Chapter Text
It was hot. Too hot. Even in drowsy unconsciousness Minho could feel the heat slipping under his skin, making him toss and turn and kick his blankets away like they’d offended him and his whole family. When the scorching temperature still didn’t subside, he sat up with a groan. The sun filtering in through the curtains was way too bright for his sleepy eyes, and way too hot. Minho groaned again as he got up, louder this time.
In the living room, Jisung was sitting on the couch eating cereal, even though it was two in the afternoon, watching an anime on the TV. Just the mere sight of him made Minho even grumpier — sitting cross-legged with his flushed cheeks full of cornflakes, fluffy hair contained in his backwards baseball cap, tank top hanging loose around his hunched torso. He turned around when he heard Minho enter the room.
“Yo,” he said, swiping at a drop of milk escaping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he turned back around.
Minho wanted to take Jisung’s bowl of cereal and dump it all over his head. He went over to the fridge instead, and relished in the cool air that came with opening it.
“Why’s it so hot in here?” he grumbled.
“What, me?” Jisung turned around again. He had a lopsided grin on his face and a certain twinkle in his eyes, the one he normally had when he wanted to get on Minho’s nerves, which, to Minho, was all the time.
“The house,” he bit back, shutting the fridge and deciding to get a glass of water instead. “Why’s the house so hot?”
“Oh, I dunno, I think the AC’s broken.”
Minho paused. “You think?”
Jisung shrugged. He was facing the TV again so all Minho could see was the mess of hair under the constraint of his cap, the curls mixing with a light layer of sweat at the nape of his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Jisung said, through a mouthful of crunching. “It won’t turn on.”
Minho rolled his eyes and let out a deep sigh as he walked over to where the air conditioning was installed. He reached up and pressed the power button. It made a faint whirring noise. He pressed the power button a couple more times, trying not to show his frustration. Nothing. Just stale air and heat itching at his skin and Jisung’s eyes watching him making it all worse.
“I told you,” Jisung said. “It won’t turn on.”
“What did you do to it?” Minho was ninety-nine per cent sure this was Jisung’s fault. It had to be, and if it wasn’t, he’d find a way to blame him anyways.
“Nothing, what the fuck!” Jisung held his hands out in offense. He frowned when he spoke, making his lips all pouty around the words. “Why are you blaming me?”
“You broke our washing machine last—”
“Dude, that was one time!”
“I’ve told you to stop calling me ‘dude’!”
“Okay!” Jisung’s frown twitched into a small smile. “Bro.”
Minho bit his tongue. Eight billion people in the world, and he somehow ended up sharing a flat with the most annoying one. He took a deep breath so he wouldn’t grab Jisung’s bowl and douse him in semi-skimmed milk and soggy cornflakes.
“Have you called someone to come fix this?” Minho pointed at the AC.
Jisung pursed his lips and looked away guiltily. So that was a no, then, as Minho expected.
“I’ll do it,” Minho muttered, pulling out his phone. He didn’t trust Jisung to handle this anyways. He was a firm believer of doing something yourself when you wanted it done right.
“Thanks!” Jisung said, smiling with his teeth on show. His eyes were still twinkling.
“I’m not doing it for you, asshole.”
“But thanks anyways.” Jisung gulped down the last of the milk in his bowl. Minho looked up briefly from his phone to see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, then he held out his empty bowl and dirty spoon in Minho’s direction. “And thanks for washing these too?”
Minho scoffed and rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Jisung as he dialled in the number of the air conditioning company and walked back to his room.
“It was worth a try!” Jisung called out to him. Minho could hear the smile in his voice.
The air conditioning wouldn’t be fixed for another week and a half, which meant Minho had to continue to suffer in what was supposed to be his place of respite. His room was fine — if he left the windows open and kept the fan running, then it was like they never even had a problem with the AC in the first place. But when he stepped out into the hallway, and the warm air hit him like he’d just entered an oven, Minho got annoyed all over again.
It was even worse whenever he stepped into the living room or kitchen and was sorely reminded that he lived with an absolute menace.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He’d been watching Jisung stand in front of the open fridge with his head buried inside for the past minute.
At the sudden sound of Minho’s voice, Jisung startled, hitting his head on the shelves as he stood up straight and turned around.
“Bro, it’s so good in there,” Jisung said, smiling stupidly. “Try it.”
“I’m not putting my head in the fridge.”
Jisung shrugged, pulled out a can of something fizzy. “Your loss.”
Minho ignored him and gestured for him to move so he could take out some leftovers. As he moved over to the microwave, Jisung leaned against the counter, chugging down his cool beverage. Minho grimaced at the gulping sounds, and turned his head to complain, but whatever he planned to say got stuck in his throat.
