Chapter Text
Waking up with the sun burning his back was not on Minho’s bucket list for the day, but that’s how it happened. The sheets he had been using to cover his body had somehow slipped off the bed, his shirt had bunched up, and the midday sun — from a coastal town, no less — started sizzling his skin until it became unbearable and startled him from his slumber.
Jisung is not in bed. In fact, he’s nowhere to be seen. Minho sits up, takes his phone, and sees that it’s still a quarter before one. With a groan, he calls Jisung’s number, but Jisung’s phone starts ringing right there, on the bedside table.
Minho frowns but lets it go. Jisung is probably out there with his friends.
After taking a quick shower to wash all the sweat off his body, he decides to see if anyone else is up to find somewhere to have lunch. He knocks on the door in front of his — Hyunjin and Jeongin’s room. No response. He knocks again, to no avail.
Trying Felix and Seungmin’s room, he knocks, but there’s a loud noise coming from the other side, muffled by what sounds like a hundred voices talking at the same time. A buzzing sound? No, more like a vacuum. He tries again, this time banging loudly on the door for anyone to hear, asking “Felix? You there?” with a raised voice.
He’s not panicking. It’s just weird waking up and having everyone gone.
The loud noise stops.
“Oh, f*ck,” he hears. It’s definitely Hyunjin’s voice.
“Hello?” Minho tries again. “I can hear you, Hwang Hyunjin.”
“There’s no one here!” seems like Jeongin’s voice.
“Yeah, go away, stranger,” Seungmin, this time.
“Do you guys know where Jisung is?” Minho tries, not up to playing along.
“He’s not here!” it’s Felix. “Don’t—”
“Hyung,” comes Jisung’s sweet voice from the other side anyway. “A few more minutes, and I’ll be right out.”
“Hm, okay,” Minho nods, even if Jisung can’t see him. “I’ll go find Chan and Changbin then—”
“Uhm, actually,” it’s Changbin’s voice, like he’s right by the door. “We’re in here too.”
“Seriously?” Minho huffs. “Then let me in? What is going on?”
“We’re having—”
“Ow, my ass—”
“Jesus, f*ck,” Minho sighs. “Alright, I’ll go to my room. Have fun with your gay orgy or whatever you’re doing in there.”
He turns back, shoulders slumped, defeated, trying not to overthink too much — he was sleeping, after all. It makes sense they didn’t invite him to hang out. It’s fine. He’s fine. He takes three, four steps, and is ready to take the fifth one when the door behind him shoots open. Turning around again, he almost expects to find Jisung by the door, but is met with that mop of long, curly hair.
“What are you doing?” Chan asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. Like a sad puppy. God.
“Going back to my room,” Minho says like it’s obvious. His voice comes out snappier than intended. Chan doesn’t even blink. “Am I not allowed to do that either?”
“Calm down, grumpy,” Hyunjin looks over Chan’s shoulder. “Just wait a minute.”
Glaring, Minho crosses his arms, attempting to look intimidating. However, Hyunjin, well accustomed to his tactics after six years of being best friends with Minho, simply snickers and shakes his head. He then spits, irritated because Chan’s hair got into his mouth.
But staying pissed like this is hard, especially when Jisung’s voice emerges, muffled among other voices, saying something Minho can’t quite understand. Then, Chan and Hyunjin step aside and Jisung comes into view.
It’s Jisung. That’s already enough for Minho’s heart to start pounding in his chest, saliva pooling in his mouth like he’d just been starving and a pastry was placed right in front of him.
Yeah, it’s Jisung, Minho notes, but the sight that meets his eyes is so entirely unexpected.
Jisung now sports dark blue hair, almost navy, with strands artfully framing his face in a blowout style. The front bangs are pushed back as if he has casually tousled them, with longer strands tantalizingly curling around his neck, almost touching his shoulder. His typically golden skin now bears a faint blue hue from the dye. Only when Jisung chuckles nervously and lowers his head, Minho realizes he has been staring, completely transfixed.
As Minho takes a step forward and another, he swoops Jisung’s waist between his arms, ducking his head to plant a kiss on his lips just as Jisung looks up startled. This startles another giggle from Jisung, this time a delighted one.
A small smile graces Minho’s face as he pulls back, aware of their surroundings — they are not alone, after all.
“What do you think?” Jisung asks, his cheeks flushed and delicious.
Pretending to contemplate, Minho hums, purposefully dragging his eyes over Jisung’s face. “It’s alright.”
Jisung’s face drops comically. His lips jut out in an instant, his eyebrows knit together, and his eyes widen even further.
“You don’t like it?” Jisung asks, his tone sounding so sad that Minho’s heart drops to his stomach.
“I love it,” Minho rushes out, panicked. “I’m just kidding. It’s pretty, you’re pretty— I mean, yeah, pretty. You look good. Too good. How is this possible?”
Someone snorts, but Minho ignores it.
“Thank you,” Jisung breathes out, biting his lower lip for a moment as Minho’s hands slowly move up and down his back, fingers bunching up the fabric. “Are you hungry?”
Minho hums in agreement, unable to do anything else but stare at the beautiful boy in front of him.
“Okay, let’s stop eyef*cking each other in the hall, shall we?” someone interjects. Chan.
Jisung rolls his eyes. “Oh sure, then you’ll have to stop staring at Changbin hyung’s ass every time he’s nearby.”
“I do not!”
“You do, and it’s disgusting,” Jisung bites, taking a step back.
Minho’s arms drop to his side, his hands itching to touch Jisung again.
“You wouldn’t say that if your boyfriend didn’t have a flat ass,” Changbin yells from inside the room.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jisung promptly yells back as he passes by Chan to enter the room. “I told you already, we’re just friends.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, maybe you’ll believe it one day,” Changbin retorts.
It takes Minho a few seconds too long to realize what Changbin had implied.
“Hey!” he storms into the room, finding seven faces staring at him. “My ass is not flat, what the f*ck?”
Hyunjin makes a face, biting his cheek. “It kinda is, hyung,” he says, cowering behind Jeongin’s frame when Minho glares at him. “I’m sorry! It is! You have big thighs but, from the side, nothing sticks out.”
“It’s not that flat,” Jisung comes to his defense. “It has some meat to grab.”
“Meat,” Felix snorts.
“His big thighs conceal his ass, but it’s there,” Jisung continues. “Trust me.”
“I, personally, don’t want to think about hyung’s ass,” Seungmin says, a blowdryer in hand. “You’re all disgusting. I swear to god.”
Felix peers behind Seungmin’s body for a moment, then comes back with a pensive face. “Your ass is pretty flat too, you know.”
“Felix’s right,” Changbin nods. “You need to eat more protein and try doing some squats, Seungmin-ah. It worked for Jisung’s stick legs!”
“He has vanity muscles,” Seungmin retorts. “It doesn’t count.”
Jisung yells, lurching towards Seungmin from across the bed. Chan holds him back by the waist like Jisung is a kitten and places him by Minho’s side.
“I’m f*cking starving,” Jeongin moans, throwing himself back on the bed with too much force. Chan starts rubbing his stomach, patting slightly, the hollow sound echoing in the room. Someone snickers.
