Archive of Our Own

The first time Jisung brings it up to Minho, he’s devastatingly drunk. 

They went out with Changbin and some company people to celebrate one of their manager’s birthdays, and for once, the man allowed himself to let loose and urged them to drink with him. Jisung did, laughing while they all marvelled at the amount of alcohol their manager could down in a very short time. Changbin joined, ending up challenging Jisung to another soju shot, then another, until they’d had way too many each.

Getting Jisung drunk could go two ways, either fun extrovert life of the party, or crippling anxiety. Tonight was the fun one, and Minho couldn’t help smiling as he watched Jisung make jokes and laugh while letting Changbin get him drunk.

Eventually, two staff members went home with a soft admonition to stay out of trouble, but the rest of them went to an exclusive club. Minho really only came to make sure none of them did anything stupid, not having had remotely as much alcohol as most of the crew, and the only remaining staff member that was sober looked a little scared on his own.

”Come on, let’s go dance!” Changbin urges, almost whines as he looks between Jisung and Minho where he stands, ready to herd two drunk staff members to the dancefloor. ”We can even dance dirty here, it’ll be fun!”

”I can’t!” Jisung complains loudly, leaning back against the cushioned backrest of their secluded booth with a pained look. ”I can’t even stand!”

Changbin rolls his eyes and turns to Minho with an encouraging look, but he just shrugs and points at Jisung with his thumb.

”Gotta look after him,” he says, and sees Changbin open his mouth to object, so he goes on. ”You know he’ll throw up eventually.”

Changbin pauses with his lips parted because he knows that’s true, then rolls his eyes again with an exasperated smile, like he was stupid to assume Minho would ever leave Jisung alone. He kind of was. ”Of course.”

He turns to the giggling manager and assistant busy re-styling each other’s hair into mohawks, and laughs. ”Come on boys, guess it’s just us!”

They cheer and disappear towards the dancefloor, and Minho sips his beer with a smile, reassuring the sober man that he and Jisung will stay seated before watching him hurry after the other three. At least he’s glad they’re having fun.

There’s a slap against his thigh that surprises him, and he turns to Jisung to ask what the hell that was for, but then there’s a weight against his side as Jisung’s head falls onto his shoulder.

”You’re mean. I’m not gonna throw up, ” Jisung claims, but Minho doesn’t listen too closely. He’s busy feeling Jisung’s soft hair against his neck and the scent of his unisex cologne wading into his system. 

It affects him in a different way when he’s had some alcohol, the normally well functioning walls he has easily tearing down and he feels things he’s not allowed.

Like how much he wants to reach out and twirl Jisung’s hair around his fingers, brush his bangs from his face.He could technically do that and more, Jisung wouldn’t even be phased, but right now it would only hurt because it wouldn’t mean anything.

”You usually do,” Minho tells him instead, letting Jisung rub his cheek against Minho’s shoulder with a protesting noise.

”Let’s talk about something else,” he mutters, and Minho smiles at the weak protest, because Jisung knows the truth.

”Okay,” Minho agrees, still smiling as he indulges his best friend. ”What do you want to talk about?”

”I don’t know,” Jisung says, but Minho hears there’s something on his mind, so he waits patiently for his drunken brain to figure out what it is. ”Something we don’t usually talk about.”

”Mmhm,” Minho agrees, feeling a little wary because he has an idea where this is going. ”Like what?”

There’s a silence, so Minho gently shrugs his shoulder to urge him on, and he doesn’t want to admit how much he misses the warmth when Jisung sits back up.

”Like sex,” he says finally, and Minho wets his lips nervously before turning to look at Jisung, but he’s reached for his cocktail, just holding the glass as he looks at the remaining alcohol in it. ”We never talk about sex.”

”No,” Minho agrees, watching as Jisung’s head turns but he’s still not prepared for those gorgeous eyes finding his, a curious look beneath the haze of alcohol. ”We don’t.”

Jisung watches him for a moment, and Minho wonders for not the first time if Jisung knows why they don’t. Why they really shouldn’t. But then Jisung tilts his head, his dark hair brushing against his cheekbone and Minho steels himself for the conversation Jisung’s about to start.

”Do you have sex?” Jisung finally asks, and Minho has to smile, because the question is genuine, no judgement, but it’s still somehow anxious.

”Sometimes,” he finally answers, and his smile is a little sad but he’s not sure if Jisung picks up on that nuance right now.

”Just sometimes? Why not often?” Jisung asks, frowning a little, and Minho swallows. ”You’re really hot.”

Minho’s jaw clenches at the easily spoken compliment. It’s not like he can answer truthfully, that the person he wants to have sex with is dating girls. Most recently he’s dating one since almost eight months and seemingly still going strong.

”The people I used to have sex with are dating other people,” he finally says, because he doesn’t lie to Jisung if he can avoid it. And that’s part of the truth.

”Oh,” Jisung frowns, but not like he’s sorry to hear that, and his next question betrays the thoughts in his head. ”Like who?”

Minho laughs softly, and he wants to reach out and stroke Jisung’s cheek, smooth out the frown on his face. ”I don’t think you need to know.”

Jisung looks up sharply, expression upset but it’s mostly cute with his glazed eyes and pink cheeks. ”Why not? You know who I sleep with!”

”Yes, I do, but I really don’t need to,” Minho tells him, his voice coming out a little harsher than he’d like, but every time Jisung talks about his girlfriends it’s like he stabs Minho straight in the chest.

He can’t even remember for how long he’s been in love with Jisung. Probably since he first saw him as an anxious, feisty teenager who just wanted to be seen. Since then, they’ve become friends, close friends, and then best friends, however childish that term might be, but never more than friends. 

Minho has always liked other guys. It wasn’t something he had to come to terms with, it’s just always been like that. He kept quiet about it once he realised it wasn’t normal per say, and even though he sometimes wished he could just like girls like he was supposed to, it never felt right. And then he met Jisung, and things just clicked into place. Like his mind and emotions finally aligned, settling on one single thing he wanted with his entire being. 

At first, he might have deluded himself into thinking Jisung felt the same way. Attracted, curious, desperately interested in anything that was the other. Then he saw Jisung kiss a girl and smile like she was his entire world, and his heart shattered. 

He still let Jisung do anything he wanted, kept playing up their fanservice couple, painfully aware of the Minsung of it all. That people were convinced they were dating, when all they did was play around, Jisung letting Minho cross boundaries in the public eye that he would never try in private. Minho wishes so fucking hard that they were dating.

Minho has dated, had some crushes he went out with a couple times, and definitely had his share of meaningless sex. But since Jisung is always right here, next to him, being beautiful and silly and complicated, Minho accepted that this is where his heart will belong for the rest of his life and there’s no point in trying to change that. 

”I wish we talked about sex more,” Jisung says then, voice quieter, vulnerable in a way that it’s usually not. ”There are things I feel like I can’t tell anyone but you.”

Minho wants to end the conversation, he really does, because he doesn’t want to hear any details of what Jisung does with his model girlfriend behind closed doors. He knows that the images will play before his inner eye when he’s alone in bed and he’ll feel the tears burning behind his eyelids as he touches himself, ending up with a mess and overwhelming self-loathing. It won’t be the first time. At least Jisung never brings her over so he has to hear them.

But the hurt in Jisung’s tone overshadows his own pain and the need to help him wins out, as it always does.

”You know you can tell me anything,” Minho says, hoping he doesn’t sound as apprehensive as he feels.

”Can I?” Jisung asks, turning back to look at Minho, eyes hazy and uncertain, and the pink on his cheeks almost makes him look like he’s about to cry. ”I feel weird telling you about it, because you’re like, above it. You never talk about sex, it’s like it’s too normal for you, and I feel like such a dude when I want to, but still like such a girl because boys don’t actually talk about sex, you know?”

Minho listens and watches Jisung closely, wondering if Jisung’s actually saying Minho is too good for sex. 

”I understand,” he says finally, because he does. He’s heard enough straight boys talk about girls that he knows what Jisung means. They cheer each other on when they manage to sleep with a girl and say she’s hot, but that’s about it. ”And trust me, just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean I don’t think about it? I want sex too.”

Jisung blinks at him, looking pretty dumb with his glazed eyes and surprised look, but it’s so cute and Minho wishes it wasn’t. 

”You do?” he asks softly, a little in disbelief, and Minho shrugs apologetically, keeping his lips closed in order not to say that the only one he really wants to sleep with is Jisung. Has been Jisung since the day they met. ”Oh.”

There’s a silence, and Jisung squeezes his cocktail glass between both hands, wetting his lips and Minho involuntarily watches his biceps tense under his T-shirt sleeve.

”What did you want to talk about?” Minho finally asks, in order to stop himself from reaching out to touch Jisung.

Jisung sighs and lifts the glass to finish the rest of his cocktail, alcohol he definitely doesn’t need, and Minho considers telling him not to, but instead watches him swallow, wetting his lips. Whatever Jisung wants to say, it’s clearly making him uncomfortable despite how drunk he is, and that makes Minho equally as nervous and curious.

”I want more,” Jisung finally says, like it’s the heaviest thing he’s ever had to say, and Minho raises an eyebrow, because that could mean anything. 

He waits for Jisung to go on, but he doesn’t, so Minho clears his throat.

”More as in… frequency?” he tries, and Jisung makes a grimace that fails to ruin the beauty of his face.

”No, I…” he trails off with a sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration. ”I don’t know. I just feel like it’s not good enough. Like I’m having milkshake when I could have ice cream. Like everyone else is having ice cream on a daily basis and I don’t even know what it tastes like.” 

Minho thinks about that for a moment, processing what the words mean. He figures it means Jisung’s girlfriend isn’t that good in bed, and he finds himself having to squash the aggressive urge to tell Jisung he could give him chocolate ice cream with fucking toppings if he was allowed.

”Well,” Minho starts, and Jisung’s eyes are pleading as they fix on Minho like he will have the answer to his problems. ”If that’s how you feel, maybe you two are not very compatible?”

He tries to be reasonable, he really does. And it’s not like he’s ever voiced his opinions that Jisung should break up with his girlfriends before. Except that one girl with the stalking tendencies, that one he was very vocal about, but so was everyone else.

”It’s not…” Jisung starts, then breathes a sigh so big his shoulders slump as he breathes out, looking down at the table surface. ”It’s not just her. It’s always been like that.”

