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Minho stared at him.
Minho stared at him a lot, and somehow, he never seemed to notice.
Maybe his eyesight was so bad he couldn’t see that far across the classroom. Maybe the lenses of his glasses were so thick he had a blindspot in his vision. Maybe he was just the biggest nerd in the world and loved calculus so much he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from the board for one second—away from learning.
“Dude. You gotta stop. If he ever notices you he’s gonna be so freaked out,” Seungmin muttered as he leaned over inconspicuously, “You look like a jaguar stalking its prey, seriously, you look creepy as hell.”
Minho didn’t care that he supposedly looked creepy. He did care, though, that his tactic wasn’t working.
“Yeah? Maybe I am stalking him,” Minho mumbled back, his eyes never leaving his one and only target. His prey.
He felt the way Seungmin’s eyes widened, just a little bit.
“You’re such a freak.”
If he couldn’t catch Jisung’s attention by staring at him so long and hard that he falls in love with him—and this has been going on for weeks—he would have to speak to him.
After another ten minutes of unabashed staring from Minho and complete obliviousness from Jisung, their professor dismissed the class. Minho watched Jisung hurriedly press his glasses up his nose with the pad of his pointer finger as he scooped all his books in his arms and grabbed his backpack with his other. He said something to the guy next to him as they both stood and headed for the door, and Minho knew this was his chance. Well, he was going to make it his chance.
He shouldered a few students out of the way as he approached an unexpecting Jisung just before him and his friend made it to the door.
Minho borderline slammed his hand into the wall in front of their faces, effectively stopping them in their tracks and making both their eyes nearly bulge out of their heads.
“You,” Minho started, fixing Jisung with his usual stare, dark and abiding. Jisung stared back, finally. “You’re coming over and helping me with calculus. Tomorrow. After class.” Minho concluded, dropping his hand from the wall.
Jisung blinked a few times, his lashes fluttering behind his thick lenses. “O–Okay,” he stuttered, clutching his books close to his chest. His friend, a small blonde boy with long hair, gave Jisung an affronted look as he elbowed him.
Minho nodded once with dark eyes before he ducked out of the room. He didn’t miss the chorus of, ”Are you crazy? Why would you agree to that?! He looks like he’s going to skin you alive and wear it as a coat!” from Jisung’s friend, and the whiny justification of, “Well–! He needs help with calculus!” from Jisung.
Minho laughed to himself. He probably did need help with calculus, but they weren’t going to be studying.
-
Minho wasn’t entirely sure when his obsession with Jisung started. More than likely, it was the first week of class, when Jisung took his glasses off to clean them. Minho only noticed him when those glasses slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground, his cleaning cloth was too slippery, apparently. Minho’s ears quirked at the sound, his eyes locking in on the source. He saw Jisung for the first time then, his knees pressed together but a good foot of space between his turned-in feet. His eyebrows were pinched as he tried to grab his glasses off the floor without causing a disturbance, but he missed the first two times he pawed at them. Minho swore he heard a little whimper of embarrassment when he finally reached them and sat up, looking around the room with slightly crossed eyes only to meet other pairs already on him. He looked scared, meek. He looked easy, but most importantly, he was so fucking cute. Especially when he slipped those thick-lensed glasses back on his cute little nose and his eyes refocused. He bowed quickly in his seat at the professor standing at the front of the class.
”Sorry. I’m very sorry, gyo-su-nim,” he apologized hurriedly, embarrassingly with his knees still pressed together and his hands wringing in his lap.
Minho thought that might’ve been the moment he saw Jisung for the first time, and then never stopped seeing him.
And then never stopped thinking about him.
And never stopped dreaming about him.
Despite what he said yesterday, he wasn’t stalking Jisung. He didn’t follow him after class and he didn’t know anything about him other than what he had learned already by studying him in class—his face, his mind, his body. Minho was sure he knew Jisung’s body better than he did at this point. Maybe if he studied his schoolwork half as hard as he studied Jisung, he could pass the semester. But he didn’t care about school. As aforementioned, Minho only cared about Jisung. He was obsessed with him, he knew that. It wasn’t healthy, but he thought if he could just have Jisung once, just once, it would either bring out the best of him or the worst of him. His life would either be complete—totally and completely satiated—or he would live the rest of his days longing, constantly praying for more. To have Jisung one more time.
He wondered which side it would bring out in Jisung.