“Are we going out or not?” Seungmin deadpans. He seems to do that a lot. “You—” he points at Hyunjin with a single finger. “Tidy up the room, it was your idea.”
“You offered!” Hyunjin yelps. “You literally brought the blow dryer yourself—”
Minho tunes out the background noise and turns to Jisung, finding him already looking back. Without his big boy combat boots, Jisung is a lot smaller than Minho, always having to crane his neck to meet his gaze. He’s smiling, his cheeks bunched up, head tilted just enough for his hair to cascade further back. One of his hands finds Minho’s shirt, fingers pulling the fabric.
“Should we put on our shoes?” he suggests, the smile stretching to the left side, attempting a smirk.
Minho snorts. If Jisung aimed for subtlety, he missed the mark entirely. Nevertheless, Minho drapes an arm over Jisung’s shoulder and leads him out, heading back to their room to ‘retrieve their shoes’.
Fifteen minutes later, as Minho’s teeth leave another mark on Jisung’s neck while Jisung’s hand ventures down Minho’s pants, a knock interrupts them, someone telling them they’ll be waiting in the lobby. It takes another ten minutes to tidy up their surroundings and finally retrieve their shoes.
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The late summer breeze does little to cool the sweat sticking to Minho’s skin as he hauls the music equipment from the van to the venue. Electric guitar, bass, an entire set of drums. Chan carries the speaker boxes, while Changbin carries a big mess of wires, ready to plug everything in. Jisung has been absent for at least forty minutes now, vanished with Minho’s backpack without a trace.
Once everything is arranged on the small stage —though still larger than the others they’ve performed on, Chan says— Minho is hurried to one of the small rooms in the back, a makeshift dressing area. There’s a mirror where Hyunjin is meticulously styling Jeongin’s hair with hairspray, and a brown couch that appears straight out of the seventies, its foam spilling out from tears wrought by years of use.
Jisung is half-lying on the couch, one leg pulled up on the armrest as he plays on his Nintendo. His lips jut out in a pout, and he looks so bored that it makes Minho chuckle from his spot by the metal door.
“We have two hours,” Chan announces as he enters the room. “We’ll be the first act performing, and the venue will be providing drinks if we stay after we’re finished, so— Wait, where’s Seungmin?”
“Felix dragged him out to smoke,” Jisung grumbles, pressing buttons angrily. “I bet they’re making out right now.”
“You’re saying this like you don’t have anyone to make out with,” Jeongin pipes up from his chair.
“They left me alone with you; sue me if I’m upset with the happy couple being gross right next to me.”
Hyunjin looks over his shoulder at Jisung with an incredulous expression. “I’m literally just fixing Yen’s hair?”
“Oww, Jeongin-ah, you look so cute, I wanna bite your pink cheeks,” Jisung mocks in a cooing voice, exactly like Hyunjin’s. “Gross.”
“Damn, Sung, what happened to make you upset like that?” Chan asks.
“I think he misses me,” Minho says, showing in his voice how much he’s enjoying this.
When Jisung snaps his head up, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, Minho can’t hold back his laughter anymore. He takes the remaining steps to throw himself next to Jisung on the worn-out couch. Jisung whines and tries to push him away, but Minho is still laughing.
“What, you don’t wanna exchange spit with me anymore?”
“And we’re the gross ones,” Hyunjin tells Jeongin.
Jisung rolls his eyes but lays his head on Minho’s shoulder anyway, flipping his Nintendo shut with a small thud. With another laugh, because Jisung is just too cute and needy it makes Minho's insides flutter with what he thinks is fondness, Minho adjusts his body until his hand clasps onto Jisung’s. Their hands resting over Jisung’s thighs.
It’s strange that Jisung’s cold fingers don’t bother Minho anymore. Now, instead of the shivers from the cold they used to leave behind, his touch always feels like a burning imprint under Minho’s skin.
“I’m gonna do my makeup,” Jisung says but doesn’t move away. Instead, he nuzzles his head on Minho’s shoulder. “Do you want me to do yours too?”
Minho pulls back slightly to look at Jisung’s face. “Me?”
“Who else?” Jisung gives him a flat smile, pulling back too, looking disgruntled by the disturbance.
“Uh, I don’t know—”
“Please?” In under a second, Jisung’s face shifts from discontent to pleading, like he had been waiting to use it on Minho for the longest time. “Please? Please, please, please?”
“I don’t think that’ll look good on me,” Minho answers honestly.
Pleading to incredulous. Jisung truly has an arsenal of expressions.
“I’m sorry, that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever told me,” Jisung says. Before Minho can even process his words, he’s running his mouth again. “I’m so gonna do your makeup and you’re gonna look like a god, trust me. I’m gonna do mine first, go get changed.”
With a push to the shoulder, Minho has no other choice but to rise from the couch to grab his backpack by the door.
Changing clothes in the small stall of a dirty bathroom goes as well as expected: elbow hitting the door, head hitting the wall, almost falling inside the nasty toilet. It doesn’t help that these are Jisung’s clothes he’s found in his closet. Some of them oversized, but he’s still tiny, and they’re not that big on Minho. So he struggles even more than usual to pull the pants up his thighs.. After he’s finished, and his dirty, sweaty clothes are inside a plastic bag in his backpack, he washes his face at the grimy sink and stares at his reflection.
Makeup. He can do this. Having someone else that close to his eyes with sharp objects might not even be as scary as it sounds. He trusts Jisung, he does. It might even cover his dark circles, something he’d been paranoid about people making fun of him for his entire life.
Returning to the changing room, he finds it suddenly bustling with people he hasn’t seen before. All of them with long hair or studs on their faces, probably members of one or two bands that are going to perform later. Jisung is still on the couch, this time brushing his hair back to form a pigtail on the left side. He’s not talking to anyone, eyes trained and focused on the small mirror he has perched on the arm’s couch.
When Minho approaches him, he notices that Jisung’s face is already done up—black eyeliner framing his eyes, some glitter scattered on his eyelids that shimmers when he blinks. Jisung smiles at Minho and scoots over to make space for him to sit since there are two more people they don’t know sitting on the other side. After finishing tying his hair, Jisung hums satisfied, ensuring that both sides are even, and gives himself a thumbs up through the mirror.
Minho snorts. Silly boy.
“Uh oh, don’t get co*cky, hyung,” Jisung turns around. “Now it’s your turn.”
It takes some maneuvering, Minho and Jisung exchanging places, Jisung dropping his makeup bag on Minho’s lap. He gets on his knees on the couch, slightly hovering over Minho, holding his face in place with fingers gripping his jaw. He’s not close enough, but still too close for comfort, considering there are at least ten people around them right now.
“Okay, let me do my thing now, hyung,” Jisung murmurs, his hand trailing up from Minho’s face to brush his too-long hair back from his forehead. “Don’t flinch, or else it will get smeared.”
Minho tries to stay still, he does. But when Jisung takes a black, sharp thing from his pouch and hovers it over his face, Minho’s breath gets caught in his throat, and he jerks his head back.
“Hyung,” Jisung half-whines.
“Sorry,” Minho grunts, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s freaking scary.”
“It’s not even sharp,” Jisung twists the thing. A small lead of black eyeliner goes up and down, the tip blunt and not that scary from afar. “Relax.”