Minho pauses, feeling his lips part in surprise at the realisation, his heart rate rising despite itself as a stupid ray of hope forms in his chest. 

”Oh,” he realises out loud, then asks to confirm. ”You don’t like sex?”

”Yes I do,” Jisung quickly defends himself, then backtracks a little before daring a glance at Minho. ”I mean, it’s good enough, I like it. I don’t hate it. I just feel like… when everyone else talks about it, or when I look at my girlfriends, they like it much more than I do. And I want it to feel like how it feels for them. Or am I just… Are my expectations too high? I don’t know. I just… I like it much better when I’m alone and that’s not how it’s supposed to be, right?”

Minho wets his lips and draws a steadying breath as an involuntary image of Jisung pleasuring himself flashes before his eyes. In his bed, or maybe in their shared bathroom. Maybe-

”No, I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that,” Minho confirms, firmly cutting his own thoughts off, and Jisung sighs shakily. Minho thinks both once and twice, but finally he decides he’ll just ask and deal with the possible consequences. ”So what do you want that you’re not getting?”

“That’s just it, I don’t know?” Jisung whines, sliding down a little in his seat as he hides his face in his hands. “I’ve tried everything but it doesn’t work.”

“Well,” Minho starts, knowing this is the most dangerous territory he’s ever ventured into with Jisung, but a part of him knows this conversation will never happen again and so he can’t help himself. “Then what’s the difference when you’re alone and it is good? Do you picture something specific, or…?”

Jisung makes an embarrassed noise behind his hands and Minho trails off, feeling his pulse in his entire body, his palms sweaty and he kind of wants to run away.

“It’s embarrassing,” Jisung mumbles, but he drops his hands and the pink blush on his cheeks is darker as he refuses to look at Minho. “And not very helpful.”

“Why is that?” Minho asks, breathless from stress, but also anticipation that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. 

“I just… It’s not the same,” Jisung mutters, staring at the table edge as he crosses his arms defensively. “Even if I ask a girl to pull my hair, shove me face first against a wall and call me a whore, it’s not as hot in real life.”

Minho barely bites back a small noise that threatens to leave his lips, and he determinedly clenches his hands and takes a deep breath. This was so stupid of him to bring up, so fucking stupid, because even though he’s usually good at keeping his physical reactions in check, Jisung’s embarrassed voice speaking actual filth is too much.

Finally, Jisung turns to look at him, anxious, like he’s waiting for judgement, and Minho does his best to look neutral, not like he’s so fucking turned on by the glimpse into Jisung’s sexual fantasies that he forgot to breathe.

“Why isn’t it the same?” Minho finally manages to ask as he desperately tries to think of scary things to will down the start of an erection. Jisung thankfully doesn’t notice the unnatural depth in his voice.

“It’s…” Jisung sighs, but then makes a face and cuts himself off. “... I don’t feel so good.”

It takes Minho a second to realise what that means, and he actually laughs at the sudden interruption, the tension still buzzing in his body as Jisung looks over at him with a miserable look.

”I hate you,” Jisung mutters, then starts to get up, stumbling as he does, and Minho quickly rises to steady him.

”Want me to hold your hair?” Minho asks, the smile still on his lips, and even though his tone is teasing, he’s serious.

”Iew, no,” Jisung says, then makes an alarmed face and he swallows visibly.

Minho hurries to drag him along to the bathroom and shove him into a stall. 

Then he steps out, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom and breathing a huge sigh. He covers his face with his hands for a moment, because even the very vivid sound of Jisung throwing up that’s still ringing in his ears can’t seem to dampen his arousal. He desperately considers ordering a couple of shots just to disable that bodily function entirely.

He knows he shouldn’t dwell on this, should let Jisung’s words pass as drunk rambling, but he can’t lie to himself, and the questions flit around in his head like a flock of upset birds in a cage. 

He sinks down to a crouch and lowers his hands, staring at the sticky club floor in front of him, and he wonders. 

Wonders if Jisung’s ever told his girlfriends about this, wonders if they’ve tried to make it better. Wonders what it is that Jisung doesn’t like about sex. If it’s possible that it’s girls.

Minho cuts himself off right there to keep his heart from fluttering, and steps back into the bathroom to check on his best friend.

Jisung is miserable and refuses to open the stall door at first, but eventually lets Minho drag him back out, dab his forehead with water and tell him it’s alright.

Finally, Minho deems the likelihood of him being sick again low enough for transport home to be possible, and as he watches Jisung fall asleep in the car, head leaning against the window and his lips slightly parted, he just prays that Jisung won’t remember this night when he wakes up.

At first, it doesn’t seem like he does. Jisung whines about his hangover, drapes himself over Minho’s shoulder and begs for him to make him coffee the next morning, and that’s normal enough for Minho to breathe out in relief.

They go to their afternoon schedule together and Jisung acts normal, being bullied by Changbin for getting too drunk and he whines and calls him names back, trying to claim that at least he didn’t throw up. Minho doesn’t interfere, but smiles and rolls his eyes when Changbin raises questioning eyebrows at him, Seungmin a curious audience while Chan clearly couldn’t care less. Seungmin interprets Minho correctly and starts calling Jisung a liar, which only results in more namecalling and laughter until Chan gently but firmly stops them. 

But then during the day, Minho peripherally notices Jisung send him looks, that are quickly cut somewhere else as soon as he tries to face them. He gets a vague feeling that Jisung’s embarrassed, and he can only imagine one thing that he’d feel that way about.

It takes about a week, maybe longer. Then Jisung comes home late one night from what Minho assumes is the studio, looking absolutely exhausted, dark rings under his eyes. It’s not uncommon, so Minho isn’t too bothered, simply nods hello from where he’s sitting on a kitchen chair with his laptop in front of him, sneaking chocolate while watching one of those stupid dating shows Jisung recommended.

He expects to be teased about it, maybe playfully scolded for ruining his diet, but Jisung just quietly sits down opposite him, staring down at the table surface while nervously fiddling with his rings.

Minho raises an eyebrow, pausing the episode as he looks across the table, picking up a hint of a girly perfume when he focuses. His stomach lurches as he perceives the upcoming topic of conversation before Jisung says anything.

”We broke up,” Jisung says, his soft voice loud in the silent room, and his big eyes are full of pain when they glance up at Minho for a second.

”Oh,” Minho realises out loud, a strange sensation of nothing, followed by relief, followed by self-loathing at the fruitless hope that blossoms in his chest like so many times before. 

Slowly, he pushes his half eaten chocolate bar across the tabletop. ”Chocolate?”

”Booze?” Jisung suggests, tilting his head back with a sigh before he looks back at Minho, eyes dark and serious.

Minho raises both eyebrows in surprise, on account of alcohol not being Jisung’s usual guilty pleasure. But he looks serious about his request.

”Booze it is,” Minho agrees, and he can’t help a small smile. ”You can have one glass.”

”Jeez mom, I am an adult,” Jisung replies with an acted eyeroll, but he mirrors Minho’s faint smile. Suddenly, it’s easier to breathe.

Minho dutifully gets up and brings out two glasses, picking out a bottle of decent rum and pours them both a small amount. Jisung doesn’t really like hard liquor like this, so hopefully it’ll pacify him. Keep him from drinking too much.

Jisung predictably makes a face as he receives the glass, but still takes a sip. ”Iew.”

”There are schedules tomorrow morning, you drink what you get,” Minho tells him pointedly, and Jisung sighs as he glances into the glass.

”Don’t we have anything else?” he asks, looking up under lashes with such a miserable look that Minho has to laugh. Almost goes to the store to buy him something else. 

”Not for neat drinking. Didn’t feel like the time for making fancy cocktails,” Minho shrugs, and Jisung rolls his eyes as he always does when Minho’s being difficult. ”And we’re out of soju.”

But unlike usual, his eyes linger on Minho, a different look than he usually wears when he just thinks he’s being silly. Something contemplating, like he’s trying to figure him out.

It makes Minho uncomfortable and he sips his rum to prepare himself for feeling even worse.

”So what happened?” he asks, ready for the floodgates to open.

But Jisung just winces and looks away, parting his lips but then closes them again.

”I-” he starts, then cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, and Minho frowns because this is not how it’s been before. And if Jisung’s not crying, there’s only one explanation.

”Did you end it?” he asks after another moment of silence, the only noise in the apartment being the air conditioner humming in the living room. 

”Yeah,” Jisung shrugs in defeat, finally meeting Minho’s eyes, and he looks bewildered and a little scared, not devastated as he’s done before. 

Minho wets his lips nervously, and for some reason, his heart speeds up. 

”Why?” he finally asks as Jisung remains quiet, watching his own fingertips tapping a rhythm on the glass, and Minho watches too. 

Watches his rings against the soft skin of his fingers, the veins on the back of his hands and the beaded bracelet shifting with the flexing of tendons.

”Because of what we talked about,” Jisung says lightly, like Minho’s supposed to understand, then drinks a rather impressive amount of the rum he didn’t want.

Minho frowns despite deep down already knowing what Jisung means, but he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about that with only one sip of rum in him. He quickly drinks another. 

Jisung glances up and clearly sees his confusion, and a hint of a blush brushes the tops of his cheekbones. It’s beautiful. ”You know. At the club.”

”Ah,” Minho acknowledges, almost wanting to smile just from the sheer stress of not knowing where this conversation is going. ”Then maybe it’s for the best.”

”I don’t know,” Jisung admits, looking up at Minho full of the worry that is obviously what he needs the support for. ”I still like her, a lot, and it was fucking hard to break up with her, and I still don’t know if it was a huge mistake.”

Minho looks at him evenly, trying his hardest to push all his emotions deep down into his chest and lock them away in favour of being a good friend as he speaks. ”Do you still love her?”

Jisung’s slight shift in facial expression is enough for Minho to let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, guilty relief washing away the threat of imminent heartbreak. 

”I’m not sure I ever did,” he admits quietly, and Minho drinks more rum. ”I was in love at first but then I just really liked her and it was all convenient and easy. Except… yeah.”

”Then you did the right thing,” Minho tells him easily. ”You’re not supposed to be with someone just because it’s convenient.”

”I think she loved me though,” Jisung says, and he sounds more hurt than he has up until this point of their conversation as he looks into his drink blindly, seeming lost in thought.

