Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’s staring. Again.

Minho feels his heart jump nervously at the sight inhabiting his peripheral vision while he tries, really tries, to focus on examining the answers on the worksheet of the student he’s tutoring. It’s hard, though, with those round eyes boring holes into the side of his face while he absently pokes at his own lips with his pen.

There are many words to describe Han Jisung, including but not limited to: Playboy. Frat boy. Tiny, but fit. Cocky little shit. Way too smart to need a tutor. Painfully attractive, just Minho’s type, and dreadfully straight.

Minho has always had a small crush on him from afar and had jumped at the chance to tutor the cute underclassman, knowing it would never lead anywhere but wanting to get to know him nonetheless. If nothing else, he thought maybe they could be... friends? Or at least maybe comfortable acquaintances who know each other well enough for Jisung to introduce Minho to some of his cute gay friends. Minho tends to steer very clear of frat boys like Jisung, but he feels an unfortunate pull to him that he can’t ignore.

It’s their fourth session together; Minho excels in math and Jisung has been falling behind in calculus, not because he isn’t capable, but has apparently been skipping classes (probably to fool around with some girl or another) so he ends up having to teach it to himself. Jisung was anxious at the start but quickly emerged from his shell, becoming comfortable enough around Minho to show his true colors as a still-cocky yet endearingly goofy boy who Minho only finds his hopeless crush for growing deeper.

Which makes Jisung’s staring all the more frustrating, inadvertently teasing Minho with something he can’t have.

"Is there something on my face?" Minho asks dryly, crossing out a line of Jisung’s workings and correcting it. He usually just lets Jisung stare, not wanting to open that can of worms―whatever it may entail. Not today, though.

Minho spares him a glance and sees him blinking in surprise, clearly taken aback. "Huh?"

"Shouldn’t you be watching what I’m doing on the paper instead of my face?"

"Oh." Jisung ducks his head, lifting his cap to scratch his head sheepishly. "Must’ve zoned out."

Minho hums, not buying it. "You do that a lot, hm? What’re you so hung up on that’s more important than your calculus grade?"

"I was just thinking, like..." Minho swears the tips of his ears darken. "You’re really pretty for a guy."

Minho fully turns to face him now, eyebrows raised. He isn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment or not, but he feels heat creeping up his neck all the same.

"In a good way!" Jisung says quickly. "In a good way. I bet the girls are into it, huh?" He gives him a crooked grin, leaning on the table and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Ah, of course. Han Jisung is, at his core, a straight boy with a one-track mind. He can’t believe he almost thought he was... what, flirting with him?

Ha.

Minho contemplates how to answer and just wants to roll his eyes. He hasn’t had an inkling of interest in any girl since middle school. He'd thought he liked his best friend at the time, but it turned out he just thought she was funny, and after that things gradually fell into place in his head. Minho is very much, one hundred percent gay, despite never having a steady boyfriend or even doing anything with a boy beyond kissing and a little over-the-pants petting.

"I wouldn’t know," he mumbles, turning back to the paper in front of him and effectively putting an end to the conversation.

Jisung looks to be deep in thought for the rest of the tutoring session, and Minho has a feeling it isn’t calculus that he’s thinking about.

. . .

The next few lessons pass by normally. Comfortably, even. Sometimes Minho is able to forget that Jisung is an annoyingly heterosexual dudebro when their senses of humor mesh so well and they even find some time to chat after lessons, bond over things like dramas and music and cats. It’s nice, the companionship they’ve built up over the past several weeks.

It isn’t helping the crush Minho tries his best to suppress in the slightest, though, and he finds himself thinking of Jisung more often than he’d like to admit. His dark eyes, pouty lips, his voice, his muscles. His dick.

It’s such thoughts that Minho often gets off to at night, Jisung’s voice low in his ear, his cute crooked fingers working him open, his dick that Minho is insanely curious about. He wouldn’t be surprised if it’s small or average; Jisung has a tendency to overcompensate, being loud to cover up the fact that he’s actually quite shy, cocky to mask his insecurities, platform boots to make himself taller.

It wouldn't matter to Minho how big or small Jisung is, even if he did have a chance with him. As it stands, it could literally not be any less of his business.

He feels guilty sometimes, greeting Jisung’s smiling face at his door. He wonders how disgusted he’d be if he found out Minho thinks of him to get off, fantasizes about him regularly. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he’d be flattered. Still, Minho definitely isn’t going to take any chances with a straight boy who he has to meet with once or more a week and whose company he enjoys very much.

"I got a 79 on my exam," Jisung announces as he plops down on Minho’s couch, red backpack hitting the ground with a thud. "All thanks to you, bro."

Minho resists the urge to roll his eyes at the bro tacked on the end. "A 79? I’ve taught you better than that, haven’t I?"

Jisung’s lips puff out into a pout. "Hey, it’s a huge improvement! We can’t all be geniuses."

"You are, though. You just don’t apply yourself," Minho says, heading towards the kitchenette. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"God, you sound like my mom," Jisung grumbles. "No, I’m okay."

Minho snickers at the comment and retrieves a glass of water for himself since his mouth often gets dry from explaining all of the work to Jisung. He takes a sip as he walks back into the den, nearly choking on it when his eyes land on Jisung who has removed his jacket to reveal a sleeveless shirt underneath, strong arms on display.

It’s not even warm in here, Minho thinks bitterly. He himself is in his favorite big, cozy white cardigan with blue trim, and yet the apartment air is still chilly. Fucking show-off.

Minho briefly wonders what on earth Jisung could gain from showing off in their one-on-one tutoring sessions, but quickly pushes the thought away before he gets carried away with fruitless fantasies.

"Is there anything you struggle with?" Jisung wonders aloud suddenly as Minho settles in next to him, papers already spread out on the coffee table before them. "Maybe I can tutor you in something. Y’know, to repay you. Return the favor."

"You don’t need to repay me," Minho scoffs, setting his glass down on a cat-shaped coaster before picking up Jisung’s exam to go over what he missed. "Plus, I’m a genius, remember?" He turns and sends him a wink, gaze slipping to his exposed arms before he quickly turns back to the paper before him.

"Right. Well, it doesn’t have to be related to school, you know," Jisung says. "It can be a different kind of favor." Minho’s stomach turns at the direction his thoughts go. "Like, I dunno, I could bring you an americano every week or something. Or, um, my friend bakes really good brownies. I could hook you up. Or... actually, are you seeing anyone? I could hook you up there too, maybe. Like, with a girl."

Minho takes a deep breath. "It’s fine, Jisung. I'm really not interested."

"In what? The brownies, or the―"

"Girls," he snaps. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s so tired of Jisung bringing them up, making offhanded comments about how Minho must get so much pussy, how girls like pretty boys like him, talking about his own experiences with girls as if Minho could relate in any way. "I’m not interested in girls."

"Oh," Jisung breathes. An unfamiliar air of awkwardness settles over them.

Minho isn’t ashamed of his sexuality, not in the slightest. Many people simply don’t know because he’s never had a reason to tell them. He supposes getting Jisung off his back about girls is reason enough. 

If anything, he’s a little ashamed of his lack of experience―the reason he never has any incentive to share. Sure, he’s gay, he has no problem admitting that to anyone, but he has nothing to show for it.

Jisung speaks up again. "Sorry for assuming―"

"No, it’s okay. If your friend ever has any extra brownies though, I wouldn’t mind one," he jokes, trying to offset the weird tension.

"Okay," Jisung laughs, "will do."

