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“Wait, you’ve hooked up with other idols?” Jisung, shocked and appalled, only barely manages to sputter. “Who?”
It’s six-twenty in the morning. Jisung is under no influences, which one might doubt—because why else would this conversation come up at such an unholy hour? The answer is Felix. Felix, who ambled into the kitchen and turned Jisung’s world on its head with one simple question directed at Minho: “Have fun last night, hyung?”
That was enough to flip Jisung from idol to detective. He grilled them both until Minho, begrudgingly, waved his hands in Felix’s direction in the universal gesture to ‘go ahead’, and Felix happily got to inform Jisung that Minho was out with another idol last night—a clandestine meeting.
“It’s impolite to mind your hyung’s business,” Minho tells him, sipping his coffee and sending Felix a pointed glare. Felix grins and flits away, immune to Minho’s attempts at putting the fear of God into his heart. That leaves just the two of them—the two of them and Jisung’s brain, which is firing on all cylinders.
“Hyung,” he whines. “How could you not tell me? Aren’t we best friends?”
“That depends on how annoying you’re planning to be about this.”
“Mean!”
Minho raises an eyebrow at him and Jisung—Jisung will not admit defeat. He knows Minho’s threshold for annoyance is way higher than this, especially when it comes to Jisung. Jisung gets to be, like, twenty times more irritating than everyone else before Minho starts to lose his patience.
Jisung knows how to play the game, how to get Minho to crack. It’s a long game, one with extended silences—which Minho generally doesn’t mind but make Jisung itch. Still, it’s for the greater good. Because while Minho may tolerate what he calls ‘comfortable quiet’, he can’t tolerate when Jisung is bothered. It’s like a tick—Minho has to remedy the situation immediately, no matter what Jisung needs. Jisung doesn’t weaponize it often, like once a week tops.
He eats his toast silently, contemplatively, hums to make sure Minho is still paying attention to him and squirms, just enough to be irritating. He swallows each bite with intention, keeping his eyes to himself, biding his time.
Minho stares at him. “You’re not going to annoy the answer out of me.”
“What?” Jisung gasps, arranging his expression to the perfect picture of innocence. “What a hurtful assumption. I’m just enjoying a nice, quiet breakfast with my hyung. My hyung who keeps secrets from me.”
Minho’s eye twitches. Jisung smiles and taps his fingers to a rhythm in the back of his head. Not long now.
It takes less time than usual for Minho to break, but break he does. “Just—someone from SM.”
“Oh my God, you’re hooking up with Jungwoo-sunbaenim?!”
“Hush,” Minho snaps at him, eying the closed doors where Seungmin and Jeongin are still asleep, which they shouldn’t be—Jisung got here from his dorm early because he knows Minho offering to make breakfast before a schedule is sacred. “Hooked up. Just once. It’s not a thing.”
“Wow,” Jisung marvels, kind of irritated for reasons he does not understand. Probably because Minho kept this from Jisung, as if Jisung would judge him. Like, Jungwoo is—he’s cute, whatever. Jisung gets it; he’s just surprised Minho would be the type to sleep with another idol. They’re technically allowed to, but Chan gets on their asses about it all the time, regularly lecturing them on discretion and reminding them that the Internet is really great at figuring things out.
(Jisung doesn’t particularly agree—the Internet thinks he and Minho are a thing. Yeah, right!)
“I didn’t think you had it in you, hyung,” Jisung settles on.
“You’re being far too insulting for this hour,” Minho grumbles. “I’m going to have to punish you. Come here. I’m going to pull one of your hairs out.”
“No, you’re gonna make me go bald!” Jisung protests. “And I’m not insulting you, it’s just—you never talk about that kind of stuff. I didn’t think you were into it.”
“I’m very into sex,” Minho says. Jisung chooses that same moment to choke on his breakfast, spitting pieces of toast everywhere. Minho shoves a napkin against his mouth, stopping the onslaught.
Jisung tries to recover too quickly, nearly sending himself into another coughing fit before he manages, “You are?”
“Sure,” Minho says. “That’s why I hook up with people.”
“Hook up, as in, like, the present tense.”
“Yes.”
“But you said Jungwoo was just—”
“Jungwoo was just one time,” Minho interrupts him. “There have been others.”
“Others,” Jisung repeats dumbly. He’s having a hard time keeping up. It’s not that he thought Minho was a virgin—well, he hasn’t really thought about it. Jisung certainly isn’t hooking up with anyone, so he just assumed. He’s a little offended by it, a little… jealous? Maybe jealous. This could be jealousy, only because Minho is apparently getting it on the regular and Jisung has to settle for his hand, and only when the dorm is empty, which is never. There’s an equity issue here.
“What’s wrong, Jisungie?” Minho asks. “You look upset.”
“Upset? Ha! No, I’m just—there’s so much I don’t know about you, hyung,” he says, getting himself together at an impressive rate. Only minimal stumbling. Jisung is getting better at this whole communication thing. “Kinda hurt you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to know about my sex life,” Minho says, and he sounds earnest, like he means it. “Felix only knows because he has some sort of third eye about this thing and catches me coming home. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”
“I do really want to know,” Jisung huffs.
He wishes he knew that as soon as he spoke the words that they were a mistake—God, they were a mistake—Jisung should’ve never said them aloud because Minho does tell him. He gives Jisung a comprehensive list of all the idols that he’s hooked up with, even so much as to give Jisung details on the level of hooking up done.
By the time he’s finished, Jeongin has emerged from his room bleary-eyed to find Jisung catatonic. He gives him a sideways glance.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I told him about my sex life, in detail,” says Minho, smiling sweetly.
Jeongin crinkles his nose. “Ew, hyung. Why would you torture him like that so early in the morning?”
“He asked.”
Jeongin scrunches up his face even more and turns to Jisung. “Ew, hyung. Why would you want to know that?”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Minho sings. He smiles at Jisung and pats him on the back, shocking him momentarily back into the world of the living. “Brush your teeth and wake up Seungminnie. We have to be at the studio in thirty.”