”Of course she did,” Minho speaks before he thinks, and Jisung’s pretty eyes lift in surprise, so he quickly explains himself to make it sound less like what it was. ”I mean, what girl wouldn’t?”

Jisung’s face falls a little but he quickly covers it up, leaning back in his seat. ”I just… I’m starting to feel like I’m never going to find something better, so maybe I should just settle.”

”No,” Minho says so firmly it surprises even himself, Jisung jumping visibly in his seat. ”You should never settle. You’re incredible Jisungie, you deserve the best.”

Jisung makes a small, pained noise, and Minho can sense his leg starting to bounce under the table, so he reaches out and locks their ankles together in order to still it.

”But what if-” Jisung starts, then cuts himself off with an uncomfortable noise. Minho nudges his leg encouragingly. ”What if I’m the problem?”

”You’re not,” Minho reassures, forcing his voice to come out softer, comforting despite his own chest shattering into a thousand pieces from how much he wants to scream. ”You’re perfect, and there’s someone out there who will make you realise that. Who’ll love you like you deserve to be loved. Who’ll make you feel so good you forget ever letting anyone else touch you.” 

Minho said too much. He wants to claw at his own chest to try and stop the pain in his heart, and he clears his throat but it still feels scratchy.

Jisung blinks at him with wide eyes, leg completely still and lips a little parted. Eyes glittering. ”… You really think so, hyung?”

”I know so,” Minho says, quickly downing the rest of his rum and making a face because that was too much at once but he needs to go. ”I’m going to bed.”

He catches Jisung’s frown and his lips parting to say something before he practically flees. He doesn’t even bother going to the bathroom for his night routine, simply leans against his closed bedroom door and breathes until he can think somewhat clearly again.

He doesn’t notice the tears until his eyes open and his eyelashes feel sticky. He angrily rubs them away as he strips his clothes and curls under the covers, trying not to think about how Jisung’s the only one who can make him cry.

Jisung doesn’t say anything the next morning, or the following day, instead initiates his usual breakup-routine, keeping a bit of a distance from Minho. It’s not much, really, and Minho knows it’s his own fault for not being supportive enough of Jisung’s crying over girls in the past, but he still misses him. Misses Jisung just hanging around, misses watching movies with him every other night. 

Minho sees Jisung with Felix a lot, seeking comfort and closeness in his self-appointed twin who wouldn’t dream of turning him down. Changbin makes sure there’s always snacks Jisung likes and Chan lets Jisung get away with things he normally wouldn’t. Even Seungmin doesn’t comment when Jisung whines.

Jisung writes about ten songs that nobody gets to hear, hidden away in his private files. But Minho knows, because Jisung is picking out his phone to hum a melody into his voice notes at all times of the day and scribbles words or sentences on anything even remotely paper-like, including napkins, post-its and the corner of a bill. Minho hears him sing through his closed bedroom door, but he doesn’t stop to listen to the words because he knows it’d do him no good. 

Then, things start to go back to normal. It’s been three weeks when Chan scolds Jisung for forgetting something, and that signals that his exemption period has ended. 

Jisung starts to come out of his room again when they’re both home, and Minho feels his entire body relax, like he’s been walking around on edge for the past month. Maybe he has. 

It’s late on a Wednesday night, or maybe Thursday morning, and they’re on Jisung’s bed watching a shitty drama Hyunjin insisted they would like. Jisung is curled up against the headboard, wearing one of Minho’s old hoodies because houseclothes are shared property in their household.

Minho’s hugging a pillow, trying to pretend it doesn’t warm his heart to see Jisung in his clothes, with his sweater paws and his chipping nail polish that was artistically applied to a few fingers last photoshoot. Obviously, Minho’s not too invested in the drama, and so he startles when Jisung leans forward and starts pressing the fast forward button.

He blinks a few times as he frowns at the screen, realising a bedroom scene just came on. Or maybe it’s been building for a while. Minho hasn’t been watching. 

”What are you doing?” Minho asks, turning to find a faint blush on Jisung’s cheeks, his back arched under the soft black fabric as he skips past the sex scene. It doesn’t even look very graphic, from the stills Minho catches glimpses of as Jisung tries to find where it ends.

”I’m too sexually frustrated for shit like this,” Jisung huffs, then leans back as there’s a cut to a daylight scene. ”Don’t laugh at me.”

Minho blinks again, and he can’t help himself. ”You’ve been single for a month?”

”Yeah, and I’m used to getting some more often than that, okay?” Jisung says, voice bordering on a whine. His cheeks are blossoming with embarrassment now. ”I’m still getting used to this dry spell.”

Minho thinks about all the things he could say. Chooses none of them. Forces a smirk and a small eyebrow wiggle. ”Whatever you say.”

”Oh come on, hyung,” Jisung whines for real this time, and Minho’s fingers dig into the pillow a little tighter. ”When’s the last time you had sex?”

The question takes Minho by surprise, and he turns to look at Jisung properly. He’s still blushing, but his gaze is curious. Genuinely asking. Minho’s never been able to deny those big, beautiful eyes.

”Like…” he starts, silently counting backwards in his head. There was that choreographer, but that was over clothes stuff so he doesn’t think that counts, so award show hookup it is. ”Eight, nine months ago or so?”

Jisung’s already huge eyes widen further in shock, his lips parting slightly, and all of his lovely little microexpressions show his train of thought. Surprise, then confusion, then guilt with a sprinkle of bashfulness.

”Ah, sorry hyung, guess I shouldn’t complain,” he says softly, scratching at the hair behind his ear, then laughs. ”That’s like a whole pregnancy, wow. Your last hookup could be giving birth as we speak.”

Minho blinks at the words, mouth parting in surprise. 

Then his eyebrows rise when he registers the nuances of the strange sentence. An awkwardness in Jisung’s tone, like he got uncomfortable with his words and tried to joke them away but realised too late that they were too heavy to lift with laughter.

”Jisung, are you serious?” Minho asks, and his tone comes out too grave, acknowledging Jisung’s stiffness when he probably didn’t want him to, but he needs to know. But Jisung misinterprets what he meant, too wound up in his misstep to understand that Minho couldn’t care less about the joke that didn’t land.

”No! No, of course not,” Jisung quickly reassures with a somewhat hysteric smile, a sweater-pawed hand coming down on Minho’s knee and squeezing as he babbles on. ”I know you’re responsible and you would never-”

”No, Jisungie,” Minho wets his lips and stops his rant, because that’s not what he meant and he realises he’s going to have to spell it out for him. He truly thought Jisung always knew and it was just something they never addressed. But if he doesn’t know, that’s not a secret he wants to keep from his best friend. ”I don’t sleep with girls. You know that, right?”

It’s Jisung’s turn to blink. His wide eyes disappear behind fluttering lashes once, twice, his hands awkwardly curling in his lap and his plush lips part a little. Then he wets them and he seems to shake himself out of whatever shock Minho just put him in, and Minho tries to ignore the way his heart beats way too fast, making him lightheaded. 

A sudden dread passes through him at a wild thought that Jisung might take this badly. He’s never cared about the others figuring themselves out, but maybe, when it’s Minho, who’s constantly all over him, it might be different. 

But of course it isn’t. 

“Oh! Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah, of course I do. Of course I know, you’re my best friend, why wouldn’t I know?” Jisung rambles, voice a little shrill and he runs a hand through his loose hair, then laughs stiffly. “That’s… That’s like common knowledge around here, yeah? That… That you like guys. Of course I know. Pfft.”

He makes a small noise at the end of his sentence to really punch in what a small deal this is, and Minho swallows down some of his own panic, seeing Jisung’s reaction for exactly what it is. 

He carefully reaches out for his hand, pretending his fingertips don’t tremble as he moves slowly enough that Jisung could pull away if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. Minho takes Jisung’s hand between both of his own, thumbs brushing over the fraying cuff of the hoodie. Searches for his wide, dark eyes where the hurt is shining.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says, and he means it so much it almost hurts. “I really thought you knew, I never meant to… You know. Not tell you.”

“Okay,” Jisung breathes, then wets his lips and clears his throat, and Minho’s hands instinctively tighten a little. “Okay, yeah, I get that. I mean, I guess I should have known, you never look at girls, do you?”

Minho shakes his head with an apologetic shrug. 

Jisung stares blindly into space for a moment, then breathes a small laugh that sounds more embarrassed than hurt now. His hand slowly turns in Minho’s hold, gripping onto his wrist and shaking it a little. “See hyung, this is why we should talk about sex more often. If we did, I’d never have been this clueless.”

Minho breathes a laugh too, a little startled at the same time as he’s not surprised at all. Jisung’s ears are red and he still looks shaken, but his posture is relaxed now and he easily withdraws his hand enough to hold Minho’s.

“I don’t know if we have much in common in that department,” Minho tries, and Jisung rolls his eyes and a familiar whine passes his lips. 

“Hyung,” he complains, and the tension drains from the air between them, like a clogged stream where you just had to poke the leaves away with a stick to help it along first. “It’s still sex, I doubt you’re that freaky.”

Then his eyes widen and he looks straight at Minho like he’s never seen him. “Or wait, are you? I mean I thought I was your best friend up until like five minutes ago but clearly I barely know you…”

He trails off in a joking tone, but it’s not covering up hurt feelings this time. 

Minho rolls his eyes and squeezes Jisung’s fingers tighter. It’s mostly from stress at how Jisung seems intent on talking about this and Minho has no idea how to deal with it. So he offers up something that could be the truth if you look at it right. “Just a little freaky. Probably exactly what you’d expect from me.”

“Ohh, what are you into?” Jisung’s eyes sparkle and he leans forward a little bit, his smile way too curious and Minho fucking blushes. “Bondage? Or more hardcore stuff?”

“God, Jisungie,” Minho whines, withdrawing his hands to cover his face, suddenly far too flustered. A little turned on. Terrified. “Why are you so interested suddenly?”

“Well, like I said, clearly I don’t know you well enough, so here we are,” Jisung tilts his head cutely, but he does look a little hesitant to push. Minho wishes he wouldn’t, but he does. “Tell me about your sex life.”

Minho huffs a sigh, tries to regain some composure but his entire hormonal system is freaking out, sending positive and negative feedback all over the place because he’s in Jisung’s bed being asked about bondage. He doesn’t know if he wants to die, jerk off, cry or leave the country. 

