Work Text:
Jisung is chewing on his tie.
They're working on a song, he and Jisung; there are sheets of half-formed concepts and phrases, metaphors that work in theory but don't quite fit lyrically. There's no through-line yet, but there has to be some common theme among these words and ideas. Some common thread to strong the story of their relationship.
Jisung hadn't had time to change out of his attire, the one he'd worn for an important company meeting. Chan had bundled the entirety of 3RACHA into the dress suits and ties, insisting that since they'd be meeting with the representatives of another company they had to at least seem professional. Minho will forever deny the way seeing Jisung in that baby-blue shirt, black tie, and glasses made him feel. Jisung really does not need to know about the boner he got just from the sight; it would inflate his ego too much.
But this brings Minho to his current problem: Jisung is chewing his tie.
He's kind of doing it absentmindedly, eyes half-lidded and poring over the pages as he fucking sucks on the tie. He hums lowly around it, drumming on the table with his fingers. Minho really should be helping, but his eyes are fixated on that pale, plump mouth; the flash of teeth peeking out, the thought of the tongue behind it…
Jisung lifts his eyes, meeting Minho's gaze with a question clear in his face.
Minho swallows dryly.
They're close; of course they are, they literally can't stay away from each other. They're possibly the clingiest boyfriends to ever have existed. But this means that when Jisung turns, Minho's hit with the full force of Jisung's boba eyes.
His dick twitches mortifyingly.
Jisung lets the tie fall out of his mouth, and Minho's humiliated by how his eyes track the movement. The end is visibly wet. It's doing things to Minho. Very unholy things. God. Minho might be shaking.
"Do you need a break, hyung?"
Jisung has to know what he's doing to Minho, doesn't he? There's no way he doesn't know what that soft smile, paired with those eyes, is doing to Minho. More specifically his dick, but well. Him in general, especially when Jisung brings a hand up to Minho's ears. giggling at the blush. "Maybe the lyrics will make more sense if we blow off some steam?"
The last thread of Minho's self-restraint snaps clean in half.
His mouth crashes into Jisung's, and his mind blanks out in bliss.
Minho's fully out of his chair now, crawling into Jisung's lap with a knee on the seat. The other stays on the floor so that he's almost straddling the chair, but he can't be bothered about getting the perfect position because Jisung is sighing into his mouth and opening his lips and Minho has to slip his tongue inside to taste.
The kiss, though it started so passionate, melts into something sweeter, viscous like honey. Minho moves his lips slowly against Jisung's, savoring him, swallowing his little twitches and whimpers like delicacies. His heart starts beating in double-time, especially when he can feel Jisung's hardness against his thigh.
As the kiss drags on, Minho cradles the back of Jisung's head, pulling lightly at the strands and growing intoxicated with the musical gasp Jisung gives him. He keeps the pressure because it makes Jisung go limp, mouth open for Minho to take, take, take. Jisung's hands on Minho's waist squeeze, tremble, before going limp, like he wants to hold onto Minho but physically doesn't have the capability to.
He's getting overwhelmed already, squirming under Minho and trying to rut upwards for friction. Minho shifts, his shin pressing into Jisung's thigh; like this, he's less sitting and more half-kneeling, which lets him tilt Jisung's head back to kiss him deeper. As Jisung groans from the new sensation, Minho uses his free hand to grasp Jisung's wrists, holding them together. They fit so nicely in Minho's palm that Jisung doesn't even resist.
Minho's so hard.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, opening his eyes. Jisung's eyes haven't closed all the way, half-lidded and already fucked out in a way that makes Minho preen. "Follow my lead," Minho says softly, hand releasing Jisung's hair to cup his cheek. He traces the cheekbone with his thumb, looking at how the skin gives under pressure. "Hyung will make you feel good, okay?"
"Yes," Jisung breathes out immediately. "Yes, hyung, please, nngh—"
Minho kisses him again, hungrier, wetter. Jisung's completely pliant below him, making the sweetest noises for him; it's everything, it's everything Minho's ever wanted, past present and future. He can't believe he gets to have this absolute trust, this wonderful man who loves with his entire heart and gives his entire soul.
