Work Text:
"…Han-ah?"
"One second, hyung," Jisung requests, eyes not leaving his phone screen. "I almost have an AP."
Whatever that means.
"The make-up artists are —"
"Hyung, please."
Minho's eye twitches.
"Leave him, Minho-hyung," Felix calls from the side, grinning as he gets his hair done. "Don't disturb a man during his precious gaming time."
"We go on in a half hour." The makeup noonas call from the other room again. Minho says something to deflect their attention. "Is this really the time —"
"Yeah, baby!" Jisung throws the phone in the air. "All Perfect on my first fucking try!"
The phone lands on Jisung's head. The younger yelps, clutching the spot while Minho breaks into a fit of cackles. "Hyung, you hate me," Jisung pouts. "Stop laughing at me. Stop it!"
Chan saunters into the room. "Han Jisung! Tell me why the makeup noonas are cursing your name?"
Minho hears a string of curses fly from his love's mouth immediately. "Tell them I'm on my way!" The man scrambles to his feet clumsily, almost forgetting his prized phone, before scampering out of the room. He brushes past Chan with a quick sorry! that has the leader sighing.
"Where's my sorry," Minho grumbles, taking a seat next to Felix. One of the hairstylist noonas start combing through his bangs.
It's not a secret that Jisung is a gamer, just not the kind of LOL sweat that Felix turned out to be. No, he'll grind mobile gacha rhythm games on his phone. It's genuinely insane. He'll create a schedule around the limited events so he can reach the top tiers while completing his Stray Kids schedules well. He has a burner twitter account that he uses to regularly engage in drama.
Minho had never shown interest in Jisung's game until recently, when it started getting a little excessive. He'd watch Jisung practically beat up his phone whenever he had an ounce of free time; the younger would whine about Full Combos and notifications messing up his AP. Minho is slowly learning the lingo against his will.
But recently, Jisung has been…a little too engrossed in the game. To the point where it's all he talks about. All he does in his free time. And Minho…Minho doesn't know what he feels about that.
"An outsider would never grasp the intricacies of gaming culture," Felix notes, as if he has delivered some kind of existential wisdom.
"I don't understand him," Minho complains. "What's so special about that stupid free mobile gambling machine!?"
Felix goes quiet for a moment, looking at Minho appraisingly. The older bristles. "What?"
"Didn't say anything," Felix shrugs. "Just…don't knock it until you try it?"
Minho blinks.
"You're saying…I should download the game?"
"Couldn't hurt, right? If you want to understand the hype?"
Fuck. It makes sense. It makes so much sense. "…I shall consider."
The thought is lost briefly in the whirlwind of comeback promotions, but it makes a comeback when Minho sees Jisung sprawled on the sofa, grinding out his game again.
That night, he deletes almost half of his photos.
Although he prepared for it mentally, the only thing Minho feels as he boots up the shitty-ass gacha rhythm game is pure, unadulterated defeat.
The characters are cute. He'll give them that, at least; there are five units? He thinks? No, there are more…there are so many characters, how the hell does Jisung remember them all?
"Do you have a favorite, hyung?"
Said leech is lying in Minho's lap, watching the phone with thinly-veiled excitement.
The application currently eating what's left of his phone's storage is proof that Minho is a pathetic, pathetic man. It's unmistakable, irrefutable proof that he is Down Bad for one Han Jisung.
"Not really," Minho answers as indifferently as he can make it. "I don't really know them yet, so…"
His master plan had been to download the game, get a surface level understanding, and as such make Jisung talk to him more. But Jisung had shown such an immediate excitement when Minho had mentioned it that he had dragged the older straight to his room, downloading it immediately and ranting about the different units and songs that he liked to play. Not that Minho was paying attention; he was busy tracing the curve of Jisung's lips, the shine of the shitty lights on Jisung's cheekbones, the dip of his collarbones.
He's so gone for this man.
The tutorial pops up.