A more comfortable silence falls with Minho grateful that Jisung hadn’t made a big deal out of it. Not that he’d really expected him to. Gay recognizes gay, after all, and some of the company Jisung keeps looks real familiar.

He’s finally able to focus on Jisung’s exam―until he’s speaking again.

"I might know some guys who could be interested―"

Minho feels irritation bubbling up within, along with his heart sinking a bit at the notion of his crush trying to set him up with someone else. Maybe he should take him up on it, find a way to move on, but he finds himself shaking his head before he can think it through.

"There’s... someone I’m interested in," he blurts out truthfully. Jisung doesn’t have to know that it’s him. "So thank you, but no thank you."

"Oh. Anyone I know?"

"No," Minho insists. "Can we focus, please?"

"Right. Okay. Sorry."

"Okay, so for this problem..." Minho begins, and Jisung leans in close with attentive eyes that catch his attention for a moment too long, Jisung giving him a questioning look that puts their faces only a few inches apart. He can smell his cologne, can feel the heat radiating off his body, is hyper-aware of the hand resting casually on his knee. He clears his throat and continues.

This is going to be a long session, he thinks.

And Jesus, it is. It feels like it takes hours to get through the exam and homework with Jisung so close, the voice in his ear sending chills up his spine, the way he throws himself onto Minho with laughter whenever he cracks some stupid joke or another, the way his muscles flex when he reaches across to point something out on the paper. But when he looks at the clock, he realizes they’ve only gone about five minutes over their usual meeting time.

"Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver," Jisung cries, throwing his arms around Minho and squeezing tight enough to spark warmth in the pit of his stomach. Fuck. "I understand everything now. I’m gonna ace the next exam for sure."

"You’d have aced this one if you paid attention in class," Minho points out dryly.

"If I paid attention in class, I wouldn’t have any reason to come see you," Jisung says, beaming so brightly at Minho when he pulls away, lips stretched into a heart-shaped grin. Minho’s lips part uselessly, at a loss for words. He’s sure he doesn’t imagine the way Jisung’s gaze drops to them while his hands slide down Minho’s arms torturously slow before releasing him.

Minho is so far gone and such a fool.

"I know how you can repay me," he says, heart pounding in his ears.

"Oh yeah?" Jisung asks, an eyebrow quirked.

"Um..." Minho blinks several times, trying to regain his composure, managing to just in time before he makes a complete fool out of himself. "Never mind, it’s stupid."

"What? No!" Jisung cries, grabbing Minho’s thigh hard enough that he almost whimpers, shaking it emphatically. He plops his head on Minho’s shoulder and his breath is hot on his ear. "Tell me."

And that’s the final straw for Minho. He’s not going to be able to sleep at night, won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t at least try to get in this boy’s pants.

"So, my crush..." Minho starts carefully, wetting his lips. He’s well aware he’s a horrible liar, and Jisung is sharp, so he’ll just have to be vague but honest. "Well, he’s really, ah, experienced. And I’m not."

Jisung lifts his head off his shoulder and stares at him expectantly. Minho doesn’t turn to face him yet. "Experienced? With... what, relationships?"

Minho scratches his head, suddenly feeling like a nervous teenager under the younger boy’s stare as he feels heat cover his face and ears. "Uh, sex. And stuff."

"S―Wait―" Jisung furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. "You’re―You haven’t―"

Minho shakes his head, refusing to make eye contact.

"How?" Jisung’s gaping at him in his peripheral vision. "I mean, sorry, um, I’m just surprised. You’re so..."

Minho turns to him, finally, surely red-faced with apprehension written all over his features and Jisung seems to choke on his own words. "I’m so what?" he asks.

"Beautiful," he whispers, then clears his throat. "U-Um, I mean, you’re like, insanely attractive, bro. Anyone can see that. So, anyway, um, did you want tips or, like..."

Minho takes a deep breath. He’s come this far, he may as well bring it home.

He knocks his knee against Jisung’s, ghosting over Jisung’s fingertips where his hand rests on the couch. "I’m more of a hands-on learner."

"Oh." Minho holds his breath and watches Jisung’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, staring down at where their hands are brushing against each other but making no move to pull away. "Man, I, uh..." He scratches the back of his neck. "You know I’m straight, right?"

"I know," Minho says, trying to maintain his composure. "You wouldn’t have to do anything, just, um... like, show me the ropes?"

God, he sounds so ridiculous even to his own ears. He can’t imagine how pathetic he must sound to Jisung, straight and two years younger but with a hundred times more experience, as he throws his dignity out the window and practically grovels at his feet.

Jisung tries and fails to stutter out a response, and Minho’s face is on fire. He can’t remember ever being this humiliated in his entire life, and it’s entirely his own doing. His and Jisung’s stupid touchiness and stupid hand on his thigh and stupid voice in his ear and stupid strong arms.

"I mean," he continues, "obviously you don’t have to. It’s probably too weird, right? So we can just pretend I never asked."

Jisung only stares at him in stunned silence. Minho wants to slam his head into the coffee table. 

Just like that, there goes any semblance of normalcy their budding friendship had. Jisung’s probably going to look for a new tutor. Or maybe he’ll finally just start paying attention in class. Either way, it’s over. They’re done―

"I’m down."

Minho’s heart skips several beats.

"You’re... down?"

"It’s the least I can do, right? I mean, you pretty much saved my scholarship." Jisung shrugs, though his face is noticeably flushed. "What’s a little brojob between bros?"

Minho huffs out an incredulous laugh, stuck between being elated at Jisung’s easy acceptance of his far-fetched request and being appalled at his own taste in men.

"Do you... get brojobs often, then?"

"No," Jisung laughs, "never. I gotta admit... I mean, again I’m straight, but I’m kinda... curious? I dunno. Like I feel like I’ve gotta fool around with a dude once before I die. You feel me?"

Minho does not feel him.

He certainly doesn’t feel that way about women, but he supposes it’s natural to be curious.

That, or Jisung isn’t as straight as he believes himself to be.

"Sure," he lies. "And you’re okay with me being the one dude you fool around with before you die?"

"I mean―" Jisung’s eyes scan his face, sending butterflies swirling in Minho’s stomach, "you’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen, so... yeah."

This boy cannot be straight.

Minho inches closer, lifting Jisung’s hand off the couch to place it on his thigh, pressed up against Jisung’s. "So since this is kind of mutually beneficial, can I still get that brownie?"

Jisung laughs breathlessly, squeezing Minho’s thigh and sending his heart rate through the roof. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can manage that."

Minho places his own hand on Jisung’s thigh, running it up over the soft fabric of his sweatpants and glancing down to see a bulge already forming. They haven’t even done anything.

Oh, he is so not straight.

"What can I do?" Minho asks, blinking at him with wide eyes.

"Um..." Jisung falters, eyes wide and eyebrows high as if the reality of the situation had just settled in. "Just... do whatever, for now? I’ll stop you if it, uh, gets weird. Or guide you, I guess, if that’s what you want."

They hadn’t exactly discussed the details of the arrangement, so Minho isn’t sure if he’s allowed to lean in and steal the kiss he wishes for so desperately. Instead he studies Jisung’s face as he slides his hand closer to his crotch, the younger’s lip caught between his teeth. He palms the bulge gently, feeling his own twitch and fill out at the shuddering breaths Jisung lets out, and it isn’t long before he’s seemingly fully hard, and wow.

Jisung may overcompensate for a lot of things, but his dick is no joke.

"You’re big," Minho whispers, more to test his theory that Jisung and his huge ego would get off to praise than anything. He smiles a bit when the younger’s breath hitches. "I wonder if I can fit it in my mouth."