Jisung, once again, was wearing another tank top, meaning that the muscles under his smooth skin were on show. The arm he used to raise his drink to his mouth was flexed, drawing Minho’s eyes to the tautness like steel to a magnet. He didn’t realise he was staring until he heard the microwave ding! bringing him out of his daze.
He blinked, eyes flicking up to Jisung’s face, only to see him wiping away liquid from his chin with a taunting smile on his lips. A small flame of irritation danced in Minho’s chest at having been caught. Now Jisung was going to think that Minho was attracted to him (which he definitely wasn’t — he just stared at things sometimes, and Jisung’s arms happened to be caught in the crossfire), and he was going to get all annoying about it.
“Want one?” Jisung held up his can, shook it a little so Minho could hear the juice rattling against the inside. His eyes were sparkly with the thrill of teasing. Minho wanted to yank on his hair and see them clench shut. “There’s some left in the fridge.”
“No thanks,” Minho muttered. He took his food out of the microwave, holding the bowl in one hand. It definitely wasn’t hot enough but he refused to stay in the kitchen any longer.
“You sure?” Jisung was still leaning against the corner, obstructing Minho’s way.
“Yes.” Minho gripped the bowl tighter as he walked closer, eyes locked on Jisung’s, willing him to move. He didn’t.
“Are you sure you’re sure?” There was one person who got under Minho’s skin without having to try, and it was Jisung. Jisung knew it too, and he smiled like it was his biggest accomplishment.
Minho snatched the can out of Jisung’s hand, making him jump and stand up straight. He put it to his lips and watched Jisung as he drank from it, watched the way his eyes widened, the way his lips parted. He was vaguely aware that he’d just impulsively kissed Jisung indirectly. He was trying not to think about it.
Jisung’s eyes darted from Minho’s face to Minho’s mouth pressed against his drink, and they widened even more as Minho crushed the empty can in his hand.
“What—” Jisung cleared his throat. Minho’s mouth twitched at his voice crack. “You— I was drinking that!”
“You were?” Minho faked a sound of pity. “Poor baby. There’s some left in the fridge.”
A faint flush took over Jisung’s face, then his eyebrows furrowed and his lips jutted out in annoyance. Minho bit back a smile, feeling triumphant as he walked closer and Jisung silently shuffled out of his way, still sulking.
“I hope you enjoyed my backwash,” Jisung spat, sounding a lot more confident that he looked.
Minho scoffed. Jisung grew cocky again. He crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge. Minho pointedly kept his eyes on his face.
“You know, if you wanted to kiss me, bro, you could’ve just asked.”
Oh?
Minho let his eyes dip to Jisung’s mouth for just one second, not long enough to get trapped in the plump pinkness of his lower lip.
“Yeah?” Minho said. “Is that a promise?”
Jisung visibly faltered, clearly not expecting that response. His mouth opened and closed, and the flush on his face deepened. His cheeks were so impossibly rosy. Minho briefly wondered what he’d have to do to make them even pinker.
“I bet you wish it was.” Jisung recovered, biting on his lower lip in determination until it rolled out from between his teeth all puffy and raw. Shit. Now his lips were just begging to be stared at. “Don’t you?”
Minho blinked. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t know — there was nothing in his brain except Jisung’s mouth, Jisung’s mouth, Jisung’s mouth. He stared at it until he saw it curving up into a smirk, and then Jisung was nearing him, getting into his space close enough to steal a piece of meat from the bowl he was holding.
“Mmm!” Jisung hummed in satisfaction as he chewed, blinking up at Minho with wide eyes, and when he was done, he had the nerve to lick his lips clean, to dip his little pink tongue between his lips and wet them to get rid of the grease. “Yummy.”
Minho simply stood there, dumfounded, as Jisung exited the kitchen with a proud smile on his face. He wanted to wipe it right off Jisung’s lips. Cocky son of a bitch, he thought, as he went back to his own room, and his frustration grew even further when he reached his door and realised he forgot to bring a spoon with him.
See? Jisung’s fault. Again.
“You look grumpy,” Felix said, smiling sweetly as if he didn’t just insult Minho’s entire appearance.
“Thanks, Yongbok,” Minho said. He took a sip of his drink. He wasn’t so fond of the way this particular café did their iced tea, but it was Felix’s favourite, and anywhere was better than at home currently.
“Is it your roommate again?”
Minho groaned. Even the mention of Jisung got his back up.
“He’s so fucking annoying, I swear.” Minho rubbed his eyes. The brief image of Jisung digging his teeth into his lip flashed into his head. He rubbed his eyes harder.
“What did he do this time?” Felix bit into his brownie.
“He broke our AC so now the entire place is like a furnace until next week.”
“Oh no, that sucks!” A chocolate stain found its way onto Felix’s cheek. Minho smiled when he stuck his tongue out to lick at it. “How’d he break it?”