Jisung thinks he nods, but he’s already outside of reality again. As Minho disappears back into his room, Jisung is left to consider everything he just learned.
Not only did Minho hook up with one idol, he’s hooked up with many. These are idols Jisung knows, has looked in the eye, and they’ve—they’ve—with his hyung. Jisung doesn’t get it. Like, he gets it—these are all good looking men; they’re discreet because they’re in the same industry; they’re easily accessible because they all attend the same events—but! Using that logic, wouldn’t it make sense for Minho to hook up with someone in the group? Like, Jisung, perhaps? Jisung is available. He’s willing, discreet, and extremely accessible. Minho hasn't even considered him?
It’s not like—Jisung doesn’t feel that way about Minho, obviously, but it’s still kind of insulting.
“Are you seriously pouting because you found out Minho-hyung has sex?” Jeongin interrupts Jisung’s pity party. “Stand up, hyung. I’m so embarrassed for you.”
“You’re really disrespectful to your elders,” Jisung mumbles.
“That doesn’t work coming from you.”
Jisung sighs. He knows it doesn’t. He slumps further in his chair and Jeongin rolls his eyes and swipes a piece of meat from Jisung’s plate.
“Don’t be pathetic, hyung. The Internet will pick up on your yearning,” Jeongin warns.
“What—what yearning?!”
“You know what, I’m not getting involved. I’ve learned my lesson.” Jeongin snatches another piece—Jisung’s last!—from his plate and then leaves. “Can’t wait to see you make yourself insane about this.”
“Y—you don’t know anything!” Jisung yells at his retreating back. “I’m not going to think about it, not even a little!”
Jisung can think of nothing else. His inadequacies are playing through his head on a constant, cruel loop. Is Jisung unapproachable? Is he not chill? Does he not give off ‘I would be down if you would be’ vibes?—because he would be!
Does Minho think he’s homophobic? He’s literally bisexual! Minho knows that, right? Jisung must have told him, although he does tend to just, like, assume everyone knows. Should he officially come out, so Minho knows it’s an option? Felix would throw him a party for sure—he loves any excuse to celebrate, especially if it’s something gay. He should plan that. Where is Felix, he’ll start now—
“Jisung,” a bored voice startles him. Hyunjin is sitting right next to him. Jisung has no idea when he got there. “You’ve never been so obviously bothered by something in your life and that’s truly saying something. Tone it down.”
“What? I’m not bothered—okay, don’t look at me like that, jeeze. It’s degrading.” Jisung frowns. Being on the other end of one of Hyunjin’s uninterested looks is not for the weak-willed. “How did you know?”
“As I said,” Hyunjin says. “You’re painfully obvious. And Jeongin told me.”
“Innie,” Jisung mutters under his breath. “Traitor.”
“He has never claimed to be loyal. That was your first mistake.” Hyunjin examines his nail, chips a little of the black polish off. “So, what? Losing your mind over Minho-hyung’s escapades? Seething with jealousy?”
“No, why does everyone assume that?”
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. Jisung breaks immediately. He has no stamina for standing up to Hyunjin—or any of them, really, except maybe Changbin.
“Okay, yeah, maybe,” he admits. “It’s just, like—would you ever hook up with anyone in the group?”
Hyunjin seems rattled at that, if the abject horror on his face is any indication. “No.” Then, his features shift, as if he’s in thought. “Well. With Specific members, if they asked, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Would I possibly be one of them?”
“Absolutely not. Don’t make me gag.”
Jisung gasps. “Am I ugly?”
“You’re not ugly,” Hyunjin groans. “But you can understand someone is objectively attractive and not want them near you with their dick. That’s how I feel about you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jisung grumbles. “I wouldn’t hook up with you either.”
“No need to lie.”
Okay, whatever. Everyone would hook up with Hyunjin. He’s ethereal. Besides the point. “But do you think Minho-hyung would? Like. Hook up with one of us?”
Hyunjin’s lips quirk up a little bit at that. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“Never!” Jisung nearly shrieks. How could Hyunjin suggest something so ill-advised? Does he want Jisung to get laughed out of the group, possibly the country? (Actually, yeah, Hyunjin would love that.)
But Jisung can't. If he went up to Minho and, and solicited himself, he’d never live it down. Minho would think he’s joking, would probably pinch his cheeks and say something humiliating about how precious he is for his attempt at humor, and then Jisung would never be able to bring it up as a serious topic and he would have to spend the rest of his life learning who else Minho has hooked up with—and none of them would be Jisung!
Not ideal.
There is another option—he may not be able to get Minho to hook up with him, but he can probably keep other idols from hooking up with Minho. There’s an honor code among idols, a mutual respect for each other. If Jisung stakes his claim, if he acts possessive enough, touchy enough, then no one else would dare try anything. They would assume Minho and Jisung have a thing; they would stay away out of politeness.
Jisung smiles as the plan comes together in his head. Yeah, this is the solution. This is how Jisung will keep his sanity.
“I don’t want to know,” says Hyunjin. “Whatever terrible plan you just came up with—keep me out of it.”
“Gladly,” Jisung says, sticking his tongue out. He can’t tell anyone about this. Much like Hyunjin, they’d think he’s crazy, but they’re lacking creativity. The gears in his brain are burning hot, and Jisung hops up, ready to start as soon as possible. He ignores Hyunjin’s sigh as he walks out the door.
The plan is set into action at their next public event—a Music Bank performance. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. They’re in the midst of a comeback, the most public they ever are, practically surrounded by idols from other groups. This round, they’re performing alongside NCT 127, Tomorrow by Together, and Ateez. It’s an absolute goldmine, considering Jisung now knows for a fact that Minho has hooked up with people here.
He eyes Jungwoo suspiciously; Jungwoo waves back at Jisung, oblivious. He then smiles in Minho’s direction—Minho, who is standing right next to Jisung and no one else, thank you very much. Minho smiles back, but it’s more like a smirk—flirty? Not on Jisung’s watch. Jisung takes the opportunity to bump his shoulder into Minho’s before slipping an arm around his waist. It’s subtle, but it screams ‘don’t look at him, you NCT sex-fiend’. Minho leans into the touch and turns his head towards Jisung quizzically.