Minho takes a deep breath, nodding.
Just as Jisung is about to try again, an unknown female voice pipes up from the other side of the room, “Just climb on his lap!”
Oh god. He forgot they had an audience. The flush creeps up Minho’s neck instantaneously, his ears burning right away. Jisung isn’t faring any better, his own cheeks tinged rosy as he appears to suppress a whine of embarrassment.
Jisung’s legs seem to go weak too, trembling slightly over Minho. In a quick reflex, Minho grasps Jisung’s waist with both hands, supporting his weight, almost instinctively. Jisung’s blush deepens as he looks down, places the pouch on the arm of the couch, and swings a leg over Minho’s lap.
They’ve been in this position so many times before, clothed, unclothed, and every time, it had led to something — a kiss, a makeout session, Jisung taking control and riding Minho. It had always led to something.
When Jisung rightfully takes his place on Minho’s lap, his body weight warm and comforting on Minho’s thighs, it’s no surprise that Minho’s body feels electrified. His hands grip Jisung’s waist tighter, eliciting a gasp from him.
“sh*t,” Minho murmurs under his breath.
They shouldn’t be doing this, especially not in front of so many people. Not when Minho can’t even raise his head to meet Jisung’s lips, though they seem like the sweetest relief to his hungry mouth. The rational part of his mind urges him to push Jisung away, to maintain a distance, at least for now.
But, just like a week before, the sight of Jisung on top of him turns his brain into mush, as if it’s been blended into a smoothie and poured back into his cranium like this.
He can’t think. His hands slide down from Jisung’s waist, placing themselves on his ass, plump and soft, perfect for kneading.
Minho doesn’t realize Jisung has been painting his waterline with eyeliner until Jisung asks him to close his eyes. It’s easier like this, not having to stare at him biting his lower lip in concentration or look up at the tip of his button nose, slightly curled inwards, making him cuter than he already is when he’s concentrating. Instead, he tries to shoo away all dirty thoughts in his head, pressing his hands on Jisung’s butt but only for comfort, attempting to focus on the sounds around him, to no success.
He can’t get a boner right now.
But Jisung is breathing heavily on top of him, his breath a mix of heat and sweetness from eating an entire pack of candy after lunch. It should bother Minho. All it does is make him want more.
“Look up,” Jisung whispers.
Minho does, gazing at the dirty ceiling, the dingy lamp hanging by a few wires, looking like it could cause a fire at any minute. Jisung is doing something to his under eyes, the brush tickling his skin and making him twist his nose in reflex.
It’s over before he realizes. Jisung zips up his pouch and lowers Minho’s head by the chin. Minho is half expecting him to leave, so he’s honestly mildly surprised when Jisung starts brushing his hair with his fingers, pulling the strands back to cover his forehead and slip over one of his eyes.
“Now you’re making me look stupid,” Minho says.
Jisung rolls his eyes, snorting lightly. “You look stupid all the time,” he gives Minho a cheeky grin. Minho is so gone he can’t even fight back this time. “Now you’re stupid and hot.”
Never mind.
“I thought you liked jocks?” he raises his exposed eyebrow in disbelief.
Jisung’s eyes go wide, and he looks around, ever so slightly panicked. “Don’t say that,” he punches Minho’s chest with a closed fist. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation with the other bands.”
Minho is so tempted to tease him, to ask what reputation Jisung is talking about, but he doesn’t have time to wonder. Jisung climbs off his lap in a second, and Minho’s empty hands fall back on the couch. He’s then dragged to his feet and guided to stand in front of the vacant mirror. Pushing his bangs away, he takes a look at himself.
Oh, this is weird. Minho resembles one of those guys from the posters Jisung has on his walls. His eyes are rimmed black, somewhat smeared, probably from moving without realizing. There’s some red stuff under his eyes, giving him the appearance of a character from some obscure gothic vampire movie. In Jisung’s black clothes, Minho has never seen himself look like this before. It feels strange to gaze at his reflection and fail to recognize the person in the mirror. But he looks good; he has to be honest with himself. With a glance to his side, he notices Jisung looking at him expectantly, bouncing on his heels like an eager kid.
“Yeah, fine, you were right,” Minho concedes, letting the bangs cover his eyes again. He knows he’s going to push his hair back in a moment, but at least for now, he can indulge Jisung. “I do look stupid. And hot.”
Jisung rolls his eyes, a smirk clinging to the corner of his lips as he steps back to appraise Minho’s entire figure. Someone in the back whistles, and Minho feels his cheeks flush.
A voice, eerily familiar, screams from the background, “Anyone got a fake lip ring?”
“I do!” a girl chirps, followed by some rustling and the sound of plastic being crushed. “Here, it’s sanitized. Keep it.”
With no time to ponder what’s happening, Hyunjin steps in front of Minho and slots something onto his bottom lip before swiftly retreating from the room. Jisung is now grinning widely, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Just make sure not to swallow it,” Jisung teases.
Minho chuckles and takes a step closer to him, planting a small kiss on Jisung’s still-flushed cheek. “I’ll be waiting at the bar after your performance.”
“Okay, okay,” Jisung pats Minho’s shoulder. “Now go, I have to prepare myself.”
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Watching Jisung perform this time is just as overwhelming as the first time months ago. He’s not at the edge of the stage this time, no fingers lifting his chin, but now, Minho knows how Jisung’s fingerprints feel burning across his body. He knows the sensation of Jisung scratching his back with those ever-painted nails that grip the guitar’s neck and strum the strings. He knows the taste of Jisung’s tongue, a sensation etched into his own tastebuds forever. And Jisung’s voice, so beautiful, whining as Minho pounds into him.
The set is almost identical to what Minho had seen that one night, save for a few songs. He had been warned this would happen, but when the band starts playing ‘Umbrella’ and Jisung looks up, presumably searching for Minho next to the bar, Minho feels his entire body ignite, swallowing hard. How can he not. It’s the song Jisung suggested they cover because it made him think of Minho.
Hyunjin glances at Minho after they finish the song, noting his appearance, his rapid breathing, and the way he’s sucking on that damned bottom lip ring. With a snort, Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up as his jaw drops open.
“You’re in love with him,” he states bluntly, not needing to raise his voice as the band takes a break to drink water and interact with the crowd. Seungmin says something Minho doesn’t register, and everyone laughs. “Oh my god, you’re in love with Jisung.”
Yeah, Minho is. Not a surprise at all.
“Maybe,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance, though he feels on the verge of passing out from the overwhelming sensation of watching Jisung perform like a dream while his feelings are so apparent that Hyunjin clocked him right away.
“Have you told him yet?”
“Why would I?”
“Because,” Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s what you do when you’re in love with the person you’re dating.”
Minho scoffs, bitterness creeping into his tone without his consent. Not this again. “We’re not dating.”
“Don’t be obtuse, hyung,” Hyunjin presses his lips together, dimples marking his cheeks. “You know this is not just some hookup between friends. You spend all of your free time with him, you go on little dates, you kiss—”
A new song starts, interrupting Hyunjin’s words. Minho looks back at the stage, at Jisung, his new blue hair catching the ugly, colorful light that keeps changing above his head.
Unfortunately, Hyunjin is right, for once. If Minho is being reasonable, he knows that what he and Jisung have is not just something between friends.