Nothing could change Minho’s mind, though. He knew he needed Jisung at least once. At least.
“Jisung’s coming over today,” Minho informed Seungmin without looking at him as they sat in class.
A sigh, then, “Should I go warn him? Tell him to run far, far away and never look back?”
“I’d kill you,” Minho said, voice flat.
“No you wouldn’t. Because then you’d be in jail and you’d never see him again,” Seungmin uttered back, his eyes rolling.
Minho grunted in response. He didn’t want to think about a life where he couldn’t see Jisung every waking moment of every day. He wasn’t stalking him, but he couldn’t exactly leave him alone when he was the only thing on his mind for weeks now. Only being able to see him in person three times a week for an hour was bad enough. He had to make do with the photos of him on the school’s website—chess team and debate club. Oh how Minho longed to see Jisung stutter through a debate—all nervous eyes and quivering lip. He had to be the least intimidating person there, and it’s debate club.
“How’d you manage that anyway? He’s never once looked back at you,” Seungmin asked, breaking Minho out of his thoughts.
“I told him he’s coming over to my place to help me with calculus,” Minho smirked as he leaned back in his seat.
Seungmin eyed him for a moment before understanding seemed to wash over him. “You’re sick,” he accused, “Seriously, you’re sick in the head.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just wait, he’ll be obsessed with me once he gets a taste,” Minho assured, wetting his lips.
Jisung probably wouldn’t have anything to lose if Minho kept him locked away from the world to keep for himself. Sure, he’d miss calculus class and debate and chess, but who needs those? Jisung deserved to be licked and sucked and loved like a lollipop. Minho would treat him right. He didn’t need anyone else.
And besides, who would miss him if he were to disappear? His friends? His family? Minho misses him more than they do every night when he goes to sleep—as soon as he walks out of the door to their calculus classroom. As soon as he’s not staring at him or a photo of him. Minho deserves him more than anyone, so why shouldn’t he be able to keep Jisung for himself? Why wouldn’t Jisung want him?
This was Minho’s shot to show Jisung that he’s everything to him. To show Jisung that he wants to stay by Minho’s side, he just doesn’t know it yet.
-
Class ended. Minho never even took his books out.
The only thing that snapped him out of his Jisung-induced fugue state was Jisung himself, the younger turning and meeting his eyes for the first time from across the room. Minho stared back as Jisung’s wide eyes locked onto him through his thick lenses.
Something about it was so exhilarating, so foreign. He turned like he knew exactly where Minho sat even though he’d never once caught Minho’s stare before. It sent thrills up his spine.
Minho grabbed his bag with all his stuff still inside it as he stood, watching Jisung’s Adam's apple bob all the while. He stalked over, Jisung’s face tilting up higher and higher the closer and closer Minho got. His throat bobbed again when Minho loomed over him.
“Ready to go?” Minho asked, biting back the giddiness in his chest.
Jisung started nodding furiously. “M–Mhm!” he hummed through tightly sealed lips. Minho idly noticed his little blonde friend gaping at him. He tried not to laugh.
“Follow me,” Minho purred as he nodded his head toward the door and let his eyes drag down the length of Jisung’s body. He loved the way his button-up shirt was tucked into his jeans, his ugly brown belt holding it all in place around his ridiculously tiny waist. He couldn’t wait to rip him apart.
Jisung’s little blonde friend watched them go as he stood in the middle of the classroom, his jaw dropped open.
-
“So, um, which parts do you need help with?” Jisung asked as they walked down the street—towards Minho's dorm.
Minho glanced over at him. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his composure the longer he spent in Jisung’s presence, the longer Jisung looked at him and talked to him—the longer Jisung acknowledged his existence.
“Mm, everything,” Minho replied casually with a shrug.
“O–Oh,” Jisung laughed, “We’ll be here all day then,” he joked, like he thought Minho was kidding. Minho kind of was kidding, but realistically, he did need help with everything if he wanted to pass the class. Luckily for Jisung, though, Minho didn’t care about passing the class.
“Yeah, hopefully,” Minho muttered under his breath. He’d love to spend all day with Jisung. And then another day and another and another until the day he dies.
They made it to Minho’s dorm. Jisung fidgeted as Minho slipped his shoes off. Minho watched him for a moment as he stared back before he grabbed Jisung’s backpack right out of his hands and slung it up onto his bed.