"Ah," Jisung chokes out, chuckling. "There’s only one way to find out."

Minho’s stomach turns, his face feeling white-hot at the thought. He wasn’t sure what the fuck a brojob was, didn’t know if Jisung wanted him to do anything past a handjob, so he’s thrilled at the suggestion of more. He bides his time, though, tracing the outline of Jisung’s dick through his sweatpants, lightly squeezing at the head until there’s a wet patch in the gray fabric and Jisung is letting out cute little noises.

"Have you... have you ever done anything like this?" Jisung asks.

"This is as far as I’ve gone," Minho admits quietly.

"Oh," is all he says.

"Can I..." Minho trails off, slipping his fingers under Jisung’s waistband.

"Oh," he repeats, scrambling to lift his butt off the couch and slip them down to his mid-thigh along with his underwear, flushed cock springing up and landing against the fabric of his shirt.

"Pretty," Minho says mindlessly, taking it into his hand and giving a tentative stroke, immediately eliciting a groan.

"Pretty?" Jisung repeats, blinking. "That’s a first."

Minho hums. "It shouldn’t be." He swipes his thumb over the slick head, ignoring the curious urge to bring it to his own lips and instead spreading it down his length to make the glide a little smoother as he pumps him. Jisung, breathing heavily, digs his fingers into Minho’s thigh hard enough to make him gasp.

"Okay?" Minho checks. He isn’t too concerned about the handjob department as he’s given countless ones to himself, although he is admittedly dragging it out a bit, teasing a bit more than necessary.

"Yeah," Jisung breathes. "Um... if you need practice kissing, too, we could―y’know."

Not straight.

Minho’s lips twitch into a smile, his hand stilling. "I know how to kiss, Jisung," he says even as he leans in.

"Prove it," Jisung challenges, tilting his head to meet Minho in a gentle press of lips. 

Minho wasn’t lying―he’s kissed plenty of people. Granted, many cases were in a drunken stupor, but he also likes to think that he’s a decent kisser and he’s all too eager to show it, rise to the challenge and maybe make Jisung realize some things about himself while he’s at it.

While he’s kissed people before, it’s been so long since he actually kissed someone he likes, and he likes Jisung way too much. His mouth is no exception. His lips are small but soft, slotting perfectly against Minho’s and easily opening up for him with a quiet groan when he resumes pumping his cock, harder this time, and soon enough their tongues are sliding against each other, desperate and messy.

Jisung seems to be unsure what he wants to do with his hands, alternating between clutching Minho’s cardigan and squeezing his thigh before one finally comes to rest on the side of Minho’s neck. It slides around to the back of his head where he entangles his hand and pulls gently but just hard enough to make Minho gasp. Jisung catches Minho’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls an embarrassing whine from his throat.

"Fuck," Jisung whispers against him, "wanna see these pretty lips on my cock."

If Minho heard that from anyone else’s mouth he’d probably cringe, but as previously stated, he is so far gone for Jisung that it only serves to make him that much more aroused. He freezes, eyes blown wide as he stares at Jisung, his own dick stirring in his pants.

"Too much?" Jisung asks with a nervous smile. "Sorry. Force of habit, I guess."

"No, no, it’s..." Minho swallows. "Just, I’ve never, uh―yeah. Keep talking."

"You want me to? Girls usually tell me to shut up."

"Yeah, I can’t blame them." Jisung swats lightly at his arm, both laughing. Minho chews the inside of his cheek in thought. "But, um, I don’t mind. Just keep talking. Tell me what to do. To make you feel good, I mean."

"Fuck, okay," Jisung says, clamping down on his lip. "Get on your knees."

Minho blinks, taken aback from Jisung switching gears so quickly and, well, telling him what to do. It’s exactly what he asked for, but not quite what he expected when he said it.

Still, he thinks he probably likes it more than he should.

"Where are your manners?" Minho asks in an attempt to cover how much it flusters him, slipping off the couch and falling to his knees in front of Jisung anyway.

"Do you want my help or not?" His voice is low and almost threatening, but the cocky grin on his face betrays his playfulness. God, Minho hopes he doesn’t realize how much power he has over him.

He scoots closer to the edge of the couch, Minho wetting his lips as his dick is all but shoved in his face. "Um, okay, so just... fuck, I dunno. I’ve never had to give instructions before. Just do whatever and I’ll tell you if it feels good."

"Some help you are," Minho remarks dryly to hide his nerves, wrapping his hand around him again. He leans in, gaze trained to Jisung’s face for his reaction as he licks a stripe from the base to the tip. Jisung looks like a dream, gazing down at him with half-lidded eyes, glistening, parted lips, and a pretty pink dusted across his cheeks.

"Just... don’t push yourself," he manages. "Don’t try to―to deepthroat me or anything. Use your hands, and watch your teeth, for obvious reasons, and ah―"

Minho interrupts him with a hum, lips carefully but eagerly wrapping around his tip and flicking his tongue over it. It doesn’t have much of a taste save for the slightest salty tang to his precum. It’s something Minho thinks he could definitely get used to.

He sinks down further, looking up through his lashes and feeling a rush of satisfaction when Jisung bites his lip, eyes clouded with want. His stomach turns when Jisung reaches to brush his hair out of his face, threading his fingers in the brown locks. Minho lets out a little hum when fingernails graze his scalp that makes Jisung curse under his breath.

Ah. Good to know.

His glasses slip down his nose a bit, so he pulls off of Jisung to remove them and set them behind him on the coffee table.

"Getting serious, huh?" Jisung jokes, returning his hand to Minho’s hair as he leans in again, stroking languidly. 

"Mhm," Minho hums, opting to run his tongue along his shaft a few more times before anything else. Jisung’s soft grunts spur him on, make him want to reach into his own pants, but he refrains, wanting to please Jisung more than anything.

So he takes him into his mouth again, pushing down and testing his limits. He’d love to see the look on Jisung’s face if he managed to take him all in, and he may get too carried away with the thought because before he knows it he’s gagging himself and pulling back.

"You okay?" Jisung sits up a little, gazing at him with concern. 

Minho nods quickly, clearing his throat with his face hot and eyes watery. "Sorry."

"Hey, it’s cool," Jisung says. "I told you though, dude. Don’t push yourself."

Minho blinks.

Did he really just call me dude while I’m on my knees sucking his dick?

"Right," he manages, forcing a chuckle. 

Goddamn Han Jisung.

Minho grabs his cock again with a renewed fervor, wanting nothing more than to see him fall apart at his touch, for him to see Minho as more than his fucking bro.

He licks up his length again before wrapping his lips around him, going down and stopping just before he’s liable to gag himself again. He lets his tongue drag along the underside of his cock as he lifts his head and repeats the motion, bobbing slowly. Jisung hisses when he curls his fingers around the base and twists what he can’t reach with his mouth.

"Am I doing okay?" Minho pops off to ask after several minutes of Jisung’s soft noises that have slowly but surely been driving Minho mad. The answer is fairly obvious, he thinks, but he wants to hear Jisung say it anyway, maybe tell him how to make it even better.

"Yes, God―" Jisung runs a hand through Minho’s hair again as he bends back down to suckle on his head, and it feels much too intimate for this to be a totally platonic, heterosexual bro endeavor. "Your lips are magic, fuck. You sure you haven’t done this before?"

"Pretty sure," he murmurs against the spit-slick skin, "but I’ll take the compliment."