Despite knowing this, he won’t ever be able to tell Jisung about his feelings. The mere thought of confessing his emotions sends shivers down his spine.
Feelings are scary.
For his entire life, he’d run away from everything regarding them, burying them so deep within himself that he forgot they existed in the first place. And even though he’s now mature enough to recognize that he is, in fact, in love for the first time in his life, he can’t even fathom the idea of telling Jisung. The fear of rejection, of potentially ruining their friendship, holds him back like an invisible barrier. Trapping his emotions inside.
He doesn’t know how Jisung will react. After all, Jisung had yelled at everyone within earshot at the hotel that he and Minho are not together. Minho can’t bear the thought of losing him, unable to afford being away from the person who makes him feel secure and loved, even if it means hurting himself in the process.
It’s funny, really, that his worry isn’t about being in love with a man, but simply about being in love. Prior to Jisung, Minho would have never even considered the possibility of kissing another guy, let alone falling for one. And yet, here he is, spiraling over the possibility that Jisung may not feel the same way. It feels like he’s trapped in an endless loop, running in circles every time he thinks about this. He’s in love —with a man, yes— but more importantly, he’s in love for the first time in his life. And it’s overwhelming, almost suffocating, making him entertain the thought of ripping his own heart out and crushing it between his fingers just to stop himself from feeling so intensely.
He can’t bear the thought of losing Jisung. He’ll bury everything he feels to keep him by his side, in any way Jisung wants him to.
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Jisung is sweating and panting as the band makes their way to the bar where Minho awaits with a cold bottle of beer from Jisung’s favorite brand. It’s kind of sweet, not as bitter as the one Jeongin is chugging down already. Jisung takes the offered bottle, giving Minho an appreciative nod, sharp eyes focusing on Minho’s slightly crooked lip ring.
Minho feels vulnerable today, as if he’s the one being hunted by Jisung. It’s a sensation he’s coming to be familiar with; sometimes Jisung exudes this energy. Minho wonders if Jisung will pin him to the mattress and ride him tonight.
“You did well,” Minho says appreciatively, his fingers lightly tugging on Jisung’s little pigtail.
Jisung blinks, then blinks again. He sets the bottle down on the counter and hooks his fingers onto Minho’s belt loop, pulling him closer.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs by Minho’s ear. “I really need to kiss you right now.”
After exchanging a few words with Chan, Jisung takes their bags from the backroom and lets Minho wrap an arm around his shoulder as they navigate their way back to the entrance. The street is filled with people chatting and smoking. The sky is almost dark, black blending into a hint of blue, just enough for the streetlamps to cast their glow.
Minho’s rented car is parked a couple of blocks from the venue. The heat inside the car makes both of them groan as they get inside, with Jisung immediately turning on the air conditioning after securing the seatbelt in place.
“Where are we going?” Minho asks, checking the rearview mirror.
“The beach?” Jisung suggests. “Somewhere close to the hotel, please?”
Minho nods, ensuring there is no car behind them as he backs up. For a Saturday evening, the streets are strangely empty. Maybe Minho is just accustomed to living in a big city, where swarms of people are always walking around at any hour. He tries to remember if the streets were like this when he lived with his parents in his hometown, but he can’t come up with any significant memory. He’s always been one to stay at home, avoiding going out to play games in his room.
The beach isn’t far from the venue and the hotel. Minho finds a parking spot easily, in front of a closed shop. Jisung wastes no time in getting out, dragging Minho along with him before stopping right before the sandline, crouching down to take off his boots. Minho does the same with his sneakers, holding them by the laces with hooked fingers, while his other hand finds Jisung’s, their fingers intertwining easily.
“This town is nice,” Minho comments as they make their way to the shore, the sand under his feet making him grimace at the sensation. They leave their shoes at a secluded corner to get them later.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever been to somewhere so calm,” Jisung says. “I was born in Incheon,” he adds, as if he’s just been inside Minho’s mind. “It’s crazy there with the international airport and stuff.”
“You’re from Incheon?” Minho asks, surprised. “I’m from Gimpo. We’re airport rivals.”
Jisung laughs, throwing his head back. “I’d rather say we are airport buddies. I don’t wanna be rivals with my favorite hyung.”
“Favorite hyung…“ Minho squints, trailing off as they near the shoreline. “I’ll take it. But don’t let Chan hear that. He’ll want my head on a spike.”
“He doesn’t f*ck me like you do,” Jisung says with a shrug. Minho barely holds back a scream at his words. “And he doesn’t believe Petekey was a thing, either. So for that, you get brownie points.”
“Maybe he’s right and you’re just delusional,” Minho retorts, just to be a prick.
Jisung yelps, offended. “You, shut up,” and drops Minho’s hand to run to where the waves meet the sand.
With a laugh, Minho runs after him, almost tripping on his feet halfway there. Jisung is dipping his feet into the ocean, letting out a scream when the presumably cold water licks his ankles and then retreats.
“What are you doing, baby?” Minho wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist from behind. “You said you wanted to kiss me, but now you’re running?”
“You offended me,” Jisung mutters, yelping again when the water returns, this time touching Minho’s ankles too. Now it’s Minho who’s squawking in Jisung’s ear, cursing loudly at the cold on his sensitive skin,
“Ohh, sorry,” Minho coos, his hand finding Jisung’s stomach under his shirt, rubbing it slowly. “Don’t be upset, okay? It’s bad for our baby,” he finishes with a few pats.
Jisung makes a sound that’s a mix between a wheeze and a snort, his body sagging as he leans back against Minho’s chest.
“I’ll just have to put a baby in you if you keep teasing me like this.”
It’s a joke, and he knows it. Still, something in the way Jisung says it makes Minho freeze for a second, his brain processing the words with interest. It’s not like Minho had never thought about bottoming before. Most of the time, he did wonder if it felt as good as Jisung made it seem. At this point, he’d be down to try anything with Jisung.
“Why don’t you?” It’s said in a nonchalant tone, his chin hooking over Jisung’s shoulder as he looks at the black sky. Here, away from the city pollution, the stars are all out, not even any clouds in the sky to veil them from view.
Jisung catches on right away, it seems. “You wanna try it?”
“Yeah,” Minho admits too easily. It’s always easy with him. “It’s only fair you take my ass virginity like I did with you.”
Fingers tap over Minho’s forearm, while Jisung’s thoughtful hum fills the air.
“It’s not going to be as enjoyable if you’re not used to having something in there,” he says. “It might be uncomfortable, and it’s gonna hurt a lot.”
It’s endearing how Jisung is considering Minho’s comfort. Shame that Minho has already set his mind, and he’s a stubborn motherf*cker.
“I don’t mind,” Minho murmurs, his breath warm against Jisung’s earlobe. “I trust you completely. And if I were to try this with anyone, it would be you. Always you.”
“Oh,” Jisung exhales softly. “You…“
He squirms in Minho’s arms, maneuvering around until they face each other. With one hand, he traces Minho’s face, his thumb pressing against Minho’s bottom lip, nudging the forgotten piercing until it’s dislodged and flicked away into the sand with a quick motion of his wrist.