Not that Minho doesn't do the same for him.
Minho trails kisses down the corner of his lips to his jaw, mouthing at the ear and sucking lightly, relishing the high whine that results. He lets go of the lobe, pressing a kiss to the shell to see Jisung shiver. "So needy," He muses; Jisung's chest spasms under his palm. "We have to be quiet, jagi, what if somebody hears us?"
"You…you locked the door," Jisung replies after a weighted second, voice hoarse already. "Right? I saw you, I saw —"
"Did I, though?" Minho smirks, lips against Jisung's skin so he can feel it. "Would I have?"
"Hyung — hyung, what —"
"Shh, it's not a problem, we have the room booked anyway. As long as we're quiet, well be fine." Jisung relaxes under Minho's hold. Hook, line, and sinker. "Do you think you can be quiet for me, jagi?"
"Yes, I can be quiet, I'll be good, hyung, please —"
"Mmm, I don't know…you're so loud already and I haven't even touched below your neck." Minho pulls back, taking in the high flush on Jisung's cheeks, his swollen lips shining with spit, his wide, shaking eyes, the hint of tongue behind his open, panting mouth. "We need a better way to shut you up, don't you think?"
Before Jisung can respond, Minho takes the tie in his hand, bringing it up and scrutinizing it like he's assessing the quality of silk. "Hm…your mouth seemed to fit nicely around this earlier, didn't it, Jisungie?"
Jisung's breath catches.
The end of the tie is dark with Jisung's spit. Minho's normal. He's so normal about this. Jisung is looking at him, not resisting the hold Minho has on his wrists, looking at the tie like he wants nothing more to be gagged by it, and Minho's. Minho's so fucking normal about this.
An idea enters his mind.
Minho grins slowly. "Watch closely, okay?" At Jisung's nod, he brings the tie to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the fabric. He hears a startled sound from below him, only spurring him on as he opens his mouth and takes the tie in, as far as it will go. It's a bit cold, a bit unpleasant, but it's Jisung's tie, Jisung's saliva, and Minho's not normal at all, he's never been able to be normal about Jisung's anything.
He manages to take a good fourth of the tie in his mouth. When he looks down at Jisung, the man's eyes have blown open, pupils dilating and almost completely overtaking his irises. Twin pools of desire, of pure unadulterated want as Minho sucks idly at the tie.
Minho's heart is beating out of his chest. His fingers tremble slightly, but he cups Jisung's jaw with a hand, pressing lightly. Jisung gets the memo and opens his mouth, still and waiting.
He's perfect.
Minho dives in.
It's not a perfect kiss, not with the tie in between their bottom lips, but that's the point, the tie is the entire point. He opens his mouth, pushing at the fabric with his tongue to feed it into Jisung's waiting mouth. His partner makes these high, aborted noises that have no right in making Minho's cock harder than it already is; he doesn't know if he even can get harder, honestly, but his dick is doing a valiant job in trying. He pushes the tie further and further, smirking as Jisung's throat spasms when it hits the back. Deeming his job done, Minho pulls back.
Jisung's mouth has closed over the tie; there's so much of it in his mouth that he can't even clench his teeth. His lips are pulled into a kind of O-shape as he breathes through his nose, eyes fluttering at the sensation.
Minho squeezes Jisung's thigh. The other gives a quiet moan, muffled by the fabric.
"God, you're so perfect for me," Minho groans lowly. "So beautiful, gagging on your own tie to keep yourself quiet."
Jisung's always loved mixing praise and degradation; true to Minho's prediction, his eyes flutter closed as his head tilts back. Minho leans in to his neck, pressing butterfly kisses along the column of it, over his collarbones.
He can't hold back anymore.
Minho needs both of his hands on Jisung's body, so he decides to place Jisung's hands onto each arm of the chair. "Keep those pretty hands there for me, okay? No touching."
Jisung sighs but nods. His fingers flex against the wood.