"Ah!" Jisung suddenly presses himself to Minho's back. "Do you want me to show you, hyung?"
Minho freezes.
The warmth sends sparks of sensation throughout his entire back, traveling down his spine and through his arms. His eyes are wide, his breath is caught; he feels like lone bunny, caught in the eyes of a wolf.
But that's impossible. This is just Jisung.
It's just Jisung.
Minho wills himself to take a breath. It comes out heavier than he maybe would have wanted. "Sure. Show me your favorite song, Jisungie."
"First let's do the auto tutorial?" Jisung clicks the button; everything's in Japanese and Minho's kanji isn't advanced enough to read whatever it's saying. The screen flashes to the rhythm game interface. A girl in a frilly outfit starts dancing in the background; notes start falling from the top of the screen slowly.
Jisung suddenly takes Minho's hand in his, fingers deftly curling around his index fingers. "Let's do it together."
Minho shivers involuntarily. Jisung's voice is so low; he doesn't have to speak loudly with how close he is to Minho's ear, but the side effect is that it does things to Minho. His mind isn't even on the game anymore; Jisung moves Minho's fingers around the phone, but Minho's focused on the three points of warmth where Jisung touches Minho.
It's a single finger, for fuck's sake.
Why is it so hard to breathe?
"You got that?"
Minho gulps and nods, focusing back on the screen. Jisung lets go of the finger, but it hangs in the air, tense and unsure. On screen, the group dances, and a note falls slowly. Minho tries to tap on time, but his finger shakes mortifyingly and he misses. The next note manages to resolve, but it's only a "Good."
It's not like Minho cares about the game anyway, so he doesn't pay it any mind. However, behind him, Jisung clicks his tongue. "I thought you wanted to be good, Minho-hyung?"
Minho freezes.
"What?"
"You wanted to be good at this game," Jisung says plainly, like he isn't making Minho lose his mind. "Right? That's why you asked me about it?"
Minho swallows dryly, trying to recover his combo. "Yeah — yeah, Jisung-ah. I'll try harder —"
"You can't even get past the tutorial stage." Jisung's voice has gone sickly-sweet as he shifts to wrap his arms around Minho's waist. "Do you even know what the different notes do?"
A long ribbon of a note comes up; Minho taps it and the line bursts in a shower of light, the character on screen making a sad face.
"You're supposed to hold those, hold on," Jisung groans, taking Minho's hands in his warm ones again. "Let me show you."
Minho checks out mentally at the first contact.
Jisung moves his fingers expertly, hitting all the tutorial notes while explaining what's going on, but Minho's focus has shifted to the warm weight of Jisung's palm on his, the solid column of Jisung's back, Jisung's breath against his ear.
Jisung's hands are so pretty, laid out over Minho's. It covers the older's easily, his fingers thin yet agile and deft. His nails are trimmed perfectly too; Minho wonders how they would feel on his skin. Inside his mouth. Inside him.
…his dick might be getting hard.
The tutorial ends with a small cheer. Jisung drops his chin to Minho's shoulder, leaning into his hyung's warmth. "Got that?"
What the fuck was Minho supposed to get again?
"…uh. You might need to show me again, Jisung-ah." His cheeks flame slightly at the admission. "It's a bit too complicated for my old brain."
There's a moment of silence, only broken by the cheery game music.
"…I think you're just distracted."
Minho's breath hitches.
"I — no, I'm not —"
"It's okay, hyung," Jisung croons softly, pulling Minho closer into his chest. Like this, one arm wraps around his waist while the other rests on his shoulder, caging Minho in. "I don't mind. I was waiting for you to say something, but you can be really stubborn when you want to be."
"There's nothing to say." Minho's weak protests fall on deaf ears. He makes a token attempt at breaking out of the Han Jisung Cage, but Jisung just holds him tighter, not letting Minho move.
Minho's so, so warm.
"I've noticed," Jisung says, almost in a whisper, "that every time I moved your hands for you, your ears got redder and redder. Is that something you're into, hyung? Do you want me to move you how I want and use you?"