Leaning in to kiss Jisung feels like returning to somewhere familiar. Gripping Jisung’s waist, Minho pulls him close, their bodies flush against each other, grounding him in the moment. Allowing Jisung to suck on his bottom lip is both surrender and solace.
The taste of beer and sweat lingers on both their lips. In this moment, Minho wants nothing more than to stay here, letting the chaos of the world fade into the background.
“Let’s go to our room,” he suggests as Jisung pulls back to catch his breath.
Jisung nods, gazing up at Minho with wide, desirous eyes, swirling with dark depths. “I don’t have condoms,” he confesses.
For a moment, Minho freezes, but then relaxes as he remembers the box in his suitcase. “I do. Let’s go.”
With another nod, they rush back, hands clasped together, to get their shoes now filled with sand. Minho barely notices the discomfort of his still-wet feet as he pulls on his socks. A giddy excitement bubbles in his chest, sending shocks of adrenaline and anticipation through his body.
It’s his luck that their hotel is just a few blocks away from the beach.
The drive is the quickest of Minho’s life, his foot pressing on the gas pedal with more force than necessary. At a sharp turn that makes Jisung yelp in fear, they both burst into laughter. Jisung pushes Minho’s shoulder, prompting Minho to yell, “Yah, I’m driving!”, and then they are giggling again.
Minho retrieves their keycard while Jisung waits in the lobby, hands clasped behind his back, nose in the air, humming a song under his breath. The elevator ride makes Minho’s fingers tingle from lack of blood, his heart racing with anxiety and anticipation. Noticing this, Jisung wraps cool fingers around Minho’s hand, giving a comforting squeeze and tracing his thumb over the back of his hand.
It’s honestly so embarrassing when Jisung hands him a pouch from his suitcase and asks if Minho knows how to clean himself, but Jisung’s level-headedness in the situation helps calm Minho’s nerves. A cold shower further eases some of his anxiety, and fifteen minutes later, he steps back into their hotel room, make-up free, wearing just boxers and a towel around his neck to catch the droplets from his hair.
The sight that greets him makes his heart swell with fondness. Jisung is on his knees on the bed closer to the window, fixing the pillows. He has dragged all the pillows and blankets from the other bed to make theirs even fluffier. He has also dimmed the lights and opened the window to let in the late summer breeze.
At the sound of the bathroom door opening, Jisung turns around, a big smile on his face making his apple cheeks so round that Minho’s heart skips a beat from how cute he looks.
Gosh, he’s so in love with this man. He never stood a chance, did he?
“Come here, princess, the royal chamber awaits for you,” Jisung says, patting the bed and grinning when Minho’s steps falter. “Oh?”
“Don’t ’oh’ me,” Minho glares. It lasts barely a second before he starts giggling, heat rushing to his ears as Jisung’s eyes drags over his bare figure.
“I’ll never get used to how hot you are,” Jisung says, getting to his feet. “Seriously, you look like you came out of my wet dreams.”
God dammit, Jisung is out to get him tonight.
“Stop trying to butter me up. You already have my ass handed to you.”
“I’m being honest,” Jisung frowns slightly and blinks. He is just a couple of feet away from Minho now. “Please take my compliment.”
“I know I’m hot,” Minho attempts a smirk, but he’s feeling so f*cking nervous now. “You don’t have to say that over and over and over again—”
“I understand,” Jisung interrupts, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips twisting into an exaggerated pout. “I take it back. You’re ugly.”
“What was that? Speak up, I can’t hear you..”
“Oh, hush now. Come here, let me take care of you tonight, alright?” Jisung’s voice takes on a gentle tone, soothing, causing Minho’s body to relax instantly.
“Jisung…“
“Hyung,” Jisung interrupts, his voice soft yet firm.
“I’m sorry. It’s just... nerves,” Minho confesses.
“I understand, hyung. I’m right here for you, always,” Jisung reassures.
Minho sighs, feeling a bit more at ease, and takes the last step towards Jisung, immediately wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Just because he can.
Jisung tentatively takes Minho’s waist between his hands, a delicate touch that Minho realizes holds a tinge of fear of rejection, as if Jisung is worried Minho might change his mind and send him away. But Minho doesn’t want that. In fact, he wants quite the opposite. He leans forward, brushes Jisung’s nose for a brief moment, and pulls back to send a small smile in his direction to convey that he wants this. He really does.
“Still nervous?” Jisung says, breaking the brief silence with a whisper. At Minho’s jerky nod, he chuckles, then brings his hands up his back, one of them flying up to touch Minho’s ear with gentle fingers. “You’re blushing so hard. It’s cute.”
Minho scrunches his nose, batting Jisung’s hand away and shoving him to lay down on the bed stripped from its sheets, and plants himself between Jisung’s knees, holding his body up on his forearms.
“Shut up,” he mutters, eyes zeroing on Jisung’s pretty mouth. Jisung giggles, his body jostling Minho’s, then wraps his arms back around him to bring him down.
This kiss is hot from the very start, a surge of heat as Jisung captures Minho’s lips with an open mouth, his eagerness evident as he gently slips his tongue inside. Minho responds with an appreciative hum, surrendering himself, and lowers his body even more. Jisung’s hands deftly find their way between Minho’s strands, pulling lightly and making him hold back a whine from the pleasure that courses through him.
Jisung's tongue moves against Minho's with familiarity, their kiss deepening with each passing second. Minho knows he is already half-hard in his pants, all from just a mere half-minute of kissing.
Instead of being embarrassed, Minho lowers himself fully and drapes his body over Jisung’s to get some friction, only to find out that he’s also tenting his shorts.
“You’re so sexy,” Jisung mumbles, then drags his lips on Minho’s cheeks, his jawline. “Wanna f*ck you stupid,” he whispers in Minho’s ear.
The words are extremely embarrassing, but Jisung is so unbelievably pretty, cute, and honestly, hot as hell, that Minho doesn’t really mind.
Jisung’s arms encircle Minho’s waist with a firm grip, pulling him in so close that breathing becomes a challenge. In response, Minho bites down on Jisung’s lower lip in retaliation before trailing his lips along his jawline, near his ear, down his neck, and to his pulse point.
“Mark me,” Jisung says with a whine. The sound so inviting.
Seizing the opportunity, Minho pulls Jisung’s head back by the strands of his hair to suck on his neck, starting lightly, tasting the sweat and remnants of perfume on his skin. It should be gross, but this is Jisung. Minho licks, then sucks again, Jisung’s skin trapped between his teeth like he’s a vampire.
The moan Jisung lets out is heavenly. It goes straight to Minho’s dick.
“Other bed, now,” Jisung exhales, then pushes Minho back.
His hair is a mess from Minho’s fingers gripping tightly onto it. He’s flushed all over where it shows, and Minho is pretty sure he himself is not looking any better. Jisung’s eyes are sharp, dark, and he licks his lips before biting on them, his gaze shifting to focus on Minho’s chest.
“Cute,” he says, a cheeky smile breaking out on his face and bunching his cheeks up.
Yeah, he’s cute, incredibly cute, with reddened cheeks and mischievous eyes. God, Minho wants to eat him whole. Jisung chuckles, then plants a swift kiss on Minho’s jaw and slides from under him to get on the other bed.