“Do you want something?” he asks.
“Your attention,” Jisung quips back, giving Minho his sweetest smile. Minho lets out a tiny laugh and shakes his head.
“You get more attention from me than anyone, Jisungie. Don’t be cute. I’ll ruffle your hair in front of the cameras.”
“Your funeral. The noonas will kill you if you mess up their masterpiece.” Jisung tightens his grip on Minho’s waist for just a moment, then releases him. When he glances back in Jungwoo’s direction, he’s no longer looking. Perfect. Message sent, message received—Jisung is on the warpath here and he’s winning. Pretty soon, every idol in the industry will know that Minho is off-limits and then… then—well, Jisung hasn’t thought that far ahead, but he’s sure he’ll figure it out.
Not that Jisung is, like, obsessively thinking about this situation or anything, but he’s instantly on red alert when they get to the Studio Choom recording room—because who else is there but Seventeen’s Hoshi? Now, Jisung loves Hoshi. Everyone with any semblance of a soul loves Hoshi-sunbaenim. Unfortunately, Minho has a soul and loves Hoshi in a way quite different than Jisung. He’s also glistening with sweat and dressed in various articles of ripped clothing. Jisung has to act fast before Hoshi can catch a whiff of Minho.
“Hyung,” Jisung calls and Minho shifts toward him immediately, even though Jisung could have been talking to half the room. “C’mere, you have something—”
Minho comes obediently, which bodes wonderfully for Jisung’s plan. Hoshi is also watching, which is even better. Jisung pretends to see something on Minho’s face. He takes his thumb and slowly rubs it across Minho’s upper lip, frowning in concentration. He’s making a whole scene of it, moving slower than he would if they were eating dinner in the dorm, but hey, Jisung has a point to make. He flicks the corner of Minho’s lower lip before pulling away. Minho remains frozen in front of him, only blinking.
“Riiight—there! There you go, hyung. Now, you’re perfect.”
Minho shakes himself out of his stupor. Usually, he would have a snappy remark for Jisung immediately, something like ‘was I not already perfect?’ with some threat on Jisung’s life (he’s not immune to them, even with all his extra privilege). Instead, he just nods and clears his throat.
“Uh. Thanks,” he says.
Hoshi has seen the whole exchange. When he makes brief eye contact with Jisung, Jisung gives him a cheerful smile.
The plan unfolds beautifully, week after week for a whole month. Jisung isn’t sure he’s ever been this successful at anything in his life. He has the idol thing, yeah, but this—it’s his own personal brainchild. He’s proud of himself!
Slowly, determinedly, Jisung works his way through scaring off the ranks of Minho’s suitors. Soobin? Easy. Jisung whispered something into Minho’s ear in front of him, letting his lips graze his earlobe. He barely noticed Minho tensing up, muscles tightening, because he was too busy checking to make sure Soobin saw that there was something going on here and didn’t need to be involved in it.
Cha Eunwoo? Slightly intimidating—everyone has seen the guy, he’s past realistic levels of attractive—but doable. All Jisung had to do was slip his hand into the back pocket of Minho’s jeans while they were congregating backstage, using the leverage to bring Minho close to him. Minho nearly tripped over himself and made a soft noise of frustration, but he didn’t make Jisung remove his hand; Jisung caught the moment where Eunwoo clocked them, understood what was happening.
“You’re clingy lately,” Minho murmured at him.
“Can’t I love my hyung?” Jisung simpered back. Minho looked at him like he was an alien.
Jisung successfully staked his claim over and over, and, sure, the rest of his members are pretending like they know what he’s up to—Hyunjin might have caught on, which means Jeongin definitely knows, which means Felix has heard, which means—but Jisung can’t be bothered by the Stray Kids Rumor Mill when he’s winning on such an extreme level. Not only have the other idols stopped making goo-goo eyes at Minho, but Jisung has also noticed that Minho isn’t going out late anymore. Jisung would know, he’s practically moved into the other dorm.
But, even in perfect plans, there are roadblocks. Jisung encounters that one now, in the form of one Jeon Jungkook.
Now, Jisung is human. He’s not immune to charms, particularly the charms of BTS. They’re them for a reason, and Jungkook is an evident part of that reason. Jisung isn’t a fan boy, per say, but he is a realist, and he knows this is his worthiest opponent to date.
When Minho had told Jisung about him, and the night they spent together when Minho was still a back-up dancer, Jisung’s heart had shrivelled up and died a little. There was a conflicting mix of jealousy, incredulity, and genuine fear. How is he supposed to match up to Jungkook? Especially now, especially when Minho has just told Jisung he’s going out to dinner with him. Dinner somewhere private!
“He wants to catch up,” says Minho. “It’s been forever. I’d bring you back something but I don’t know if I’m coming hom—”
“Wait,” Jisung interrupts, alarm bells blaring in his head. “Can I come?”
“Um.”
“I’ve been craving, uh… fried chicken?”
“We’re getting bibimbap.”
“Yeah! That’s what I said? I’ve been craving bibimbap for months—I’ve told you that.”
“Have you?” Minho looks doubtful. “I don’t think you’ve said a single word about it—I would’ve taken you if you had.”
“Wow, you don’t listen to me, hyung,” Jisung whines, aware that he’s laying it on incredibly thick, and also aware that Seungmin is in the room, giving Jisung the most dry, withering look known to humankind. “The words just go in one ear and out the other, huh?”
“Of course I listen to you,” Minho splutters, clearly flabbergasted. “What’s up with you lately?”
“Lately?” Seungmin chimes in with a scoff. Jisung jerks towards his voice and tries to muster up his most damning glare, like Minho would do. Judging by Seungmin’s facial muscles not even twitching, he counts it a failure.