With that, he’s sinking down again, bobbing his head and picking up the rhythm when he notices Jisung get a little louder. He brings his free hand up to play with his balls in hopes to push him over the edge, and it seems to pay off, Jisung’s legs tensing underneath Minho’s arms and grip in his hair tightening. Minho hums at the feeling and that only makes Jisung’s breathing more ragged, moans more frequent as he seems to make a conscious effort to keep his hips planted on the couch.

"Minho, fuck," he chokes out, hand tugging his hair and sending a jolt of arousal down his spine. "Baby, I’m close. Shit."

Minho whines at the pet name, unable to keep himself from reaching down to his own neglected bulge any longer. He presses the heel of his hand down on his dick hard and rocks his hips into it, moaning around Jisung’s cock while his other hand pumps him frantically. He hollows out his cheeks and bobs his head, sucking harder and faster.

"Ah, ah―fuck, I’m―" He doesn’t finish the thought before his hips are bucking up and nearly choking Minho with his length as he shoots warm spurts of cum down his throat with a cry. Minho grinds into his own hand one more time and he’s seeing white, coming harder than he has in a long time without even taking his goddamn pants off.

He lets out a quiet, muffled cry around Jisung, trying to keep his release from dripping out of his mouth. He almost wants to spit it out but wants to impress Jisung more, so he forces himself to keep sucking through his orgasm, swallowing every drop he can get. Finally he pulls off, breathing heavy.

Jisung is staring down at him with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling deeply where he’s slumped against the back of the couch. "Did you...?"

Minho squeezes his eyes shut and covers them with his hand for good measure. His face is burning. "Sorry."

He isn’t sure why he’s apologizing. Certainly Jisung didn’t want to get him off, especially after Minho told him he wouldn’t have to do anything. They only agreed on Jisung guiding Minho, not Minho getting off to him, too.

Minho hopes he hasn’t scared him off, because he would really like to do that again.

He can hear Jisung shifting around on the couch, presumably pulling his pants up. "Hey, no, it’s okay." A hand wraps around his wrist and pulls it away from his face. Minho blinks up at Jisung, who is smiling amiably at him like he didn’t just come in his mouth. "Is it weird that I think that’s actually kind of hot?"

Minho’s face surely only darkens. "Um―I don’t know. Probably?" He laughs weakly. "Not very straight of you."

Something Minho can’t place flashes across Jisung’s face for a moment, and he has a sinking feeling that he’d just made it weird, but then it’s gone and Jisung is laughing. "Who’s to say?" he says.

Minho tilts his head and stares at him in disbelief.

"Well, regardless..." Minho winces at the sticky feeling in his boxers as he stands and perches on the edge of the couch temporarily before he takes off to change his underwear. "What’s my score?"

"Your score?" Jisung’s nose scrunches in confusion. "What, you want me to grade your dick sucking?"

Minho nods, smiling at his bewilderment. "How else am I going to know if I’m improving?"

"Oh, this―this is an ongoing thing?"

Minho’s overstepping again. Oops.

"Oh, it doesn’t have to be." Minho waves it off like the idea is silly. "I was joking. You got in your one-time dick-sucking from a guy crossed off your bucket list, so it’s cool if you want to call it quits."

"Well..." Jisung puckers his lips and strokes his chin in thought. "I believe there’s some room for improvement," he says cheekily. "I don’t mind helping you a bit longer, if you want. Y’know, until you really know what you’re doing."

Minho scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, it wasn’t good enough, huh?"

"It was great!" Jisung clarifies quickly. "It was good. Especially considering you’ve never done it before. A solid B plus."

Minho clicks his tongue. "I can’t settle for a B. There must be some way I can earn extra credit...?" He imitates a person’s legs with his fingers as they crawl up Jisung’s leg in an exaggerated fashion.

"When did this become a bad porno?" Jisung laughs, batting his hand away. "I think I can afford a few more chances to bring up your grade, though."

"Thank you, sir." Minho bows deeply in his seat, partially to keep up their silly little impromptu roleplay and partly to hide his huge grin, before standing and heading for his bedroom to change. "I’ll do my best."

"I believe in you, kiddo!" Jisung calls after him, sending him into a giddy fit of giggles as soon as his bedroom door is shut behind him.

When he returns, Jisung has made himself comfortable and pulled up the Netflix menu on Minho’s TV. Minho is honestly a little shocked; he’d worried things would get awkward and Jisung would want to be out of his hair as soon as possible after that, but he seems perfectly content to insert himself into Minho’s (nonexistent) evening plans as he has done a handful of times over their past sessions.

Maybe it is just a perfectly platonic, heterosexual bro thing to him.

Minho does not think this will end well for him.

. . .

Their weekly meetings become much more… interesting after that point, to say the least.

Minho had always looked forward to seeing Jisung, and even if Jisung was initially only there by obligation, a way to better his grades, he seemed to come to enjoy Minho’s company, too.

Even before he started sucking Jisung’s dick every week.

It was routine. They’d meet at whoever’s dorm was free of intrusive roommates, get through Jisung’s worksheets, exams, anything else he needed help with, and then Minho would drop to his knees and suck Jisung dry.

It didn’t take long for his grade to increase either, and he almost  wanted to half-ass his blowjobs just to prolong the "teaching" process out of fear that they’d stop once he was deemed good enough. 

But a bigger part of him wanted to impress Jisung, show him all he’s learned about what makes him tick―like when Minho looks up at him through his lashes, when he hums around him, moans from the feeling of having his mouth full and drools on his cock like he can’t get enough (and really, he can’t). How he advised Minho against using his teeth but actually likes it when they graze his length just so.

Now is one such time, Minho knelt before him in Jisung’s dorm, eyes scrunched in a glazed smile when Jisung claps a hand over his own mouth after an embarrassingly loud moan. Minho is anything but put off by it, thrilled that he’s able to have this effect on Jisung. His dick twitches in the confines of his tight jeans.

He hadn’t gotten himself off during their sessions since the first evening, too mortified by the prospect of coming in his pants again regardless of whatever it was Jisung said about it being kind of hot, but he’d come close. Jisung never offers to help, but Minho doesn’t expect him to, either. He also never questions it when Minho returns from the restroom with the previously noticeable bulge absent from his pants.

"Don’t be shy," Minho pops off of him to coo. He licks a stripe up his length while he thumbs the tip. "It lets me know if I’m doing good."

"You are," Jisung praises breathlessly as he threads a hand through Minho’s hair. "You’re so fucking good." 

Minho whimpers involuntarily and responds by sinking back down onto Jisung’s cock and bobbing his head, shuddering at the feeling of his tip hitting the back of his throat. He’s been working on controlling his gag reflex, and Jisung seems to appreciate his efforts if the way he doubles over with an oh fuck, free hand flying to the other side of Minho’s head when he swallows around him, says anything.

Jisung’s got both hands tangled in Minho’s hair now, staring down at him with dark, half-lidded eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Minho?" he says, a question in his eyes. Minho hums, blinking up at him with teary eyes. "Shit. Can I…" His hands tighten in his hair and Minho pulls off again, tilting his head.

"Can you what?" he asks, kitten licking the head of his cock with wide eyes and smiling when, predictably, Jisung curses under his breath.

"Can I fuck your face?" Jisung rushes out. Oh. Minho isn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. "I’ll be gentle."

Minho nods dumbly before his hazy mind has the chance to catch up or do anything but conjure up an image of Jisung using his mouth for his own pleasure. Again he twitches hopelessly in his pants.