“I don’t know, but there’s no way it wasn’t him.” Minho rolled his eyes. “He’s in the top ten most idiotic people of all time.”
“Don’t be mean, hyung,” Felix said. “He didn’t do anything wrong besides be a little annoying.”
“‘A little’ is an understatement. And he’s done plenty wrong. Everything he does is wrong.”
Felix furrowed his brows, as he slurped on his straw, silently questioning.
“Yongbok, I told you, he’s like some wannabe frat bro, which should already be illegal in itself,” Minho began, “who does nothing but watch anime—”
“Oh yeah, did you ever find out which ones?”
“Yongbok.”
“Sorry.”
“And he thinks he’s the shit just because girls like when he plays guitar for them,” Minho continued, gesturing wildly with his hands. “And he can’t cook! At his big age! He’s always ordering food, plus he eats so stupidly—”
“Stupidly?”
“Like, he puts so much food in his mouth in one go so his cheeks get all chubby,” Minho was rolling his eyes, smiling a little at the stupidity of it, “like a baby squirrel or something—”
“Like a baby squirrel?”
“Yes?” Minho narrowed his eyes at Felix. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Felix tilted his head and smiled, all pretty and innocuous. He batted his lashes. “Like what?”
“Like that.” Minho frowned. “You freak.”
Felix laughed. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he finally said, smiling in that totally-not-suspicious way again. “Did I say you look grumpy? I think you’re glowing, actually.”
Right. Whatever that meant.
“No, I’m definitely grumpy,” Minho muttered. “Jisung’s gonna be the death of me.”
Felix looked like he was holding something back, but before Minho could pressure him into spitting it out, he decided to say something else that completely caught Minho off guard.
“At least you can’t hear him when he jacks off.” And then he casually took another bite of his brownie.
Minho froze. He thought very briefly of Jisung laying on his bed with his hand pumping his cock, then forced the image out of his head via rapid blinks.
“Um, yeah.” Minho rubbed his eyes. “You should probably talk to Channie hyung about that, by the way.”
“No!” Felix exclaimed, panicked. He put his brownie down and pouted. “What if he stops and then I can’t hear him anymore?”
Minho adored Felix. He really did.
The same, however, could not be said for Han Jisung, who couldn't go a single moment without bothering him.
“Yo,” Jisung’s head popped out of his room as Minho walked past. He had his headphones around his neck and there was a dent in his hair where they previously bracketed his head. “I think something’s up with our wifi.”
Minho continued walking, not even sparing him a glance. “What do you want me to do about that?”
“I’m just saying,” Jisung said. Minho could hear the pout in his voice.
“Okay,” Minho said, as he reached his room.
“I’ll restart the router,” he heard Jisung say.
“You do that.”
“I will,” snapped Jisung, and Minho heard him shut his room door behind him with a little more force than necessary, then his angry little footsteps as he stomped out into the living room.
Minho smiled to himself. Oh, how easy it was to rile Jisung up. What was harder though, Minho had learnt, was putting him in his place, and with their flat turned into a sauna, it was like the heat made Jisung more annoying than usual.
“Should I soundproof my room?” Jisung asked as he entered the living room later that day. He didn’t even sit on the couch or anything, just stood there in the doorway looking at Minho.
“Why?”
“Like, for when I’m making music and stuff.”
“Yeah, whatever, do what you want.”
“Will you tell the landlord?”
“Huh?”
“That I’m soundproofing my room.”
Minho scoffed and rolled his eyes. He could feel his brain cells denaturing and it wasn’t because of the heat. “Jisung, why can’t you tell the landlord yourself?”
“Fine,” he spat, “I will.” He stuck out his chin and frowned as he turned on his heels and went back to his room.
Minho scoffed again. A few seconds later, Minho heard hip-hop blasting from the corridor. He rolled his eyes and got up to walk over to Jisung’s room door.
“Can you turn that down?” he yelled.
The volume increased. Minho clenched his jaw, then released, because he wasn’t going to waste his time or energy on his stupid roommate who was set on giving him grey hairs before he reached the age of thirty. He had better things to do, like that essay he hadn’t finished, which he’d been putting off because the heat made him want to laze around all the time.
He went to his room, opened his windows wider and turned the fan up higher, then put his earphones in as he sat as his desk and opened up his laptop, hoping it would block out the sound of Jisung’s existence. It didn’t.
Night fell and Minho was in his bed, eyes shut and slipping off into sleepiness. Or at least he was until the sound of distant yelling broke into his peaceful doziness. He blinked his eyes open, dreary and confused. It took a while for him to realise that he wasn’t dreaming, that it was Jisung’s muffled voice he could hear from the other end of the hallway.