“Come on, hyung,” Jisung tries, and he clearly makes an effort to keep sounding confident, but there’s a fragile edge to his words now. “You don’t have to list your kinks or anything, even if I would obviously appreciate that, but you could also just… tell me about your last hookup or something. Wait, did you ever have a boyfriend?”

Minho freezes. Then he slowly looks up at Jisung, finding his eyes wide, and Minho’s not ready for that conversation. At all. 

He heaves a deep sigh, figuring he can give Jisung something. He has to. 

“My last hookup,” he starts, and Jisung’s eyebrows twitch before he tilts his head, the surprise in his features quickly changing to focus, like when he’s watching a documentary on one of his new hyperfixations. “It was another idol at an award show. We talked a little backstage. He’d just dyed his hair and was wearing leather pants. He looked hot.”

Minho shrugs, finding it extremely difficult to talk about this. He’s not usually shy, but somehow, telling Jisung about sleeping with other people feels like a cardinal sin. Like his entire body protests the concept, and suddenly a hookup recount feels foreign in his mouth.

“... You’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Jisung asks, biting his bottom lip for a moment, and if Minho didn’t know any better he’d say he looked worried. 

“Sorry,” Minho winces. “Don’t think that’s my place.”

“Sure, fully get that,” Jisung nods in agreement, biting his lip again, glancing at the drama still playing on the forgotten laptop. “So, uhm… What was it like?”

“... What?” Minho asks, feeling the tips of his ears heat up at the question, because surely Jisung isn’t asking about… the actual sex? Right?

“The hookup?” Jisung raises his eyebrows like Minho’s being stupid, fingers restlessly picking at the cuff of the hoodie and Minho recognizes a distressed gesture when he sees one. Still, Jisung pushes through. “Was it… good?”

“It was fine,” Minho dismisses, wetting his lips as he sees Jisung roll his eyes and send him a glare. 

“No details?” Jisung asks, and there’s a faint blush crawling onto his cheeks too. “You know, talking about sex kind of has to… include the sex part.”

“Well, I… What do you want to know?” Minho asks, wiping his clammy palms on his sweatpants, mind racing as he firmly locks his eyes on the opposite wall, trying to push away all memories of how he compared his one-night-stand to Jisung. How he only chose him because he had cute chubby cheeks.

“Anything, really,” Jisungs says, voice sounding small, and Minho physically can’t deny him. So he draws a breath and just starts talking. 

“We went back to his hotel room, I sucked his dick, he fucked me. His dick game was a little disappointing but his whining was cute. In hindsight I should have fucked him. It was fine, but I’ve had better,” he shrugs.  

There’s a silence, and Minho forces himself to look back at Jisung for a reaction, wondering if he went way too far, his cheeks throbbing in shame as he regrets every single word he just said. 

But Jisung’s lips are a little parted in surprise, and his eyes immediately snap up from Minho’s lips to his eyes when he turns to look at him. The blush on Jisung’s cheeks deepens as he chuckles awkwardly, breaking eye contact, clearing his throat. 

“Small dick, huh?” he asks, trying to come off as casual, but he’s clearly uncomfortable, tone strained and he shifts where he sits. 

Minho tries to laugh, but it only comes out as embarrassed breaths. “Size isn’t everything Jisungie. He was just… off rhythm, you know? I wasn’t that into it.”

“Hm,” Jisung makes a small, non-committal noise in response, and Minho holds his breath, because he can sense Jisung wanting to say something else. And so Minho waits patiently, as he always does, even though his heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his ears. “What… What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Oh,” Minho can’t help the little sound of surprise, and he quickly has to look away again because he knows exactly what it is. “Uhm…”

He trails off, and Jisung makes a small, whining noise in protest that is not helping Minho at all right now. 

“I guess… There was this guy I dated for a bit,” Minho starts, then pauses, immediately second guessing his decision to tell the truth, and scrambles momentarily for a believable story, coming up empty. So he’ll just have to censor himself. “He let me tie him up and edge him until he cried and begged me to let him come. It was hot.”

He doesn’t say the worst part. That the guy was a cute twink with broad shoulders and a hip tattoo. That making him cry from pleasure had Minho so fucking hard he could barely breathe as he blurred his vision and saw Jisung underneath him. That the soft, sobbed pleas could have been Jisung’s. That he rubbed his come all over that black tattoo and then licked it off. 

“Oh,” Jisung breathes and Minho needs to stop this conversation right fucking now. “Yeah… That sounds hot.”

Jisung shifts again, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, and Minho wets his lips, trying not to read anything into it. 

“Jisungie, I-” he starts, then cuts himself off to swallow, glance at the laptop screen. “I think I’m going to bed, okay? Uhm, good talk, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees, sounding a little off, and when Minho looks at him his eyes are unfocused, like he’s somewhere else. 

“You okay?” Minho asks reflexively, frowning, and Jisung blinks himself back to the real world, sending Minho a shaky smile, his fingers visibly tightening in his own hoodie sleeves. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he reassures, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Goodnight hyung.”

Minho tries not to run from the room. 

His hand is in his sweats the second his door is locked, and Jisung’s breathy ‘oh’ plays on repeat in his head until he comes far too quickly. As he sinks to the floor of his room, staring blindly at his sticky hand covered in shame and lack of self-restraint, he thinks he’s the most stupid human on this planet.

Something changes after that night. Minho can’t put his finger on it, but there is something that’s not quite right. 

Jisung still seeks him out, smiles at him, touches him, but there’s something wrong. The ease is lacking from it, and somehow, it becomes a little awkward, stiff. During a costume fitting, Minho looks up to find Jisung frowning at him, and he gets an uncomfortable flashback to their first couple weeks of knowing each other. When Jisung would actually glare at him. Then he smiles and asks Minho for dinner, clinging to his shoulder as they’re back in their own clothes and heading for the car, and Minho wonders if he’s losing his mind. 

But the next day, Jisung clears his throat and says ‘no, thanks’ before locking himself in his room when Minho asks if he wants coffee, and it’s starting to wear on Minho’s nerves. He sleeps poorly, trying to think if there’s something he did or said that could explain Jisung’s behaviour. The only thing he can think of is that night in Jisung’s room, and he tries to remember exactly what he said, which words he used, if there’s anything that offended Jisung without Minho noticing.

Then he thinks maybe Jisung is being weird about finding out Minho is gay after all. But that doesn’t make sense, because if he had a problem with that, he wouldn’t drape himself all over Felix. Maybe it’s just because it’s Minho? Maybe he’s uncomfortable about their closeness, or even worse. Maybe he’s figured Minho out. 

So Minho tries to restrain himself, see if Jisung relaxes once he stops smacking his ass at all possible times, stops clinging to him in line ups in front of cameras, stops calling him pet names. But it doesn’t help, and Jisung just gets weirder.

Then finally, Minho gets confirmation that at least he’s not imagining it. 

“Minho? Can you stay behind for a bit?” Chan asks, raising his eyebrows in question as they’re packing up to go back home after a late recording session, Jisung and Changbin just having left.

“Do I have to?” he asks, not bothering to be polite with Chan. Minho had a hard time with the recording, not really getting the exact tone they wanted, and he’s watched Jisung frown at his laptop screen through the glass panel for the past hour, only voicing small notes as Chan tried his best to guide Minho right. 

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” Chan smiles faintly, but he looks worried, and Minho just shrugs, then sits down heavily on the couch, his jacket already on.

The remaining two staff members in the room glance between them, catching Chan’s pointed glance, and they both hurry to grab their stuff and leave. 

The soundproof door closes behind them, and Chan sighs, sitting back in his ergonomic chair and spins it to properly face Minho. 

“Are you going to say something about the song? Look, if you want to give my part to-” Minho starts, but Chan cuts him off. 

“What’s going on with you and Jisung?” he asks, voice steady and serious, his leader mode on but there’s a flicker of genuine fear in his eyes that makes Minho pause. 

“What?” he asks reflexively, but he sits up a little straighter, and suddenly he has no idea what to do with his hands.

“Did you have a fight or something? You’ve both been… a little weird lately, but today? I’ve never seen you two like this,” Chan motions towards the dark recording booth. “Jisung looks like he’s going to die if he even looks at you, and you can’t focus for a minute because you’re too busy checking on him. What happened?”

“I…” Minho starts, then trails off, Chan’s words striking him like a whiplash, because fuck, does Jisung look afraid of him? He immediately covers up his fear and instinctively snaps back. “Is that really any of your business?”

Chan looks at him for a long moment, and Minho feels oddly scolded for his attitude despite there not being any change in his expression. “Did you say something to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Minho blurts out, his frustration with himself coming out stronger than he intended, and Chan’s eyes widen a little in surprise before he composes himself again, and Minho sighs, letting all the steam rush out of him. He’s left with resignation and a sudden urge to cry. “I didn’t… I don’t think I did anything? I don’t know.”

“So… Want to tell me what happened?” Chan asks, voice a perfect balance between gentle and clinical. Not too prying, not too nice, but still not judging. He knows Minho would slap him if he was too sweet right now. Minho kind of hates how well Chan knows him. 

“We…” Minho starts, then draws a deep, heavy breath. He doesn’t even know where to start. How much is too much to tell their leader. “I guess… I came out to him? A few weeks ago. I thought he knew, clearly he didn’t. We talked about it a bit. He seemed fine with it. But it’s been weird since then.”

He dares a glance at Chan, and finds him absentmindedly nipping at his full bottom lip with his fingers as he watches Minho evenly, eyes sharp with something Minho doesn’t think he wants to explore further.

“What?” he finally asks when he can’t stand the staring anymore, and he feels his heart beat faster as he wonders what Chan is thinking. If he’s trying to figure out how to keep their group together with Jisung being scared of Minho’s crush on him. If he wonders how to get rid of Minho for making Jisung uncomfortable; Jisung is more important to the group after all. 

But somewhere, Minho also knows Chan very well, and he tries to tell himself he wouldn’t do that. He’d make it all work for them even if Jisung hates Minho now. 

Just the thought makes his head spin.

“Does this… have any connection to Jisung breaking up with his girlfriend?” Chan finally asks, tone somehow pointed, and Minho frowns, startled by the question that’s so far off from what he thought was going to come. 