It’s a sight: Jisung on his side, resting on his elbow, strands of blue hair touching the cream-colored pillowcase, his honey skin gleaming under the soft light.
How is Minho going to survive this?
With a grin, Jisung pats the bed with his free hand. The heat on Minho’s neck spreads all over his body, from his hairline to his fingertips and toes.
When he kneels on the bed, Jisung roughly grabs him by the waist and throws him onto the mattress with a bounce. He kneels between Minho’s legs, mirroring Minho’s earlier move, making Minho burst out laughing from the sudden movement.
Like this, Jisung’s hair is illuminated by the streetlights filtering through the window. He still has that cheeky grin, a dark spot forming on his jugular from Minho’s biting.
“Never thought I’d get you like this,” he mumbles, laughing against the dip of Minho’s neck, leaving gentle kisses that make Minho’s skin tingle with pleasure. “My pretty hyung.”
Minho holds back a whine as the possessive tone reaches his ears.
“Come on,” he grips the back of Jisung’s shirt. “Take it off.”
Jisung scoots back on his calves, then lifts the shirt and tosses it on the floor with a soft thud. Minho watches, entranced, as Jisung’s stomach moves with soft breaths. Minho can’t resist touching, so he places both hands around it, thumbing the tattoo next to his belly button.
Jisung squirms away, giggling, then leans in again to rest his face on Minho’s collarbone for a moment, a hand casually wandering to his thigh. Fingers slip under the edge of his boxers. “So, how do you wanna do this?”
“Huh,” Minho shudders, swallowing dry. “Any suggestions?”
“We could stick with this position. I think it’s comfy for the first time. It worked for me.”
“Okay,” Minho nods, even though Jisung can’t see from where he’s nibbling on his ear.
“Can I suck you off?”
“What?” Minho pulls Jisung away by the shoulders to find him looking at him eagerly. “Do you want me to come in two seconds?”
“Hm, yeah, let’s add it to the hotel sex experience,” Jisung grins, then wiggles his eyebrows. “So?”
Who is Minho to refuse?
He nods, and Jisung pumps a fist in the air, like he’s just won a prize.
Before he knows it, Jisung is already sitting back, his fingers hooking onto Minho’s boxers. He pulls them down, making Minho’s co*ck spring free, totally hard from anticipation alone. Jisung tosses the fabric over his shoulder and looks up at Minho, just waiting.
Oh f*ck.
“Just for a moment, or I’ll seriously come now,” Minho warns. Jisung acknowledges with a nod, burying his face between Minho’s thighs and gliding his lips upward until he’s working at his crotch. He hums, his hands reaching up to grasp Minho’s hip bones and keep him in place. “Ji–Jisung,” Minho stutters, his own fingers curling on the edge of the bed frame to ground himself.
Jisung hums again, then takes Minho’s co*ck in hand. “Look at you,” he says, sounding amazed. “You feel so good inside me, hyung. I wonder if I’ll be good for you too.”
The first tug makes Minho’s body lose its strength, turning his limbs to jelly. The same feeling of crashing down a rollercoaster settles inside his stomach as Jisung’s lips find the head of his co*ck, and Minho closes his eyes — he can’t look anymore. He imagines Jisung’s tongue on his slit, wet and warm, with a light breeze hitting his co*ck and making the spit turn cold.
Jisung hasn’t even started, and Minho is already so f*cking on edge.
This isn’t good. He takes Jisung’s hair in his fingers to warn him, but Jisung takes it as confirmation that Minho is enjoying it and finally shoves Minho’s co*ck inside his mouth.
“f*ck, f*ck,” Minho opens one eye to find Jisung with half of his co*ck inside, bobbing his head slowly, his hand jerking where his lips can’t reach. “Holy sh*t. Han Jisung— Stop—”
Jisung pulls his head back, then grins up at him, licking his lips.
“Already?” he smirks, and Minho almost has a mind to kick him.
“I f*cking told you,” Minho grunts. Jisung leans forward again, his lips rounding Minho’s co*ck once more, his tongue swirling around.
This is too much, too much. But still not enough. It’s never enough with Jisung. Minho grips Jisung’s hair with his other hand and pulls him closer. Fortunately, Jisung is now used to giving head, practicing whenever they can. Minho’s tip reaches his throat without causing a gag, and Jisung continues to suck eagerly, like a pro.
Minho pushes Jisung’s head back, startled at the familiar sensation coiling in the pit of his stomach, and holds the base of his co*ck to prevent himself from coming already. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, then a laugh escapes his lips when he realizes what Minho is doing.
“Wait. You like being edged?” Jisung kisses Minho’s hipbone, then sucks, biting at the same time. Minho moans, nodding, his body already turning to mush, his vision swimming. “How have I never noticed this before?”
“Take your pants off,” Minho orders.
Jisung climbs off the bed and steps out of his shorts with clumsy legs. Minho almost reaches for him, only stopping at the sight of Jisung’s own co*ck exposed, hard and glistening. After rummaging through Minho’s bag to get a condom, and taking his pouch from the bathroom to get the lube, Jisung kneels on the bed and brings his lips to Minho’s, slotting their legs together. A hiss leaves Minho’s mouth as their hard-ons drag against each other.
“Are you sure you want to lose your ass virginity with me?” Jisung whispers in that low voice that makes Minho’s body hair stand on end.
“Do I look like I’m regretting it?” Minho snarks back because he just can’t let himself be more vulnerable than he already is. “Hurry up.”
“Fine.” Jisung takes the lube, opening it with one hand. He pours some on his other hand’s fingers, sliding them together tentatively. “Hold your legs up for me?”
Minho wants to die from embarrassment. He hooks his arms under his knees and pulls his legs back, giving Jisung a perfect view of his… his hole.
“I’m going in,” Jisung warns, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down Minho’s spine. He touches Minho’s rim with a cold, slick finger, the sensation making Minho gasp and his body tense in anticipation.
It’s surprisingly not bad. Definitely not as he expected. It’s still a challenge, though, when the first finger slides in. Jisung purses his lips, his eyes mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing inside Minho.
“Stop staring,” Minho complains, his voice dripping with a neediness that surprises even himself.
“But you’re so pretty, how can I not,” Jisung mumbles, his gaze unwavering.
A second finger prods at Minho’s entrance, the sensation sending a delicious shiver through his body. This one is even tougher, and Minho’s body wants to get away from the sensation of being stretched.
But Jisung is too aware of Minho’s emotions. He takes one of Minho’s legs and brings it over his shoulder, pressing soft kisses along his ankle in a soothing gesture. With deliberate slowness, he slides his fingers in and out, each curl of them seeming like he’s doing it to tease rather than satisfy. Like he’s intentionally avoiding Minho’s prostate.
It’s hard to relax when you have something up your ass, but Minho takes a deep breath with each curl of Jisung’s finger, allowing himself to moan softly. He knows he can be noisy sometimes, but this—especially after Jisung’s blowj*b—is draining all his energy.
“I’m ready,” Minho decides as the burn of the stretch becomes more pleasurable. “M’ready, Jisungie.”
“sh*t, sh*t, okay,” Jisung says, withdrawing his fingers completely, causing lube to drip onto Minho’s ass. He shudders at the sensation and closes his eyes as he hears the sound of the condom packet being torn open and the bottle being uncapped.