"Words, baby," Jisung says softly, the hint of a cocky grin on his face as he traces Minho’s swollen lower lip with his thumb, sending shivers down his spine. Minho resists the burning urge to suck the digit into his mouth.

"Yes," Minho whispers, not trusting his voice, "I want that, please."

"Fuck," Jisung whispers back, dilated pupils flitting around Minho’s face as he huffs a little laugh. Minho wonders what he’s looking for, if he looks like as much of a wreck as he feels just from having Jisung in his mouth. "You’re unreal," he says.

Jisung’s own lips are raw and glistening from being bitten and perhaps a bit from Minho kissing him before sinking to his knees, his face adorned with a gorgeous red, eyes full of so much want and adoration that Minho feels lightheaded.

Lightheaded and dazed and confident enough from getting Jisung this worked up, apparently, to sit up and tilt his head up for a kiss. It isn’t much of one, really, just Minho brushing his lips against Jisung’s―until the younger holds him in place with a hand on the side of his neck that makes his heart flutter and kisses him like he means it.

Like this isn’t charity work for his poor little virgin friend. Like he’s not returning a favor, or just leaping at the opportunity to get his dick wet.

Like he wants this―wants Minho. For now, Minho can pretend.

And it’s not that hard when Jisung keeps reconnecting their lips, his breath hot against Minho’s skin as he licks into his mouth and nips at his lips, far too eager and desperate for a straight boy. 

But what does Minho know?

It’s Minho who pulls away first to catch his breath, a string of saliva left between them. Minho suddenly finds himself wishing for Jisung to spit in his mouth, taken aback by the direction his brain veered in. That’s new.

"Well?" Minho prompts with a hint of impatience when Jisung does nothing but stare.

"Oh. Uh." Jisung awkwardly shuffles to his feet, dick bobbing with the movement. Minho scoots towards him, sitting up higher on his knees and looking up expectantly, sliding his hands up his thighs. "Tap my thigh or―or slap, or pinch, or whatever, if you need me to stop, okay? I’ll be careful though, I don’t want to hurt you and I probably won’t last much longer anyway―"

"Jisung, it’s fine," Minho cuts him off. "I’m not made of glass. I’ll tell you if I can’t take it."

"Okay." Jisung runs a hand through his hair, tightening in the back and pulling down, baring his neck and making him gasp. "Say 'ahh.'"

Unsure if he should be offended by the condescending tone and shit-eating grin on Jisung’s face, Minho gives a half-hearted glare but lets his mouth fall open anyway, tongue lolling out and heart pounding in anticipation. With the hand not in his hair, Jisung guides his dick to Minho’s mouth, hissing as it slides past his lips. He weaves his other hand into his hair and uses it as leverage as he tentatively pushes in, just a few inches before pulling out just as slowly.

"Remember to stop me if it’s too much," Jisung reminds him. Minho hums, staring up at him with his best pleading eyes. They seem to do the trick, as Jisung’s hands tighten in his hair and he gradually picks up the pace, pushing a little further with every passing thrust. Minho relaxes his throat and manages not to gag when Jisung finally starts hitting the back of his throat, albeit carefully. He whimpers at the feeling of hands tugging his hair and thoughts of Jisung fucking into him elsewhere, painfully hard and wet himself but refusing to cream his pants again.

Strings of praises fall from Jisung’s lips, some coherent―fuck, look at you and you take me so well being some of Minho’s favorites. Minho moans around Jisung as he gets close, moans increasing in frequency and pitch as he uses Minho’s mouth more recklessly to chase his release. Minho fucking loves it, more than he probably should, tears streaking down the sides of his face as he grips Jisung’s thighs harder and tries to ground himself.

Jisung gets the wrong idea though, stopping instantly and fixing Minho with attentive eyes as he deprives his mouth of his dick. "You okay?"

Minho nods enthusiastically, almost frantically trying to take Jisung back into his mouth. Jisung was about to come, dammit―

"You sure?" Jisung asks, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

"Yes," Minho insists, voice raspy. "I just―"

He’s interrupted and sent into an immediate panic at the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Right. They sure are doing this in the middle of Jisung’s living room, during the time his roommate often returns from work.

"Shit," they both curse, and then Minho is being tugged by the sweater and instructed to sit down. His legs are a little shaky but he manages to quickly cross the distance to the couch and grab the blanket from the back of it while Jisung yanks his pants up.

Within an instant, they’re sitting next to each other, thighs pressed together under the blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps. At some point Jisung turned the TV on, loaded up Netflix, and slung his arm around Minho’s shoulders, all before his roommate managed to take off his shoes and round the corner.

"Yo," Jisung greets, remarkably casual.

"Oh, hey! I thought I saw an extra pair of shoes!"

Minho finds it extremely hard to be angry about being cockblocked by someone as sweet as Felix, but he’s a little disgruntled all the same. Snuggling up next to Jisung isn’t the worst alternative, though.

"Hey," Minho tries to greet with a polite smile, eyes widening in horror at the slight rasp in his voice. Maybe Felix won’t notice. Maybe he won’t notice their flushed faces and disheveled hair and red lips, either. Minho feels his face burn hotter in embarrassment.

He clears his throat to little avail. "Good to see you."

"You too!" Felix returns amicably, dropping his keys on the kitchenette counter. "What are you guys up to?"

"Just looking for something to watch that we haven’t seen yet," Jisung tells him, lazily scrolling through titles on the screen.

"Ah." Felix nods knowingly, lips stretching into a mischievous grin. "You two have been… watching an awful lot of Netflix together lately, huh?"

Oh god. Does he know? Minho wants the ground to swallow him up.

"Sure have," Jisung replies easily, like it’s nothing. Minho wonders if it really is.

With an enigmatic hum and an unfaltering smile, Felix turns on his heel to rummage through the fridge. "Well, don’t mind me! I’m just gonna grab something to eat real quick and I’ll be out of your hair."

"Oh, you’re fine, man," Jisung dismisses with a wave of his hand. When Felix’s back is turned, Jisung gives Minho a smile, bright and amused at nearly being caught with his pants down and dick down another dude’s throat. 

Minho doesn’t know how he does it; his own body is buzzing with nerves and adrenaline from nearly being caught, but Jisung is the most collected Minho’s ever seen him. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head, stomach turning when Jisung’s hand squeezes his shoulder. 

"Your throat okay?" Jisung asks lowly, letting some trailer or another play on the TV. "I mean, I wasn’t too rough, was I?"

Minho’s face heats up, eyes darting over to Felix who pays them no mind before staring pointedly at the TV. "No, I’m fine." There’s a bit of a rasp, but he means it. Hell, he wanted Jisung to be rougher, though he understands and appreciates the caution.

"I liked it," he admits moments later, voice barely audible.

"Yeah?" Jisung breathes, placing the hand holding the remote over his crotch and shifting in a manner that could easily be perceived as innocent had the witness not known his dick were hard and needy. Minho sucks his lower lip between his teeth and spares one more inconspicuous glance towards Felix before slipping his hand under the blanket. 

"Mhm," he hums, brushing over Jisung’s unfortunately-clothed bulge and smiling at the shuddering breath he lets out, hips twitching at the contact.

"Minho," he grits out, giving a pointed look at Felix who is blissfully ignorant as he cuts up lettuce for his sandwich. 

Minho tilts his head innocently as he starts to palm Jisung harder, eyes tracking the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. 

And then Jisung huffs out a "fine" and removes the arm from around Minho’s shoulders, slipping it under the blanket. Before he even has time to mourn the loss, Jisung’s hand is gripping his thigh and sending a shock of arousal through Minho as he gasps softly, hand freezing in its place and wide eyes meeting Jisung’s. 