Jisung blinked a few times at his bag, now resting on Minho’s bed. Then, Minho started undoing his own belt.
Jisung’s head whipped back so fast Minho was concerned for his neck, and Minho really needed Jisung in one piece for what they were going to do together. He stared with eyes that looked like they were about to fall out of his head as Minho popped the button of his pants and started dragging the zipper down.
“W–Wha–Wait–” he stuttered quickly as he turned his bright pink face away. Minho smirked so hard it hurt.
“What, Jisungie? I’m just slipping into some sweatpants. You never changed in the locker room before?” he teased, watching Jisung’s chest slowly deflate.
He turned back slowly as Minho dropped his pants, now in his tight grey briefs.
“Oh, yeah– no. I mean–! Yes, I’ve changed in the locker room before,” he got out quietly. Minho couldn’t help but notice the way Jisung’s gaze was directed down, right at his crotch. He wore his grey briefs today on purpose, because everything is more visible in grey. Light enough in color to see the dark shadows form under the shape of his cock. It seemed his plan worked, because Jisung was staring at the mound in his underwear like Minho stared at his entire being in class.
“Do you usually stare at the other guys’ dicks while they’re changing?” Minho asked as he stepped out of his pants.
Jisung’s jaw dropped slowly, his eyes opening all the way again as he flitted his gaze back up, like he hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring.
“No! Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he gulped hard as he turned his whole body away this time. Minho thought he might’ve seen his blush creep down to his arms he was so pink.
Minho’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how hard he was holding back his smile. Things were going to plan. He was so fucking excited.
As Jisung’s back was turned to him, he decided on a last minute, brash idea. He quickly pushed his briefs down and off, too, before he slipped his grey sweatpants up his legs and bare cock. Again, grey. Color theory… or whatever. Minho didn’t pay attention in any class.
“Okay, let’s study, Jisungie,” Minho purred in Jisung’s ear as he snuck up behind him, smacking his ass hard as he slinked passed.
Jisung gasped as he turned, watching Minho crawl up onto the foot of his bed. He patted the spot beside him a few times with a smirk. Jisung eyed it with shallow breaths before he gulped. Minho saw the exact moment he decided to join him, probably thinking the slap was just a funny, friendly thing. Maybe trying to convince himself that the slap was a funny, friendly thing.
It wasn’t. Little did Jisung know, as Minho lounged back against his wall with one leg bent and the other hanging off the side of his bed, his cock was already twitching at the feel of his ass under his hand. He was imagining squeezing it, watching it jiggle, spreading it apart and fucking into it. The goosebumps that would arise over his cheeks as Minho bit one of them, used his tongue and his lips to suck on his skin, slowly making his way inwards, inwards…
“Minho-hyung?” he asked meekly, pulling Minho’s attention away from his thoughts that were starting to make it hard to keep his eyelids up. Once Jisung deemed Minho’s attention on him, he had a question to ask. “Should we start with chapter one? It’ll probably go fast, I’m sure you know more than you think you do,” he smiled sweetly, taking his calculus book out of his bag as he sat criss-cross atop Minho’s sheets, facing him.
Minho smiled at how sweet and naive Jisung was. Jisung took that as a yes.
“Okay, chapter one: functions. In this section, we provide a formal definition of a function and examine several ways in which functions are represented—namely, through tables, formulas, and graphs. We study formal notation and terms related to functions. We also define composition of functions and symmetry properties. This all sounds familiar to you, right?” Jisung asked like the answer was, yeah, duh. The only question Minho would answer yeah, duh to would be if Jisung asked if he wanted to fuck him.
But then Jisung was peeking over the textbook he was holding up in front of his face, and Minho could only nod.
“Okay, good. Let’s move onto trigonometric functions, then.”
As Minho listened to Jisung talk about radians and identities, he used his increasing knowledge of what Jisung’s voice sounds like to imagine how he might moan. His voice was generally low in pitch, but when he seemed nervous or particularly like he wanted to appease someone, it got higher in pitch. He might squeal and squeak, all high pitched and breathy when Minho hits that spot head on, over and over again. He might moan low in his throat and let his eyes flutter shut as Minho slows down, dulls the pleasure a little bit to drag it out longer.