Jisung steers the conversation back before it can get too derailed. “What’s up is I want to hang out with my hyung and eat fried—bibimbap.” He pouts—Minho can never resist his pout; it’s Jisung’s greatest weapon. “And I love Jungkook-sunbaenim! I’m a big fan! I’m BTS Army!”
“Wow,” Seungmin snorts.
Minho narrows his eyes. “Since when?”
“Since, like, the dawn of time,” Jisung insists. “I’m getting offended by how little you know me, hyung.”
Minho clicks his tongue and Jisung knows that he has won another battle. “Fine—I’ll tell him you’re coming. Don’t be weird.”
“I’ve met him before! He knows me.”
“Exactly.”
Seungmin actually cackles at that. Jisung would be more irritated about being free entertainment if his nerves weren’t so jittery. This is the Big Leagues, the Final Boss. He needs to really go all in tonight, leave no room for interpretation.
He glances down at his stained sweatpants and nearly squeaks. He jumps up, jostling the remote that had long since paused their anime binge session. “I need to change—then I’ll be ready!”
“You look fine—it’s not upscale dining.”
“I’ll be quick!”
He scurries out of the room, sliding into Felix’s room where he keeps twenty-five percent of his closet. The other twenty-five percent is in Minho’s room—and by that he means the shirts he steals from Minho. Felix is at his computer, shouting an array of curse words at the screen that would tarnish his sweet boy reputation instantly. When he sees Jisung, his face changes back to its cherubic default.
“Jisungie! Wanna play League? Even you’re better than these idiots on my team.”
“Thank… you?” Jisung says, side-eying him from where he’s already neck-deep in his closet. “Hey, what’s the sluttiest article of clothing you own?”
“Uh, why?”
“Just wondering.” He holds up a leather crop top, trying to conjure up himself in it. Nah. Jungkook wouldn’t be threatened by mere leather. He tosses out a few more options before Felix clears his throat. When Jisung turns, he’s grinning.
“Are you going on a date?”
“No!” Jisung protests, quickly, far too quickly, because Felix removes his headphones and rushes to crowd against Jisung, jostling him.
“You are! Who’s the lucky one?”
“I’m going out with Minho-hyung,” says Jisung, and then before Felix can infer something about his tone or, like, the way his pupils dilate (he’s a self-proclaimed empath who always picks up on body language—‘soooo emotionally intelligent’) adds, “And Jungkook-sunbaenim.”
Felix hums, taking that in. “So, you’re crashing Minho-hyung’s date.”
“No, it’s just—three friends hanging out!”
“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook-hyung like that,” says Felix thoughtfully. Jisung’s heart skips. Damn. He made a mistake. “Interesting. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Minho-hyung and Jungkook-hyung know each other very well, would it?”
“It would not,” Jisung huffs, refusing to give Felix the satisfaction of knowing his plan. He finds a tight-fitting blue sweater and holds it up to his chest. Too unassuming. Into the pile it goes.
“Interesting,” Felix repeats. “Because, to the unbiased observer, it seems like you’ve been trying to sabotage all of Minho-hyung’s past hookups.”
“Would I ever do such a thing?” Jisung scoffs but he thinks his voice comes out an octave higher than usual. Felix notices, his grin turning lethal.
“Oh, would you ever,” he says. “You know, Jisung—you could save yourself the trouble and just tell Minho how you feel.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jisung says, and honestly, he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel any sort of way other than annoyed that Minho thinks he should seek out an assortment of random idols when he has someone constantly in his dorm that he could make out with if he wanted to. That has nothing to do with feelings: it’s just logic. “We don’t even know these other idols that well—how do we know they’ll keep quiet? I’m worried about the well-being of hyung and the group. I’m being selfless, really.”
“You’re something else,” Felix laughs. “That’s the only reason you’re doing this? You’re not, say, jealous?”
“Not in the way that you’d think,” Jisung insists. “I just don’t get it, is all. Why would hyung feel the need to seek out randoms when he has such a cute group member?”
Felix frowns. “I don’t think Innie is interested in Minho-hyung like that.”
“I’m the cute group member, Felix!”
“Ahhh, I see.” Felix takes a cardigan out of Jisung’s hands before it can end up in the growing pile around their feet. He pushes Jisung aside gently and pulls out a red-checkered button down. He presses it to Jisung’s chest. “Wear this—it’ll make your waist look teeny-tiny. Subtly slutty.”
“You’re an angel.”
Felix preens. He finds Jisung a pair of perfectly fitted jeans to complete the outfit, pushes his hair out of his face in a flattering way, and does a light layer of makeup. By the time he’s done, Minho is pounding on the door.
“Jisung, it’s not a wedding—come on.”
“It may as well be,” Felix giggles under his breath. “Okay, you’re beautiful. A siren. Go ruin Jungkook-hyung’s day.”
“That is not the intent—ugh, I can’t lie to you. I will. Gladly.”
“That’s my boy.”
Jisung opens the door just as Minho is raising his fist to knock again. He lowers it, opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, looking Jisung up and down in the process.
People are always looking at Jisung—like, so many people—but this is the first time he’s noticed Minho looking. It’s not that they don’t make eye contact or that Minho ignores his perfectly curated outfits—that would be rude—but he doesn’t usually look like this. Not scanning and analyzing but… absorbing. It’s hard to describe. It’s kind of hard to breathe suddenly.
“Okay,” is what Minho settles on saying. He clears his throat. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Have fun!” Felix calls from behind Jisung. “Tell Jungkook-hyung I say hello!”
“We’re going to be banned from BTS concerts after this,” Seungmin grumbles from the couch. “Just in time for enlistment to end.”
Minho, thankfully, ignores him, still caught up with giving Jisung side-glances that he definitely notices—can’t stop noticing, actually. It’s a relief when they make it out of the dorm and Minho slips back into a more comfortable aura. They make it to the car and then to the restaurant with only one more stray glance that Jisung pretends he doesn’t see.
