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“Let’s go through the park,” Jisung says, pulling his hand. “It’s quicker.”
Minho allows himself to be dragged onto the pebbled path between the trees. “So impatient to get me home, Jisungie,” he teases.
Jisung giggles. He’s tipsy after their night out and unsteady on his feet. “Shut up, I have to pee,” he says. “Not sure I can make it if we go all the way around the block.”
Minho smiles. He’s had a couple of gin and tonics, but Jisung’s had more. He drinks faster than Minho, as if separating the straw from his mouth physically pains him. He looks good sucking on that straw though, his wet pout puckered up around the plastic, his cheeks hollowed out slightly, big round eyes blinking in some confused concentration. Minho can never get tired of watching him drink.
They walk along the gravelled path, and Minho lets go of his hand to hug him around the waist. Jisung is prone to stumbling, even without the alcohol and uneven ground under his feet, and now he’s wearing some ridiculous platform shoes, chunky and large, which make his bare legs seem even thinner. He looks as fragile as a baby deer. The gravel on the path is sharp, and if he were to fall, he’d scrape his knees for sure. Minho holds him tighter.
The path is well-lit, the night is warm, and the treetops around them bristle, lush in the summer air. They lived right next to this park for a while now, and yet this is the first time they ever walked through it during the night, which Minho now decides is a shame. Not only because it’s lovely, but also because there is something special about being in an almost deserted park with your boyfriend at nighttime. It throws him back to his high-school days when he spent many such evenings kissing on a park bench with whatever crush he had at the time. Back then, he’d have killed for an empty apartment and the luxury of making out on a bed. But now, the idea of a park seems sweet, wrapped up in fuzzy nostalgia that distorts everything into something much softer than what it actually was. Even the uncomfortable wooden planks of the bench seem cosy and inviting, though Minho’s ass and thighs remember them not to be at all.
But it would be nice to sit on a bench with Jisung’s legs wrapped around him, and to kiss under the yellow streetlight, oblivious to any occasional passerby that might stroll by. This image is even more appealing because Jisung is wearing a skirt, a short sexy little thing that hardly covers his ass. Minho could really utilise all the advantages of that outfit, grope the firm round fat of his asscheeks and pull him closer until their cocks are rubbing together, separated only by the cloth of Minho’s jeans and Jisung’s briefs, Minho’s fingers slithering under Jisung’s underwear to tease his little hole until Jisung sobs, desperate for more. He smiles to himself; too bad Jisung is in a hurry, maybe next time.
“Hyung,” Jisung’s whine snaps him out of his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“You’re not even listening to me.” Jisung pouts, slumping his shoulders and lifting his head in a dramatic way. Amazing how a person can pout with their whole body.
“Sorry, I was watching that dog.” Minho points at a labrador and its owner coming along their way on the path. “Got distracted. What were you saying?”
Jisung has been blabbering ever since they left the club, and while usually Minho always carefully listens to whatever chatter is coming out of his cute mouth, this time Minho’s brain got busy imagining a hot make out session on a park bench and Minho tuned out. He’s got no idea what Jisung’s been saying for the last five minutes or so.
The dog-walker strides past them, and Jisung presses closer, lowering his voice.”I’m saying I can’t hold it until we get home.” He huffs. “I have to pee now.”
“You wanna go behind that tree?”
“Yes, but…can you come with me?” Jisung shuffles his weight between his feet. “It’s dark, and I don’t know. You can keep watch.”
“Sure.” There’s no light on the green, and Jisung would surely trip. Of course Minho’s gonna come along.
They step onto the grass, away from the streetlights, and once they’re some safe distance from the path, Jisung stops and looks around.
“Okay, here is good,” he says. “You keep watch.”
“Sure thing, baby.”
Minho doesn’t understand why Jisung is being shy and tasking him with keeping watch. Sure, it’s not a nice thing to do, taking a leak in public, outside, but sometimes you just have to. Besides, standing up against a tree far away from the streetlights while you do your business is not all that bad, even if someone were to pass by and see, which is also highly unbelievable as the park is nearly empty at this hour, especially away from the main path. This is probably just Jisung being tipsy and cute, putting on an act, showing Minho just how helpless and utterly dependent on him he is.