He groaned and closed his eyes again, chasing sleep. A couple of minutes passed, possibly the most frustrating two minutes of his life, in which Minho came to the realisation that it was extremely difficult to sleep when his freak of a roommate was screaming things like “Suck my dick, asshole!” because he was absolute dogshit at whatever game he was playing.
Minho kept his eyes shut and took deep breaths. In, and out. It was fine. Their rooms were separated by a sizeable distance, so he could probably tune out the noise if he just kept taking deep breaths. In—
“Fuck you! What the fuck?!”
In, and out. Everything was fine, and he was calm—
“Fuck!”
He was calm, and he was collected—
“Suck it! Suck it, you bitch!”
Minho shot up from his bed so fast that he gave himself whiplash, but that didn’t stop him from storming down the hallway and into Jisung’s room. Jisung was in his desk chair, as expected, with headphones on top of a backwards baseball cap and his hands occupied with his mouse and keyboard. He jumped at Minho’s sudden entrance.
“What—”
“Keep it down.” Minho glowered at him from the doorway. He saw the way Jisung shrunk slightly, the way he looked up with his parted mouth from where he was sitting, and he tightened his grip on the doorknob. He could not be thinking about blowjobs right now, goddamnit.
Jisung blinked, eyes wide with shock. “Alright, bro, chill the fuck out—”
Minho felt his blood glow crimson. “Stop fucking calling me that.”
“Okay, jeez!” Jisung held his hands up in defence. His eyes were still round, but they were all shimmery with the light of his LEDs, and there was the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Minho was going to eat him whole. In a totally, completely non-sexual way. “Are you gonna get out of my room now?”
“Are you gonna shut the fuck up now?”
Jisung’s lips twitched. “Maybe.”
One bite, Minho thought, jaw clenching. His palm was sweating all over the doorknob’s brass with how hard he was gripping it. One bite and he’s done for.
Instead of sinking his teeth into him, Minho moved from the doorway and slowly walked over to where Jisung was sitting. He watched the smile vanish from Jisung’s face, replaced with a mild fear instead. Minho felt something hot settle in him when he saw Jisung’s fear intensify as he bent over to get in his space, leaning down so that their faces were inches apart.
“Keep. It. Down.”
Jisung’s mouth was parted, cheeks splotchy with smudges of peach under his perfect honeyed skin, even more perfect from this close. The length of his lashes were so long around his eyes, big and forever sparkly, like they held whatever stars couldn’t fit in the sky. They flicked down to Minho’s mouth, then back up.
“What are you gonna do if I don’t?” he said. His voice was a lot raspier than it was a moment ago.
Minho didn’t realise how much heavier his breathing had gotten until he tried to speak again. “You wanna find out?”
“Are you gonna show me?”
“You want me to?”
“You’re all talk,” Jisung suddenly blurted. His face was fierce now, or, as fierce as it could be for how small he looked currently. “You’re a pussy.”
Minho scoffed in disbelief, and when he chuckled humourlessly he could see Jisung lick his lips.
“I bet you couldn’t show me if you tried,” Jisung continued. “Bet you think about it all the time. I bet that what’s you were dreaming of before you came in—”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Minho cut him off, voice rougher than he anticipated. “Me dreaming of all the ways I could shut that pretty mouth up.”
Jisung chewed on his lip. He shifted around in his seat. Minho looked down and saw a prominent bulge in his through his shorts. Oh. So he would like that.
“Stop looking,” Jisung whined, moving his hands to cover himself.
“Or what?” Minho smirked. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Jisung shifted around more and avoided eye contact. His huffed, puffing his cheeks out, which were now a deep pink. Oh, Minho was so going to eat him.
“You were all confident just a moment ago, baby, what happened?” Minho gave him a look of faux sympathy, relishing in the whiny noise Jisung made at the back of his throat. “What, are you shy now?”
“No,” Jisung mumbled, looking anywhere but at Minho’s face.
“What was that, baby?”
“No!” Jisung huffed.
“No?” Minho carefully placed a hand on Jisung’s leg, right above his knee. He saw Jisung keep his eyes on his hand, heard his breath hitch. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he answered, voice breathy.
Minho trailed his hand up further, ever so slightly, feeling the warm smoothness of Jisung’s thigh below his palm. “Are you sure you’re sure?”
Jisung whined at his own words being used against him. “You’re the worst.”
“Yeah? Is that why you’re hard for me, baby?” Minho stroked his thumb back and forth against Jisung’s skin with a feather-light touch, coaxing a gentle tremble out of him.
Jisung worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked up at Minho. His eyebrows were arched in desperation, eyes wide and begging. Minho licked his lips.
“Are you gonna fuck me now?” Jisung asked.
Minho felt his dick twitch in his underwear.
