.
“Fine,” Minho finally agreed. Jisung looked at him warily. But despite how much resistance Minho had shown, he’d do anything for Jisung.
Still, Minho had put some guardrails around it. “But for now, no sex.”
He knew it would be hard. Near impossible. Since they started having sex, they rarely had their hands off each other for more than a few hours. But he desperately wished Jisung could love him, regardless of what he could provide in bed. And if they were to work out in the long run, this would be a condition they’d accept.
But a tortured part of him still worried Jisung wouldn’t accept such terms.
“Deal.” Jisung’s voice, confident and unwavering, broke Minho from his anxious thoughts. Jisung was smiling, face glowing, not a shred of doubt in his features. Something sparkled in his eyes as he leaned in closer. “Should we shake dicks on it?”
Before Minho could scold Jisung for mocking him, the other’s laughter filled the room. Bright and clear.
“Are you making fun of me?” Minho grumbled. “What’s so funny?”
Jisung collected himself, but a small grin remained. “No, I wouldn’t fuck around about this. I’m just really happy.”
Minho couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute Jisung was in his excitement.
“Just for that, I’ll blueball you later.”
“But hyunggg,” Jisung whined exaggeratedly, “that’s part of our whole sex thing.”
Minho rolled his eyes, but he knew when he looked back at Jisung, his gaze was fond.
–
They were cuddling on their shared sofa later, Minho’s head in Jisung’s lap, when he got caught up in his thoughts again. Jisung looked down at him, carding a hand through his hair.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” Jisung asked.
Minho gripped Jisung’s sweatshirt harder, dared himself to meet the other’s eyes. “When did you…” Minho began, struggling to shape the words with his mouth. Jisung’s full focus was on him, and it was making him nervous. He was used to having the upper hand, but now, he was entirely at Jisung’s mercy. But Jisung’s soft smile encouraged him to continue.
“When did you realize… that it was more than just sex? For you?” he asked quietly.
Jisung hummed in contemplation. “Funnily enough,” he started, and Minho knew it wasn’t going to be funny, “I think it was right before we got into a fight during that stupid group project. I ran into one of my ex’s and got thinking about relationships. And then I realized I didn’t want to try another relationship again. I just wanted one with you.”
Minho froze. That was the day...
“And then… fuck,” he muttered, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “I really showed you my charm that day, didn’t I?”
“Actually, you did.” Jisung leaned down to press his lips to Minho’s forehead. It felt like a jarring shift in roles, given Minho usually took care of him, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “I’d never seen you so worried.”
Something crept to the front of Minho’s mind, demanding to be let out. “You used my name that day.”
Jisung sat back, eyes flashing to meet Minho’s.
“When I sucked you off,” Minho clarified. “You didn’t call me ‘hyung’, you used my name.”
“I know.” Jisung’s voice was quiet. “I thought you’d figure it out, then, but you didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did you.”
“I thought…” Jisung shook his head. “I thought it wasn’t serious, for you.”
“Jisung. When have I ever been casual about anything involving you?”
At that, Jisung cracked a smile. “I guess that’s true. And you’re so possessive. I really should have picked up on it, huh?”
Minho buried his face into Jisung’s stomach.
“Well, you’re mine now,” he mumbled against the fabric. Jisung’s laughter shook his body.
“Of course I am, baby.” Baby was new, and Minho was more than happy to have the label. “But you’re mine, too.”
–
They were supposed to go on their first official date the next weekend.
Minho had never seen Jisung so nervous. Even in all the new and vulnerable sexual situations Jisung had found himself in with Minho, his energy was never so anxious. He played with the hem of his pink sweater, looking soft.
Minho sat down next to him, rolling up the sleeves of his own green cardigan. “What’s the matter, honey?” he asked, looking pointedly at Jisung’s incessantly bouncing leg.
“What do you mean?” Jisung tried to laugh, but it came out strained. “Everything’s fine. Great, actually. The best!”
“Did you forget I can read you like a book?”
Jisung sighed. “I’m just nervous. What if you think my sweater is ugly? What if you don’t like the restaurant I picked? What if it rains during our walk after?”
“First of all, I love your sweater, although maybe not as much as the pants.” Minho smirked, eyeing how Jisung’s jeans hugged his legs. “Second, as much as I love food, you could take me to eat instant ramen and I’d still enjoy your company. Third, you look sexy with your hair wet.”
“Stop sexualizing me! We haven’t even made it out the door.” But Minho noticed his words had made some of the tension in Jisung’s neck fizzle away, saw him stop picking at his nails.
“You’re the one who wore the pants.”
Jisung smiled deviously, checking Minho out in an exaggerated manner. “You look nice, too.”
And Minho knew he did. Despite his no-sex commitment, he couldn’t help but pull on pants that flattered his thighs. Thighs that Jisung had grinded on before, nearly making himself come while Minho just watched. He felt a wave of desire overtake him.
Minho swallowed. “You know… I never said how long we had to wait.”
Jisung scoffed, flicking Minho’s forehead. “It’s been mere days. I thought you were supposed to be the patient one.”
“I’m really not.”
Jisung chuckled, but his face quickly grew serious again. “Just wait a bit longer. For us?”
For us. Yeah, Minho could wait forever for them.
–
When they finally broke, a few weeks later, Minho knew where he wanted to start.
“I’ll ride you. And you can’t touch me.”
Jisung looked so confused, it was comical.
“Like, you mean…”
“Yes, honey, I’m going to sit on your cock.”
Jisung whined. “I didn’t think you…”
“Just because I’m a dom doesn’t mean I can’t take cock,” Minho teased. “That’s very narrow minded. I do recall you indicating you were interested in this type of thing, but if not…”
“But I thought it meant, like, I would dom.”
Minho let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, honey. You’d be begging me to take over within moments.”
Jisung tackled him. “That’s big talk for someone who wants me to fuck them.”
Minho didn’t even twitch. “You won’t be fucking me. You’ll be lying there, while I take whatever I want. Don’t misunderstand.” He traced the outline of Jisung’s cock over his jeans.
Jisung let out a noise that sounded something like “Ohfuckplease”.
Minho smiled in victory, pulling on Jisung’s belt loops. “Hyung will teach you how this goes.”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “You’re so into ‘teaching’ me things.”
Minho laughed. “I’m just into you, Jisung-ah.”
Jisung smiled brightly, pulling Minho’s face down to crash their lips together.