Minho was working himself up. His cock twitched at every scenario he imagined—Jisung on his back, Jisung on his stomach, Jisung on his side, his leg straight in the air as Minho fucks him. Minho gulped, trying not to squirm. His cock was filling out with each wave of arousal that coursed through him, his hips threatening to buck on their own the more he imagined it. He was so horny he was afraid he was going to develop a calculus kink.
Now, Minho loved hearing Jisung’s voice in any context, but he was starting to tire of hearing about calculus. He wanted to hear Jisung’s voice screaming his name, begging for more. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with not knowing if he’s right or not.
Minho wet his lips and slowly reached his hand out as Jisung kept reading.
“ –the ratios of the side lengths of a right triangle can be expres–sed i–in terms of… of the trigonometric functions–” Minho felt nothing but joy and arousal as his hand landed on Jisung’s thigh, effectively making him stutter and gasp through his words. He slowly rubbed his thumb along the inseam of his jeans, his body heat so warm even through the layer of fabric, but Jisung just kept reading.
Minho was starting to grow impatient. His cock was fully hard, pulsing in his sweats. He knew there was a noticeable bulge there—his cock pressing up and straining the fabric of his sweats—but Jisung wasn’t seeing it because he was too busy with his nose buried in his stupid textbook.
“ –is an equation involving trigonometric functions that is true for all angles– actually, you probably know all of this already! You’re probably getting annoyed by the sound of my voice, anyway. We can totally move on,” Jisung cut himself off with a laugh and a gulp. Minho could only imagine his smile, the roll of his eyes. Minho had suddenly had enough. He didn’t want to imagine Jisung’s smile or his eyes or his moans. He wanted to see them, hear them, be the cause of them.
With the hand that wasn’t slowly rubbing up Jisung’s thigh, he grabbed the stupid textbook that was blocking his view of Jisung’s face and Jisung’s view of his needy cock and yanked it out of his hands entirely, tossing it aside. He cut whatever Jisung was about to say off completely. No, he didn’t know all that already, no, he didn’t care to know it, and no, he wasn’t getting annoyed by the sound of his voice.
As Jisung’s face finally came into view, Minho no longer had to imagine Jisung’s smile. It was there, nervous and slightly distraught on his face. His eyes blinked open wider than they were before as the book was stolen away from him and Minho’s face was suddenly in his line of sight.
Minho’s eyes bounced back and forth between Jisung’s, studying him yet again. He was pleasantly surprised to see that gaze flick away suddenly. To see it flick down.
When Jisung’s unblinking stare landed on the obvious outline of Minho’s hard cock through his grey sweatpants, his cute little smile dropped slowly from his face. Minho had to fight the giddy, maniacal laughter that threatened to break loose as he purposely bobbed his cock a few times, as if to wave hello.
“You want it inside you?” Minho smiled, biting his bottom lip and squeezing Jisung’s thigh in his grasp.
The younger’s jaw dropped open and his chest caved in, and yet, his gaze stayed on Minho’s cock.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Minho giggled, trailing his fingers up Jisung’s inseam now. He heard a shaky exhale leave his tight throat as his hand got as close to his crotch as it could without touching it. He trailed his hand back down and Jisung stuttered through another breath. His hands shook as he tried to find something to do with them. They ended up just bunching in Minho’s sheets as his hand kept going up and down the inside of his thigh.
Minho licked his lips as he got up on his knees. Jisung’s gaze nervously flickered between his eyes and his bulge as Minho brought his free hand to Jisung’s perfectly ironed and tucked button down. He circled a button a few times before he dipped his pointer finger below Jisung’s belt and tugged.
“I hope you don’t care about this shirt too much,” he whispered as he stared at Jisung’s lips, “Because the word patience isn’t really in my vocabulary,” he warned before his other hand left the warmth of Jisung’s thigh to join the one dipping into his pants. He was gracious enough to at least attempt to untuck Jisung’s nice button down before he ripped it apart. Buttons went flying as Minho yanked at either side, then when he yanked again because he didn’t get them all on the first try. Jisung yelped and scooted back on Minho’s bed, his breathing picking up rapidly.
Minho followed him forward, looming over him as he sank to his elbows.
“God, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Your glasses… they're perfect on you,” Minho breathed as he pushed the ruined shirt off Jisung’s shoulders. He still had a white t-shirt underneath. Minho needed to rid him of that, too. And soon. “Are you going to let hyung kiss you?” he asked a little desperately as he rucked a hand up his second shirt and undid his belt buckle with his other hand.