Jisung, however, doesn’t go to stand against the tree. Instead, he squats, pulling down his briefs, and Minho’s jaw drops as fast as Jisung’s underwear.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Peeing? Duh.” Jisung rolls his eyes. “Or actually, not yet. I need to concentrate.”
Minho can’t help a shocked little chortle. “Why are you…down there?”
Jisung sighs. “My skirt keeps falling over my dick if I pee standing up. Besides, I’m more stable this way, I don’t want to have to clean piss off my shoes later.” He purses his lips, squinting at Minho. “I’d have left you to wait on the path if I knew you were gonna make fun of me.”
“Aw no, Jisungie,” Minho is quick to reassure him. “Not making fun. I was just surprised is all. Go on, do your thing, and let’s get home.”
But Jisung still seems to be waiting for something. “I can’t when you’re staring at me like that,” he says.
Minho laughs. “You want me to turn around?”
He would if Jisung said so. But the reason he sounds so incredulous is because they have both done this in front of each other a zillion times before. Nothing to be shy about. They’re together, for fuck’s sake. Hell, even friends don’t get shy about such stuff. Minho thinks there’s not a single person among their friends group that has been denied that particular bonding experience. Just two guys standing next to one another, each holding their own dick, either at the urinals in a bar bathroom somewhere or even outside in nature against a tree or a bush. It’s really not a big deal.
Except. Well. He can’t deny that this is somehow different. Just for the fact that Jisung is squatting. Minho is not sure why that makes it different, but it does. He feels like he’s being privy to some special secret ritual, one that he knows nothing about, one that’s not so easily shared with others, be it friends or lovers. Like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t, something very bare and vulnerable and private.
“You don’t have to turn around,” Jisung grumbles, pouting. “Just…just don’t stare like that. Act normal. You’ll give my bladder anxiety.”
Minho nods, amused and intrigued. He tries not to stare in a way that Jisung just described as not normal, but he also can’t stop looking. If Jisung had just stood up against the tree, he would be entirely unfazed. But the fact that he is squatting, his white little briefs scrunched around his sharp knees, and his lean calves pressed against his toned spread thighs as he waits, focused, does something to Minho. He tries to act cool, but he really can’t stop staring, fascinated.
Jisung is looking up, somewhere to the treetops, his mouth open, eyebrows slightly raised as he blinks. His eyes sparkle, moving left and right like he’s trying to catch a sound somewhere in the distance. It’s the same kind of face he makes when he worries that the noise the washing machine is making is odd, or if he is trying to make out what a single voice is saying among the many in the crowd—Jisung is focusing.
After a moment, he sighs, then groans. Minho thinks that perhaps he should turn around after all, if it will help. He doesn’t want his presence to be disruptive to Jisung’s physiological function. But just as he takes a step to the side, a shy trickle patters on the grass between Jisung’s spread feet.
Jisung exhales loudly. The trickle pauses, then continues.
Minho watches, transfixed, and Jisung resumes blabbering. He talks about some stuff he and Felix laughed about at the club earlier, how Jeongin teased them about it later, but Minho is not listening. His mouth is dry and his nostrils are flared. Everything around Jisung is blurred. Every sound muffled. For Minho, in that moment, nothing seems to exist except Jisung squatting, his skirt hunched up, white underpants around his knees, soft drizzle splattering the ground between his legs. He looks up with his big wide eyes, giggling to whatever story he is retelling, carefree and drunk. Minho never thought that he’d use that word to describe such a mundane, even crass act, but the only word that comes to his mind as he’s watching Jisung take a piss—no actually, not take a piss, but pee—is dainty. Jisung is being dainty. He is peeing in a dainty way. Minho wants to devour him.
