Work Text:
A soft sizzle flowed through the kitchen, dwindling as the batter expanded across the griddle. Bubbles formed in the center, the edges became defined, and a gray spatula smoothly slid under the pancake. Another fizzle, a golden color. Then, it was removed, and the process began again.
Jisung savored it, even thought it was better than the actual pancakes. From start to finish, Jisung watched and watched and watched. Enough times to master making Minho's pancakes down to a T, enough times to have a favorite part in the process.
Sometimes, when Minho poured batter onto the griddle, a drop would land on his fingertips. He'd lick the finger clean, maybe even push it between his perfect mouth and suck, then he'd resume cooking.
It was a simple action, something no one else would zero in on. But Jisung loved Minho's hands, his fingers. They were skilled, knew all the ways to make Jisung come undone—knew how to take.
Jisung licked his lips, scooted closer to the edge of the countertop to get closer to the stove, to Minho. He reached forward with his foot and smiled as Minho stole a glance over his shoulder. He kept his foot on Minho's calf, only to trail upwards once Minho started a fresh pancake. Jisung's foot reached the hem of Minho's shorts, and he pushed the fabric up, just a little, to reveal more of Minho's thigh.
“Hyung?”
Minho hummed.
“I've been thinking.”
“That's new, baby.”
Jisung stabbed his toes into the meat of Minho's thigh and earned a beautiful laugh. Minho winked at him, then flipped the pancake.
“Like I was saying,” Jisung said, tracing the ends of Minho's shorts with his foot. “I've been thinking about your promise.”
Minho looked at Jisung's foot, then met his eyes. “And which promise would that be?”
Jisung tilted his head to the side, jutting his bottom lip out just enough. “I want you to fuck me—”
“Yes, always,” Minho said, nodding his head. He turned the stove off, didn't even bother to remove the last pancake, and faced Jisung. “We can have breakfast after and—”
“In a stolen car.”
Minho pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest.
Rejection.
Jisung recognized it a mile away, knew he had to avoid it now.
He batted his eyelashes. “You promised, hyung.”
Minho smiled, took two steps to close the distance between them. He dropped his arms, placing them on either side of Jisung's legs, caging him against the countertop.
“I don't recall making that promise,” Minho said, the slightest furrow to his eyebrows.
“The first time you fucked me you said you would,” Jisung huffed. “I remember.”
“I said I'd fuck you in a stolen car next time,” Minho said, and Jisung could hear the smirk in his voice.
Jisung frowned. “It's been eight months and there's been a million next time's, but still no stolen car fucking.”
Minho hummed, leaning forward to brush the tip of his nose against Jisung's. “Only fucking you a million times in the span of eight months isn't enough.”
Jisung shuddered, closing his eyes as he felt those skilled hands on his legs. They moved up—up, up, up—and dug into Jisung's skin, only to caress the reddening marks after. Jisung twitched—his fingers clinging to the countertop, his clamped legs, his cock.
“Don't you think so, sweetheart?” Minho said, smooth lips working up Jisung's jaw. A wet kiss, a soft bite. “You should be getting fucked by hyung every waking moment, don't you think?”
Jisung whimpered, head lolling to the side to give Minho better access. His grip on the countertop tightened, and he swore his arms went numb because all he could feel was Minho sucking on the sweet spot just below his ear.
“I asked you a question, Jisung-ah.”
Deviation.
It wasn't rejection necessarily, but a close second, and Minho knew how to use it. Any time Jisung brought up the promise, Minho veered the conversation towards anything and everything. And Jisung was a weak, weak, man who fell prey to it every single time.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” Minho pulled Jisung's earlobe between his teeth. “Hm? Use your words, Jisungie.”
“I think—I think hyung should—ahh—should fuck me every waking moment,” Jisung panted, daring to open his eyes.
Minho's eyes were dark, and Jisung felt like a trapped animal. Maybe he was, had been since the first moment Minho laid eyes on him. Jisung liked it.
Minho pressed the heel of his palm against Jisung's bulge, right on the wet spot forming on Jisung's boxers. His smirk returned, and he cocked his head. “Should hyung fuck you right now, sweetheart?”
“Yes, yes. Please, hyung.” Jisung fervently nodded his head. He bucked his hips up, whimpering from the friction Minho rewarded him. “Please.”