“Would you like me to?”
Jisung whined, eyebrows arching further. “Hyung.”
“Jisung-ah,” Minho crooned.
“So you are all talk then.” Jisung got fierce again, moving his face closer to Minho’s, challenge written all over it. “If you can’t fuck me good, then just say—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Minho grabbed his neck with the hand that wasn’t gripping his thigh and pulled him into a kiss, a rough collision of their open mouths that forced a shocked sound from Jisung’s throat. Minho inhaled it greedily, licking into Jisung’s mouth, laving on Jisung’s tongue and then sucking on it just to feel the warm wetness between his lips.
Jisung stood up out of his seat, not once detaching his mouth from Minho’s, taking off his headphones and blindly throwing them onto the desk. Minho vaguely registered the sound of them bouncing onto the floor with a clatter. He was too busy feeling Jisung’s tongue run circles around his.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Minho mumbled into Jisung’s mouth through wet kisses, so low and so heated it neared a growl.
“Why don’t you do something about it?” Jisung muttered right back into him, clashing their teeth together. Minho felt him smile, so he bit at his lower lip, pulling the smirk right off his face.
He gripped Jisung’s hips so tight he almost worried he was hurting him, but when Jisung let out a shaky moan and put his hands on Minho’s shoulders, Minho held onto him even tighter. He pushed Jisung backwards so that the small of his back was digging into his desk, and stood in front of him with a thigh in between his legs.
Minho pulled back, head reeling, and took a good look at him — his lips and mouth were endlessly cherry red and parted with the force of his panting, and his eyes were all droopy like he could barely hold them open. Minho wanted to ruin him.
“Are you just gonna look at me?” Jisung said, probably meaning to sound menacing but his breathlessness erased all the confidence in his tone.
Minho said nothing, kept his gaze charged and zeroed in on Jisung’s face just to spite him. Jisung’s skin flushed redder as he shrunk away from Minho’s piercing eyes and squirmed in frustration. Minho smiled and dug his fingers into his hips a little tighter to stop him from moving so much.
“You’re so annoying,” Jisung spat.
“Oh, I’m the annoying one?”
“Can’t even do anything but stare at me, you’re such a—”
Jisung cut himself off with a moan as Minho pressed his thigh up into Jisung’s crotch. His jaw fell slack and his eyes fluttered. Minho smiled.
“Such a what?” He grinded his thigh into Jisung’s crotch, watching his eyes squeeze shut and feeling his body tremble. “I’m such a what, baby?”
“You’re—” Jisung dug his nails into Minho’s shoulders. He was moving his hips back and forth, slowly like he didn’t even realise he was doing it. “Fuck.”
His head fell forward into Minho’s chest, and Minho felt a sick sense of pride rise up in his ribs.
“Look at you,” Minho cooed. He slipped his fingers under the hem of Jisung’s shirt, lightly scratching over the skin with his nails. Jisung shivered. “All worked up and I've barely even touched you.”
Jisung mumbled something incoherent against Minho’s chest. It sounded vaguely like a stuttered “Fuck you.” He was riding Minho’s thigh with more force now, still going slow but dragging his hips forward so strongly that Minho had to shift his body weight so that Jisung didn’t fall into him completely.
Minho put his mouth to Jisung’s neck, right in the crook of where the line of his jaw began. He traced the skin there with his lips, the softness mixed with a sheen of sweat making his mouth tingle. Jisung shuddered, gripped the muscles in his shoulders even tighter.
“Is this all I have to do to shut you up, baby?” Minho flexed the muscle in his thigh. Jisung increased his pace. “Make you ride my thigh?”
Jisung lifted his head. He looked like a wreck already; the sight of his slicked lips and heavy lids made Minho’s dick jump.
“You’re—” Jisung’s breath hitched as he rolled his hips forward. He almost let his head loll forward again, but clearly he had a mission to achieve, judging by the determined look on his face. “You’re such a bitch, dude.”
Before he even knew what he was doing, Minho pulled back and yanked Jisung forward by a fistful of his shirt, spinning him around and shoving him onto his bed so he landed on his back on the mattress with a small bounce. Jisung held himself up on his elbows, wide-eyed and panting. He scrambled backwards towards his pillows, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he watched Minho climb on top of him.
He still had his stupid fucking hat on. Minho ripped it off and tossed it to the floor, letting his dark waves bounce free around his face, then he put a hand on Jisung’s chest and forced him flat against the sheets.
“What did you just say to me?” Minho’s voice was dangerously low, face so close to Jisung’s that they were breathing in each other’s air.
“I said—” Jisung was so doe-eyed, chest heaving in anticipation, licking and gnawing on his lips. He gulped loudly. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong, Sungie?” Minho smiled crookedly as he moved the hand from Jisung’s chest up to cradle his cheek, touching him gently to contrast against the edge in his voice. Jisung leaned into his palm. "I thought I was all talk. What are you so scared for?”