He absentmindedly rubs the tightness in his jeans, along his crotch. What was just being slightly titillated by thoughts about making out with Jisung on a park bench, has now become a powerful mindless desire, impossible to ignore. Minho wishes to roughly shove Jisung to fall face-down onto the grass, or even, contrary to what he tried to prevent moments ago, onto that sharp gravel. Have him scrape and bruise his knees, yank his hair and smack his ass, bite his neck and spread his dainty little hole around his fingers and fuck him until he cries.
Unaware of Minho’s reaction, Jisung keeps on chattering as the delicate little flow steadily pelts the ground between his feet. He is looking up, all pouty and cute, and he seems so round and delicate and small, like a tiny forest creature. It’s easy for Minho to imagine he’d be spooked by a sudden sound or movement in the trees and hop away, frightened. With his eyes shining in the dark, alone in the dense tree grove, he looks fragile and helpless and utterly at Minho’s mercy, which seems to awaken some animalistic urge in Minho. The urge to hunt, to overpower, to conquer. To hurt Jisung’s delicate softness with his nails and his teeth and his cock.
Minho rubs his eyes as Jisung still blissfully pees. It’s taking really long.
Minho clears his throat. “You done, baby?”
“Huh?” His carefree prattle interrupted, Jisung suddenly grows alert. “Is someone coming?” He looks around. “I’m almost done, yeah.”
The trickle comes to a stop, and when Jisung does a little wiggle with his bum, Minho loses the last bit of self-control he had and groans as he takes a determined step towards him. He grips Jisung’s upper arm and quickly pulls him up to stand.
Jisung looks surprised at first, but when their eyes meet, he undoubtedly recognises the hunger in Minho’s gaze, and his features relax, turning into something mischievous and expectant. He tilts his head, smirking.
Minho grabs him by the back of the neck and crashes his lips into that adorable smirk. It’s rough and with too much teeth, but Jisung is pliant and eager and each time Minho bites the soft plush of his lips, Jisung lets out a needy little moan.
Minho guides him towards a tree, then swiftly spins him around and pushes him forward. Jisung stumbles, but manages to steady himself, his palms pressing against the tree bark. When he moves his feet to stand closer to the tree, Minho roughly grabs him by the hips and pulls his ass back right onto his crotch. Jisung whines when he feels his hardness.
“You just hold on tight, baby,” Minho whispers to his ear. “And don’t move.”
Jisung whimpers, nodding, but the manhandling and the fact that he’s well tipsy make him lose his balance, so he again shuffles his feet, trying to find some leverage.
The swat that lands on his ass is loud and hard. “I said, don’t move,” Minho growls, squeezing the soft fat of the asscheek he just struck.
“S-sorry, hyung,” Jisung pants. “I won’t move. I’m sorry.”
Minho kisses his shoulder, gently sucking. “Mm, I know, baby, I know. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Jisung whispers, spreading his legs slightly, pushing his hips back, rubbing against Minho’s cock. “I’ll be good, hyung. I’ll be good.”
Minho smacks his ass again and Jisung yelps. His underwear is stretched taut around his knees, so he can’t spread his legs as much as he’d want to, but he arches his back, sinking lower and juts out his bottom.
“That’s my good boy,” Minho praises. His fingers dig into the flesh of Jisung’s pert ass, pulling the asscheek to the side, exposing his crack. “You better be good, baby. Cause you’re alone here with me, I can do whatever I want to you.”
He rubs Jisung’s little hole, and Jisung whimpers. “Ah, please.”
Minho strikes his ass again, really hard this time, the sound of the slap ringing through the night. “Shh,” he says. “Don’t make so much noise, Jisungie. We’re in public. You want everyone to hear you?”
It’s ridiculous. The park is empty. There’s no one to hear. But Jisung appreciates the idea because he moans, loud and desperate. Minho smiles fondly. It’s so precious how much Jisung loves letting the whole world know he belongs to Minho, and how much he gets off on advertising the filthy delicious things Minho does to him, wearing the skimpiest most revealing clothes to proudly show off the bitemarks and bruises Minho gifts him. One time, Minho even caught him sending a pic of his well-smacked bottom to Felix, gushing about Minho’s handprint burning red and lewd on his skin.