Minho pecked Jisung's nose. “Only because you asked so nicely, baby.”
Minho kissed him, and Jisung moaned. He draped his arms over Minho's shoulders, pulled him closer. Minho continued toying with Jisung—running a finger along his clothed cock, squeezing his cockhead, leisurely stroking Jisung through his boxers.
It wasn't enough, and Jisung felt like he could cream his pants anyway.
Fucking skilled hands, Jisung thought.
“Minho-hyung,” Jisung murmured, chest heaving as he felt himself already approaching his orgasm.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Minho said, lips returning to Jisung's neck. They dipped to his collarbones, his shoulder.
“Wanna come while you fuck me,” Jisung breathed. “Please.”
“My sweet Jisungie,” Minho said, kissing his shoulder. He moved both hands to Jisung's knees, pushed his legs further apart, and pulled Jisung off the countertop. “Always so good and polite.”
“Hyung—”
Jisung yelped as Minho spun him around, pressed Jisung's back to his chest. He snuck a hand into Jisung's boxers, circled his cockhead with a finger. Jisung groaned, trembling in Minho's arms.
“I've barely touched you,” Minho said, nipping at Jisung's nape, “and you're already so wet, baby.”
Jisung whined. “Please. Need you, hyungie. Please.”
Minho hooked a finger into Jisung's boxers and yanked them down. Jisung helped him. He shimmied out of them and kicked them off so they wouldn't get in the way. Minho chuckled; his breath eliciting goosebumps from Jisung.
Before Jisung could start begging again, Minho pushed him against the cool countertop. Nails dragged along his spine, thumbs drove into his lower back dimples, hands spread his cheeks. Jisung shivered, chasing after Minho's hot touch.
“Hyung—fuck.”
He squirmed as he felt Minho spit again. His spit trailed down Jisung's hole, and Jisung moaned as Minho's slick fingers pushed it inside him.
“Still so loose from last night,” Minho murmured, gliding his fingers in and out of Jisung with ease. He thrusted his fingers inside, then kept them there, teasing Jisung's prostate. “I don't even have to stretch you open. Your hole is always ready for me.”
Jisung nodded, cheek smushed against the cool countertop, practically drooling onto it. “Yes, yes, just for hyung.”
“That's right,” Minho said, pulling his fingers out. Jisung didn't have time to mourn the loss, not with Minho's cockhead at his rim. “Just for me.”
Once Minho filled him to the brim, the rest came in a daze. There was only Minho—Minho, Minho, Minho.
Minho grinned as he stole another sweet kiss from Jisung, then a piece of his pancake. Jisung pouted, and Minho kissed him again.
“So mean,” Jisung huffed.
Minho smiled, winked with both eyes. “Let me make it up to you.”
He took a piece of pancake from his plate, swirled it in the syrup, then held it to Jisung's mouth. Jisung parted his lips, and Minho fed it to him, thumb brushing against Jisung's bottom lip.
Jisung barely chewed before he swallowed. He licked his lips, catching the tip of Minho's finger—his damn skilled fingers.
Jisung needed to find a way to make the promise a reality.
***
“And then after fucking me over the fucking countertop, he fed me fucking pancakes,” Jisung cried, arms flailing before falling to his lap again.
Felix nodded. “I hope you at least cleaned up before eating.”
“Lix,” Jisung whined, shaking Felix's arm with enough force to have Felix swaying back and forth against the bed's headboard. “That is not the point here.”
“Okay, okay,” Felix chuckled, grabbing Jisung's wrist. He sat up, stretching his legs out, and hummed. “What if you try not having sex until he fucks you in a stolen car?”
Jisung chewed on his bottom lip. The idea could work if done properly. But Jisung was Jisung, and he had already attempted it before. He was the one who couldn't handle it. He lasted a total of two hours and thirty-seven minutes before he started begging Minho to fuck him in the shower.
“The problem is that I can't hold out,” Jisung muttered, leaning his head against the headboard.
“Jisung.”
“I know, I know.” Jisung pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head. “I have problems and most of them are because of Minho…”
Jisung's words trailed as he eyed the bedroom door. Another knock, and the door was softly pushed open. Chan—he was still shirtless, but he somehow managed to find a pair of Felix's pajama pants sometime between when Jisung climbed into their bed and kicked him out of the room—stood under the doorway, rubbing his eyes and holding back a yawn.