The younger looks far too smug and Minho cannot believe he let him regain the upper hand so easily.

"You’re so cute when you’re flustered," Jisung whispers. "I barely even touched you."

Minho glares at him with all his might but is certain his face must be tomato-red at this point. The sad part is how true it is; he’s so embarrassingly affected by everything Jisung does, and now Jisung knows it—or, at least, part of it. 

"Shut up," he hisses, pressing the heel of his palm into Jisung’s erection and smirking triumphantly when he whimpers. 

His victory is short-lived though, and his breath stolen when Jisung shocks him by trailing his fingertips over to Minho’s crotch, tracing the outline of his cock before giving it a light squeeze. 

"Ah—!" Minho bucks his hips and cries out, much too loud and too obscene for their current circumstances and how he’d just barely been touched. 

In his defense, there’s only been one time a hand that wasn’t his own touched him like this, and Jisung of all people has certainly never done so. Regardless, Minho has come to realize he’s very sensitive in general and would not have fared well in this situation no matter what. 

His face is burning something fierce now as Felix turns around from the counter with raised eyebrows. "You good, mate?"

Minho realizes it would be fishy to leave it to Jisung to answer after he just fucking moaned, so he offers the best excuse his mind can conjure. "Sorry. Cramp."

"Oof." Felix winces sympathetically and gets back to his sandwich. 

Jisung has not removed his hand from Minho’s dick. 

"Awfully sensitive," he remarks, pretending to browse Netflix titles with one hand and tracing Minho’s bulge with the other. Minho has no defense or anything to offer but a shaky breath, praying that Felix will finish up soon before he’s forced to bear witness to Minho creaming his pants a second time. 

Jisung doesn’t let up, and even though his touches are mostly feather-light, they render Minho incapable of even returning the favor, all his energy focused on not falling apart and giving away what’s happening under the blanket.

"Cute," Jisung whispers at a whimper that he doesn’t manage to hold back. 

"Shut up," he retorts weakly. 

"I’m not the one about to cry over having my dick tickled."

"I’m not cr—"

Their bickering is quickly silenced when Felix enters the room, glancing at the all-but-forgotten Netflix menu before offering up a peace sign and disappearing into his room with his food. 

Minho promptly hits Jisung with a throw pillow. "Asshole."

"You literally started it!"

"I didn’t expect you to… you know." He glances down where Jisung’s hand rests under the blanket, centimeters from his dick.

"Oh," he says, beginning to withdraw his hand. "Should I not―?"

"No!" Minho interjects, hand flying to hold Jisung’s in place. Jisung cocks an eyebrow at the motion and Minho feels his cheeks set aflame again. "I-I mean," he clears his throat and removes his hand, "you can. If you want to."

"Okay." Jisung grins, then licks his lips, tentatively pressing his palm over Minho’s bulge. Minho gasps, eyes fluttering shut, before they fly open again.

"Wait. What about Felix?"

"What about him?" Jisung tilts his head in mock confusion as he palms Minho harder.

"W-What if he―ah, comes out or hears us?"

Though Minho wouldn’t particularly like to be caught in such a compromising position, he’s really asking more for Jisung than himself. After all, it’s Jisung’s roommate who he has to face every day, and it’s Jisung who has a reputation as a straight-as-a-board fuckboy. Not Minho.

"Guess you better keep it down then, hm?"

Minho can only swallow hard and nod, rendered speechless as Jisung starts fiddling with his button and zipper. He’s fumbling a bit, hands unsure, and Minho wonders if it’s the angle, the blanket obscuring his movements from view, or something else.

When he chances a glance at Jisung’s face, his brow is furrowed the slightest bit in concentration, lower lip being worried between his teeth, but eyes shining with determination. Minho feels a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach; he doesn’t want Jisung to feel like he has to get him off when he’s probably never even touched another guy’s dick before.

"Are you sure?" Minho asks softly, placing a hand over Jisung’s as he finally manages to get Minho’s pants undone. "You don’t have to, like…"

Jisung gives him a sweet little smile that contrasts the way he slips his hand into his pants, making Minho hiss as he traces over him through one less layer. "Are you sure?" he asks, voice low. "Can you keep quiet for me, baby?"

Holy fucking shit. Is this actually happening?

Minho bites back a moan, his head spinning from the way Jisung’s talking to him as it falls to rest on the back of the couch. How they went from Minho explaining derivatives for the third time to Jisung talking to him in that tone, making him feel so small and like he might combust at any moment, Minho doesn’t know―but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Jisung turns towards Minho, switching hands for easier access as he leans in, breath hot on Minho’s skin as he mouths at his neck. "You gonna answer me?" he asks, thumb dragging over Minho’s tip through the wet fabric of his underwear. "Can you be a good boy and keep it down?"

"Yes," Minho breathes, cock twitching at the words, "yes, I’ll be a―quiet. I’ll be quiet."

Jisung coaxes him into shimmying out of his pants just enough to make room for his dick to breathe, Minho letting out a heavy sigh at finally being freed from the confines of the tight denim. And then Jisung is pulling his cock out, a meager, experimental stroke making Minho buck into his hand and let out an embarrassing whimper.

"You’re so sensitive," Jisung chuckles a second time, just behind his ear. Minho’s face somehow burns hotter in shame.

"I know, sorry, I―I don’t―"

"No, no, no. It’s cute," Jisung tells him. Minho isn’t sure how to feel about that and doesn’t really have time to contemplate it before Jisung is tightening his hold on him, making him keen high in his throat as he grips Jisung's arm. He can feel Jisung smile against his neck. "Sensitive baby."

Minho is going to fucking bust if he doesn’t stop talking to him like that.

He turns and meets Jisung’s lips in a desperate kiss, clutching onto his dumb mustard yellow hoodie like a lifeline, gasping and moaning softly while Jisung’s thumb swipes over the head of his cock, swirling the ample precum around. Jisung nips at his bottom lip and twists his fist over his tip at the same time, Minho gasping out a moan that's loud enough to have him snapping his mouth shut in horror.

Jisung pulls away and clicks his tongue and for a moment Minho fears he’s lost the privilege of his mouth and hands on him, but then Jisung’s arm is around him, bringing him closer.

"C’mere," he says, "I have an idea."

Minho blinks, letting Jisung guide him so that he’s sitting in his lap with his back pressed against Jisung’s chest, blanket still covering their lower halves just in case.

"Is your idea for me to crush you?" he half-jokes, shifting nervously in Jisung's much smaller lap, freezing when he feels his dick still hard against his ass.

Jisung scoffs on the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. "No," he says, spitting in his palm before wrapping his hand around Minho again without warning. He strokes him hard enough to have him throwing his head back onto Jisung’s shoulder, mouth wide open in a quiet gasp of pleasure.

"My idea," Jisung says, voice a little strained as Minho squirms atop his dick, "was to touch you at an angle that doesn’t hurt my wrist." He runs a hand through Minho’s hair before trailing his hand down to trace his jawline, then his mouth, index and middle finger lightly tugging his bottom lip down. "And to keep you from getting us caught."

Minho’s eyes practically roll back into his head just from the thought, whether Jisung intends for him to suck his fingers or to cover his mouth with his hand. He’ll gladly take either.

"You like having your mouth full, don't you, baby?" Jisung asks, tracing Minho’s lips with his thumb. Minho nods and hums, opening his mouth for Jisung, but his fingers linger on his lips. "Say 'please.'"