So even if the park wasn’t pretty much deserted at this hour, Jisung apparently does want everyone to hear, or doesn’t really care. But he plays into the fantasy. “Sorry, hyung,” he says. “I’ll be quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear. I just can’t help it. Not when hyung touches me like that.”
Minho licks his lips. He holds Jisung’s chin and slowly turns his head to the side, then kisses him. “You are so fucking perfect,” he whispers, affection seeping into his tone.
He can feel Jisung’s lips stretch into a smile under Minho’s gentle kisses.
“I know,” Jisung says, dropping his act as well. “That’s why you can’t even wait five minutes for us to get home but have to fuck me in a park.”
They laugh.
“You okay with that?” Minho asks. They haven’t really done this before. They fucked in a car a few times, but this is new.
In response, Jisung takes Minho’s hand and guides it down his stomach, then lower, and Minho grins when he feels that Jisung is also hard.
“So. Fucking. Perfect,” Minho murmurs, emphasising each word with a little peck along Jisung’s jaw.
It’s usually easy for him to slip back into the role, but for some reason Minho now feels sappy. He is nuzzling at Jisung’s neck, murmuring some sweet nothings, remembering the way Jisung squatted, as cute as a button, and peed, dainty like some cotton-candy princess. Minho groans, melting into a puddle.
He still wants to rough him up though.
“You’re so horny for me, baby, aren’t you?” he says, his fingers pressing harder, prying along the wrinkled folds of Jisung’s little hole.
“Mhm,” Jisung moans. “So horny for you, hyung.”
“Don’t even care that people can see.” Minho starts unbuckling his belt with his other hand, then unbuttons his jeans. “You want my cock so bad that you’d let me fuck you right here in the open. Anyone can come and see you squirm on my fingers, baby.”
Jisung mumbles something incoherent, moving his bottom further back onto Minho’s touches.
Minho removes his hand from Jisung’s ass and Jisung whines in complaint, but shuts up as soon as Minho shoves the fingers inside his mouth.
“Get them wet for me, baby.” Minho presses down on Jisung’s tongue, making him open wider, then pushes the fingers deep, twirling them around the soft insides of his mouth.
He guides them back and forth, just for the obscenity of it, finger-fucking Jisung’s mouth as Jisung moans, sucking greedily.
“Good boy,” Minho praises.
He wraps one arm around Jisung’s chest, holding his neck, and with the other hand, fingers now wet with spit, he reaches for Jisung’s ass once more.
Now the touch is smoother, no longer as dry, but it is still way too tight for Jisung to at once take two of Minho’s fingers in silence. He wails softly as Minho pushes past the dryness, past the tender flesh resisting the intrusion.
“It hurts, hyung,” Jisung whines, but he goes slack, willing his body to relax, doing his best to accommodate Minho’s fingers and help them get inside.
“Shh baby,” Minho soothes him. “Be good for me.”
Jisung whimpers, sniffling, making pathetic little sounds of discomfort as Minho fingers him roughly, pushing further and faster, his knuckles bumping against the rim.
“Hh-hyung,” Jisung sobs. “It hurts. Please. It hurts so much.”
“I know, baby, I know,” Minho whispers, not slowing down, but going even harder. “That’s cause you’re so tight, baby, so small…” He kinda cringes a little to say it out loud, but he can’t resist hearing the word roll off his tongue, “So dainty.”
Jisung fucking loves it. He shivers, choking on a mewling sound in his throat.
Minho removes his fingers and Jisung again lets out a whine of protest, only to gasp when he hears Minho spit into his palm. Minho swears he can tell the exact moment Jisung’s knees go weak.
He rubs his cock, smearing the precome gathered on the tip, and that, along with the spit, might be enough. And if not, well… Tough luck. Jisung will have to take it nonetheless.
He guides his cock to Jisung’s little hole, and when he starts pushing the head in, Jisung tenses, instinctively moving away.
“Be still, baby,” Minho tells him. “Be good for hyung.”