“‘M not—” Jisung gulped again. "Not scared.”
“You’re not?” Minho smiled wider, moved his thumb to press into the plush of Jisung’s bottom lip. “But you were so cocky just a minute ago. What happened, baby?”
Jisung trembled, then squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to get a hold of himself. “Shit, you’re so hot,” he mumbled against Minho’s thumb.
Minho hummed, raking his eyes over Jisung’s face, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “Likewise,” he muttered, without even thinking about it.
Jisung’s eyes shot back open and his mouth split into an overly self-assured smile. “You think I’m hot?”
Minho sucked in a long breath, fighting the urge to wrap his fingers around Jisung’s throat to see if his eyes would roll back into their sockets.
“You think I’m hot, oh my God, you want me so bad.” Jisung’s eyes glimmered, almost as much as his teeth when he grinned. The LEDs made his skin shimmer too. “Wait, say it again, I wanna hear you say—” Jisung’s eyes squeezed shut again and his smile slipped into an open mouth as Minho dug the flesh of his thigh into his crotch. “Hngh—”
“You’re hotter when you’re not running your mouth,” Minho said.
He pushed the hem of Jisung’s shirt up above his belly button, looking at the dip of his waist, the soft lines defining his lower stomach and how they flexed and stretched as Jisung rolled his hips to chase the friction of Minho’s thigh. He looked at Jisung’s face, how he tried and failed to open his eyes fully, blush creeping from his face all the way down into the collar of his shirt, tiny beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his neck. And his mouth, open, wet, hot pink, circled around soft panting and small moans. Minho pressed his thigh deeper into Jisung’s crotch, forcing a strangled whine from the back of Jisung’s throat. He rutted into Minho’s leg quicker.
“So hot when you’re all whiny and needy for me,” Minho muttered. His voice was gruff. He ran his palm from Jisung’s stomach up to his chest, pushing his shirt up higher. His mouth watered at the sight of so much skin. Slightly rabid was one way to describe how he was feeling. He clenched his teeth together so he wouldn’t bite. “I should have you like this all the time, hm?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jisung chanted mindlessly. He reached his shaky hands out to grip Minho’s thigh, bringing it in closer, rutting into it even faster.
“Yeah?” Minho smiled. “Is that why you’re always so mouthy with me? You want me to hold you down like this, make you all lost for words?”
“‘M not—” Jisung gasped and shuddered as Minho swiped a thumb over his nipple. “Not lost for—” He hit a particularly good angle as he rolled against Minho’s thigh and whimpered. “Fuck.”
Minho cooed, stroked over his stomach. “Are you sure?”
“Sh— Shut up.” Jisung sounded whinier than he wanted to. “You couldn’t— mm— you couldn’t shut me up if— fuck, if you tried.”
“I couldn’t?” Minho moved his leg away and took Jisung’s wrists to place them above his head. He grabbed the hem of Jisung’s shirt and pulled it up over his head and arms. He tossed the item of clothing on the floor.
Jisung made a small whiny sound and moved his hips upwards, seeking friction. Minho sat back on his haunches and grabbed Jisung’s hips to still them. The latter chewed on his lip and moved his eyes from Minho’s face, to where his hands were gripping his hips, to the rest of his body. He was frustrated, clearly, if the crease in his brows was anything to go by.
“You couldn’t.” Jisung narrowed his eyes at Minho in what he probably thought made him look dead serious. He looked adorably feisty. “Fuck you,” he spat.
Minho tutted, stroking Jisung’s hips slowly. “Such a dirty mouth, Sungie.”
“Yeah,” he snapped. “Are you gonna clean it out for me? I bet you can’t. Can’t clean me up, can’t shut me up, what are you gonna—”
Jisung stopped speaking as soon as Minho took his shirt off. His mouth froze into an ‘o’ and his eyes darted around the skin on Minho’s torso excitedly.
“Are you gonna fuck me?” His voice was breathy, and way too enthusiastic for his own good. “Are you gonna fuck me now?” His hips stuttered up into nothing.
Minho tightened his grip, forcing him to stay still. “Where are your condoms?”
Jisung lit up. His eyes widened and his mouth split into a smile, which he tried to tame by biting at his lip. It didn’t work.
“Here.” He pointed to his bedside table, followed Minho intently with his eyes as he leaned over. “Fuck, you’re so hot. Third drawer. Fuck.”
Minho leaned down and took out a condom and lube and placed it within arm’s reach on the bed. Then, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jisung’s boxers, tugging down both his shorts and his underwear at the same time. Jisung eagerly lifted his hips so Minho could take them all the way off and dump them on the floor.