Felix’s words keep popping back into his head—the ones about Jisung’s feelings. He hasn’t really given much thought to those pesky things because it makes sense, right? To be jealous in a friend-way? Of course it does. What does Felix know?
The restaurant is a typical idol haunt—small with intimate seating and staff that won’t blast their location to the masses. Jisung forgets to think about these things, and he’s also of the mindset that his bed is the superior hang out spot, so he only goes out when Minho drags him. Or when he’s on a mission, like right now.
Jungkook, on the other hand, is a seasoned professional at hiding in plain sight. He’s dressed down in baggy jeans and a t-shirt, with a mask on his face and a hat over his hair—likely perfectly tousled because why wouldn’t it be?—overall blindingly attractive. Jisung tucks himself closer to Minho on impulse.
Outside of being K-drama center visual beautiful, Jungkook is, unfortunately, one of the nicest men on planet earth. He hugs Jisung first, Bambi eyes all lit up like he’s thrilled Jisung is crashing his would-be date. It’s almost enough to throw Jisung off, to get him to lower his guard—but then he hugs Minho, and it’s a slow, tight hug, during which his hand trails down Minho’s back to rest on his butt.
Minho is so protective of his butt. He can grab handfuls of anyone in the group he pleases (usually Jisung—not that he’s keeping count or anything, whatever) but if someone tries to get revenge, he starts growling. Jisung has only gotten away with it a few times. Minho has a sense for it, a butt-grabbing alarm.
But here Jungkook is, just, letting his hand linger there. Jisung kind of wants to tear it away and drag Minho out of the restaurant, but that wouldn’t go over well in polite company.
Jungkook pulls away—thank God—before Jisung’s eyes have time to turn into lasers and annihilate him and they make their way over to their table. Jisung slides in next to Minho in the booth before anyone can get any ideas, pressing their thighs together. Minho gives him a weird look, but Jisung is suddenly fascinated with the menu.
He lets Minho order for him anyway. Like always.
Things are normal for a bit after that—they talk shit about industry drama and Jisung lets himself be charmed by the force that is Jungkook. He’s so charmed, in fact, that he forgets he’s here to make a point—to stake a claim—until he’s painfully reminded by the topic of Minho’s days as a back-up dancer.
“He was the cutest one there,” Jungkook laughs, reaching across the table to pinch one of Minho’s cheeks. “He was always working so hard, staying late. I kept asking my members about him—if we could keep him.”
Jisung wants to bite the fingers that are touching Minho. He’s getting mild tunnel vision over it.
“I have a reputation to uphold, hyung,” Minho complains. “You’re making me look soft.”
“Aw, baby,” Jungkook coos. “I’m just saying how much you care about your craft—it paid off!”
Baby. Jisung has been quiet for the past three minutes—a feat, because he kind of wants to start screaming right now. Baby? In front of Jisung? Forget everything he said about Jungkook’s kindness. He is evil incarnate, devil-curated to torment Jisung.
Jisung has an out-of-body experience, in which his brain shuts down and instinct takes over. He lifts his hand, making it obvious what he’s doing, and then lays it on Minho’s thigh.
Man, Minho has the best thighs. His hands twitch, squeezing mindlessly, before he’s jolted back to reality by a surprised—but polite, because it’s Jungkook—laugh.
“Sorry, am I misreading something?” Jungkook asks, nodding to Jisung’s hand. Then he pauses and his eyes light up. “Wait, did I miss a life milestone? Minho, did you finally—”
“Nothing! No,” Minho nearly shouts, cutting off the question, but he doesn’t remove Jisung’s hand from his thigh. Minho looks around the room, tense like a deer about to bolt. “Actually, I just remembered—I told Hyunjin I’d braid his hair.”
Jisung coughs. “Hyung, he’s, like, bald right now—”
“Time to go, Jisungie.” Minho jumps off, finally jolting Jisung’s hand off of him. He grabs ahold of Jisung’s wrist, nails digging into skin hard enough to leave indents. At least, Jisung hopes—is that an insane thought? Probably. He’s having a lot of those lately. He should schedule an appointment with the therapist.
“I’ll, uh, text you later,” Minho says to Jungkook. His cheeks are flaming, and Jisung isn’t sure the last time he’s seen him this flustered. Jealousy doesn’t gnaw at him, though, because this time it seems like Minho’s blush is because of him.
Is this it? Has he won?
Jungkook doesn’t seem put out by the abrupt end of their night. He leans back in the booth and grins. “With details, please,” he says sweetly.
“Yah, no details—okay, we’re going.” Minho visibly swallows. Jisung tracks the movement, feeling those now familiar butterflies swirl in his stomach. He assumes it must be a side effect of victory. He beat the final boss; he got Minho away from Jungkook.
The sweet feeling of success is short-lived, though—Minho sits as far away as possible from Jisung on the car ride home; his leg jiggling in a way that only happens when he’s excessively anxious. Crap. Did Jisung take it too far? Is Minho, like, into Jungkook? No way. No, he would have told Jisung. Right?
“Hyung—”
“Not right now, Jisungie,” Minho interrupts him. Then, lower, he mumbles something that sounds like, ‘hyung is having a mental breakdown’ but Jisung is sure he misheard him.
The ride is short, which is a blessing because Jisung is only able to stay quiet for a maximum of six minutes in situations this tense. He’s preparing himself to jump Minho, cling to him so he doesn’t have the chance to sprint to his dorm and lock Jisung out—but he doesn’t have to. Minho practically yanks Jisung out of the car, bows to their driver, and then drags him all the way to the door.
He doesn’t say a word the whole time, and then they’re in Minho’s bedroom, door noticeably locked behind them, and Minho rounds on him.
“Jisung. I need you to tell me if you’re doing this on purpose.”
“Uhhhh. Doing what?” Jisung can get away with playing stupid for the duration of at least, like, four sentences. Anything after that increases Minho’s tendency to use violence to get the truth out of Jisung, which he’d like to avoid.