"Fuck, Jisung-ah," Minho chokes out. "You can't just — you can't just say things like that, I don't.."
"Yeah, I can," Jisung interrupts, lips suddenly pressed against Minho's neck. "You like it, after all."
Minho whimpers.
"Hold still." With that command, Jisung brings his teeth to Minho's skin, biting gently and sucking.
"Jisu — ah —"
Before Minho can comprehend anything, a hand is snaking up under his shirt, fingers splaying out against his abs, applying a slight pressure that has his head spinning. God, Jisung's hands are so big, especially when its essentially spanning his entire stomach. It sends a shot of arousal through Minho's gut, and a helpless noise bubbles out of his throat.
Jisung moves his mouth a little lower, sucking a new mark. The sensations are sharp but wonderful, and Minho lets his head tip back, mouth open and panting.
The hand on Minho's shoulder shifts, moving up to caress Minho's jaw. A testing finger rests on Minho's lower lip, pushing it down slightly.
Minho stops breathing.
"Open," Jisung commands softly, and what can Minho do but obey? He lets his jaw relax, mouth opening more to take two of Jisung's fingers. They rest on Minho's tongue, pressing down, before starting to explore. Minho doesn't close his lips; he wasn't told to.
"God, look at you." Minho closes his eyes at the low, raspy note in Jisung's voice. "So good for me, you don't want to think, do you? Want me to tell you what to do?"
Minho whines in response.
The fingers stay there, stilling, a warm weight in Minho's mouth. It's relaxing, in a way. Grounding, when his mind is trying to float into the stratosphere. The other hand on his stomach starts moving, tracing teasing circles of white-hot need into Minho's skin. Jisung trails his hand up to draw small, tight rings around Minho's nipple, drawing helpless sounds from his throat.
In another life, Minho wouldn't be caught dead in this position. He'd fantasize about it, sure, who wouldn't with a man like Jisung? But there are rules, there are limits that Minho has to follow. He's Jisung's hyung. He can't just give in to his desires, he has to be the good one. The one in control.
Why does giving up control feel so fucking good?
Drool accumulates in Minho's mouth. It coats Jisung's fingers without him even moving them, but then there's nowhere else for the liquid to go but over Minho's lips, down his chin, making a mess. It's mortifying. Humiliating. Minho trembles in Jisung's hold, eyes still closed, feeling cold trails make their way down his face. His hands find Jisung's pants and clutch tightly, overwhelmed.
He prays Jisung hasn't noticed.
The amused chuckle dashes those hopes.
"Messy baby." The exploring hand goes down to where Minho has become fully hard, straining against his pants.
Baby. Baby. The word brands itself onto Minho's chest in hot arousal. He's Jisung's baby. He feels so small, so taken care of. Like nothing else in the world exists except Jisung and his words.
The whimper that leaves him when Jisung pulls down his track pants (and underwear, in the same motion, what the fuck) is high and broken. It's something so utterly alien to Minho that he has to take a moment to rethink his life decisions.
But then Jisung has a hand on his dick and nothing else matters.
Minho moans loud and unabashed, slightly muffled by the fingers still in his mouth, as Jisung uses the copious amount of precum leaking from the tip to smoothen the slide. It's not enough; Jisung's not gripping tightly, nor is he stroking particularly fast, but the teasing feels so good that Minho feels himself melting further into Jisung. Sparks of need ignite in his gut, and his hips kick instinctively, searching for more.
Jisung stops stroking immediately.
Minho makes a distraught noise.
"I know, I know," Jisung shushes, petting Minho's hip like the elder is some kind of cat. "Hyung will give you what you need."
Minho chokes around Jisung's fingers for a heartstopping moment. The digits don't move; if anything, they press down more on his tongue, until Minho's forced to unlock his jaw to accommodate.
He doesn't know what expression Jisung is making. Humiliation burns a hot ball of need in his gut, and Minho's mind goes blissfully blank.