Minho’s stomach turns. How low is he willing to stoop, what level of embarrassment is he willing to endure to please Jisung? The answer is obvious by now, and it’s pretty damn low, but he has to try to keep his dignity intact.

"Seriously?" he says, twisting around in his lap to glare at the younger who looks back at him with a shit-eating grin.

"What? You don’t want my fingers in your mouth?" Jisung puts on a fake pout as his hand snakes down to Minho’s side and under his arm, cupping his chest and brushing a thumb over his nipple. Minho gasps, jolting in his lap. "Want them here instead?"

"N-No. I mean…" he trails off, clamping down on his lip to hold a moan back while Jisung resumes stroking him and playing with his nipple all at once. "I do, ah, want―Jisung, fuck―"

Jisung shushes him gently, and Minho’s not sure if he’s relieved or devastated when the hand moves away from his chest and back to his face.

"Maybe some other time," Jisung muses while his fingers play at Minho’s lips again, "when Felix isn’t being a cockblock."

Some other time. Would Jisung actually do this with him again, touch Minho again? Or is it just the dick subtly grinding up against his ass talking?

Fuck. Minho can’t be bothered to think about that right now, with Jisung’s hand around him, his fingers asking for entrance, his face buried in the crook of Minho’s neck, his hips rutting into him, Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

Minho wants Jisung to consume him.

But he already has. What Minho really wants is to consume Jisung, to make him feel half of what Minho feels for him, wants to be all around him―the wonderful, suffocating feeling of bliss he feels right now. He wants this to keep Jisung up at night, haunt his subconscious and spark desire in his very core. 

God, he wants Jisung to want him.

He wastes no more time in sucking Jisung’s fingers into his mouth, nibbling lightly before Jisung pushes them in farther, whispering praises in Minho’s ear while his other hand pumps him faster. Minho moans, the sound muffled but still probably too loud, swirling his tongue around the digits while he starts grinding down onto Jisung’s crotch.

"Fuck," Jisung gasps, biting down on the skin between Minho’s neck and shoulder. Minho whines, damn near crying with how overwhelmed with pleasure he is as he rocks his hips back into Jisung’s with purpose, drool escaping around his fingers. "Fuck, you’re so sexy. Shh, quiet."

He pushes down on his tongue and rubs soothing circles on Minho’s cheek with his thumb to no avail. Minho is so close and feels so, so good that he can hardly hold back, tears springing to his eyes from the effort and the sounds still escaping him anyway. 

"Minho," Jisung whispers, "calm down, baby. You’ve gotta be quiet, remember?"

He panics as Jisung slows his strokes and starts to pull his hand away from his mouth, resisting his desperate attempts to suck his fingers back in and buck into his hand.

"No, no―" Minho whimpers and throws his head back onto Jisung’s shoulder with a whine, a tear streaking down his cheek when he squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. He was so close.

"Shh," Jisung soothes, wiping the tear away and fuck, he saw that? That’s humiliating. "Breathe, baby."

Minho begrudgingly takes the chance to catch his breath, chest heaving, but he’s still extraordinarily hard and horny and can’t resist rolling his hips into Jisung’s still, a choked out please on his lips.

"What was that?" Jisung asks, tracing a single finger down Minho’s length. He shudders.

"Jisung―" Minho grits out.

"Do you want to come?" he asks, voice tinged dark, threatening.

Minho would be lying if he said he hadn’t toyed with the idea of Jisung being a little cruel to him when it came to things like this, but he can’t say he actually expected it either. He kind of hates that Jisung already realizes he has Minho wrapped around his finger, but he enjoys it way too much and is currently too far gone to fight it right now.

"Please," he groans. "Please touch me."

"There you go." Minho can hear the smile in his words before he lubricates his palm with more spit. Minho figures he’s wet enough already with how much he’s been leaking, but he certainly won’t complain. "I’ve gotta keep you quiet though, pretty as you sound. Can’t let Felix see you like this."

Is Minho imagining the possessive edge to his words? Probably, but more importantly―Jisung has now placed his hand flat over Minho’s mouth to muffle his noises and the prospect alone makes him twitch in Jisung’s other hand.

"Is this okay?" he checks, gently squeezing his face. Minho hums and nods enthusiastically and tries to tell him something that comes out sounding like hrrfrrm. Jisung pulls away. "Huh?"

"Harder," Minho repeats, clearly this time. "Uh, so he can’t hear."

"Ah," Jisung breathes. "Okay."

He places his hand back over Minho’s mouth, pressing harder into his skin as requested, and they’re back to where they were before with Minho writhing and grinding in Jisung’s lap, rolling his ass over Jisung’s dick and fucking into his fist, whimpers muffled against his hand. He misses the fingers in his mouth, but at the same time, there’s a feeling so lovely and powerless about having Jisung's hand over his mouth, breaths heavy through his nose.

All of Minho’s efforts in grinding seem not to be in vain as Jisung lets out low, pretty moans into his ear, his breath hot and heavy as he nibbles and kisses from Minho’s ear down to his neck. He sucks at the skin, maybe hard enough to leave a mark, and the thought pushes Minho that much closer to the edge.

He moans into Jisung’s hand, chest rising and falling quickly as his hands fumble around for purchase, not quite knowing what to do with himself as he approaches the peak again.

"Close?" Jisung rasps, and Minho nods frantically, pressure building in his gut like a taut rubber band. He all but sobs into Jisung’s palm, writhing as the younger tightens his hold on his cock and pumps him like their lives depend on it. "Shh, baby, I’ve got you. Wanna come for me?"

For the briefest of moments it finally occurs to Minho that he’s going to make a mess of himself and Jisung’s poor blanket, but all thoughts are blown out of his head as his vision is dotted with stars and his body twitches violently, a high-pitched cry trapped in his mouth as he comes with Jisung’s hand around him and tongue on his neck.

The hand over his mouth falls away to let him breathe and moves to pet his hair instead. Minho leans into the gesture and ultimately collapses against Jisung, boneless and spent. He could sleep for twenty hours right now.

"Fuck," he whispers once he’s caught his breath. "I… am so sorry about your blanket."

Jisung laughs loud enough to make him wince. "Don’t worry about it, bro. Needed a wash anyways."

Bro. Just a minute ago it was baby, baby, baby, and now he’s been demoted back to a Fucking Bro. As per usual, when Jisung nuts, the illusion is shattered―

Shit, wait, Minho thinks, because Jisung didn’t come, and his body is so exhausted and he kind of just wants to curl up and sleep and not face Jisung or anyone for a few years after that embarrassing display, but he’s certainly not going to leave Jisung hanging, especially after he did all that for him.

Minho slips off of his lap to sit next to him with a grunt. He slides his hand over to rest on Jisung’s thigh. "Do you want me to…"

"Uh―no. No, I’m good."

The clipped response takes Minho off guard, and his heart sinks, just a little. Shit. Did they go too far? Is it weird now?

"You sure?" Minho checks softly. "I don’t mind."

"Yeah, I―" Jisung finally looks him in the eye, chewing at his lip, and sighs. "Let’s just say we’re even."

He moves to stand up, and Minho’s heart sinks further. "Jisung, wh―"

He turns to face Minho, sheepish, and then it hits him. When he sees the wet spot in his gray sweats, that is.

Jisung came in his pants.

"I haven’t done this since I was a fucking teenager, I swear," he says defensively at Minho’s grin, as if he were anything but delighted. Minho could mention how it hasn’t even been two years since he was a teenager, but he doesn’t. "I mean―well, it’s different for you. ’Cause you’re… y’know. You had an excuse. But me?"