“You know what,” Minho hisses. His words are strained, and he’s coming across as supremely agitated. Guilt gnaws at Jisung’s stomach. Yeah, he knows what he’s doing—and he had a good reason for it! What was the reason again? He knows what he said it was, but…
“Do you see sabotaging all of my hookups as some kind of game?” Minho continues when Jisung can’t get it together enough to formulate a response. “Are you just doing it because you can?”
Well. Jisung didn’t think he was so transparent, but he is pleased that Minho thinks he’s competent enough to successfully pull off the plan.
Minho clears his throat when Jisung doesn’t answer in ten seconds. Shit. He could lie. He should lie. “Uh. No?”
Minho closes his eyes. He’s so close that Jisung can count his eyelashes. “Hyung won’t be mad if it is—but you have to tell me why so I stop thinking that—”
Jisung swallows a lump in his throat. Felix’s voice chooses this wonderfully inopportune time to pop back into his head, reminding him in a deep voice about feelings. Jisung is hot and his heart is beating fast—two things that are commonly associated with feelings.
He focuses on what he can: Minho’s unfinished statement. “Think what?”
Minho sighs. It fans across Jisung’s cheeks and his heart rate speeds up even faster, primed to fly out of his chest. “That you’re doing this because you’re jealous. Because you want me.”
All the sound gets sucked out of the room. Jisung’s breathing is a hurricane and his heart a drum solo. He feels his eyes widen, can’t divert his gaze fast enough to keep from incriminating himself.
Minho clocks it all. He’s always been so good at reading Jisung—Jisung wonders if he’s been aware of Jisung’s plan this whole time. Jisung hasn’t been getting away with it at all.
“You want me?” Minho asks, carefully, quietly. “You have to tell me, because I’ve been losing my mind.”
“I mean—it’s not like that, exactly, I just—I wanted to be an option, you know?” Jisung is stammering. The room is warm. Do they have the heat on, in summer? That would be crazy, but Jisung can feel his cheeks baking under Minho’s gaze.
“An option,” Minho repeats. There’s something predatory in the way he’s looking at Jisung. It’s new; kind of… consuming. Jisung may be going insane because a shiver wracks through his body and he should look away and laugh, should maybe say the entire thing was a joke, but he feels locked into place by Minho’s intensity.
“Yeah,” Jisung says just to say something, to diffuse the thick tension in the room.
Minho takes a step closer. There’s barely anywhere to go. Jisung is backed into the door. “Jisungie. You were never an option.”
“Oh, uh—ouch?”
“You were the option,” Minho continues and Jisung feels his entire heart jump into his throat, nearly chokes on it. He stares at Minho, unsure of what to say, but Minho isn’t done. “But—but only in my dreams. Everyone else was a placeholder. If I had any idea…” he trails off.
Jisung’s tongue is too heavy for his mouth. He has no idea how to compute this, how to categorize the influx of feelings flooding his receptors. The thing is, they’re not new—Minho has always made Jisung a little nervous, a little on edge, a little crazy, especially lately. Now, Jisung knows why. Of course he does. He wants Minho—not just to consider him, but to only think of him and no one else.
“Ah,” Jisung squeaks. “Wh-what would you have done if you knew… that I was an option?”
Minho stares down at his lips. Jisung licks them on impulse, a tick. He watches Minho’s pupils grow in real time and his knees nearly buckle.
Minho closes the last of the gap and kisses him.
Jisung’s brain, for once in his life, gets with the program almost immediately—even though this is insane. Minho is kissing him, and fuck, isn’t that a concept? One Jisung has definitely been thinking about for weeks, even if he convinced himself it was in platonic jealousy. Who gets platonic jealousy? Jisung has been hogging the shower jerking off to the thought of Minho for, like, three nights straight and only convinced himself it was normal because he could’ve just been picturing someone with similar features to Minho. Ha.
Minho’s tongue bullies Jisung’s lips open wider so Jisung stops thinking about silly things like how he got here and instead gives in to the sensation. He tries to follow Minho’s pace—tries—but he’s really mismatched here. Minho is devouring him, one hand secure on his jaw and the other gripping his waist, keeping him exactly where he wants him. Jisung feels small in the best way, willing to let Minho do whatever he wants to him.
When Minho deigns to let Jisung breathe—though barely; he goes straight for his jaw, lavishing it with hot and heavy presses of his lips—he uses the opportunity to gasp out, “So, uh. It’s been a while. For me.”
Minho hums against his neck, sucks the skin there into his mouth and Jisung leans back, baring himself further to Minho, operating on pure instinct.
“Like. A while. And you’re so much more experienced—”
“Hyung will teach you,” Minho interrupts, words soft for how viciously he’s marking Jisung up. “You don’t have to worry about anything, Jisungie. Just relax and take it.”
“Ooh my God.” Jisung shudders, and Minho licks a stripe up his throat. “What—what am I going to take?”
Minho pulls away and gives Jisung a feral smile. “Whatever you want.”
“Okay,” Jisung says. “Okay—everything.”
Minho raises an eyebrow. “You’re so bold, Jisungie—are you prepared for everything?”
With those aforementioned masturbation sessions fresh in his head, Minho has no idea. Jisung has been unintentionally training for this. “Yeah. But, uh—how?”
Minho gets his question without further explanation—a huge win for Jisung’s trembling constitution, because he doesn’t think he could explain it without melting into a puddle. “I can do both,” Minho says. “But I usually top.”
“Oh my God. Did you top Jungkook from BTS?”
“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”
“No, no I am not.” Jisung shakes his head firmly. “But, uh. I would like to be. Topped.”
Minho grins, feral. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
“Are you kidding me? Have you read my lyrics? They’re—”
Minho cuts him off with a firm kiss and Jisung decides that the sanctity of his work really doesn’t matter right now. It’s dizzying, making out with Minho. Minho picks up on everything he likes, immediately. Has Jisung accidentally told him his fetishes? Does he talk in his sleep?
Or has Minho really been paying attention?
Minho surges forward, their hips meeting in a slow, incredibly intentional grind. Minho’s dick presses against his—hard, already hard, so hard—Jisung feels like salivating about it. He can’t bite back the moan in time, but Minho swallows it down like water.