Jisung just continued to stare at Minho—all over him. His eyes were shaking, his breathing labored, his pink pouty lips parted and shiny. Minho tugged his belt off and tossed it to the ground at the same time Jisung gave the tiniest nod. But Minho saw it. Like he was seeing heaven.
He twisted his grip in the front of Jisung’s shirt and pulled him forward, pressing their mouths together harshly and swallowing his gasp. He tasted like heaven, too.
Minho kissed him ravenously, violently. He held either side of his head in each hand, gripping his hair and bending his glasses as he sucked his tongue and bit his lip until he was squeaking like a mouse and whimpering like a baby. Minho pressed him into the sheets with his whole body, rutting his hips against him, the warmth from their pelvises burning hot together.
Minho let him go with a gasp of his own. He pulled Jisung’s stupid undershirt over his head but left it tangled around his wrists. Then, he tugged at his pants until they were off completely. There was a wet spot that had soaked into Jisung’s own grey briefs when he finally got to see them.
“Look at you, so wet for me,” Minho panted as he grabbed Jisung’s ankles and lifted them.
“O–Oh,” Jisung whined, his eyebrows pinched as Minho pressed their bodies together again. Jisung kept his arms up, tangled in his shirt.
“Can’t wait to make you feel good. I know you’re going to make me feel so good. Can’t wait to see your little ass,” Minho growled, rabid as he nosed along Jisung’s neck. He stopped just under his ear and started sucking. Jisung shook and whimpered as Minho bit down on his neck, over and over again. He sucked until his own lips and tongue went numb and Jisung’s neck was more red than tan, thrusting shallowly against him the whole time.
Minho sat up then and trailed his fingers down to Jisung’s pecs. He traced them back and forth over his goosebumps, feeling his little peach-fuzz hairs, before he squeezed each of them harshly—so hard it had Jisung jerking and crying out. He pinched his nipples harder, until his back was arching so round and so far off the bed it looked like Minho was performing an exorcism on him. His body was chasing the friction of Minho’s cock against his, seeking out his warmth. Minho was making him feel so good.
Once he had worked Jisung’s tits so much they were sure to bruise tomorrow, he lightly danced his fingers down his abs and to the hem of his briefs where the wet stain there was significantly larger now. Minho smiled at the sight of it. He reached down with both hands and grabbed the fabric at either side of his cock, tugging it down, tighter and taut over the head of Jisung’s leaking cock.
”H–Hyung! Nnggh,” he cried out, his hips bucking up violently at the feeling. Minho wet his lips as he started swirling the wet fabric around his head, watching it stretch out around his cock.
“Feels good?” Minho asked darkly, watching Jisung’s face twist and contort in pleasure, his body writhing.
Jisung nodded again, whimpering loudly as he thrust up against the wet fabric.
But Minho knew a lot of things that would feel better than cold, wet fabric against his cock.
Minho swallowed all the saliva pooling under his tongue as he let go of the fabric and tugged it up and around Jisung’s pink, slick cock. The younger whined at the loss as Minho pulled them all the way off and stood from the bed. He took a moment to stare, because how could he not? There was a naked, desperate, whining, aching Han Jisung on his bed.
“W–Where are you going?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet and vulnerable. Minho was momentarily taken aback; they were the first words he’d spoken in a while. But Minho was quick to appease him.
“Lube,” he groaned, digging blindly through his nightstand before he felt the right bottle.
“Here,” Minho held the bottle out, motioning for Jisung’s hand. Jisung gave it to him with confused and pleading brows.
“Stretch yourself open,” Minho commanded as he coated Jisung’s fingers.
“Okay,” he whispered as he stared into Minho’s eyes.
“Last thing I wanna do is hurt you,” Minho breathed as he watched Jisung’s fingers dip down and circle his own rim, “And I’m not very patient,” He rid himself of his own clothes as Jisung worked the first finger. Jisung moaned at the sight of him, his hooded eyes staring hungrily at Minho’s cock.
“I knew you didn’t want to wear my skin as a coat,” Jisung whispered as Minho settled back down on top of him, sucking on his skin to distract himself, rutting their cocks together.
“Never,” Minho breathed out across Jisung’s neck, “Only wanna wear it as a cock sleeve.”
Jisung panted out a laugh then. Minho worked his way down to his chest and sucked hickies on his pecs and nipples. Jisung writhed beneath him, two fingers scissoring in his hole.