“No? I mean, that’s like two months ago, this is more recent,” he says, trying to figure Chan out. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Chan shrugs, then glances at the coffee table for a moment before he looks back up. “I think you should talk to Jisung.”

“That’s your answer to everything,” Minho mutters, because for once, it’d be nice if Chan could say what’s on his stupid mind instead of acting all-knowing and playing them like chess pawns. “If you know what I did wrong, just tell me.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Chan tells him, and at least he looks honest. “Maybe Jisung thinks he did something wrong?”

“He didn’t,” Minho says immediately, and Chan has the audacity to smile softly.

“So tell him that? You know how he worries for nothing,” Chan suggests, and Minho rolls his eyes, grabbing his bag to get up from the couch, recognising the end of his leader-talk.

“I hate you,” Minho tells him. “You’re not my real dad and you’ll never be.”

That startles a laugh out of Chan, and Minho turns his back to him and leaves the room, drawing a deep breath as soon as the door closes behind him. He doesn’t hate Chan. Maybe he has a point, maybe he just needs to talk to Jisung.  

Still, he’s nervous when he comes back to the dorm, unable to relax, a low current of adrenaline buzzing in his veins and he feels itchy, uncomfortable, weird.

“I’m home,” he calls when the front door closes behind him, like they always do, but there’s no response. It’s not unusual that he’s home first, but Minho knows Jisung is back. His shoes from today are in the hall. 

He takes a quick glance around the apartment and finds the bathroom door locked, low music playing through the door, and he relaxes a little. At least Jisung isn’t fully ignoring him. 

Minho didn’t eat dinner, but now it’s late, and he doesn’t feel like cooking. He goes hunting for some energy bar, and he knows he’s slamming the cupboards too hard but that weird energy won’t leave his veins. 

He eats two protein bars and drinks some water, changing into his sleepwear. Then the bathroom door opens, and Jisung steps out, dark hair blowdried and cheeks pink. He’s wearing one of Minho’s old Mahagrid T-shirts and dark sweatpants, and his eyes widen as he sees Minho. 

That’s the final drop. The anxious surprise, like a deer in headlights, immediately looking for escape routes. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Minho blurts out, and Jisung’s eyes widen even more, his fingers wrapped around his phone visibly tightening. 

“... What?” he asks, and Minho feels like he’s watching his own reaction from less than an hour ago. Very aware of what’s being addressed but uncomfortable to admit it. Jisung’s voice is a little rough, probably from disuse during the day. 

“You’re being… Off, something is off, and I… Did I do something?” Minho asks, finding what comes out of his mouth different from what he wants to say and it frustrates him to no end. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No!” Jisung hurries to reassure, slipping his phone into his pocket as he takes a step forward, worry shining in his big eyes and Minho almost bursts out crying at how sincere he sounds. “Hyung, of course I’m not mad at you.”

“Then…” Minho starts, breaking off on a shaky sigh, then huffs a noise of frustration. He’s not going to cry right now. “Then what’s going on?”

“Oh, hyung,” Jisung says, and his tone is pitying, apologetic, somehow desperate as he takes in Minho’s expression, clearly seeing how wrecked he’s feeling right now. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Minho’s throat burns and he doesn’t think he can get a word past it, but Jisung simply steps up and pulls him into a tight hug, strong arms wrapping around Minho’s waist and shoulders as Jisung buries his face into his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, and Minho draws another long, shaky breath, then relaxes into the embrace.

He lets his eyes close as he breathes in the fresh scent of Jisung’s shower products, the vague hint of the detergent they share. His own arms wind around Jisung’s tiny waist, pulling him in close so he can’t change his mind and draw back again. He still can’t seem to speak, so he just holds onto Jisung and breathes. 

This is all he needs. Truly. Minho might yearn for them to be more, but he didn’t realise how much he needs Jisung to be his friend to even function. This is fine. As long as they’re this, he’ll be alright. 

“I’m sorry hyung,” Jisung mumbles again, a small mantra into Minho’s T-shirt collar, and finally, Minho can speak again. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, his voice a little thick but steady, low enough not to startle Jisung. 

Jisung pulls back a little, and Minho reluctantly loosens his grip on his waist. Jisung’s eyes are huge, dark and shiny and beautiful, and his expression is guilt, embarrassment. 

“I… I didn’t realise you’d be so worried,” Jisung finally says, his tone matching his expression as he laughs joylessly, eyes still conveying pain. “I’ve been… I’ve been in my head a lot lately and I didn’t even consider how that would affect you. I’m sorry, I was selfish.”

“Am I…” Minho starts, then clears his throat and tries again, Jisung’s face way too close to his own right now. “Is there a problem? With us? You’d tell me if there was, right?”

“I-” Jisung starts, then cuts himself off, eyes flickering with fear as he meets Minho’s eyes, and a cold tendril of panic zips down Minho’s spine, making his eyes widen. “No! No, no, don’t do that, I saw that!”

“Hm?” Minho tries, fighting an urge to awkwardly laugh while trying to tame his panic.

“We should…” Jisung breaks off on a sigh, then starts withdrawing his arms from Minho, who suddenly feels so cold. “We should talk, okay? Come.”

Jisung guides them to his room, and he sits down crosslegged on the bed, while Minho carefully sits in his desk chair, creating some space in between them in case that’s needed. He doesn’t know. He’s never been this scared of what Jisung might say to him. 

Jisung looks scared too, restlessly picking at the covers in front of him as he glances up at Minho and then back down at the bed.

Finally, Jisung breathes a small, joyless laugh. “God, this is so stupid.”

“Will you… will you just tell me?” Minho tries, the confusion whirling inside him coming out in his tone. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whines, rubbing a hand over his face and then strokes his hair back, the soft strands fluttering back into his face in sections. “I’m just… I’m so embarrassed I made you think I was mad at you when I just… I just think you’re hot.”

Minho frowns, because that doesn’t make any sense, but his heart beats heavily in his chest. “What?”

“I just,” Jisung laughs, this time embarrassed. “It’s so stupid, I just realised… Hyung, I’ve had like a full blown psychosis over you telling me about your sex life.” 

Minho feels his mouth fall open as his brain seems to slow down, Jisung’s pink blush taking up all the space in his mind that panic had been claiming. “What?”

He feels like a parrot that only knows one word.

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, and Minho flicks his tongue out to wet his lips. “I just- I’m so attracted to you? I’ve never thought- I’ve always…”

He trails off with a frustrated sigh, but then pushes through, and Minho can’t think. 

“I’ve always liked girls, you know? But then you… You said you don’t, like it was such an easy thing, and when you started telling me about sleeping with other guys, it kinda fucked me up,” Jisung says, laughing awkwardly. “I’ve always thought men could be attractive, sure, but I’ve never actually wanted any of them so I just thought I was secure enough in my heterosexuality to think men could be hot. And then you… you say you’re into men, and I kind of lost my shit. Because wow, if I could sleep with men like you? Then yeah, I’d want that? I’ve had these fantasies about girls manhandling me for ages, but then I inserted you- I mean, someone like you? Holy shit. And now I… Now I can’t think about anything else.”

Jisung is blushing and he refuses to meet Minho’s eyes as he stops talking, just carefully glances up at his face to make sure he’s still there and didn’t run away.

“Jisung-” Minho starts, a faint whisper as he tries to work through the information he just received, but there’s static in his head, wires unconnected, and he feels too dumb to understand. 

“I’m sorry, hyung, I know I shouldn’t like, sexualise your sexuality?” Jisung laughs, but it sounds guilty. “Like, I realise I’m probably not your type and it’d be weird because we’re friends and all that, so I’ve just tried to contain it but then you… started being distant? And I freaked out because I thought maybe you realised I was having like, wet dreams about you and shit, and I guess that made things really weird. I’m sorry. Wow that was way too much, wasn’t it?”

He still won’t meet Minho’s eyes, and Minho’s brain slowly catches up with him. He feels dizzy. 

“Jisung,” he gets out, and his voice comes out rattled, a little shaky, and he finally says it out loud. “I love you.”

“I love you too hyung, I’m sorry I-” Jisung starts, but Minho cuts him off because he needs Jisung to understand. 

“No, Jisung, I love you,” Minho presses, and it feels cathartic yet panicked. Like a deep breath after almost drowning, only to know there’s another wave coming. “Like I’m in love with you.”

Jisung’s mouth falls open slightly, his big eyes widening to maximum capacity, and he blinks a few times in quick succession. With a clench to his stomach Minho realises that’s his own habit he’s seeing on Jisung’s face. 

“... What?” Jisung finally gets out, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion, and Minho will never tire of watching his expressions. He wants to see them all. 

“I’m- I’ve been. For a while,” Minho confesses softly, trying to keep his hands from shaking as the reality of what he just admitted comes crashing down on him. That this could ruin them. 

“You…” Jisung starts, but then pauses, frowning as he seemingly tries to grasp the gravity of Minho’s confession, looking like he can’t, weakly pointing at himself. “You’re in love… with me?”

Minho nods mutely, biting his lip because he’s not sure he can say it again. His heart is beating out of his chest, causing his pulse to rush in his ears, and he tries to prepare for the rejection. I don’t feel that way. We’re better as friends. Possibly something even worse.

But what comes out of Jisung’s mouth startles him out of his negative spiral. 

“Why?” Jisung asks, and his voice is small, vulnerable, huge eyes glistening with disbelief, and Minho’s entire body is screaming at him to reach out and hug him. He doesn’t dare.

“Why?” he repeats, almost a laugh because that’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard Jisung ask, and he’s heard him ask a lot of those. “What do you mean why?”

“I’m just-” Jisung shrugs, wetting his lips and shifting to let his legs down on the floor, pressing his knees together, his lower legs spreading awkwardly. His fingers start fiddling with the white stripes at the seam of his sweatpants. “You know. Anxious, introverted, clingy, nerdy. I’m a huge mess, and you know that better than anyone. Why would you… I mean, you’re… You. You could have anyone.”

“Are you serious?” Minho asks him, but he’s keeping his voice softer than he’d like. He’d like to grab Jisung by the shoulders and shake him, scream at him how he would move fucking mountains for him. “You’re my favourite person in the world, you’re beautiful and talented and you’re so, so stupid in the best way and you actually like how weird I am. How could I not fall in love with you?”