“Can I come in now?” Chan asked, voice groggy.
“No,” Jisung screeched, arms flying to cover his face. Even though he couldn't see Chan with his palms digging into his face, he still squeezed his eyes shut. “I will literally die from embarrassment if you hear any of this, hyung.”
Felix peeled Jisung's hands away. He bumped his shoulder and nodded towards Chan. “He's more asleep than awake.”
“That doesn't mean he won't hear me,” Jisung said, pout already forming.
Felix crossed his arms. “Sung, it's the ass crack of dawn on our day off and you're subjecting Channie to the horrors of being awake before sunrise.”
Jisung looked at Chan again, almost laughed as he lost his balance for a second then stood upright. He leaned against the doorframe, another yawn tumbled from his lips, and Jisung found himself feeling a little guilty.
“So, not yet?” Chan mumbled. He gestured behind himself. “I can go back to the sofa and—”
“But the sofa hurts your back,” Felix said, glancing between Chan and Jisung.
“Fine,” Jisung sighed, throwing his arms up. “He can come in.”
Felix grinned. He spread his arms, smacking Jisung in the chest in the process, and Jisung glared at him. Felix ignored him, too preoccupied with motioning Chan to come closer. “Come here, baby.”
Chan hummed and took four steps to reach the bed. He crawled into the space between Felix's legs, snuggled into his stomach, then collapsed. Felix ran his fingers through Chan's curls, then beamed at Jisung.
“For once, why don't you try thinking with your proper head,” Felix used his free hand to poke the center of Jisung's forehead, “and hold out?”
Jisung whined, yanking the pillow from behind himself and bringing it close to his chest. “But I still want sex!”
“You're hopeless,” Felix huffed.
Jisung rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms over the pillow and directed his scowl towards Felix. “Sue me for having necessities.”
Felix scoffed. “Necessities my ass.”
“I'm doomed,” Jisung wailed, plopping his head on Felix's shoulder. “I deserve to be fucked in a stolen car. You'd,” he shifted his head so his cheek was pressed against Felix's shoulder and looked at him, “fuck me in a stolen car, right?”
“Yes, Sungie,” Felix laughed, a little breathy, a lot of smiles. He tipped his head and kissed Jisung's forehead, right on the spot he poked earlier. “I'd fuck you in a stolen car until your little heart's content.”
Just as Jisung was about to express his appreciation, Chan's muffled words caught their attention.
“I told you he could still listen,” Jisung muttered, in the same breath as Felix said, “What?”
Chan turned, enough to reveal half of his face. His eyes were still closed, and for a second, Jisung thought he had been talking in his sleep.
“I said,” Chan began, “why do you even want to have sex in a stolen car?”
“It's hot,” Jisung said, like it was the most obvious answer (it was). He squeezed the pillow in his grasp tighter, letting all the tension roll off him, then relaxed. “And the idea has been burned into my brain since I first saw Minho-hyung steal a car.”
“And hyung supposedly promised,” Felix added, nodding his head once. “But now he won't put out.”
Jisung cuddled into the pillow. “And it's really mean of him.”
Chan sighed. “He's probably just scared of getting caught and something happening to Jisung.”
“To me?” Jisung said, eyebrows coming together.
“He steals for fun and because he can,” Chan hummed. He awkwardly jerked his head from his position, and Jisung would have laughed if he wasn't so peeved. “But he knows his limits—one of them being if anyone he cares about is at risk.”
Jisung pursed his lips. Despite how much he wanted Minho to fuck him in a stolen car, he didn't want to push his boundaries. He'd never do anything to make Minho uncomfortable.
“Are you speaking from experience?” Felix asked, prodding Chan's cheek, then his jawline.
“Tried convincing him to let me help steal a car once,” Chan chuckled, pushing himself up. He pecked Felix, then turned to Jisung. “I'm still waiting.”
Jisung took a deep breath, then exhaled through his mouth. He tossed the pillow to his side, shaking his head. “Guess I'll have to let this fantasy go.”
“We have to be hopeful,” Felix grinned, patting Jisung's thigh.