“Flip,” Minho demanded quietly, helping Jisung do so with his shaky knees and quivering thighs. He continued fingering himself in the new position, his hole on display for Minho.
Minho dove in, sucking hickies around his hole and on his asscheeks now, even dipping down between his thighs to suck there as Jisung’s cock rested against his cheek and hair with a whine.
When Minho’s lips were too numb to continue, he got back up, blood rushing away from his head and making him dizzy. He breathed harshly at the sight of three fingers pressed all the way inside Jisung’s hole. Minho grabbed his cheeks like he did his tits and squeezed, hard.
“Hyung,” Jisung breathed, pressing back into his hands. Minho released a cheek then only to land a loud smack against it, watching it jiggle just the way he hoped it would.
”Oh–!” Jisung jerked, his thighs twitching.
Minho spanked him again, and again and then one more time. Enough that he was shaking and red, but not enough to actually hurt him. He never wanted to hurt Jisung, he just wanted to keep him locked away forever so that he was the only one who could have him for the rest of time.
Jisung’s fingers slipped out of his hole then, his arm falling weakly to the bed. His rim gaped and fluttered around nothing, and Minho knew he needed to change that.
Jisung seemed to be thinking the same thing, if the way he pushed his hips back in Minho’s hold had anything to say about it.
“You’re stretched enough for hyung’s cock?” he asked, pressing Jisung’s lower back down so he was arching further. So, so round.
Jisung nodded, his face smushed against the mattress, his glasses completely crooked and twisted on his face. They were even fogged up from all the panting he’d apparently been doing.
So Minho flipped him again, back onto his back. He was littered with so many hickies he looked like a dalmatian.
“You ever had a cock inside of you before?” Minho asked as he rubbed his blunt cockhead around Jisung’s rim, watching the way it wanted to suck him inside.
Jisung nodded again, and Minho regretted asking. He wanted Jisung. He needed Jisung. He didn’t want anyone else to have him or see him, especially not like this. His obsession ran deep, but the knowledge that other people were allowed to see Jisung like this made a white flash of anger hit Minho in the face.
“Just–Just once. On an out of town chess tournament. I didn’t even like him,” Jisung whined, rolling his hips down, trying to entice Minho into slipping the tip inside.
His admission had a little bit of that anger subsiding when he realized what it meant.
“But you like me?” Minho asked slowly.
Jisung nodded his head, the most enthusiastically yet. “You’re hot. You’re so hot,” Jisung groaned, dancing his fingers up Minho’s stomach now, still trying to persuade him. “You make me feel so good,” he slurred, getting more and more delirious by the second.
“Good,” Minho concluded, pushing his hips forward finally, into Jisung’s tight, tight heat. His.
Jisung’s head threw back against Minho’s pillow, his back arching to sink further down on Minho’s cock. “Oh, fuck! Hyung!”
Minho groaned, breathy and desperate. “I thought you were a good boy? A little teacher’s pet? That language will get you in trouble,” Minho tutted, pushing in to the hilt, squeezing Jisung’s hips hard in his grasp as his cock was enveloped in the sweet, velvety warmth of Jisung’s hole.
“You– it’s your fault,” he panted, “You bring out the worst in me.”
“God, Jisung,” Minho groaned loud and long as he pulled back and pushed in again, fucking into Jisung at a pace that was quickly becoming more and more rapid, shallow thrusts turning deeper and longer.
“You’re making it really difficult for me,” Minho announced suddenly, choked out into Jisung’s ear.
Jisung whined, a breathy thing. “What–What do you mean?” he asked quietly, breaths punched past his lips every time their hips met.
“You’re making it really difficult for me to let you leave after this,” Minho panted out, nosing his way back to Jisung’s ear.
“I–I don’t– Oh–!– understand,” Jisung whimpered, his nails clawing down Minho’s back, tugging him closer.
Minho pulled back and stared into Jisung’s eyes with fire in his own. He was surprised to find that very same fire staring back, albeit underneath a layer of confusion, a layer of delirium, and a layer of arousal.
Minho knew, realistically, that he shouldn’t say it. But he did.
“Wanna tie you up. Keep you here, on my bed. Forever,” he said, his stare unwavering. Jisung’s own fire only seemed to grow, too. “No one wants you more than me. No one.”
Minho couldn’t believe the question that came next.
“Would you feed me? Bathe me?” Jisung asked quietly, determined.