Jisung’s hands have been still up to this point, gripping onto Minho’s hips, but now he’s desperate to explore. He’s greedy with it, greedy to touch Minho however he wants because he’s the one allowed. He snakes a hand up his shirt, tapping his fingers over the ridge of muscle on his stomach, fingering through his happy trail.
Minho’s hips stutter. He presses into Jisung’s touch and Jisung is faint with the power rush it gives him.
Minho doesn’t let the dynamic stick for long.
“Let me get you to a bed,” Minho says. He yanks Jisung back, barely gives him a chance to get his bearings before he’s pulling them onto the bed. Jisung lands on Minho in a heap, their chests bumping together, and Minho surges upward to kiss him.
Minho’s arms wrap around Jisung’s back and he’s forced down onto him. His hips line up with Minho’s and he gets brave, rubbing his covered cock on Minho’s in a way that has to feel as good for him as it does for Jisung.
“See,” Minho says softly, his voice a simper that Jisung didn’t know it could achieve—Minho’s playful flirting has nothing on this. “You have some experience.”
Jisung laughs. It’s punched out of him, a breathless wheeze, as Minho squeezes Jisung’s ass, pulls him harder into him for another blissful grind. “Not—enough,” he manages. “Hyung said he would teach me.”
“Mmm, hyung will,” Minho agrees. He nudges his nose against Jisung’s neck, then bites, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin. Jisung sighs out, trying to bare himself to Minho, an offering for more bruises. “I’ve been practicing for you. Always for my Jisungie.”
“Oh my God.”
“My Jisungie was jealous—so silly. No matter who I was with, I only ever thought of you.”
Jisung wants to keep pace, wants to blow Minho’s mind with dirty talk, wants to get him even a fraction of how flustered he is right now—but all he can do is nod and moan and give into sensation.
“I thought about this,” Minho simpers into Jisung’s ear, trailing his fingers down from where they’ve been playing with the hair at the back of his neck to his chest, ghosting over his nipples. Jisung feels tensed to explode. “About if you’re sensitive. Are you?”
“C-clearly.”
“Mmm,” Minho agrees. He pulls back far enough to place a kiss on his left pec, dampening the fabric and making Jisung’s vision go in and out. With his free hand, Minho lifts up Jisung’s shirt, more and more until Minho can see how frantically his chest is rising and falling. He only pays attention for half a second, though, before diving down to lick over Jisung’s nipple; he takes it in his mouth and sucks.
Jisung’s hips kick up on their own accord and now it’s Minho’s time to moan. He loses his patience then. He lavishes Jisung’s nipples, swirling his tongue around them both, biting, licking, leaving a mess. He snakes one hand down lower to play with the hem of Jisung’s jeans, teasing his fingers under them.
“Hyung,” Jisung gasps. “Can—can hardly breathe with these on.”
“That’s because they’re too tight,” Minho teases. Jisung feels his smile against his skin. “Makes sense now that I know it was on purpose.”
“I wanted you to take them off,” Jisung admits. Even if he didn’t know it, that was obviously his plan from the beginning. Felix knew, Minho knew, Jisung’s subconscious knew—he was the only one who had to catch up.
Minho wastes no time in popping the button open, pulling down the zipper. “Hyung always gives you what you want.”
Jisung shudders as Minho undresses him. Eager and desperate to be helpful, Jisung also shucks his shirt over his head, just in time for Minho to get his pants down to his ankles. He’s fully clothed and Jisung is practically naked.
The power imbalance makes his stomach flutter. This is a kink he was not aware he had, but he plans to fully exploit it, over and over again, if Minho will allow it. As Minho discards Jisung’s jeans in a heap on the floor, as he makes his way slowly back up towards him, kissing along the now bare skin of his thighs, Jisung realizes that this jealousy is so much deeper than he thought it was. He likes Minho—of course he does; so much.
Jisung has never been good at timing, so he tells him. “I like you, hyung. So much.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” Minho murmurs. He pauses his onslaught on Jisung’s thighs for long enough to give him a sweet smile. “I thought that was obvious.”
“I didn’t.” Jisung frowns. “Say it back.”
“Can’t,” Minho insists. He presses a kiss dangerously close to where Jisung is straining his boxers. “Wouldn’t be enough.”
Jisung’s brain is foggy. “Huh?”
Minho moves his mouth directly over Jisung’s cock, mouths at it once before turning his head, laying his cheek against it and applying just enough pressure that Jisung has to swallow a moan. He blinks up at Jisung. It’s—erotic. So, so hot. Jisung has never experienced anything this hot in his life.
“‘Like’,” Minho repeats. “Not a strong enough word for how I feel about you, Jisungie.”
And somehow, that’s what brings Jisung right to the edge—how cheesy. He bites his lip hard enough to bleed, pausing his impending orgasm because he can’t have this end now.
“You’re—” Jisung tries, “Sweet.”
Minho huffs, scrunches up Jisung’s boxers so more skin is exposed, then bites said exposed skin. Jisung tingles all over. “I’ll show you sweet. You wanted me to fuck you, right, honey?”
“God.” Jisung lets his head fall back. Minho’s hands are all over him, leaving hot trails over sensitive skin. “Yeah. Yes. Please.”
“You’re the sweet one,” Minho tells him, and Jisung can live with that. He can be sweet, obedient, as Minho rids him of his boxers and leaves him waiting on the bed while he digs out lube and condoms. He can be sweet as Minho discards his own shirt and pants, giving Jisung a full view of how hard he is, even covered. How much he wants Jisung. This is what Jisung has been thinking about for weeks—all of Minho’s attention, all of his desire on Jisung.
Jisung can stay very sweet for Minho. Minho, on the other hand, is determined to prove him wrong. Once he gets a hold of the lube, his pace slows from frenzied and frantic to achingly slow. He warms it between his hands at a glacial pace and spreads Jisung’s legs leisurely, taking his time to admire the view. He trails a dry finger along Jisung’s inner thigh, touch feather-light. Jisung almost complains—almost—but then Minho pushes the first lubed finger in and Jisung forgets how to speak at all.