It’s happening, it’s really happening. Jisung is holding Minho’s waist and pushing his co*ck inside him.
Well, it kind of hurts. The stretch is much more intense than the fingers. Minho throws his head back, an “It hurts,” leaving his lips involuntarily.
Jisung immediately stills and pulls back, leaving Minho’s hole empty and fluttering around nothing.
“Why’d you stop?” Minho opens his eyes, blinking lazily.
“You said it hurts,” Jisung replies, fiddling with the lube. Soon enough, his fingers are inside Minho again, concern evident in his eyes. He gently cups Minho’s cheek with his other hand and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
Minho takes a deep breath, trying to adjust his body. It feels strange now, his fingers not enough to make him feel full. “No, don’t stop. Just— just give me a moment.”
Jisung nods, his eyes searching Minho’s for any sign of distress. Slowly, he resumes his movements inside Minho with deliberate care. Finally, he applies pressure on what Minho can only imagine is his prostate.
“Oh my god, f*ck,” Minho moans, wiggling his hips to chase the feeling, but Jisung doesn’t let him. The sensation is gone as quickly as it came. “Nooo, Jisung?”
“Not yet,” Jisung shakes his head, taking Minho’s bottom lip between his own and sucking soothingly. “Should we try again?”
“Just do it,” Minho huffs, the movement making his nose bump into Jisung’s. “I’m not gonna break.”
This time, the stretch is anticipated, welcomed. As Jisung slips in, Minho braces for the sensation, the burn of the stretch signaling the fullness he’s about to experience. It hurts less, and Jisung bottoms out before Minho fully realizes, hips flushed against the back of his thighs.
Minho feels a rush throughout his entire body. From his hairline to his neck, down to his stomach, the intensity courses through him. His legs, still hooked over Jisung’s shoulders, start tingling from the blood loss.
“Oh god,” he says through gritted teeth as the initial pain gradually transforms into a more bearable but still so intense feeling.
Jisung’s hands roam over Minho’s body, finding their way to his waist again as the warmth spreads through Minho’s limbs.
“There you go,” Jisung says with a rough voice, his lips brushing against Minho’s jawline. “You’re doing great.”
Minho takes a moment to adjust to the fullness, his hands gripping the sheets. As the discomfort subsides, he moves his hips again, and Jisung takes the hint, pulling out and pushing back in, slowly.
Oh, so this is what everyone talks about. Bottoming is good. It’s not yet as good as having someone around his co*ck, but it’s still a thousand times better than the solitary moments when he jerks off. The presence of Jisung’s body atop his own only adds to the experience — the warmth, the weight, the care he had never felt before. His body burns with desire, and he wants more.
Jisung seems to sense this and starts picking up his pace, leaning forward and resting on his forearms, his lips finding Minho’s.
“Oh, this is— this is nice,” Minho mumbles against his lips, a moan cutting through his sentence when Jisung slams harder.
Jisung hums, maintaining the kiss. Minho encircles him with all his limbs, pulling him even closer. Jisung is unnervingly composed for Minho’s taste, triggering a sudden desire to consume him, to hear those whines he knows are just beneath the surface, that he’s gotten so used to hearing from Jisung over the last month.
And yet, Minho is already so close. He can’t act on his urge because Jisung brushes his co*ck against his prostate, and everything goes white with pleasure. He moans loudly, throwing his head back, and Jisung laughs against his neck. co*cky, too co*cky.
“I’m not gonna last,” Minho warns through clenched teeth.
Instead of speeding up, as Minho expected, Jisung starts slowing down.
“Not again,” Minho complains, raising his head to give Jisung a murderous stare. Jisung is really too co*cky, grinning with an eyebrow raised. Minho wants to ruin him and his grin. “If you don’t pick up the pace, I swear to god, Han Jisung.”
“What are you going to do, hyungie?” Jisung tilts his head. “You’re still on my co*ck, begging for me to go faster.”
It hits Minho like a slap.
“Are you making fun of me?” he huffs, pushing Jisung away. He doesn’t even flinch at the feeling of being emptied once again.
“Hyung…“
“Lay on your back,” Minho squints when Jisung gapes. “I’m going to ride you.”
Jisung nods wordlessly and takes the place where Minho had been lying before, his whole body glistening with sweat as if he had been sprinkled with glitter. His makeup from before is melting, running down his cheeks but just barely. This is it, Minho thinks. This is how he’s going to heaven.
With shaky limbs, Minho straddles Jisung’s lap, and Jisung wastes no time, reaching behind Minho and guiding his co*ck inside.
“So tight,” he moans when Minho sits fully, taking all of him. “Holy f*ck.”
Without even knowing what he’s doing, Minho leans forward and props himself on his hands, trying to move his hips, seeking pleasure. He is a dancer, after all. It’s like Jisung’s co*ck was made for him because the head slides against the prostate perfectly with every nudge, and he can’t help but moan out loud.
Jisung doesn’t look that co*cky anymore. He throws his head back, hands groping Minho’s thighs, and lets out short whines every time Minho bounces, as if he’s losing his breath.
“Finally,” Minho closes his eyes for a brief moment, grinding down as his legs start burning. “Let hyung be in charge now, okay?”
Jisung’s eyes shoot open, as if he’s seeing Minho for the first time.
“You’re insane, what the f*ck,” he whispers, out of breath.
“Thanks,” Minho whines, finally bringing his hand to touch his own co*ck. But Jisung beats him to it, taking him fully and jerking off at the same pace as Minho’s movements. “Jisung-Jisung—nghh“
Surprisingly, it’s Jisung who stutters first, scrunching his whole face as his body twitches, and a high-pitched moan passes his lips. Minho can only watch, entranced, because the sight of Jisung coming under him is something he will never get used to, something he will treasure forever. It’s just unbelievable, unreal, surreal.
It also brings Minho to his own org*sm, his release shooting through Jisung’s fingers, landing on his belly button, some even reaching his chest. He slumps forward, totally spent, and buries his face in the pillow, right by Jisung’s ear.
“Hyung…“ Jisung touches the back of Minho’s head with gentle fingers. “I have to pull out.”
“Don’t wanna,” Minho’s pretty sure his throat is ruined.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Jisung turns his head and plants a kiss on Minho’s cheek. Then he pushes Minho off him, making him roll out on the tiny bed, his limbs sprawled on the mattress.
There are black spots dancing on the ceiling. Minho lies there, his mind too mushy to form coherent thoughts, until Jisung struts back, almost tripping on the clothes scattered on the floor. He holds a bottle of water to Minho’s lips, urging him to drink and soothe his parched throat. When Minho finishes, Jisung grabs one of the shirts from the floor to clean both of their bodies.
“Can I lay down with you?” Jisung asks hesitantly from the foot of the bed.
“What are you talking about? Come here,” Minho wiggles around, getting closer to the edge until there’s enough space behind him. Jisung then hugs him from behind, one arm wrapping around Minho’s middle. “Was it good for you?”
“Me?” Jisung sounds surprised. “Of course, it was, hyung. You’re like a sex demon or something.”
Minho chuckles, burying his face in the pillow.
“What about you?” Jisung scratches Minho’s stomach gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Like you f*cked all my energy out of me.”