It takes him a minute to realize that they're moving, but Jisung takes his fingers out of Minho's mouth with a wet sound, a string of drool connecting them for a mere moment. In the next moment, Minho is being set down on the bed, carefully, gently; his eyes are locked onto Jisung's face, still in concentration as he positions Minho's body like some kind of doll.
Minho doesn't even think about resisting.
His hands are brought up to somewhere above his head; his shirt is pulled off so gently. "Do you think you can hold onto the pillow for me, darling?"
Minho nods shyly, hands already clutching at the soft white plush. He looks up at Jisung with wide, trembling eyes.
Jisung just blinks. "Words, baby."
Words?
Minho opens his mouth, but his tongue is so heavy that nothing comes out for a moment. He closes it, swallows, and tries again.
"…yes?"
Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Yes what?"
Fuck. Minho throws his head back with a whine, shutting his eyes. He knows what Jisung wants, but it's so…it's so much. The word makes Minho feel little, small under it's weight.
"I won't touch you until you listen, Minho-yah." He feels Jisung shifting in between his legs, so close but not close enough. "Will you be good for me?"
His voice ignites a kind of electricity under Minho's skin, leaving him trembling with pure need. Something breaks inside of him. The weight of the word suddenly lifts, and it tumbles from Minho's mouth without a second thought. "Hyung, yes, hyung, please, I'll be good, I'll —"
"Shh," Jisung whispers with a smile, a hand coming to draw smooth, reassuring circles into Minho's skin. He feels himself relaxing into the sheets, closing his eyes once more. "That's it, was that so hard, baby?"
Minho shudders.
He lets himself be moved, legs spread wider than he would have expected, knees folding up, exposing himself more and more. He doesn't fight. How can he, when Jisung is being so gentle with him?
"Can you keep your legs up like this?"
Jisung's hands leave his thighs. Minho inhales in surprise; the absence leaves a cold imprint on his skin. "No, come back, come back —"
"Okay, okay," Jisung says hurriedly before those blessed hands are back on Minho, placating the trembles in his thighs. In another world, he would be so embarrassed about how he melts into the touch, all tension bleeding from his body into the sheets, but this is not that world. He lets out a pleased sort of purr when Jisung kisses him, both of them smiling into it. A searching tongue parts his lips, leaving scorching trails in it's wake.
Jisung pulls away too soon. "You…you are okay with this, right, Minho-yah? I came onto you so suddenly…"
Minho grumbles in faint irritation. "Han-ah, if I didn't like it, I would have pushed you away by now. These thighs are not as useless as you think."
Jisung breaks into a beautiful smile. "Ah, right. They're only useless under me, is that it?" His fingers pinch the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, drawing a quick ah! from Minho's mouth. "So strong, but nowhere to put that strength."
"I'll show you where to put that strength," Minho says nonsensically. "Just fuck me, Jisung-ah — shit!"
Jisung didn't even slap his thigh that hard, but his inner thigh is sensitive. Even more so with how close Jisung hit to Minho's dick. Minho thinks he could cum just with Jisung holding him open, spanking this thighs until they turn a blistering pink.
That's a thought for later.
…Will there be a later?
Minho wants there to be a later. Now that he's here, he cannot imagine a world without Jisung's touch, Jisung's lips on his. He's in too deep. This started as such a silly idea and now he's in too deep.
Jisung lands two more stinging slaps to Minho's thighs, one after the other, and Minho's pulled successfully from his thoughts. "Hey, where did you go, hm?"
"…Nowhere." Minho opens his eyes with effort, trying to wordlessly project his need to Jisung's brain. "I'm still here."
"Good, good." Jisung shifts suddenly, grabbing a bottle from the bedside table, squirting it onto his fingers. Minho feels a soft press of lips on the crease of his knee, the tenderness of it making him shudder. He can excuse the lack of hands on his thighs, now that Jisung is actually getting on with things.