“You’re tight, Jisungie,” Minho notes. “Can’t wait to ruin you. I’ll get you all nice and loose so I can slip in whenever I want. I haven’t had sex in over a month because of you—are you going to make up for it?”
“Oh my God.” Jisung writhes in the sheets, trying to get even closer to Minho. “Yes—I’ll make it up to you.”
“Sweet boy.”
One finger is good, but two fingers is incredible. Minho is meticulous in his prep, efficient, but still mean enough to make Jisung beg for it. Jisung knows Minho knows what he’s doing—what he’s purposely avoiding, and he’s not above asking for it.
“Hyung.” The word enough is a plea.
“More?”
“Please.”
“Anything for you.”
Three is a stretch. It’s pain. It’s relief. Because with three fingers, Minho stops playing his games. It’s like he can tell—he can tell Jisung is almost ready, and he’s just as eager. He stops teasing Jisung’s prostate and hits it straight on, punching a moan so debased from Jisung’s lips that he’s almost embarrassed, but Minho doesn’t allow even a moment of reprieve. He hovers above Jisung, works him open while capturing his lips in a kiss. Jisung wants to drag him down, wants their bodies flush together, but it’s all he can do to focus on keeping himself together. His mouth is slack and Minho continues to take, take, take.
“Ready,” Jisung breathes. “Hyung—ready.”
“How do you want it, honey?” Minho has a bit of a crazed look on his face. Jisung swallows and Minho’s eyes track the movement. “Want me to bounce you in my lap? Put you on your hands and knees?”
Jisung groans. “I want—I want whatever you want.”
“Hmm, okay” Minho decides. “You’ll decide next time. For now, hyung wants to look at you. Just like this.”
Jisung wants to look too—he never wants to take his eyes off Minho, wants to commit this to memory so he can play it every time he jerks off for the rest of his life. But Minho said ‘next time’. Minho wants to do this again, and so Jisung will get plenty of material. He’ll get to have Minho every way that he wants. No one else will—Jisung made sure of that.
“Please,” Jisung says weakly. He’s not going to last. Minho’s words alone send shockwaves through his body. Minho nods, and in an instant, his boxers are on the floor, cock springing free. He slides the condom on with ease. Jisung licks his lips and Minho clocks the action, smiling.
“You can get your mouth on it later, honey. Promise.”
“Thank you,” Jisung replies, half-delirious, and he hears Minho’s breath catch.
“God, you’re—this is the best day of my life.”
“Same.”
Minho laughs at that, short and breathless, and then without warning, he has Jisung’s legs over his shoulder and he’s pushing in.
It’s so good. Mind-blowing. Minho goes slow, careful, coos sweet words into Jisung’s ear while he feeds his cock into him, inch by inch. Jisung thinks he starts babbling, begging, but he can’t be sure. His ears are filled with TV static and his vision is going blurry. By the time Minho bottoms out, he’s not sure he’s still in reality at all. All he can feel is fullness, pleasure, satisfaction—and Minho hasn’t even moved yet.
Jisung lets his legs fall a little, wraps them around Minho’s back and clenches involuntarily.
“Baby, please,” Minho groans. “You’re going to—I’m going to finish so fast if you do that.”
It’s not the pet name itself—Jisung has been Minho’s baby for as long as he’s known him—but it’s the fact that he’s only using it on Jisung. This isn’t a sing-song, sarcastic comment either like it used to be, like when they were kidding. No, this is a gasp, followed by a weak jerk of Minho’s hips that must’ve been subconscious. Jisung wants to eat him. He wants to sink over his cock and make Minho call him baby over and over— his baby.
“You better move then,” Jisung says, and Minho does. He sets a steady, punishing pace—another day, Jisung pledges, he’ll ride Minho nice and slow, make him babble the way Jisung is babbling now, but that day is not today. Today, they’re desperate. Today, they have lost time to make up for.
Minho’s thrusts turn erratic and sloppy. He tries to bring Jisung’s lips to his, but they’re both gasping too much to keep pace. He settles for mouthing along Jisung’s neck, his jaw, his ear, anywhere he can reach. He holds him tight by the hip, and when Jisung gets close, that hand snakes over to his cock and grips him tight, sending him over the edge.
Jisung’s vision goes white just as Minho’s hips stutter. Both of them ride out their orgasms unable to look away from the other.
They’re left panting, staring, chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s peaceful—comfortable, but a bit too sticky for Jisung’s taste. Minho will fall asleep like this if he lets him, and Jisung has too many words inside of him to stay quiet right now, so he breaks the silence.
“So, no more hookups, right?” he asks. It’s supposed to be a joke but it comes out embarrassingly earnest. He’s always been obvious about his insecurities.
“I’m never going to look at another idol for the rest of my life,” Minho says. “I’ll close my eyes at every event.”
Jisung snorts. He lifts his hand up to brush Minho’s bangs out of his face. Minho smiles so tenderly it almost splits Jisung’s heart in two.
“I meant it, you know,” Jisung says, continuing to be the most vulnerable he’s ever been. “I like you so much.”
“I meant it too,” says Minho. “But I don’t like you, Jisungie. What a silly word. I love you. I have for most of my life.”
Jisung blinks at him rapidly. “That’s an insane bomb to just drop like that. You said it so casually!”
“It is casual,” Minho says. “I love you. See? I said it again.”
“I love you,” Jisung replies. As soon as the words are out, he knows he means them—of course he loves Minho. When has he ever not? They’re soulmates. He never doubted it. “Wow. I’m so glad I don’t have to see you flirt with Jungkook in front of me ever again. Oh my God.”
Minho barks out a laugh. “You won’t—but you do have to come to dinner with us again. I’ve been whining to him about my crush on you for years. He’s going to want all the details.”
Jisung grins. “I’ll be happy to give them to him.”