Minho nodded and slithered a hand up to Jisung’s throat. He thumbed over his adam’s apple, his tits bouncing from every thrust.
“I’d take such good care of you,” Minho breathed out, searching Jisung’s eyes knowing he was imagining Minho’s biggest fantasy, too.
Jisung reached up then and pulled Minho down. They both hummed into the kiss, teeth clacking and tongues curling. Minho thought he might be drooling down Jisung’s chin. He couldn’t help it, he was salivating at the idea that Jisung wanted him, even after he admitted to his fantasy.
Jisung pulled back with swollen, sucked-on lips. His gaze was hooded as he said, “I believe you. I’d let you.”
Minho didn’t mean to cum so soon, but hearing Jisung say he’d let Minho tie him up and keep him locked away for nobody but himself… he just couldn’t help it.
His hips stuttered immediately, his jaw dropping open.
”Oh, ah– hnggh,” he groaned and threw his head back as the first few spurts shot out of him straight inside of Jisung. His hips slammed forward a few more times before he lost control entirely, his cock pulsing as it was buried deep inside his classmate.
Minho breathed heavily against Jisung’s neck as he came down, absentmindedly biting the skin there again.
After a moment of breathing, Minho got up with a groan. He still had a job to do. But, before he made his way down Jisung’s body, he caught sight of his blinding smile.
“You really like that idea?” Jisung asked, his eyes a blur from the fog on his glasses.
Minho nodded, leaning down to kiss his nipple. He was embarrassed from cumming so soon. He was supposed to make Jisung cum on his cock—to make him feel good. He couldn’t believe Jisung had turned the tables.
“Let’s plan for the weekend, then?” Jisung asked, and Minho froze, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”
“W–What?”
His glasses were clear now, so Minho could see the way his eyes rolled.
“I’ll come over this weekend, as long as you’re not doing anything. You can tie me up right here, take care of me all weekend long,” he smiled, genuinely. He wasn’t kidding.
“You’re serious?” Minho asked, lifting his head from Jisung’s chest. The younger only smiled and nodded, trailing a hand down Minho’s arm.
“I’m gonna suck your cock so many times it might fall off,” Minho rushed out as he pushed himself down the bed, to unsurprisingly suck Jisung off.
Jisung laughed, bright and loud at Minho’s words. His laughter was then cut off when his cock was swallowed whole. Minho had a lot of making up to do for finishing so soon.
-
Minho got to class early the next day. Jisung showed up a few minutes later. They stared at each other from across the room. Minho liked the way his glasses were still a little crooked where they sat on his face from when Minho had his head pressed into his mattress.
When Jisung’s little blonde friend showed up and took his seat next to him, Minho could hear his gasp from across the room as he took one look at Jisung.
“Were you fucking mauled?!” he asked slowly, pointedly, eyeing the vast dark red and purple splotches on Jisung’s neck accompanied by various bite marks.
Jisung’s head whipped around, like he had forgotten his friend would be there at all.
“What? No,” he rushed out, covering his neck with his hand and leaning his elbow on the desk, like it was a casual thing.
His friend turned to Minho then, once he saw Jisung’s gaze drift over one too many times. Minho locked eyes with Jisung’s friend, the blonde boy's eyes wide and disbelieving. He smacked Jisung on the arm once, making him jump.
“Was it that Minho guy?!” His friend tried to whisper, but he was so riled up Minho heard it anyway.
Jisung’s eyes went wide as they danced between the two of them. “No!” he gasped before turning back around and ignoring his friend. Minho tried not to laugh.
“So, how was your weird, manipulative date with Jisung?” Seungmin’s voice sounded suddenly. Minho didn’t even hear him come in or sit down.
Minho figured he was only asking because he probably thought Jisung freaked out and left when he made a move on him. Little did Seungmin know, Jisung himself was willing to be kidnapped and tied up, left on Minho’s bed for him to use for his pleasure and take care of for the whole weekend.
“It was a dream,” Minho sighed, staring across the room at the object of all his desires.
“Um? What the fuck? Why is he staring back at you?” Seungmin asked incredulously, elbowing him.
“Hm?” Minho hummed, completely dazed.
“Jisung. He’s staring back… like… like he likes you!” Seungmin reiterated, affronted, “Did you put a spell on him? Did you give him Stockholm syndrome?”