Jisung just stares at him evenly, lips slightly parted, and he carefully wets them with the tip of his tongue before swallowing nervously. He’s barely even blinking as he looks into Minho’s eyes like he’s trying to turn him inside out and search for the lie. 

“You’re serious,” Jisung finally breathes, and Minho throws his hands out in frustration, because of all the reactions he expected, all the confession scenarios he’s imagined over the years, he never expected Jisung to not believe him.

“Yes?” he confirms, running both hands through his hair as he’s trying not to scream. “Jisung, the first time I ever saw you I crushed so hard and it’s never gone away. Everyone I’ve dated since we met has reminded me of you in some way and it’s never worked out because they can’t even hold a candle to you. I can’t even fuck anyone who doesn’t remind me of you to some extent.”

Jisung just stares at him for another few, long moments, but the concern on his features tell on how he can clearly see how desperate Minho is to get his point across. 

“Hyung,” Jisung finally says, sounding a little winded, and Minho holds his breath. “This is insane.”

“I guess,” Minho replies, feeling his stomach drop as he realises Jisung isn’t going to say it back. “I’m… It’s okay that you don’t feel the same way. I’ve gotten used to the idea.”

“What? No!” Jisung frowns, spreading his legs a little as he leans forward on the edge of the bed, catching Minho’s gaze and holding it. “I never said that!”

Minho bites his lip and doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know what to say and he doesn’t dare hope. 

“I… I don’t know, okay?” Jisung says, and he looks genuinely upset about it. “I’ve kind of been thirsting over you for like a month but I never thought you’d… like, even be into it? Or if you were, maybe you would just agree to fuck me as friends? I never even considered… more?”

Minho nods slowly, reflexively, as his insides seize up and he feels a hot lump in his throat. Fuck, it stings worse than he thought it would. 

“No, don’t!” Jisung cries out, reaching forward to grasp Minho’s hand, almost falling off the bed as he does. His hand is cold and Minho shivers for more than one reason. “Hyung, I just… I don’t want to promise you something so serious and then end up having to go back on it. You’re way too important. But I want to try.”

“You… want to try?” Minho repeats, trying to work through the tightness in his throat, trying to pretend he’s not breaking down. “What does that mean?”

“That you’re my favourite person too,” Jisung says, voice firm, confident, and Minho lets himself be tugged out of the chair, onto the bed to sit next to Jisung instead. The scent of his shower products hits Minho’s nose again and he almost bursts out crying just because Jisung isn’t pushing him away. “That I love you and you’re so important to me. I also think you’re really hot and you’re like, my gay awakening, or something. So obviously, I’m into you. I just never thought about being with you, for real, until like five minutes ago and I just need to process it. There’s so much to think about, so much- But I want to try. I want to date you.”

“Okay,” Minho finally gets out, almost going deaf from how Jisung’s words echo in his brain. 

“We can, like… take it slow?” Jisung suggests, raising a hand to stroke back Minho’s bangs from his cheekbone, and his touch is so soothing it makes Minho’s eyelashes flutter and tears sting behind his eyelids. 

“Okay,” Minho agrees, not sure he can manage more words. Jisung wants to date him. Jisung can’t promise him forever, but he’ll give him a chance. He’s torn between devastation at the idea that Jisung might decide he doesn’t want him, and the confidence that he can be so good to him it’ll make Jisung love him. He feels a little sick. 

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, and Minho looks into his eyes, finding a lot of emotions. Fear. Hope. Concern. Relief.

Minho nods, carefully wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants before reaching up to cup Jisung’s face, the gentlest touch he can manage, and then leans his forehead against Jisung’s, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He can feel Jisung relax, can almost taste the relieved breath he releases, and Minho’s fingertips press a little tighter for a second before he catches himself. 

“Thank you,” Minho finally mumbles, and Jisung shakes his head the slightest, rubbing their skin together and he can feel Jisung’s bangs brush his cheekbones. 

“Don’t thank me,” Jisung whispers, then breathes a tiny laugh. “You offered me more than I could ever wish for, I’m so overwhelmed, and you’re still here to ground me.”

“Always,” Minho promises. “No matter where we end up, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Jagi?” Jisung asks then, and Minho shivers at the petname, so familiar and yet so new. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mm,” Minho hums, nodding, afraid to open his eyes and realise it’s all a dream. 

Jisung pulls back a little, and there’s a soft breath against Minho’s lips that part reflexively, trying to breathe Jisung in. 

Then there’s a soft, smooth touch of lips against his own, and Minho shatters. This is happening. Jisung is kissing him.

One of Minho’s hands moves on its own, sliding into Jisung’s fluffy hair and twirling into the strands, and he tilts his head to improve the angle, guiding Jisung where he wants him. Jisung makes a small noise between their lips that could have been a whimper, and Minho presses their lips together again with more intent. 

Jisung’s hands come up to his shoulders, fingertips digging into the muscle and it spurs Minho on, parting his lips to take Jisung’s bottom lip between his own. Jisung exhales harshly, kissing back as one hand moves to Minho’s neck, desperately pulling him closer. 

“Oh,” Jisung breathes when the kiss breaks, both of them breathless and there wasn’t even a hint of tongue. “Oh, that feels right.”

“Yeah,” Minho agrees, and his voice is wrecked, shaky with relief and want and everything else he can’t contain. Jisung is looking at him under hooded lids, eyes liquid black and suddenly Minho feels certain that everything is going to be okay.

“Can I… can I kiss you again?” Jisung asks, and Minho smiles despite his tingling lips. 

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he says honestly, and he sees a flash of something darker in Jisung’s eyes that makes him feel his next heartbeat in his entire body. 

Jisung leans in, their lips easily fitting together like they’ve kissed a million times, and this time, Jisung flicks his tongue against the seam of Minho’s lips, that willingly part to let him in. Jisung kisses desperately, like he needs everything and more, and Minho tries to give it to him. The kiss doesn’t even break when Jisung’s hands fist in the front of Minho’s shirt and tug him along, until Jisung is lying down on his bed with Minho hovering over him, a knee pressed into the mattress between Jisung’s legs. 

Jisung’s hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he sucks on Minho’s bottom lip, then moves to his neck again to pull him down as he slips his tongue back into Minho’s mouth, and Minho can’t even think. 

He makes a soft noise into the kiss when Jisung nips at his top lip, and Jisung’s hand on his neck tightens as another hand finds his hip and pulls him down. 

Minho doesn’t budge much, but Jisung arches up to meet him, and it startles a moan out of him when he feels Jisung’s erection rub against his thigh.

“Holy shit,” Minho curses, his voice rough and his lips throbbing and swollen from all the kissing, and he makes the mistake of looking down at Jisung. His dark hair is messy around his face, a few strands hanging into his eyes, his cheeks pink and lips red, thick, wet, parted around harsh breaths. And his eyes are hooded, dark, all-consuming. Minho would give him the world. He’s so hard.

“Hyung,” Jisung breathes, then swallows, clearing his throat as he hears his own rough voice. “I changed my mind. Let’s not go slow, fuck, you’re so hot. Want you to edge me until I cry.”

Minho groans at the words, dropping his face into Jisung’s shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut. He feels like he might actually come in his pants.

“Fuck, Jisung,” he whines, and Jisung threads fingers through his hair at the back of his head, tugging deliciously to turn his face and place Minho’s lips at his neck. 

Minho kisses the offered skin without even thinking, tasting warmth and a faint hint of salt, the scent of expensive shower gel trying to drown it out. He rubs his lips along Jisung’s throat, parting his lips to kiss, allowing his tongue to flick out just a little but he doesn’t dare suck or bite, knowing he probably couldn’t stop himself from creating marks. 

“I fingered myself in the shower,” Jisung says then, voice breathy as he tilts his head back to offer Minho more skin to adore. 

Minho bites him on accident as he registers what Jisung just said in that soft, airy voice, hips pushing down on their own, and Jisung jerks underneath him. 

“Shit, hyung,” he gasps into Minho’s hair, and Minho quickly pulls back to stare at him, pretending he’s not distracted by the pink mark he just left under Jisung’s ear. 

“You did what?” he asks, voice noticeably thick with arousal and he’d be ashamed if Jisung didn’t look so fucking delicious underneath him. His T-shirt is rucked up a little, showing off a sliver of honey skin and black letters, legs spread to accommodate Minho’s in between them, his chest heaving with breaths. 

“I had a dream about you last night,” Jisung offers, dark eyes drinking in Minho’s reaction. “You came in while I was showering and pressed me up against the tiles. You called me a slut and fucked me until I couldn’t stand on my own so you had to hold me up.”

Minho’s blush is beating in his ears and he can’t seem to close his mouth, unable to get enough oxygen. He’s going to die tonight, and he’s looking forward to it. 

“I couldn’t even look you in the eye today,” Jisung goes on, and Minho gets an urgent reality check. Chan had said Jisung looked like he would die if he looked at Minho. “But I couldn’t help myself when I came home before you. Just wanted an idea of what the real thing would be like.”

“... So you fingered yourself in the shower,” Minho concludes faintly, his erection throbbing in his pants and every little shift causes minimal friction. He tries not to picture it, but it’s already too late, all the mental barriers he’s held steady before are broken down as he’s finally allowed. He thinks about Jisung’s wet hair plastered to his flushed cheeks, about his open mouth parted to release whines and whimpers as Minho holds him up by his hips and drives into him. Holy shit.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, shifting against the bed and arching the slightest, causing his shirt to slide up a little further. “I’ve done it before, with a girlfriend. She wanted to try and I was into it.”

Something nasty flashes through Minho at the mental picture of some faceless girl with Jisung underneath her like this.

“Don’t talk about your girlfriends,” he snaps, finally, voicing what he’s never been able to say before, and his voice trembles just a little when he goes on. “I am so sick of hearing about other people touching you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen and he reaches up with both hands, cupping Minho’s face and pulling him into a kiss that soothes everything painful Minho’s ever experienced. One of Jisung’s legs slides up along Minho’s, wrapping around the back of his thigh and pulling him in a little bit, just enough for Jisung to grind against his thigh.

“I’m sorry baby,” Jisung whispers against his lips, and Minho straight out moans. Jisung’s hands fall from his face and slowly slide down his front, across his chest and to the hem of his shirt. “Can I?”