With a deep focused breath, Jisung stills, relaxing. But it’s a struggle. Jisung is nowhere near open enough, and it’s too dry and too tight, so much so that it’s painful even for Minho. He bites on his lip, frowning in discomfort.
Jisung whimpers, and Minho can only imagine it must burn like hell, because it hurts him too, his cock getting chaffed in its advance. But he doesn’t falter, pushing steadily as he grits his teeth.
Jisung is trembling, trying not to move as he’s breached, but he grunts and gulps, his nails scratching the tree bark.
“Hyung,” he whines. “It hurts so much.”
“Almost there, baby,” Minho tells him. “You’re being so good for me sweetheart, so brave.”
Jisung sounds wretched, wailing softly. “Hyung, it hurts,” he cries. “Hurts so much. Please, no more.”
Minho’s thumb gently brushes the skin on his neck as he squeezes harder. “I know it hurts, baby,” he whispers. “You’re too small for me. Too small for hyung’s cock, aren’t you?”
Jisung hiccups, agreeing, “Hyung is so big.”
“I want to fuck you so hard, sweetheart,” Minho says, forcing his way inside in determined shallow thrusts. “But you’re so small, baby. Too small for me. So I have to hold back. I’m being so careful, sweetheart.” It’s a lie because he is not, in fact, being careful or holding back at all. He is pushing relentlessly, his cock wresting Jisung open by sheer force, and the only reason he doesn’t slam inside at once is because it’s way too dry and Jisung is not even properly open yet and it’s fucking impossible. He’s trying though, giving his all.
“Ah, hyung, please,” Jisung whimpers in broken breaths. “Hurts so much.”
“I know, baby,” Minho says. “It’s hardly past the tip and you’re already crying.”
“Yes, please, no more,” Jisung begs. “I can’t take it. Please.”
“You can, baby. You have to. Be good for hyung.”
When he bottoms out, they both need a moment. Jisung hiccups softly and sniffles, and Minho closes his eyes, exhaling through a long hard breath.
“You okay?” Minho knows Jisung is getting off on the rough treatment, but he likes to check nonetheless.
“Fuck yeah,” Jisung chuckles. “Don’t stop.”
Minho nods, breathing deep, and starts slowly pulling back. It’s so fucking dry, and Jisung is so tight around him, it really seems like an impossible task. They’ll both be sore. But the soft tight heat of Jisung’s little hole is so warm around his cock, so snug, so good, that any other sensation fades in comparison. He doesn’t care about anything else.
He moves in slow shallow thrusts, waiting for the flesh to stop resisting as much. But Jisung is impatient. And out of his mind apparently. Because he pushes his hips back, urging Minho to speed up.
Minho grins, gripping Jisung’s hip tighter. With a deep focused breath, he braces himself and pulls almost all the way out, then slams back inside.
Jisung cries out.
“Shut up,” Minho says through his gritted teeth, which makes his tone even harsher, and Jisung trembles, gulping.
He fucks him deep and slow and hard, taking his time between the thrusts, making Jisung really feel it, each painful inch of the torturous drag eliciting a whimper more pitiful than the last.
After a bit, it gets easier, the flesh of Jisung’s tight little hole slowly yielding under the assault, and Minho moves more freely.
Jisung nonetheless continues to whine. “Hyung, it hurts. Please, no more. It’s too big.”
“I know, baby, I know.” Minho’s fingers dig into the soft curve of his hips. “That’s why I’m going easy on you. See how gentle I am for you, baby?” Again, a lie, because he is being anything but gentle. There’s nothing gentle about how his fingers grip both Jisung’s neck and Jisung’s hips hard enough to bruise, and nothing gentle about how his cock is slamming inside with full force and utter disregard. “So gentle for my babygirl.”
“Oh fuck, say that again,” Jisung grunts, forgetting all about his whining and their game play.
“Babygirl,” Minho rasps, thrusting. “My babygirl.”
Jisung mewls, going limp in Minho’s firm hold.
He is drooling, and as he is being pushed back and forth under Minho’s relentless rhythm, a string of spit flies through the air and lands on Minho’s hand at his throat.