“Hyung.”
“I’m fine,” Minho grimaces. “You were amazing.”
“Are you really fine?” Jisung keeps prodding.
“Yes, it was really good,” Minho admits.
“Let me get some sleep first,” Minho mumbles. “Then we can talk when my head isn’t so scrambled, okay? Wake me up in a couple of hours? We still need to have dinner.”
“Okay,” Jisung whispers. “I’ll wake you. Rest well, hyung.”
Minho hums, his face sinking deeper into the damp pillow. He’s so exhausted that it doesn’t take more than a minute for him to feel lightheaded. Before he drifts off, Jisung kisses the back of his neck with warm lips.
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
There’s something off with Jisung when he wakes Minho up to go to dinner at the ramen place just a couple of blocks from their hotel. He hadn’t said much other than to mention where he wanted to eat. He hadn’t taken Minho’s fingers in his like he usually does when they walk together. He hadn’t let Minho fix his hair, instead running off to the bathroom to do it himself.
Minho’s lower back aches as they sit in their booth, waiting for their food. Jisung is fidgeting with his phone, the screen lighting up and fading with each movement. He avoids looking Minho in the eyes.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Minho asks when the tension becomes unbearable.
Jisung jumps, as if he hadn’t seen this coming. His face round like a pufferfish. “Uh, I…“ he trails off, his eyebrows knitting together and then shooting up. “W-what?”
“Something’s bothering you,” Minho states the obvious. Jisung looks like he’s about to burst. “Spill.”
Two bowls of steaming ramen are placed in front of them, the rising steam momentarily obscuring Jisung’s face from Minho’s view.
“Something happened while you were sleeping,” Jisung says, picking up his chopsticks. His other hand clutches his spoon tightly. “Uh.”
Anxiety settles in Minho’s stomach immediately. “I’m not gonna get mad. If you’re worried I will, I won’t.”
“No, it’s not that,” Jisung replies, pursing his lips from side to side. Minho is so unsettled he almost fails to notice how cute Jisung looks tonight. “I, um, I met someone. He asked me on a date.”
One, two breaths. A blink. Minho almost drops his chopsticks.
“You met someone while I was sleeping?” he asks evenly. After you took my ass virginity, he doesn’t add, but it’s implied. “How—”
“No, no,” Jisung interrupts firmly. “Earlier, at the venue. When you left to wait at the bar. We were talking, the bands,” he pauses to tap his spoon on the edge of his bowl, a rhythmic sound that irritates Minho instantly. “This guy started talking to me and asked for my number.”
“Uh, I see,” Minho hums. “Was he nice?”
“Yeah, but I thought he was just playing around. I didn’t expect him to actually call me, let alone ask me out. I dunno. I’m not used to this.”
“Are you going on the date?” Minho asks, needing to hear it explicitly.
Please say no, he silently chants. Jisung hesitates, then nods.
Of course. Of course.
“I wasn’t going to,” Jisung hastily adds when he sees Minho’s facade crumble. “But he was so nice, and he insisted, so I… I agreed. But I don’t want to go. I really don’t.”
Minho finally picks up his noodles, swirling them around his spoon and taking a bite, the action mechanical.
“You said you wouldn’t be mad at me,” Jisung mutters, also digging into his own bowl.
Mad. Minho isn’t mad. If he were mad, he wouldn’t feel his face burning or his eyes suspiciously wet. Stupid spicy ramen.
“I’m not,” he says after swallowing. “I’m really not.”
“But you—”
“You should go,” Minho interrupts. Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. “To your date.”
“Why?”
That’s the million-dollar question swirling in Minho’s mind. Why should Jisung go on a date with another guy? Why would Jisung agree to this date right after having Minho in his most vulnerable state? Why would Minho let him go on this f*cking date—
But why wouldn’t he? They are just friends who f*ck. They’ve never discussed being anything more. From the moment Minho and Jisung indulged in their desires, the boundaries were established. Jisung just reaffirmed their arrangement by agreeing to go out with someone else.
“Because you’re not mine,” he says, like an idiot.
Silence envelops them. For a few agonizing seconds, all Minho can hear is the rhythmic clinking of chopsticks and spoons from the shop’s patrons. His stomach twists into tight knots, unravels, and then twists again. His hands grow cold and clammy. Jisung’s eyes are fixed on him, confused, yet there’s something gravely close to disappointment swimming in his black irises.
Minho wants to flee. He wants to disappear, to find something,anything, to shield his face from Jisung’s gaze, to hide the flush that betrays his turmoil. f*ck his face for being so sensitive, so intimately connected to the emotions inside him.
Jisung sighs, his hand drifting to his face to scratch at his pierced eyebrow.
“Hyung...” he murmurs, the word soft and hesitant. When his hand falls away, a pout takes its place on his lips. Minho hates it — hates how it twists his insides, makes his heart squeeze painfully like a sponge being wrung out. “I’m gonna cancel it.”
Minho’s response is curt, almost harsh. “Don’t bother,” he says, fighting to keep the scoff out of his voice. “I hope you have fun. Really.”
“I just said I don’t—”
“Please, eat your food,” Minho interrupts, his tone sharp. “It’s gonna get cold and soggy.”
Jisung nods, his head dropping as he stares into his bowl, blue bangs falling forward to obscure his face from Minho’s view. Minho mirrors him, shoveling food into his mouth, desperate to finish and escape the tension.
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
He still allows Jisung to hug him as they drift off to sleep in the same bed, the sheets still slightly damp from Minho’s sweat. Their conversation is barely there, awkward, little more than mumbled exchanges. As Jisung hesitates at the foot of the bed, Minho, already under the covers, lifts one corner as a silent invitation. Jisung slips in beside him, and Minho feels the warmth of his presence. He doesn’t know when sleep finally takes him, but he’s quite sure the soft sniffles he hears from Jisung aren’t just a figment of his imagination.
✩ ♬ ₊.💿⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The trip back to their city is awkward and never ending.
Jisung opts to sit in the back seat with Felix this time, leaving his Nintendo aside to rest his head on Felix’s lap, despite Seungmin reminding him over and over again of the dangers of not wearing a seatbelt. The air inside the car is stifling, even with the windows lowered, and Minho despises every minute of it. They hadn’t exchanged words since waking up and packing their things to check out of the hotel. Minho is too tired, sore, and upset to initiate conversation, and Jisung... Minho has no idea what Jisung is thinking.
After dropping everyone off at their place, Hyunjin slides into Minho’s passenger seat for the ride home. Minho avoids looking directly at Jisung, who stands anxiously at the gates, bouncing on the balls of his feet. In his peripheral vision, Minho catches the moment Jisung gives up and slips inside the house, his posture getting as small as his figure as he disappears from view.
“Did you fight?” Hyunjin asks as Minho pulls away from the curb.
“No,” Minho replies honestly. They didn’t fight. They are just too awkward to talk to each other. “No, we’re fine.”
“Hmm, if you say so,” Hyunjin murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing as he fiddles with the radio to find a better station. “God, this song sucks.”
Minho grips the wheel tightly, his knuckles white, and focuses on the road ahead. The ache in his chest intensifies, a dull, throbbing pain that grows stronger the farther he gets from Jisung.