Hands free, Minho sucks a bruise onto Jisung's neck, slowly unbuttoning the shirt. Normally Jisung would protest, but like this he can only squirm and twitch under Minho, and god if that doesn't do things to him. They've talked about marks, they both know they're fine with them, the stylist noonas can just cover them. So Minho's free to go to town.
Not that he'll mark Jisung up a lot. Just…a little. So everybody knows who he belongs to. So nobody thinks he's available for the taking.
He's going to ruin this man.
Once the shirt is open, Minho decides to sit properly in Jisung's lap and grind down, slow and hard. It's heavenly, the friction after so long, but the visual is even better; Jisung's hands clench around the wood of the chair arms, back arching as much as it can. He can't move to rut against Minho, pressed against the chair as he is, only able to take what Minho gives him. His skin under Minho's fingers is flushed, pink all over his chest and stomach; Minho traces soft patterns into the give of his tummy, his abs, trailing up to his pecs and giving them the same attention.
Jisung is a being that deserves to be worshipped. Minho is just doing his job.
His partner's doing a great job, actually; he hasn't moved his hands at all, and though his head is thrown back in pleasure as Minho grinds, the gag is doing a great job of muffling the sounds.
Minho's patience grows thin again.
He lifts himself up and away from Jisung, heart fluttering at Jisung's desperate noises. Even though his hips cant up to chase the pleasure and his stomach contracts from the sensation leaving, his hands don't leave their position.
Minho sinks to his knees.
Like this, bracketed by Jisung's legs and looking up at his fucked-out expression — this is where Minho is in his element. This is when he feels at home.
His eyes fix themselves on the bulge in Jisung's trousers hungrily. Fingers deftly unhook the button and pull down the zipper, Jisung lifting his hips to help. He's tenting his boxers so much; his cock isn't as big as Minho's but it isn't anything to scoff at either. It's a pretty cock. It's very Jisung.
Even when covered by his boxers.
Minho presses forward and leaves an open-mouthed kiss to the side of it.
Jisung's hips buck forward dangerously at that, so Minho grips them and pushes Jisung down harshly. "Behave."
The man lets out a choked whine.
Minho continues mouthing at the cock, taking his sweet time. Teasing Jisung is half the fun, honestly, he just gets so whiny, and when he's stimulated enough he cries such beautiful tears. Minho wants Jisung to cry. He needs it like he needs air.
Something salty hits his tongue, and he realizes that Jisung's precum is leaking through his boxers.
The thought makes him groan onto Jisung's dick, the other's stomach convulsing at the sensation.
That's enough, he decides; Jisung's getting too high strung and Minho has plans.
He pulls the boxers down slowly, fixed on how Jisung's dick springs up once it's free, all flushed and leaking. The boxers stay in the crease of Jisung's knees; like this, Jisung won't be able to move his legs while Minho has his way with him.
Minho looks up in a last-minute show of restraint. "Are you okay with this, Jisung-ah?"
Jisung's drooling around the tie.
Fuck. He's drooling. Around the tie. Minho's pants are so tight against him; he just needs Jisung's confirmation before he goes through with the plan. His final restraint. Jisung may be the one being pleasured, but he always has the final say.
Jisung catches his breath, opening his eyes a little, and nodding.
And that's all Minho needs.
He starts by licking at the tip softly, almost kitten-like, tasting the precum and gathering it on his tongue. His hands keep holding Jisung's hips down, so the only thing Jisung can do is arch his spine and cry brokenly. Minho's lips open to press a kiss to the tip, before taking some of the cock into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.
He bobs there for a minute before letting Jisung's cock fill his mouth, bottoming out. Like this, his nose is pressed to Jisung's stomach; his throat flutters around Jisung's cock, not gagging through sheer will (and practice). Jisung throws his head back, mouth limp around the tie which is becoming more and more soaked. It's so wet. Jisung's wet up there and down here and Minho's so hard in his pants it's painful.
He takes a moment to unzip his pants, palming at his erection. The friction after so long forces a groan from his throat, which makes Jisung's core spasm as he shakes in pleasure.