Minho hums approval into the kiss, and Jisung’s hands slip under the fabric, shamelessly splaying over his stomach, making Minho shudder at the hot touch. 

“Fuck,” Jisung mumbles as he can’t seem to decide where he wants to touch first, thumbs digging into the muscles of Minho’s midline, brushing his belly button while his fingers curl around the edges of his waist. 

Minho gasps out a small noise as Jisung pushes his hands up, dragging the fabric of his shirt with it and flicks both his nipples at the same time. He’s not even that sensitive, but this is Jisung touching him and everything feels multiplied by at least a hundred. 

Minho sits back to tug the garment over his head, and Jisung watches him almost reverently, lips parted to release shallow breaths. 

“I’m so glad you never take your shirt off on stage,” Jisung mumbles, palm splayed over Minho’s chest before squeezing over one of his pecs. “Nobody should be allowed to see this.”

Minho breathes out a laugh because that’s definitely not why he never undresses, but then breaks off with a sharp inhale as Jisung’s fingers trail lower, resting on the waistband of his boxers that are visible over the top of his sweatpants. 

“Can I s-” Jisung cuts himself off, swallowing as a small blush spreads on his cheeks before he starts over. “Can I see your dick?”

“You’ve seen it before,” Minho tells him, unable to keep from teasing because Jisung just looks so desperate. Eyes wide and lips wet and that delicious fucking blush. Minho wants to eat him alive.

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, fingertips hesitating for a moment before lightly brushing down over the bulge visible in Minho’s grey sweatpants, causing Minho’s hips to jerk forward. “I’ve never seen it hard.”

“So go ahead and look,” Minho tells him, and Jisung huffs in displeasure at Minho purposely misunderstanding him. But then he glances up, dark eyes hooding a little as both his hands come up to Minho’s hips again, slowly hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. 

He’s looking up at Minho the entire time, like he’s searching for signs of discomfort, and Minho’s so hard he’s throbbing as Jisung starts pulling his clothes down. 

He shivers as he’s exposed to the air of the room, and Jisung breaks eye contact in order to look down, so Minho does too. His erection is flushed and veiny, the head already wet with precome and Minho feels himself twitch a little under Jisung’s close scrutiny. 

Jisung exhales a harsh breath and Minho can feel the ghost of it brush against his bared dick, and he grunts involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut before he stares at the ceiling for a second to ground himself. 

“Wow,” Jisung breathes, and Minho looks back down as his waistbands are released mid-thigh, finding Jisung still staring at his dick, swallowing once. “That’s bigger than my toy.”

“You have a-?!” Minho starts, his voice far too raw, too desperate as a flash of Jisung shoving a dildo inside himself shows in his brain, frying all parts it touches. “Shit.”

Jisung giggles and Minho clears his throat, twice, then leans down again, caging Jisung’s head between his arms, his erection rubbing against the bare strip of skin on Jisung’s stomach. Jisung’s eyelashes flutter as his lips part on a small moan that Minho breathes in, before he leans down to kiss him as hard as he can.

Jisung’s arms wrap around his neck, then his hands are running over Minho’s shoulder blades, his spine, daring a squeeze to his ass while shifting underneath him, rubbing his stomach up against Minho’s dick until it slips under the hem of his shirt, sliding fully against his smooth skin. 

Minho can’t help from making noises into the kiss, finding his rough moans and pathetic whimpers licked and sucked from his mouth as Jisung offers his own sounds, and finally, he has to break the kiss because he’s close.

“Jisung,” he gasps, and it comes out broken, barely his voice at all. “Holy fuck.”

“Fuck me, god, just fuck me, please,” Jisung rambles, his voice a little rough, and Minho pulls back to look at him, finding his eyes unfocused and his cheeks flushed, saliva spilling outside the lines of his mouth as he struggles for breath. His shirt is rucked up to his ribcage and there’s a wet, shiny spot of Minho’s precome just above his belly button. Minho bites his lip as he wonders if he could come untouched just looking at him. 

“Shit Jisungie, you’re so hot,” he says, but it comes out more of a pained whine, and Jisung’s eyes come back into focus, surprise in them as he stares up at Minho.

“I am?” he asks, like he doesn’t know, and Minho groans as he reaches down to grab the hem of the shirt Jisung’s wearing and starts tugging it up rather forcibly. 

“Yes, fuck, Jisung, I-” Minho indulges him as he pushes one hand between Jisung’s back and the bed to lift him enough to pull the shirt up, and Jisung obediently raises his hands above his head to let it come off. “I want to wreck you, I want to kiss you all over, leave marks, come all over your body. I want to fuck you until you’re a drooling, crying mess who can’t even beg for more.”

Jisung whimpers, hips thrusting up as he clutches onto Minho’s shoulders, blunt fingernails digging into his skin. Minho uses all his core strength to stay within Jisung’s grasp as he reaches down to tug Jisung’s sweatpants down, finding there’s no underwear underneath. A thought crosses his mind and he decides to voice it, try it out.

“Shit, you slut,” he murmurs, and Jisung’s desperate noise into his ear clues him into how much he really likes that. That it wasn’t all drunk talk. And it’s not like Minho hasn’t been trying to suppress the idea of shoving Jisung face first into the wall and calling him a whore for the past two months. But that’s for next time because Minho’s not coherent enough to have a serious talk about that right now. 

He pushes Jisung back down with a hand in the middle of his bare chest, curling his fingertips a little into his impressive pectorals, pinky digging into the centre of the tattooed lowercase d on the right side. Jisung is staring up at him with wet eyes, and Minho can’t seem to look away as he pulls back and tugs Jisung’s pants the rest of the way off, then kicks off his own remaining clothes.

“Spread for me,” he asks then, grasping Jisung’s knees and pushing a little, and Jisung’s legs fall open, his hips twitching up in response. Jisung’s hard dick looks delicious, red and hot and shiny at the tip, and Minho wants it in his mouth. Instead, he settles between Jisung’s legs, spreading his own thighs enough to keep Jisung’s legs wide open, and Jisung pushes up onto his elbows to look.

“Shit hyung, your thighs,” Jisung whispers, staring at Minho’s legs pushing his own apart, at the obvious size difference between them. “You could choke me with those.”

“Jisung,” Minho groans, because if Jisung is going to keep talking like this his life is going to be miserable. Wonderful. Overwhelming. “Where’s your lube?”

Jisung falls back down on the sheets, squirming to reach for his bedside drawer but only manages to tug it open it without moving away from Minho. Minho leans forward to reach over himself, finding a half full bottle of lube next to a couple condoms, some tissues and a very suspicious looking satin drawstring bag.

Next time, he tells himself as he reaches for the lube, leaving the drawer open. 

“Are you sure about-” he starts to ask, even as he gives the bottle a firm swing to gather the gel at the cap. 

“Yes,” Jisung cuts him off, hooded eyes watching his every move as Jisung mindlessly runs his fingertips over his own chest, brushing a nipple and jerking. “I want all of what you said, just fuck me until I’m stupid.”

Minho draws a deep breath to quench the rabid urge to just push into Jisung dry, which he would never do and has never even fantasized about before. Jisung is dangerous. 

He pops the cap of the lube and pours some onto his fingers, trying to be patient and let it warm for a minute, but Jisung squirms and whines so he gives in.

The first finger slips in so easily that at first Minho sees red with jealousy, then he remembers Jisung saying he fingered himself in the shower. He’s hot and tight and Minho has half a mind to drop to his elbows and eat him out. 

Next time, he reminds himself. There will be a next time. 

The next finger faces a little more resistance, and Jisung squirms and gasps and makes tiny noises that has Minho’s dick pumping out more precome as he imagines the tightness around his fingers somewhere else. 

Carefully, he twists his wrist a little for a better angle, and pointedly presses his fingertips up, sliding along the hot walls until Jisung jumps and practically wails. 

“Oh my god, right there, right there,” Jisung gasps out, pushing back onto Minho’s fingers shamelessly. 

“Really?” Minho tries to tease, but his voice comes out thick with arousal and he can’t keep from rubbing against Jisung’s prostate just to watch him squirm. “I’d have never guessed.”

“Just, ah-! Just shut up,” Jisung tries, hands fisting in the sheets as he can’t seem to keep still. 

“Okay,” Minho says softly, scooting back a little in order to be able to lean down and kiss Jisung’s stomach, tasting the salty remains of his own precome.

He stretches Jisung carefully, drinking up every single noise he makes, listens to him get breathier, higher pitched as he on purpose only brushes his prostate occasionally, trailing soft kisses over his ribs and sternum.

“Fuck, hyung, more, one more, I need more,” Jisung pants, shifting against the bed as he tries to push back against Minho’s hands and push up into his lips at the same time, letting out a desperate whine that tingles in Minho’s entire body.

“God, you’re so loud,” Minho tells him breathlessly, hovering just above Jisung’s belly button as he does, and glances up at his face, finding his cheeks even redder and his eyes almost teary.

“I know, ‘m sorry, I-” Jisung starts, but Minho’s not having any of it, just adds a third finger and carefully pushes back inside. Jisung cries out and throws his head back, the sound a little broken, out of control, and Minho smiles against his warm skin. 

“Oh god, oh god, I think- hah! I think I’m-” Jisung rambles, breaking off on a shrill moan as Minho takes a small patch of skin on his stomach into his mouth and sucks gently. Then he angles his fingers right into Jisung’s prostate again. “Minho!”

The way his name sounds in Jisung’s broken voice etches itself so deeply into his brain that it settles with his knowledge of how to breathe, and it takes a second for Minho to register what’s happening.

Jisung comes.

Clenching down so tightly around Minho’s fingers that they feel numb as hot spurts of fluid hit Minho’s chin and throat while Jisung’s abs tense under his lips, delectable little whimpers filling the air around him. 

Slowly, Minho sits back up, feeling Jisung unclench a little around his fingers, and he looks down to find Jisung’s eyes wide in shock, his mouth slightly open to release heavy breaths. 

“Oh,” Minho manages, slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside Jisung’s body, then raises his other hand to wipe his throat, finding his palm sticky as he does. He can’t quite take his eyes off the same fluid on Jisung’s stomach, a drop starting to slide down his side from the sharp movements of his laboured breathing.

“Is that… is that supposed to happen?” Jisung asks, sounding a little awestruck as he looks up at Minho with wide eyes, and he looks so pretty Minho’s erection twitches angrily. 