Before he can process it, Jisung has a finger at his rim, circling with a featherlight touch. The faint feeling of lube has Minho shaking and whining softly, impatient for the younger to get on with it. But seconds pass, and the fingers don't go deeper. They just tap a rhythm that only Jisung knows onto Minho's skin.
No, really. Minho doesn't know this rhythm.
"Jisung —"
The man of the hour moves up to latch his mouth onto Minho's nipple, mouthing at it messily. It rips a keen from Minho's throat, head tilting back, hands clutching the pillow tighter and tighter. Jisung's hands don't stop their nonsense rhythm, right where Minho needs it the most, but not even remotely close to enough.
"Are you — fuck, ah — are you pretending to play your fucking gacha game on my hole?"
"It's called practicing, baby." Minho can feel Jisung's grin on his skin. "I can multitask."
"What if you single-tasked and fucked me!?"
"So bratty," Jisung muses, switching sides and kissing the other nipple. Minho's back arches despite himself. "What happened to my sweet doll from before?"
The words, shamefully, have their intended effect: Minho feels his brain liquifying immediately. He tries to speak, but Jisung closes his teeth around the nipple, pulling, and Minho's crying out in sheer pleasure. His knees try to knock together, but they're stopped by the hard line of Jisung's body. His unoccupied hand pushes them back apart.
"You know what you have to do to make me stop," Jisung says, tauntingly, before going back to his task.
It's too much. It's too fucking much, too much stimulation going on at once. He feels so empty; every squirm against the bedsheets only makes his skin more sensitive. Jisung's alternating between kissing and biting his chest, and Minho knows that come tomorrow he will have the evidence of Jisung's affections painted on him in no uncertain terms.
But damn him, he wants more. He wants to be Jisung's pliant doll, to be moved around and used as needed. He wants to be good. Minho want's so badly to be good for hyung.
His defenses drop for the second time.
"Hyung…"
Jisung pauses.
Minho swallows around his own spit, blush only intensifying with every word. "Please…hyung, fuck me, I've been waiting, please…"
Jisung swears and crashes his lips into Minho's, and in the next minute, a finger is finally pushing in, caressing Minho's walls so perfectly he feels like he's ascending into heaven. But even heaven wouldn't compare to this, he thinks, as he squeezes around the single finger.
"So needy for me," Jisung says between kisses. "So fucking perfect."
Minho moans helplessly as a second finger joins the first. He's fully trembling now, the only thing grounding him being Jisung's touch and the pillow he's gripping so intensely. Jisung's tongue keeps him quiet, which is a small mercy; Minho's not a blushing virgin, but he's never been so… so loud.
It's nice, though. Jisung has made it clear that he doesn't mind the noises, and not having control over them brings a perverse kind of pleasure in itself.
A third finger enters Minho's slick hole. Jisung's purposefully avoiding Minho's prostrate; there's no other explanation for the way the pressure dances just around the sensitive bundle of nerves, but never directly on it. Minho squirms despite himself, trying to coax Jisung's fingers to where he wants, but the only thing this accomplishes is Jisung's hand landing on his hip, stilling his motions.
"Good dolls don't move," Jisung says, pulling his lips away from Minho's. The fingers stop moving, pulling a wretched sound from Minho. "Do you want to be good for me?"
"Yes," Minho gasps. "I — I'll be good, for hyung, please —"
Jisung's fingers spread, stretching his hole. Minho's head thrashes against the sheets. "Good, good doll, just take it," the other groans. "Take what hyung gives you. Fuck, so good for me, aren't you?"
Something snaps in Minho. Before he knows it, he's screaming, back arching almost painfully as he cums harder than he ever has in his life.
It makes a mess of his stomach, but Minho is beyond caring. Jisung doesn't pause his ministrations, fingering Minho through his orgasm until he relaxes, panting into the air.