Minho closes his eyes, moaning, and bites him, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of Jisung’s shoulder, lips sucking the tiny beads of perspiration, and speeds up.
“Ah hyung,” Jisung cries, sounding blissed out already. “It’s too much. Too big. I can’t. Please.”
“Stop whinging,” Minho tells him. “Take it like a good boy, I know you can.”
“I’m sorry,” Jisung sniffles. “Sorry, hyung. It just hurts so much. Please, no more.”
“You feel so good around me, sweetheart, so tight and warm,” Minho whispers. “You want hyung to stop when he feels so good? Don’t want to be good for me? Make me feel good?”
“Mn, no, hyung,” Jisung sobs. “I do. I’m sorry. I’ll take it. I’ll be good. I won’t cry anymore.”
“That’s my good boy,” Minho praises. “You’re being so good for me, baby. Just like I’m being good and nice and gentle for you.”
Minho slows down, just in case, to grind against Jisung’s ass. But just as Minho is lying that he’s being gentle, Jisung is also lying that he can’t take it. Because he whines impatiently, pushing back onto Minho’s cock, seeking more and harder and faster.
Minho slaps his ass, sharp and vicious. “Be fucking still,” he growls.
He rolls his hips languidly, searching for the sweet spot, as his hand keeps Jisung steady, impaled to the hilt.
He bends his knees and sinks a bit lower to angle upwards, and Jisung gets on tiptoes, arching his back even more. This makes Jisung’s briefs drop down to his ankles, and the whiteness of them against Jisung’s black platform shoes and the black darkness of the park at nighttime flashes like hot lightning inside Minho’s mind. He groans, biting Jisung again, breaking the skin this time.
Jisung whines, needy and wanton, and Minho adjusts his grip on Jisung’s hip and slams inside him so hard that Jisung nearly crashes against the tree.
“What a good boy you are,” Minho pants. “Taking me so well, baby. Even though you hurt.”
“I want to…want to be good for you, h-hyung,” Jisung whispers in greedy breaths.
“Of course you do, baby. Such a good babygirl. Just for me.”
“Just for you, hyung, even though it hurts. I hurt just for you.”
The words shoot straight to Minho’s brain and Minho’s heart and Minho’s cock. His whole body vibrates with a low sound thrumming in his throat, and he feels something dangerous and primal and beautiful and raw bubble up deep inside his stomach.
He moves again, resuming the thrusting, and establishes a punishing pace. He won’t last long like this, but Jisung also seems close. He can tell both by the way he is pliant and boneless in his hold and by the way he seems to be fighting for breath between the broken whines, his voice raspy from moaning.
Jisung moves his head, seeming desperate, and sticks his tongue out.
“Got you, baby,” Minho says and moves the hand that was on Jisung’s throat to shove two of his fingers inside Jisung’s mouth.
Jisung groans in bliss, sucking his fingers, mumbling around them gratefully.
Minho tries to breathe some control into his body, willing himself to last just a little bit longer.
“Will you come for me, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Mhm,” Jisung moans, nodding.
“Good, baby. So good for me. Come on my cock. Come for hyung, babygirl.”
Jisung shudders, his mouth closing over Minho’s fingers, teeth sinking into Minho’s knuckles. His mouth and chin are messy with spit, his cheeks wet with tears, and Minho’s thumb rubs along the skin gently. Then he loses control, and his hand grips Jisung’s jaw firmly as he loses rhythm, his thrusts now erratic and frenzied. He groans, feeling Jisung’s little hole clench around him as Jisung wails in powerful release. Minho’s cock pulses, Jisung’s tender tunnel squeezing him tight, and his vision goes black, then zaps in a hot white line before the whole universe of stars bursts behind his eyes. He heaves, moaning deep and loud, as Jisung’s clenching little hole sucks the last bits of come from his throbbing cock.
They pant as the park around them slowly returns to existing again; the tree tops rustling in the summer breeze, air cool and pleasant on their damp skin, grass soft under their feet.
Minho rubs his face along Jisung’s shoulder, and Jisung gently licks the fingers still inside his mouth.