Now that he was fully naked, Minho took his time raking over Jisung’s body. He was flushed everywhere, covered with a sheen of sweat across his chest. His cock strained against his stomach, red and leaking at the tip. Jisung squirmed.
“Stop looking,” Jisung whined.
“Why?” Minho kept his eyes on Jisung as he pulled down his own boxers along with his pyjama pants, slowly, keeping Jisung’s breath bated in anticipation. “You’re so pretty like this.” His dick sprung free of his boxers. Jisung licked his lips, fingers twitching. “Wanting me to fuck you.” He wrapped a hand around himself, started pumping slowly. “You’d look so good on my dick, wouldn’t you?”
Jisung made a quiet sound, and Minho thought he saw him nod, just slightly.
“It’s a shame you’re such a brat.” Minho grunted when swiped the pad of his thumb over his slit. “I’ll just get off like this instead.”
Jisung let out a panicked sound as he suddenly sat himself up on his elbows, whining loudly. Minho bit back a smile. Jisung was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
“What, baby?” Minho continued to stroke his cock, hissing as he tightened his fist on the upstroke. “I thought I couldn’t shut you up, now you’ve gone all quiet.”
“Hyung.”
“Jisung.” Minho said his name as a moan, grinning cockily at the way it sent a visible tremor through Jisung’s body.
”You’re so mean,” Jisung huffed. Minho wanted to run the head of his cock on the seam of his jutted out lips.
“Why?” Minho’s voice was strained. “You can touch yourself too, if you want.”
Jisung pouted even more as he looked down at his cock, wet and aching against his stomach. Minho chuckled meanly, placed a hand on Jisung’s thigh, heard his breath catch in his throat.
“Want me to do it for you, hm?” Minho slid his hand further up, settling on Jisung’s inner thigh. He stroked the skin there, felt the muscle twitch under his thumb. “If I do, will you be quiet when I tell you to?”
Jisung, whose eyes were locked on Minho’s hand, nodded pathetically. He looked beyond desperate, almost like he was about to cry. Minho thought of making tears run down his cheeks and his cock jumped in his hand.
“Words, baby,” Minho gritted out.
Jisung groaned and threw his head back in frustration. He clenched his fist in the sheets. “Just—”
Minho grabbed the base of Jisung’s cock, stealing the words right out of his mouth. He made a choked noise as Minho flicked his wrist up and down, milking beads of precum from the tip. Minho leaned forward, resting his weight on one forearm so that he could hold both of their dicks in the other hand, rolling his hips to grind them against each other.
“I asked you a question,” Minho said lowly as he got into Jisung’s space. Jisung was squirming and whimpering beneath him, and Minho was starting to lose his mind. “Are you gonna shut your mouth when I tell you to?”
“Yes, fuck, yes, okay,” Jisung babbled. His eyes weren’t focused and he was half-whining when he spoke. He probably had no idea what Minho had just asked him, fuzzy head focused solely on the raw pleasure between his legs.
“Yeah?” Minho grunted. “Or am I gonna have to fuck you ‘til you can’t speak?”
Jisung let out a high-pitched keen as Minho pressed the pad of his thumb into his slit.
“Hm?” Minho continued, breathless. Jisung’s moans were dizzying. “Are you gonna tell me I can’t? Tell me I couldn’t fuck you dumb on my cock if I tried?”
Jisung stretched his head further back against the pillows, whimpered loudly.
“You like that, don’t you? Getting me all worked up. You want it rough, is that it?” Minho leaned down and scraped his teeth against Jisung’s throat.
“Fuck!” Jisung arched into Minho, then wailed when Minho pulled away. “No, please, please—”
Minho quickly grabbed the lube and coated his fingers in it, cutting Jisung’s begging short by pressing a finger to his hole. Jisung sharply sucked in a breath. Minho watched every single scrunch and twitch of Jisung’s face as he gently fingered him open, feeling the ribs of his warm walls catch on his knuckles.
Jisung rolled his hips down onto Minho’s hand. “More,” he breathed out.
“Mm, I don’t think you deserve it, baby.” Minho rubbed his other hand down Jisung’s hip, circling the area by the bone. Jisung shivered.
“Hyung,” he whined, rolled his hips down. “More.”
“More, what?” Minho bent his fingers at just the right angle, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jisung.
“Fuck, more, please, please, fuck.” Jisung arched his back, mewling as Minho ruthlessly massaged his prostate. “Please, hyung, fuck—”
Minho gave him another finger under the guise of a reward, but really, his dick was aching and Jisung was moaning and squirming underneath him, and he was growing impatient by the second. If he didn’t fuck Jisung’s brains out in the next minute, he was probably going to go insane.
He took off his boxers and trousers fully, then ripped the foil packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto his dick.