Before he knows it, he's being kissed again. "Fuck, didn't even need to touch your prostate, did I?" Jisung's voice is hoarse, the only thing betraying how affected he is by the turn of events. "You can move, shit, you're amazing, you're amazing —"
Minho takes the permission to rip his hands from the pillow and wrap his arms around Jisung, reveling in the warmth of his body. Their kiss turns deep, slow and sensual, as Minho rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Before long, Minho's pulling away. "You're still hard." Jisung's erection is pressing into his hip. "Fuck, you didn't even take off your pants."
Jisung smirks. "Any lingering doubts about my sexual prowess?"
"Sexual prowess —" Minho scoffs before pushing Jisung's chest with both hands. The surprise of it topples Jisung onto his back; Minho climbs over the other like a man starved. "You fucking loser. You say that like I had any doubt to begin with."
"Wow, I'm flattered," Jisung says, confident lilt still in his tone as Minho pulls down his shorts, taking out his cock. It sits thick and heavy in his palm. Minho might be salivating. "You really don't have to do more, you must be tired —"
"Han Jisung," Minho says sweetly, "Shut the fuck up."
He takes the entire thing into his mouth.
Jisung shouts, hands coming down to clutch at Minho's hair, pulling deliciously. Thanking his lack of a gag reflex, Minho bottoms out almost immediately, letting Jisung's cock hit the back of his throat and swallowing. It's messy; drool starts escaping his mouth, but that's the point, so Minho keeps his hands on Jisung's legs.
"Fuck, shit, aaah, fuck," Jisung breathes. "Your — your fucking mouth —"
Deeming his work satisfactory, Minho pulls off wetly. The purpose was never to get Jisung off, after all. He sits up, positioning himself while Jisung catches his breath.
"Jagi, what?"
Minho drops onto Jisung's cock, taking the whole thing in one go.
They both moan at the same time, twin shouts of pleasure. Minho's head falls back from the sudden overwhelming fullness; he can feel Jisung's cock twitching inside him even more because of the oversensitivity. It's such a perfect length: just big enough to stretch him, but not too big to cause a struggle. He's so full. Minho thinks that he wouldn't mind if Jisung kept him on his cock all the time, even when playing his stupid fucking rhythm game.
"Baby, baby," Jisung's chanting, hands holding onto Minho's hips. "Are you sure you're up to riding me?"
Minho smirks, swiveling his hips. "Let me make my hyung feel good, okay?"
Jisung's mouth drops open, for more than one reason.
Minho takes a breath and starts moving. He braces his hands on Jisung's chest, pushes himself up, thighs trembling with the effort after being fingered for so long, and lets himself drop.
It's so good. It's so good. Minho hangs his head, eyes scrunched with both effort and pleasure, as he bounces himself faster and faster. The oversensitivity sends delicious sparks up his spine, through his body, clouding his mind with need. His dick had been soft, but it's hardening embarassingly fast. It's a bit painful, but Minho is finding very quickly that he likes it. A lot. More than he should, maybe.
His muscles start burning, so he relaxes, grinding down into Jisung, and this too feels so good that he whines low in his throat. Through the whole thing, Jisung is groaning, fingers digging into the meat of Minho's hips. Minho hopes that he'll be able to see the marks tomorrow morning.
"Ah — fuck, my thighs," Minho hisses. "I…I…"
Jisung's hips kick up, so suddenly that Minho shouts. His dick nails Minho's prostrate, and his body spasms and falls into Jisung's waiting embrace.
"So good," Jisung whispers into Minho's ear, "made hyung feel so good."
Minho whimpers brokenly.
He's being moved again without his permission, but Minho relaxes into Jisung's hold. He's pulled off of Jisung's cock and spun around, back to Jisung's chest. They sit up, on their knees, Jisung's ones holding Minho's apart.
Finally, Jisung takes Minho's wrists and holds them against his chest, the other arm coming to pull Minho closer.
"Let me take care of you now."
He pushes in with a swift thrust.
Minho wails.
His body gives up from the onslaught, only held up by Jisung's arms. Like this, Jisung might not be able to reach as deep, but his cock hits Minho's spot with more power and more precision. The sounds are filthy, a combination of skin on skin and Minho's cries, but it only makes Jisung go faster, harder.