“Sorry I bit you,” he mumbles around Minho’s fingers, the S sounding like a very soft SH.
“Hmm,” Minho purrs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Aw nooo.” Jisung moves his head, abandoning the fingers. “You’re supposed to say that was very naughty and that I shall be severely punished for my transgression.”
They both chuckle.
“Just…give me a fucking moment, or I’ll add this to the list of your transgressions too.”
“Oooh, there’s a list?” Jisung thrills.
“It’s really long, baby. You’re in trouble.” Minho slowly pulls out, and Jisung grunts a little.
“How long?” he asks. “Can I see it?”
Minho smacks his ass. “Shh, baby, be quiet, let me look at you.” He pulls Jisung’s hips and pushes his shoulders down, making him bend. “You are so pretty.”
Jisung’s right asscheek is bright pink from Minho’s slaps, and his little hole looks red and puffy and sore, gaping open as the thick white drops of come dribble down outside. Minho dabs at the rim with his finger, pushing the come back inside, and Jisung moans.
“Squeeze tight, baby,” Minho says. “Keep it in.”
Jisung tries, clenching, but he’s fucked wide open and it will be an effort not to let any of Minho’s come leak outside.
Suddenly, Jisung’s phone pings. He stands up straight and reaches for the pocket of his denim jacket.
“Who is it?” Minho asks.
“Felix. He got home safely and wonders why I haven’t texted that we did too. We should have been home like, twenty minutes ago.”
Jisung starts typing a reply and Minho hooks his chin over Jisung’s shoulder, peeking at the screen.
i had to pee and minho called me a babygirl cause i squatted and we had to fuck we’re still in the park
Minho laughs. “You want me to take a picture? So you can show him?” he teases.
“Can you?” Jisung is serious though. “Would you?”
Minho palms his face, still laughing, as Jisung’s phone pings with four new texts in quick succession.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you. Minho, you’re so fucking mean,” Jisung lets out an exasperated groan, then presses his screen. After a moment, he speaks to his phone, “Hey, Lixie.”
Minho can’t believe he actually called Felix. “Oh god you could as well just face-timed him while we fucked, what the hell, Sungie,” he laughs.
“Yes, hey listen,” Jisung says, giggling, quick and excited, trying to smack Minho’s hands away. “Yes, no, he’s being mean and won’t take a picture. Listen—”
Minho manages to snatch his phone from him. “Hey Felix,” he says, putting the phone to his ear. “We’re almost home. I will text when we arrive cause Jisung’s phone is now confiscated.” He hangs up, pulls his trousers up, and puts the phone in his back pocket where it continues to ping with a series of messages and even buzzes when Felix calls back.
Jisung smirks, tilting his head to the side. “Is this—”
“Yeah, this is also going on the list.” Minho interrupts, smiling, then takes Jisung’s hand and heads back to the path.
“Cool,” Jisung says, giggling. “Just checking. Don’t wanna be acting out for nothing.”
Minho laughs. “You go on like this, and we won’t even make it home.” He grabs Jisung’s ass, squeezing a handful. “I’ll have to pull you over my knee right here on the park bench.”
Jisung lets out an excited squeal, pressing his body closer. “Now that’s an incentive,” he whispers, sly and teasing.
His eyes are playful and wicked and Minho can’t resist kissing him. They stand a few metres away from the path, the golden streetlights reaching them already, their bodies warm and sticky with sweat. Jisung’s hands slip around Minho’s waist as he hums softly in Minho’s mouth. Minho closes his eyes, relishing in the slow tender kisses and in the way Jisung’s hands trail all over his back.
Suddenly, Jisung tears away and starts running. Minho is confused for a brief moment, but then he sees that Jisung once again has his phone—sneaky thief—and is already calling Felix, laughing and blabbering as soon as Felix picks up.
Minho scoffs, then his lips curl into a grin. His blood pumps strong and excited in his veins, a powerful current of something that can only be described as feral buzzes through his body, and he sets off. It’s hunt time. Jisung apparently really wants to get spanked on a park bench.