“If he brought the idea up in the first place, then it is something he'd be into,” Chan said, easing back down to lie on Felix. He stopped halfway when Felix pouted, then shot up again to kiss Felix once more before settling in the space between his legs. “He really loves you, Sung, and he'd give you the world. He'll do it—you just gotta push the right buttons.”
Jisung groaned. He buried his head in Felix's shoulder again; partially from frustration, partially to avoid Felix's and Chan's lovey-dovey looks.
“If he doesn't,” Jisung said, turning just enough for his friends to hear him, “I'm going to tell him that you promised you'd fuck me in a stolen car.”
Felix guffawed. He lightly bumped his head against Jisung's. “I know hyung has a soft spot for me, but please do not push it.”
“Fine,” Jisung said, waving his arm. “I'll say you and Channie-hyung wanna spit roast me in a stolen car.”
“Please don't,” Chan said, resting on his forearms again.
Felix caressed his cheek, played with the curls by his ear. “It'd be kinda romantic to go out together, no?”
“Not by Minho's hands,” Chan laughed, nuzzling into Felix's palm.
“Okay, fine,” Jisung huffed. “What if I say Seungmin—”
“Jisung.”
“Okay, okay,” Jisung groaned. “I won't throw anyone under the bus.”
“I'm sure you'll find a way to convince him,” Felix hummed, patting Jisung's thigh again.
“For our sake, I hope so too,” Chan mumbled, relaxing into Felix's lap once more.
Jisung frowned. He reached to his side and flicked Chan's forehead. “Go to sleep, hyung.”
Chan sighed. He turned his head, then burrowed his face into Felix's stomach. He mumbled a goodnight, and Jisung and Felix exchanged looks.
“You're such an ass,” Felix giggled, pinching Jisung's leg.
Jisung yelped, jumping in his spot. He glared at Felix, but felt his scowl fading as Felix wiggled his eyebrows and grinned at him. He rolled his eyes, then scooted closer to Felix again.
“I love you, too,” Jisung murmured, resting his head on Felix's shoulder.
Felix hummed in response.
Silence filled the bedroom, then Chan's soft snoring came. Jisung found his eyelids getting heavier with every passing second, and Chan's snoring became white noise as Felix drew random shapes on his thigh.
Just as Jisung was about to welcome sleep in his best friend's bed, Felix cleared his throat.
“So, did you guys clean up before eating?”
“…We cleaned up after.”
“I am never eating in your kitchen again.”
***
Jisung was going to come.
He had been edging himself for half an hour, and as a result, edging Minho too. He'd be on the precipice of his orgasm, feel Minho's twitching cock inside him, then stop. He hadn't intended to. He just wanted to show Minho just how good he got at riding him, how he could withstand the ache in his legs to bring them to the cusp of pleasure together.
His willpower was only so strong, and his orgasm was bound to hit him before he could stop himself. He was going to come.
But he needed to secure a promise before he could.
Jisung shuddered as he sank down on Minho's cock again. He grinded against him. Shocks of pleasure crawled along his skin, left goosebumps in their wake as Minho fingers drove into his burning thighs.
Jisung cocked his head to the side, lips spreading into a grin. “Didn't I improve so much, hyung?”
“Yeah,” Minho said, voice winded. He thrusted upwards, and Jisung instinctively clenched around him. “My perfect Jisungie.”
“Just—just think,” Jisung panted, meeting Minho's slow thrusts, “how much better I could do this in the backseat of a car.”
Jisung bit back a whimper as Minho stilled. He jutted out his bottom lip, took Minho's hands in his. “Don't you think I'd look better in the backseat, too?”
Minho's gaze was dark, could devour Jisung in seconds, and it matched his smile. “Should we take this to my car then?”
“You know what I mean, hyung,” Jisung whined, squeezing Minho's hands.
“I don't think I do,” Minho hummed, letting one of Jisung's hands go. He wrapped his free hand around Jisung's slick cock, toyed with his cockhead. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Want you—want you to—fuck.” Jisung grabbed Minho's wrist, fucked into his grip. “Minho.”
“I won't give you what you want unless you say it,” Minho said. He traced the vein along Jisung's cock, then pressed his thumb against his slit, and Jisung moaned. “I'm waiting, sweetheart.”
Jisung whined. His thoughts were barely composed, swaying back and forth between the pleasure and Minho—his very own pendulum. He didn't expect his voice to do much better.