“Fuck,” Jisung breathed. “You’re so hot.” The pace of his panting increased as Minho climbed back on top of him. He was practically buzzing, Minho could almost see it. “Are you gonna fuck me now?”
“You’re like a broken record,” Minho muttered, stroking on his own dick a couple more times.
Jisung looked down in between them, focused on Minho’s hand on his length with nothing short of desperate determination all over his face.
“Well, maybe if you—” His snappiness was interrupted by Minho lining his dick up to his hole and slowly pushing it in. Jisung’s eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. His jaw fell open.
Minho might have had something cocky to say, but Jisung felt so hot around his dick and his pretty little fucked out face was something straight out of a wet dream. Minho had forgotten how to say anything other than a strained “Fuck.”
Jisung made a breathless noise in response, hands coming up to grip Minho’s shoulders. Minho felt a rush of heat wave over him at how small Jisung looked below him. His shoulders were wide but they weren’t as wide as Minho’s, and his biceps were nicely built but Minho knew that his own were bigger. He retook control of his thoughts, holding himself back from pinning Jisung’s wrists down and fucking him into the mattress.
Jisung’s eyes fluttered open once Minho bottomed out and their hips were flush against each other, all dazed and heavy with lust.
“Good?” Minho asked. He started slowly grinding into Jisung, barely pulling out, digging his dick as deep as he could into Jisung.
Jisung slurred out something incomprehensible, unfocused eyes trying their hardest not to close again. Minho’s cock twitched against Jisung’s walls.
“Hm?” Minho smirked down at him. “Can’t hear you, baby.”
Jisung gave up trying to talk, especially as Minho increased the force of his thrusts, letting his mouth hang open around long moans.
“What was that about me not being able to shut you up?” Minho upped the power of his thrusts, pulling a staccato moan from the back of Jisung’s throat. “You talked so big, hm? Now you can’t talk at all.”
He angled his hips and Jisung’s moan bordered on a scream, hands falling from Minho’s shoulders and landing beside his head. He looked so good splayed out like that, looking up at Minho through his lashes. Minho grit his teeth, felt something animalistic leave the back of his throat.
“H—” Jisung whimpered. “Hyung.”
“Yes, baby,” Minho panted.
Something in Minho’s tone sent a wave of trembles through Jisung’s body. His pupils were so dilated, so dark under the lights.
“Fast— Faster.”
Minho didn’t wait for him to beg, he couldn’t. There was pressure building up in him with each thrust into Jisung’s warm heat, and he chased after it with vigour. Minho snapped his hips in and out of him, grunting, panting, letting the tsunami of heat rise up in him until it was all he could feel. There was nothing else in his brain, nothing he could see or think or feel apart from the pleasure of Jisung’s body wrapped around his.
He grabbed Jisung’s cock and pumped it, making him cry out and scrunch his face up.
“So fucking pretty.” Minho moved his hand faster, bringing Jisung closer to the edge. “Prettiest boy. Let me see how pretty you are when you cum for me.”
Jisung came with a loud shuddering wail, arching his back and spasming around Minho’s dick. Minho choked around a deep moan and kept rutting into Jisung’s clenching heat, holding his hips with an iron grip when he wouldn’t stop writhing.
A tidal wave of electricity rushed through each and every single nerve in Minho’s body, blanking his brain and tensing the muscles in his stuttering hips. He groaned, grinding out the last of his orgasm into Jisung’s warm body, before pulling out and falling forward into him with shaky exhales.
The room was quiet for a moment. Jisung’s fan was whirring somewhere in the distance. Their heavy breathing fell into an asymmetrical rhythm, and Minho realised he could feel Jisung’s chest heaving against the weight of his own.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing himself up on shaky arms. His stomach was sticky from where he’d laid in where Jisung came on himself.
“That’s okay,” Jisung said, sounding shy. He laid there quietly, watching Minho take off the condom and toss it in the bin. “Oh,” he said softly, as Minho picked up his shirt and wiped away the cum on his stomach.
“I’m doing laundry tomorrow anyway, so…” Minho moved the fabric down, wiped off the excess lube, apologising when Jisung winced because he was still sensitive.
“So, like…” Jisung looked up at Minho. “We’re chill now, right?”
Minho looked at Jisung. His hair was spread out around his head on the pillow like a chestnut halo, puffy cheeks flushed and wide eyes lit with stars through his lashes. He had his mouth stretched out into a stupid grin, like Minho hadn’t just fucked him silly. Minho stopped for a second, waited for the post-nut clarity to hit him. It didn’t.
“Yeah,” Minho said, rolling his eyes and smiling. He scrunched his shirt up into a ball and threw it into Jisung’s overflowing laundry basket. “We’re chill.”