He takes Jisung apart slowly. He bobs his head like he's savoring a desert, swirling his tongue just like how Jisung likes it. One hand pressures his cock while the other holds Jisung's hips down in a vice grip. Jisung just moans, low in his throat before breaking into a high whine, all muffled by the fucking tie.
Minho pulls off for a moment, throat hoarse. "You're doing so good for me, jagi-yah."
When Jisung looks down, he's crying.
"Oh, baby."
Tears roll down his face as he sobs around the tie, chest heaving. Minho knows these are good tears, but he still decides to check. "Do you need to use your safeword?"
Jisung shakes his head emphatically.
Minho giggles. "You want to take what I give you, is that it? Want to be my pretty little slut?"
The answering nod is even more emphatic. Something close to joy lights in Minho's chest, though it may just be desire. He brings his lips to Jisung's cock again, looking up through his eyelids. "Then come for me, Jisung-ah. Come down my throat, okay? Let hyung make you feel good."
He takes Jisung in his mouth in one go, purposefully gagging around it. Spit falls from his lips as his throat contracts around the cock, but he holds himself there and sucks.
Jisung falls apart with a keening cry, fully sobbing now; his cum goes straight down Minho's throat, and he forces himself to relax lest he choke. Jisung's hands tremble from their position, but they don't move an inch. They just shake as he lets himself go. His back is bowed, tension in every muscle, before Minho milks the last of the cum and he slumps in exhaustion.
Minho pulls off, mindful of the oversensitivity; normally Jisung loves it when Minho overstimulates him, but he seems too tired for it today. His eyes remain closed, chest heaving as his sobs die down. His mouth is so open the tie is almost falling out; Minho can almost see the folds of it pressed against his cheeks.
Its too beautiful a visual. Minho's already close just from this.
He stands shakily, legs aching from the position. A hand comes down to jerk himself off, sliding messily, control nonexistent. He climbs onto the chair again, but this time with both knees; like this, his cock is almost level with Jisung's face.
When Jisung realizes what's happening, he lets out a small, pitiful cry, looking up at Minho with watery eyes that seem to hold stars. His hand moves faster against himself, the other coming to wipe a tear from Jisung's face. "Can hyung come on your face, jagi?"
Jisung nods, once, twice shakily, and Minho knows that if he could he'd be begging right now, mewling little pleases, hyung please, give it to me please —
The tension in Minho's stomach snaps.
It feels like an explosion when he climaxes; it's all he can do to keep his eyes open, head down to see Jisung's face as his seed splashes onto his face. It catches on the tie, staining it white; it drips from Jisung's chin onto his chest, effectively claiming him.
Fuck.
When the high dies down, Minho lets himself fall to sit on Jisung's thigh. He's presses his lips to the corner of Jisung's eyes, where stray tears make their way down. They're salty on Minho's tongue; he chases it, kissing away all the tears and release that coat Jisung's face. Once Jisung's relatively clean, Minho turns his attention back to the gag.
It's…well, the tie has had much better days.
Minho tugs on it gently, and Jisung opens his jaw wider to let the fabric out. It's bunched and soaked; somehow, even though Minho just came, a curl of heat lights in his gut again.
No. Bad Minho. Later.
Jisung doesn't even close his mouth once it's out; it rests open, swollen and red as he pants softly. Minho can't resist but press a soft, reassuring kiss to that mouth, a reassurance after the storm. Jisung's too fucked out to kiss back much, but he hums pleasedly into Minho's mouth, arm coming up to curl around Minho's waist.
It's with great reluctance that Minho pulls away. "Good?"
"Hyung, holy fuck," Jisung laughs, smiling tiredly. "Your mouth."
Minho lets himself bask in the compliment, smirking. "We'll probably have to buy you a new tie, now that I think about it."
"And who's fault was that?"
"Yours, for being so damn distracting with it~"
"Yes, but it was your idea to —"
Knock knock knock
They both freeze.
"You guys better not be fucking in there!"
That's definitely Chan.
They stare at each other with wide eyes before reality sets in, Minho pulling back sharply. "Hurry, put your pants on —"
"Hyung," Jisung interjects incredulously. "The door was locked the whole time!?"