“I want you to—” Jisung keened, jolting enough to lift himself off Minho's cock before easing back down, as Minho teased his cockhead. “I want you to—to fuck me in a stolen car.”
“Yeah?” Minho eased his movements, then stopped altogether. He kneaded Jisung's thighs, inching closer and closer to his cock before pulling away. “Why should I, baby?”
Jisung grit his teeth, catching Minho's hands against his legs. “Because our friends promised to do it if you don't.”
Minho laughed, pressing his head back against the pillow. His face and chest were flushed, and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. He was beautiful, even if he was tormenting Jisung. Maybe it was payback for the accidental edging Jisung put them through, maybe it was just Minho being Minho.
“When did my Jisungie turn into such a brat?” Minho asked, voice light. He grinded into Jisung, slow and purposeful. “Hm?”
Jisung trembled, tightening his hold on Minho's hands. “When you refused to give me what I want.”
Minho's smirk didn't waver. He shifted to sit up against the headboard, wrapping his arms around Jisung's waist. He kissed Jisung, just enough to leave him craving more. His mouth drifted to Jisung's neck, his collarbone, and he guided Jisung's hips.
Jisung shivered. He clung to Minho's shoulders, quivering as fingers grazed his stretched rim. Part of him wanted Minho to add a finger, maybe two. He wanted to be full of Minho.
“Hyung,” Jisung wailed. His orgasm was fast approaching again. He wanted to come—needed to. He was at the edge, ready to fly. “Minho-hyung.”
Minho held Jisung closer, securing an arm entirely around his waist. It was enough to prevent Jisung from moving, from reaching his flight. Jisung whined again, and Minho dryly chuckled. Jisung could feel the vibrations from his lower stomach, the breath against his ear, and he had to bite back another whine
“Only good boys get rewarded,” Minho tutted, lips brushing the shell of Jisung's ear. “I don't reward brats, sweetheart.”
Jisung keened, arching into Minho. Even with their bodies pressed against one another, it wasn't enough. He wanted to crawl into Minho's warm chest, make a quaint home.
“I can be good—I can be good for hyung,” Jisung breathed. “Please, Minho-hyung. Please. I can be good for you. Please.”
Minho relaxed against the headboard, letting his hands fall to Jisung's hips. “Then, be a good boy and make hyung come first.”
Jisung nodded, starting to rock his hips. “I'll be—I'll be good, hyung.”
He whimpered as Minho's hands caressed his waist, then reached higher to tease his nipples. Jisung's shot forward, rhythm coming faster, more desperate. Minho whispered words of encouragement, nipped a colorful trail across his neck.
“Hyung.” Jisung clenched around Minho's cock as nails grazed his nipples. “Not—not fair.”
Minho hummed. He dropped his hands to Jisung's ass, burying his fingers in the plump skin. He guided Jisung's movements, moaning into his neck.
“Just like that, baby,” Minho breathed. “So perfect, so good for me.”
“Just for you, hyung,” Jisung cried, easily falling into Minho's helping hands. “Just for you, made for you.”
Minho grunted. His grip tightened, but his composure left him altogether. He drove into Jisung, quick and sharp thrusts that punched the air out of Jisung.
“Hyung, please,” Jisung whined, securing his arms around Minho's broad shoulders. His orgasm was fast approaching, threatening to wash over him before he could stop himself. “Want you to come, please. Minho-hyung, please.”
“Fuck, jagi,” Minho groaned, chasing after Jisung's lips.
He was close. Jisung could feel it in the way Minho tensed under him, how he panted and moaned into Jisung's mouth more and more. Jisung loved him like this, had came one too many times from the mere sight. But he couldn't now. He had to be patient.
“Need you to fill me up, hyung,” Jisung said between kisses, emphasizing each word by clenching around Minho's cock. “Please, Minho-hyung. Please.”
Minho came on Jisung's next plea, crying into Jisung's mouth. He filled Jisung, then continued fucking him hard. He snaked an arm between them and started stroking Jisung's neglected cock.
Jisung jolted. “Hyung, please—”
“Come on hyung's cock, baby,” Minho said, voice like honey.
Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, a broken scream tumbling past his lips as he came. He shook in Minho's arms, barely managed to process Minho's sweet words.