"So fucking tight." Minho really needs Jisung to stop talking, for his own sanity. "So good, so — fuck, pliant, I — God, I'm close, I'm so close already —"
Humiliatingly, Minho is too. "Please — Hyung, touch me, touch me —"
"No," Jisung growls. "You already got to come once, didn't you, baby? You'll come like this or you won't come at all."
"Fuck," Minho gasps. "Why is that so — shit, ngh, ah — hyung…"
"Can't make sentences any more?" Jisung scoffs into Minho's neck, somehow going even harder. "So cockdumb, shit, god, love this, love you —"
If the words were said in the heat of the moment, Minho's body doesn't register it, because all his muscles lock and he cums immediately with a high scream. He can taste colors, he thinks. Not even a few seconds later a warmth floods into Minho's hole, and he sags against Jisung, spent and sated.
Minho might be floating.
He nuzzles into Jisung's warmth, feeling so safe as fingers card through his hair slowly, and lets himself drift.
He wakes to a poppy tune playing from somewhere above him.
"Jisung, you cannot be serious." He flings an arm up blindly, succeeding in knocking Jisung's phone somewhere. Ignoring Jisung's loud protest, Minho brings his arms around Jisung, squeezing.
He feels more than hears Jisung's low chuckle. "Aw, are you jealous?" He brings a hand to card through Minho's hair, nails lightly scratching Minho's scalp. He tilts his head into the sensation; if he could, Minho would be purring up a storm.
But his mind latches onto Jisung's words.
He has been jealous, hasn't he? Jealous enough to scheme a way to get Jisung's hands on him. Jealous enough to fuck Jisung about it.
Over a video game.
"Hey, hey." His head is being guided back gently, and Minho blinks up at a concerned Jisung. "I can feel you thinking from here, hyung. Penny for your thoughts?"
Even as he asks, there's such a level of care in Jisung's words that Minho finds himself blinking back tears. This, of course, only worries Jisung further, and his unoccupied hand comes up to caress Minho's cheek, cooing softly.
Minho exhales shakily. He's not usually this emotional; it throws him off balance.
"I…what would you do if I was? Jealous," Minho elaborates, whispering. He ducks his head, ashamed. "It's just — you've been spending so much time on the game lately, and I…I feel…"
Jisung sighs softly; the hand behind Minho's head pulls him closer, until all of Minho's senses are overwhelmed with Jisung. "I'm…I never meant to neglect you hyung. I promise."
"I know," Minho assures, voice breaking. "I just… I don't know why I'm like this."
"You don't have to." Jisung's hands resume their ministrations. "I love you just as you are, hyung. I like that you're possessive. I think — I think it's cute!"
Minho's breath catches.
"You…you do?"
"Yeah! You remind me of like, a grumpy cat, actually."
"No, Jisung-ah, you love me?"
Jisung freezes again, pulling away slightly to look Minho in the eye. "…is that a problem?"
"No." Minho's voice thickens, and he pulls Jisung close again, not able to stand even a centimeter of space between their bodies. "I love you. Too. So much. I didn't want… I didn't want you to think I just wanted to get in your pants, or something."
"Ah, hyung, you think so low of me," Jisung laughs, rolling them over. Minho's back hits the mattress with a dull thud, hair fanning out and limbs sprawling awkwardly. Jisung smiles warmly at him, caging him between his forearms. "Hey there."
"You dork," Minho giggles, too relieved to worry about the tears still making their way down his face. "Come down here."
He reaches up, threads his fingers behind Jisung's nape, and pulls. Jisung goes willingly.
"So much better than the game," Jisung hums before kissing Minho, clumsily because neither of them can stop smiling.
Yeah. This is so much better.
"Hey, Jisung? Why did you have lube on your bedside table?"
"…in my defense, it was Felix's idea."
"You — Felix — you two planned for this!?"