Minho shrugged. He didn’t know. “I gave him my cock, I can tell you that much.”
Seungmin froze, his face twisting in horror.
“I gotta get outta here,” he rushed out, grabbing his books.
Seungmin might’ve left, he might’ve stayed. Minho didn’t know. He was too busy undressing Jisung with his eyes from across the classroom, and it seemed like Jisung was doing the same to him. He couldn’t wait for the weekend.
-
When class was dismissed, Minho stalked right over to Jisung’s desk. His little blonde friend stood with a glare and his arms crossed. Minho wondered if it was supposed to be intimidating. He tried not to laugh.
“Hey, Sungie,” Minho called oh-so sweetly. The younger boy perked up at the sight of him—at the attention he was giving him.
Minho reached out with both hands, gently taking his glasses from his face.
“Wha– I thought you liked the way they look on me,” he whined breathlessly as he pouted up at Minho. Maybe Minho did put a spell on him.
“I love your glasses more than you could ever know, baby,” Minho purred. He adjusted them before sitting them back on the bridge of Jisung’s nose, gently hooking them around his ears and brushing the hair away from underneath. “They were still crooked from yesterday, is all. Maybe I should’ve gone a little easier on you,” Minho giggled mischievously, reveling in the way his face lit up pink and gave himself away.
Minho gave him a terrible attempt at a wink before he spun on his heel. “Can’t wait for the weekend. I’ll buy extra lube!” he called. His friend’s arms dropped from where they were folded across his chest. His jaw dropped, too.
-
Jisung was tied up. Well and true. He couldn’t get out, even if he wanted to. He was so excited to spend the weekend on Minho’s bed.
Minho had checked his knots three times over before informing Jisung that he forgot to get that extra lube he promised, but the convenience store was right across the street, so he would be right back.
Jisung laid back and waited, using his imagination to keep himself busy.
Finally, the door opened.
Except, it wasn’t Minho.
Jisung gasped as a short but exorbitantly muscular man walked into the room. He heard the gasp, and then jumped back about three feet.
“What the fuck?!” he asked, or yelled, or both.
“Who are you?” Jisung cowered, pulling his knees to his chest. Thank god he hadn’t taken his clothes off yet.
“Who am I?! This is my dorm!” The muscular man called. He stared at Jisung in shock for another moment, his eyes trailing up to the restraints around his wrists.
“Oh my god,” he breathed suddenly, “You’re Jisung.”
Jisung continued to stare, confusion seeping into his panicked eyes.
“I can’t believe he actually did it…” the man seemingly whispered to himself as he stared off in the distance before he shook himself out of it. “Okay, I'll find some scissors to get you out of those and then we can call the cops,” he nodded at Jisung with wide eyes.
Jisung only blinked. “W–Wait– no–”
“Everything's gonna be okay,” he reassured, frantically searching for a pair of scissors.
“No, I'm–I'm here willingly,” Jisung informed, making the man freeze entirely.
“What?” he asked, but it wasn't a question. Well, it was a question, it just didn't sound like one. At all.
“Sorry… he didn't tell me he had a roommate… this is awkward…” Jisung cringed, tugging at his restraints a little and clearing his throat.
Just then, the door opened again, Minho coming through this time.
“They only had strawberry flavored lube. You're not like, allergic to strawberries, are yo–”
He froze, his eyes stuck on his roommate he never told Jisung about.
“Minho! I was about to call the fucking cops! I thought you actually did it!” He shouted, his incredulous gaze bouncing back and forth between Jisung tied up on the bed and Minho standing in the doorway with strawberry flavored lube.
When neither of them said anything, he sighed, loud.
“I'm going to Chan and Innie’s if you need me. But by the looks of things, you'll be busy.”
-
Jisung found out that he is not allergic to strawberry flavored lube.
After their weekend, Minho went to watch Jisung's big debate in debate club. He'd been working on it for weeks, he said.
Minho found out that Jisung was, in fact, the least intimidating person there—all nervous eyes and quivering lip, just as he imagined.
He wasn't sure Jisung could be more perfect, even if he lost the debate.
Actually, especially since he lost the debate, because that meant he ran straight into Minho's arms afterwards, begging to be comforted.
Minho couldn't believe the same universe he dreamed of keeping Jisung captive and tied up was the very same universe Jisung ran to him for comfort, knowing his deepest, darkest fantasy.
Maybe they were meant to be, or something like that.