“Good boy. Perfect, always so perfect for me, Jisungie. Hyung will reward you.”
***
Jisung should have known.
His first hint should have been when Minho pressed him against the shower tile and stretched him open until Jisung was crying for his cock. Minho didn't fuck him, didn't even let him come. He grabbed a butt plug—Jisung didn't even know when Minho hid one in their shower—slipped it inside Jisung with a string of praise and kisses, and then continued helping Jisung wash his hair and body.
His second hint should have been when, after freshly showered and toweling each other off in their bedroom, Minho handed him a gift bag. Jisung opened the bag to reveal the black pleated skirt he had mentioned, paired with a red jumper and lace panties he had been eyeing. But Jisung was drunk on the thrill of receiving a thoughtful gift. He jumped into Minho's arms, smothered him in kisses, then ran to change.
His third hint should have been when Minho suggested showing Felix his new outfit. You could coordinate new outfits together, he had said. Want me to drop you off, baby?
His last hint, the final nail in his coffin, should have been when Minho mentioned he had a quick errand to run and they parted with a kiss that left Jisung half-hard.
The pieces to the puzzle were all there—a flashing red, bold sign: LEE MINHO IS PLOTTING. But Jisung hadn't realized until it was too late, until Minho was waiting for him outside of Felix's and Chan's apartment. There he was, arms crossed and leaning against an SUV. Jisung caught the hunger in Minho's eyes first, then the broken headlight, and all the pieces fell into place.
“Hi, jagi,” Minho had greeted, opening the passenger door. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Jisung had practically bolted into the car, vibrating in anticipation as Minho pulled the seat belt over his chest. He tried to quell his excitement—eagerness. But it was in vain, and flew out the damn window the second Minho slid a hand across his thigh.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Minho had smiled, fingers tracing circles into Jisung's inner thigh.
Jisung had moaned, legs instinctively spreading wider. “Hyung.”
“Soon,” Minho had chuckled.
Soon had taken too long. Thirty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds—not that Jisung was counting, but he was obsessively checking the time to stop himself from jumping Minho as he drove, unfazed by Jisung's battle.
By the time Minho parked in a deserted parking lot and lowered the windows a little before turning off the car, Jisung was hard and leaking in his red, laced panties.
“Minho-hyung.”
“Let's see how you look in the backseat, baby.”
Neither let a second go to waste, scrambling to get comfortable in the backseat, and Jisung found himself like this: straddling Minho and jolting each time the butt plug grazed his prostate.
“Hyung, Minho-hyung,” Jisung panted against Minho's mouth. “You said you'd fuck me.”
“Am I not?” Minho asked, pulling the butt plug out completely before pushing it back inside Jisung.
Jisung whimpered, shaking his head. He could feel the drag of each thrust, but he needed more, to feel full.
“Your cock,” Jisung breathed, balling the hem of Minho's shirt in his fists. It grounded him, barely, and Jisung forced himself to meet Minho's eyes—dark, starved. “Please fuck me with your cock. Please, hyung.”
Minho clicked his tongue. “My greedy, greedy Jisungie.”
He continued fucking Jisung with the butt plug, and he smiled—mean, all hunger. He pushed Jisung's skirt up further, just enough to expose Jisung's wet, trapped cock. He ran a finger from the base to the tip; the touch was warm, soft against the fabric of the underwear, and Jisung arched into his touch.
“Are you sure you want my cock?” Minho asked, applying more pressure to Jisung's tip as he angled the butt plug to hit his prostate. Jisung mewled, fucking himself back on the butt plug. “Because I think you don't care what's inside you—you just need to be full.”
“Want your cock,” Jisung shivered. “Want you, hyung.”
Minho hummed. He buried the butt plug inside Jisung, then held it in place. Jisung whimpered—tried to. The broken noise morphed into a moan when Minho dipped a finger into the lace; he pulled the fabric back, then let it snap against Jisung's honey skin.
“I'm not sure you want it bad enough, sweetheart,” Minho sighed. He drew both hands back, crossing his arms over his chest. Jisung wasn't sure what made him whine more: the loss of Minho's warm hands or his widening smirk. “Show me just how bad you want hyung's cock.”