Minho blinks at him. “Uhm… I’m not sure it’s supposed to?”

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassed,” Jisung whines, hiding his face in his hands. “I didn’t think I even could come untouched.”

“Jisungie,” Minho wets his lips against the hot wave of arousal that draws even more blood from his brain to his dick, making him a little dumb. “That was so hot, don’t you dare apologise.”

“Mm, I’m still embarrassed, I got it all over you,” Jisung pouts, making him even more adorable, and he reaches out for Minho, who goes obediently, leaning back over Jisung, and he really tries not to rub his rock hard erection against him, but it’s so heavy he ends up brushing against Jisung’s softening one anyway. 

They both moan into the kiss they share.

“That’s okay,” Minho reassures, steeling himself against rubbing his dick against Jisung to get off, the slight movement of Jisung’s lower abdomen as he breathes a delicious teasing already. “‘s hot. Do you wanna stop?”

The words almost physically pain him but he also knows he would stop if Jisung said yes. But he doesn’t, his eyes widening in horror as he pushes Minho back far enough to look into his eyes. 

“No,” he says, like Minho’s stupid. “I’ve literally dreamed about your dick, I’m not letting you out of here until you put it in me. Just… just give me a few minutes.”

Minho laughs softly, until Jisung moves one hand down to his hips and pushes him down, making his erection slide against Jisung’s hip, the small amount of come there along with Minho’s precome making it even better. Minho groans far too loudly at the pressure, and Jisung tilts his head a little before pressing his lips to Minho’s jaw, flicking his tongue out to clean up the traces of what he left there.

Minho makes another pathetic noise as he can’t keep from rolling his hips against Jisung. He’s only got enough self-control left to at least keep it slow, and Jisung’s lips move down his throat, covering every inch of it with a kiss, a lick, a soft suck. 

“Jagiya,” Minho starts, because he’s starting to lose it and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. “I’m close, I can’t…”

“Mm,” Jisung hums just under his ear. “Go on, put it in.”

Minho shudders and reluctantly sits back, looking down at Jisung’s faint smile and half-hard erection. “I might come immediately.”

“Hah, yeah, coming too fast, super embarrassing, who even does that,” Jisung laughs while throwing his arm out to the side to reach for his open nightstand drawer, managing to return with a condom package. 

Minho rolls his eyes but accepts the condom, wiping his half-sticky hand on the sheets before tearing it open. He’s practically lubed up with Jisung’s come at this point, but he’s not going to protest a condom. They’re both clean, regular medical examinations make sure of that, but a condom does make it less messy. The problem is just rolling it on without losing it.

Jisung watches as Minho rolls the condom on, and he finds it’s a little embarrassing, at least until Jisung wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, looking completely transfixed by what he’s seeing. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” Jisung says under his breath, obediently spreading his legs wider as Minho sits between them properly, wrapping tight fingers around the base of his cock and trying to think about standing on top of a high building in order to not bust immediately. 

“Me neither,” he agrees absently, as he looks down to find Jisung’s hole gaping just a little. 

He finds the lube, slathers on a good amount and uses his sticky fingers to push two inside Jisung again, just to make sure, and Jisung’s faint noise and the easy slide convinces Minho that he’s ready. 

“Okay,” Minho says, mostly to steel himself, and he looks up at Jisung for a long second, meeting his hooded eyes. “I’m doing it.”

Jisung smiles, rolling his eyes. “Just do it.”

And then the tip of Minho’s cock meets Jisung’s hole, and he can’t help staring down at how it starts disappearing inside, Jisung stretching to accommodate him. 

He doesn’t know whose wrecked noise reaches his ears, only focused on how insanely tight Jisung is, how his own hands claw into Jisung’s legs where he’s holding onto him because it’s so fucking good and it never seems to end. 

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, but it sounds mindless, like he doesn’t even know he’s talking, and he tosses his head to this side and then that, reaching out for Minho to pull him down, closer. 

Minho ends up falling forward, holding himself up on one arm while the other pushes Jisung’s leg up, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and exhale slowly as he finally bottoms out, Jisung’s hands finding his face. 

There’s a thumb brushing against his lower lip and fingers threading into his sweaty hair, and Minho parts his lips and tilts his head into the touch as he stays still to let Jisung get used to him. 

“That’s insane, god, that- oh,” Jisung rambles, thumb pressing down on Minho’s lip and fingertips digging into his scalp.

“Relax,” Minho tries, kissing the word into Jisung’s thumb before glancing up at him, at his delirious eyes and wet mouth. 

“Easy for you to say,” Jisung gasps, and Minho smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to his collarbones. “I can feel you in my throat, fuck.”

“Too much?” Minho asks, forcibly pushing down his own arousal in favour of Jisung’s comfort, and thankfully the worry draws him a few steps back from the edge.

“Yes,” Jisung sighs, but it’s a deep one, his desperate hands slowing down a little as his body slowly unclenches. “In the best way, it’s so good, I can’t even-”

He cuts off on a small whimper as Minho’s dick twitches inside him. 

“You should move now, just move, do that dancer thing,” Jisung demands breathlessly, and Minho’s not one to deny him anything. 

He doesn’t know what that dancer thing is, but he starts to pull out carefully and slowly push back inside, Jisung’s hands clutching at his shoulders like it’s life or death as he does. 

“Minho, jagiya, baby, fuck,” Jisung gets out and keeps going, just an array of pet names and swearwords mixed with sharp breaths and moans, and Minho almost can’t hear him over the heat spreading in his own body. 

Minho’s so close, he’s been close since before they even took their clothes off and he’s not sure he can stave it off for much longer with how good Jisung feels around him, how lovely his little noises are, how well his scent mingles with the smell of sex in the room. 

“I won’t last,” he admits reluctantly, low moans spilling from his own lips with every thrust.

“Me neither,” Jisung gasps out, one shaky hand grasping Minho’s jaw and tilting his head up so they can look at each other. “Just look at me when you come, wanna see it.”

Minho groans at the words, finding his cheeks heating up further.

He lets himself go of his self-control then, fucks Jisung faster, a little harder, fisting the sheets with one hand and squeezing Jisung’s thigh with the other, and Jisung’s eyes roll back into his head as his lips part for breathless sounds. 

Minho’s orgasm completely overwhelms him, and he cries out far too loudly, dropping his face into Jisung’s neck as the pleasure rips through his bloodstream, blinding him to anything else and it feels like it goes on forever.

He can barely catch his breath after it passes, feeling like a hurricane just went through his nervous system, and the first thing he perceives are gentle fingers playing with his hair. 

“Holy shit,” he finally gets out, his voice a little rough and he presses the words into Jisung’s skin. 

“You didn’t let me see,” Jisung complains, and Minho pulls back enough to look at him, finding an adorable pout on his lips. “I asked you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry baby,” Minho apologises, leaning in to kiss that pout, then hisses as Jisung clenches around his oversensitive dick. “Fuck.”

“That’s for not letting me see,” Jisung tells him, and Minho laughs almost soundlessly, before pushing himself up on shaky arms to carefully pull out.

Jisung is still hard, his erection angry red and a little slick from his previous orgasm and new precome. His hole gapes and then clenches as Minho pulls out, and Minho really can’t be blamed if he can’t help himself. 

Minho scoots back between Jisung’s legs and drops to his elbows, pushing two fingers inside him and swallowing his dick down almost at the same time. 

Jisung practically screams, a combination of surprise and pleasure, and it barely takes Minho sucking hard on the head and pressing his fingertips into Jisung’s prostate before he comes a second time. This time, Minho swallows down all of his release, and Jisung tugs at his hair so deliciously hard Minho’s exhausted dick is starting to come back to life. 

“Woah,” Jisung gasps when he’s finally coherent again, and Minho wipes his mouth with his somewhat clean hand as he crawls up to fall onto his side on the bed next to Jisung. 

Minho smiles as he watches Jisung’s disbelieving facial expression as he looks at Minho’s face like he’s never seen him before. “Was it more like ice cream than milkshake?”

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise before a confused horror takes over his expression. “What?”

“You don’t remember?” Minho asks, unable to keep from touching him, so he reaches out and lays a hand over his chest, rubbing gentle circles with his fingertips. “You told me your sex life felt like you were having milkshake when everyone else was having ice cream.”

“What, I said that?” Jisung laughs, raising his hands to cover his face in embarrassment. “Shit, I thought you were gonna say something about come, I’m insane.”

Minho blinks a few times, then smiles. “... Do you want me to say something about come? I can.”

“Please don’t,” Jisung asks, but he lets his hands fall from his face and he’s smiling, looking at Minho so fondly it melts his entire being. “You’re gross.”

“I like your come?” Minho offers, pointedly wetting his lips, and Jisung goes right back to covering his face with an embarrassed sputter. 

There’s a silence, and Minho scoots closer to press a soft kiss to Jisung’s shoulder.

“It was very much like ice cream,” Jisung says then, lowering his hands and he turns onto his side so they’re facing each other, his expression serious under his sweaty bangs. “Ask me about the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Minho frowns in confusion, but Jisung just looks at him expectantly, so he does as Jisung wishes, like always. 

“What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” he asks, figuring Jisung isn’t going to say something bad. 

“So there was this guy,” Jisung starts, and Minho releases the tense inhale he doesn’t remember drawing. “He was so fucking hot and he made me come twice. It was amazing except he came too fast.”

“Stop it,” Minho rolls his eyes and reaches out to slap Jisung’s bare thigh, hard, right across the last words of his tattoos. It makes a satisfying noise, even if it’s not as good as the sharp yelp Jisung lets out. 

“You stop it, jeez, you’ll get me hard again and I can’t come three times in a row,” Jisung tells him, sounding a little scandalised as he glances down at his leg where a light redness is starting to spread. 

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Minho asks, raising his eyebrows because Jisung’s dick sure looks a little intrigued. His own is already filling out again, too. 

Jisung tilts his head curiously, glancing at Minho’s lips before coming back up to his eyes. “I mean, yeah, I’ve never done it before?”

Minho smiles, then leans in to place a kiss on his lips, long, slow and soft. When they break apart, Jisung is smiling shyly, and Minho is determined. 

“Challenge accepted,” he deadpans, before pushing Jisung back into the mattress, earning a surprised shriek followed by laughter in response.