Jisung rocked back against the butt plug. His thighs brushed against Minho's jeans each time, but Jisung liked the rough material against his sensitive skin. He didn't bite back his moans, didn't try to calm his wobbling legs. He knew Minho wanted a show.
Minho's eyes mapped every shaky movement, every hitch of breath. Jisung could feel him growing harder and harder.
“Pretty baby,” Minho cooed.
Jisung shuddered. He lifted his jumper, just below his chin, and used his other hand to tease his nipples. “Wanna feel you, hyung,” Jisung's hand dipped, settling against his lower stomach, “right here. Please.”
“Jisung—fuck.”
Minho lurched forward, and Jisung screeched. He shut his eyes, waited to make contact with the arm rest, maybe even smack his head against the gear shift. But neither impact came. Instead, he felt a scalding grip on his waist, a sudden swish of his skirt, then his back colliding with the seats.
Jisung blinked once, twice. His vision barely adjusted before Minho caught his lip between his sharp teeth. The seat belt clip dug into his ribcage, and he scarcely managed to fit on the seats, but none of it mattered. It couldn't, not with Minho taking him apart with just a kiss.
He trembled as Minho's fingers hovered over his aching cock. Jisung could feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth radiating from his fingertips.
“Please,” Jisung said, a string of saliva connecting their lips. “Please touch me, hyung.”
“Perfect,” Minho murmured. He tugged on Jisung's bottom lip again, then let his tongue soothe the bite. “So fucking perfect, Jisungie.”
Minho drew back, and Jisung all but whined. He wanted Minho close, for every inch of their skin to be touching and more. If he could, Jisung would tie their souls together.
Minho chuckled, shaking his head as he undid his pants. He pulled his cock out, and Jisung licked his lips, eyes darting between the leaking tip and Minho's gaze.
“Hyung—”
“Do I need to teach you to be patient, sweetheart?” Minho asked, cocking an eyebrow. He spat into his hand, then began stroking himself. “Hm? Answer me, baby.”
“No, no,” Jisung said, frantically. He spread his legs wider, hiking up the skirt more in the process, and slid a hand along the laced fabric. He pulled his panties to the side, eyes set on Minho. “I'll be…patient, hyung. I'll wait for you,” he pulled the butt plug out, tossed it to the floor, and circled his rim, “to fuck me, Min—”
Jisung's words failed him as Minho filled him in one go. He lifted Jisung's leg, kept it perched on his shoulder, and rammed into Jisung before either of them could catch their breath.
“Jagi,” Minho groaned, nails piercing Jisung's waist. His sharp thrusts didn't waver, not even as Jisung began clenching around him. “Feel so good—so fucking good.”
Broken moans spilled from Jisung. They were loud, maybe even slipped through the cracked windows and echoed in the parking lot. Jisung didn't know. All he knew, all he was certain of, was Minho's cock splitting him open and the ecstasy ricocheting throughout his body.
“Hyung,” he wailed, eyes glued to his lower stomach. With each snap of Minho's hips, he could see just how much Minho was filling him up. Jisung's hand flew to the protruding bump, pressing down to feel Minho. “‘M so full, hyung. Thank you, thank you, love you.”
“Look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well,” Minho said, warmth dripping from his voice, his fixed gaze, as his hand draped Jisung's. His thrusts slowed, became so deep Jisung could feel him in his chest. “Is my Jisungie going to come all over himself? Stain the pretty panties hyung bought him?”
Jisung's body tensed, and he struggled to nod his head. “Please, Minho-hyung. Please.”
“Go on, jagi,” Minho said, pressing harder against Jisung's stomach. “Make a mess for hyung.”
Minho pushed again, just as his cockhead hit Jisung's prostate, and Jisung came hard. Specks of pink and green clouded his vision, enveloping Minho's silhouette. Jisung reached for his hand and whined as Minho took it, interlacing their fingers together.
“Good boy.”
Jisung shuddered. He glanced down, noticed how soaked his panties were, how some of his cum landed on the back of Minho's hand, the hem of his skirt. His cock twitched, and Jisung could feel himself starting to fill out again. He licked his lips and met dark eyes.
“More,” Jisung croaked, trying to fuck himself back on Minho's cock. “Want hyung to come—inside. Please.”
“So greedy,” Minho laughed, breathless. He smeared Jisung's cum across his bulging belly. He rolled his hips forward, slowly. “My baby wants to be full of hyung?”
“Yes, yes,” Jisung said, frantically. His trapped cock throbbed, jumped each time the laced fabric dug into his sensitive skin. But Jisung liked it. The sensation set the foundation in stone, and Minho began to build Jisung back up again. “Please. Minho-hyung, please. Need you. Minho.”
Minho fucked him harder. The car shook, just as much as Jisung, with each of Minho's thrusts. Jisung clawed at his back. He didn't register the strain in his legs from being folded in half, nor his nails on the verge of breaking skin. His pendulum returned, and Jisung could only beg for more, to be full.
“Fuck—Jisung,” Minho groaned. He kissed Jisung. Open-mouthed, sloppy. Jisung felt his spit dripping from the corner of his mouth, then Minho's chasing tongue. He sucked on the tip of Minho's tongue, then swallowed Minho's moans as he came.
“So full, so full.” Jisung babbled, jolting as Minho continued fucking him cum back inside him. “Love hyung's cum, love you.”
“My perfect Jisungie,” Minho murmured between kisses. “I'll give you more.”
“What do you—”
Jisung gasped as Minho swiftly pulled out, then manhandled him so that his hips were lifted and his knees were being pushed against his chest, just below his chin. He felt Minho's cum start to trickle from his hole and clenched around nothing, like it'd keep him full. He whined, trying to reach for his hole, but Minho swatted his hands away.
“Hyung—”
Jisung mewled as Minho's hot tongue glided across his hole. Minho circled his rim, dipped his tongue into Jisung's hole once, twice, then sucked. The pleasure shot straight to Jisung's core, his lower abdomen tightening with each flick of Minho's tongue.
“Minho—I'm gonna—”
“Go ahead, baby,” Minho groaned, mouthing at Jisung's ass. “Wanna see you come for me again.”
Jisung jerked as Minho fucked him with his tongue. His moans were as loud as the squelching, and Jisung almost fell apart from the mere thought of Minho's cum and spit filling him at once. Minho curled his tongue, added a finger to graze Jisung's prostate, and Jisung came, screaming Minho's name.
Minho eased his tongue in and out, helping Jisung ride out his high. Jisung slumped against the seats, boneless—satiated. He grinned, lazily, as Minho pulled back and crawled over him.
Cum and spit coated his lips, and Jisung knew Minho had more in his mouth. He whined, pulled Minho against his chest and connected their lips. Minho licked into his mouth, and Jisung moaned, greedily taking what Minho offered.
They kissed and kissed and kissed, passing the mix of cum and spit, until Minho sat up. He hovered over Jisung, caressing his cheek. Jisung tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out. Minho grabbed his chin, applied the lightest pressure, then spat into his mouth.
Jisung moaned again once the cum hit his tongue. He closed his mouth, swallowing every drop, and stuck out his clean tongue.
“Good boy,” Minho said, then kissed Jisung once more. “Let's get cleaned up so we can go home, baby.”
Jisung smiled. “Okay.”
Jisung softly hummed to the radio, tapping his fingers against Minho's hand. He looked over his shoulder, grimacing at the drying cum stains they failed to clean properly.
“Are you planning to sell this car, too?” Jisung asked, looking at Minho.
“After a very, very thorough cleaning,” Minho said, glancing at him, then focusing on the road again. “I don't like keeping things I stole.”
“You stole my heart,” Jisung sang.
Minho huffed, shaking his head. “You're so cheesy.”
Jisung noticed the blush creeping up on his neck, the tips of his ears. He grinned, pulling their interlocked hands to his mouth. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Minho's hand.
“You love me anyway.”
The car slowed, then came to a full stop at a light. Minho lifted their hands to his mouth, kissed Jisung's hand. “I do.”
Heat rose to Jisung's cheeks. “Me too, hyung.”
Minho kissed his hand again, then returned their hands to Jisung's lap. Jisung squeezed his hand, raised the radio's volume, and smiled as Minho began to sing along.
The drive home was quick, sweet with all the stolen kisses at red lights and stop signs. Jisung watched as Minho turned off the car, mouth watering as Minho's fingers worked.
“Do you think next time I can watch you steal the car and then you can fuck me in it?”
Minho chuckled, pulling Jisung into another kiss. “My greedy, greedy Jisungie.”