"Jisungie, it’s fine," Minho assures him genuinely, endeared by his rambling. He trails a finger up to his own lips and bites the tip for show before repeating Jisung’s words to him when he’d done the same: "Is it weird if I think it’s kinda hot?"

"Stop," Jisung whines, grabbing a pillow and whacking Minho with it lightly, the latter giggling while feebly trying to shield himself. Jisung would be in for it if he weren’t so spent. "I’m gonna go, uh, clean up. You need anything, bro?"

Minho grimaces as he finally chances a glance under the blanket. Thankfully, his pants had stayed clean, but he’d like to avoid having to wear a cum-stained sweater on his walk home if he can. "A shirt?"

"Gotcha." Jisung shoots him some finger guns before disappearing down the hallway. Minho uses the time to tuck himself back into his pants and let out a long sigh―of exhaustion, definitely; relief, perhaps.

It might be too early to tell, but things don’t seem to be strained or awkward between them. Things didn’t get weird after several sessions that ended in Minho sucking Jisung off, after all, so he doesn’t know why he would expect anything to change, but this was different.

Jisung is, allegedly, straight. Minho has never done this before. Minho really likes Jisung. There’s a lot to unpack there.

For a straight boy, Jisung hardly showed any hesitance when it came to getting Minho off or shoving his fingers down his throat. He seemed a bit uncertain at first, sure, but once he got past the initial nerves he was a fucking natural, driving Minho insane with ease and, to top it off, coming in his pants. If he was uncomfortable with any part of it, he did a good job of hiding it.

There’s also the matter of Minho fucking crying. Minho does not cry easily, or often, or in front of anyone at all if he can help it. It’s humiliating―but Jisung didn’t seem put off by it, at least.

Anyway, all Minho can do at this point is carry on as normal and try (keyword: try) to rein his feelings in so he won’t be disappointed at the potential outcome that Jisung has absolutely no romantic interest in him―or, even worse, if he does, but denies his own feelings because he doesn’t want to be gay.

Minho can’t keep up this act forever, he knows. His make-believe-but-actually-very-real crush has to come to light at some point, and Jisung is prone to find some girl to occupy his time instead. He’ll just have to enjoy their time together while he can.

Hopefully that time entails more sessions like this, because holy shit.

Before he has time to reminisce (which is probably for the best), Jisung is reentering with a fresh pair of pants on himself and a shirt and hoodie in hand for Minho.

"Uh, I know you said shirt, but it’s kinda cool out, so… options." He tosses them both at Minho and grabs the blanket from beside him. "I’ll just go burn this."

Minho scoffs. "Thanks."

He’s just barely pulled the blue hoodie over his head when Felix decides to reemerge from his room. Minho quickly stuffs his soiled sweater and Jisung’s shirt behind him, giving his most innocent smile. Felix wiggles his fingers at Minho in a wave before giving the TV screen a quizzical look.

Shit. It’s at the exact same place on the Netflix menu that it had been when Felix left. It must have been at least half an hour since then.

"You guys ever pick anything to watch?" he asks.

Minho’s mouth moves uselessly, failing to form words.

It’s then that Jisung decides to swoop in, joining them with a "Yeah, penguin documentary," and a wink at Minho that practically makes him swoon.

Jisung’s eyes flicker down to the hoodie on Minho’s frame and linger.

"Okay, well, you two lovebirds have fun," Felix says, grabbing his keys from the counter. "I’m going to meet up with Chan."

Jisung scoffs, folding his arms. "Chan? And we’re the lovebirds? You’re one to talk."

Felix only sticks his tongue out at him before disappearing out the front door. Jisung shakes his head and turns to Minho, awkwardly hovering and wondering if he should take his leave―not that he particularly wants to, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome either.

"Actually, speaking of lovebirds," Jisung says, waddling towards Minho who blinks, heart thumping in his chest. Jisung’s eyes grow wide and sparkly, an adorable grin stretching his lips. "...Do you wanna watch that penguin documentary? It looks really cool. I mean, you’re free to leave, too, obviously. I’m not gonna like, force you to watch some dumb documentary―"

"How dare you?" Minho gasps. "Penguins are not dumb. Do you have any snacks?"

Jisung beams, heart-shaped grin making Minho’s own heart flutter. "Hell yeah."

Minho falls asleep once on Jisung’s shoulder (awakening to his whining about how Minho missed the best part, something about penguins mating for life), then again at night in his own bed, blue hoodie held close to his chest and a smile on his face.

. . .

Contrary to the flickers of worry that pass through Minho’s head so much―worries that their whole arrangement would make their relationship weird, that they’d be awkward around each other, that Jisung couldn’t stand to be Minho’s friend any longer―they actually only become closer.

They hang out on a regular basis even outside of tutoring sessions. They blend seamlessly into each other’s friend groups. They keep fooling around under the guise of Minho needing help to impress his crush. They stay up all night talking some days.

Minho only falls more and more, dangerously.

While they mess around on a weekly basis, those types of activities are limited to the tutoring sessions. An unspoken rule. Minho wouldn’t make a move on Jisung on their weekend movie night or try to kiss him goodnight before he tucked him in on his couch after they binged a drama until one in the morning, no matter how much his body might scream at him to.

It’s something special to be kept within the confines of their sessions, more akin to a business deal and less threatening to their friendship that way. Minho tutors Jisung in math, Jisung helps him become a pro at sucking dick and jacks him off while whispering filthy things in his ears that fuel enough wet dreams to last him a lifetime. There’s less of a risk of questioning the nature of their friendship or an imminent sexuality crisis if it stays that way, Minho supposes, so he lets it be.

Until he doesn’t want to anymore.

Perhaps he can blame it on the sleeveless black band shirt Jisung is currently wearing, exposing his toned arms and even offering a window to his ribs, a peek at his chest when he shifts just right. Or maybe it’s the focused crease in his brow as he nods his head, earbuds playing his own track back to him, his black hair tucked into the backwards cap atop his head.

Jisung is so unfairly attractive when he’s like this. He’s attractive all the time, don’t get Minho wrong, but there’s something about his aura when he’s truly in his element, doing what he does best―besides making Minho fall apart, of course.

Well, Minho can try and pin it on Jisung all he wants, but deep down he knows he has no one but himself to blame for the festering feelings in his chest. For letting it get this bad, the way the mere thought of the boy beside him squeezes at his heart. God, it’s suffocating.

He has to do something, has to try and blur the lines between their friendship and whatever they get up to that ends in stained fabric, heaving chests, and swollen lips―but he doesn’t want to scare Jisung away, either. Jisung has to be the one to make that decision. 

Hopefully Minho can help push him along.

He plays up his usual absentminded fiddling of his lips with the capped end of his pen, stretches his arms high over his head, sweater riding up to reveal a sliver of his stomach―both things that would normally grab Jisung’s attention immediately, but he’s so absorbed in his screen that he doesn’t even notice.

Minho huffs petulantly and opts for a more direct approach. He scoots his chair closer to Jisung’s, pressing against him and nearly melting at the proximity in the process, and rests his chin on his shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"Oh―" Jisung startles, turning towards Minho and jerking his head away when he realizes how close he is. "Um, nothing important, really. Just a little side project. You wanna hear it?"

"Can I?" Minho perks up with a smile, accepting the earbud offered to him. Jisung restarts the song and clicks play.

That’s another thing about Jisung: he is oozing talent. He’s a fucking genius who can rap flawlessly, make music, and sing with a gorgeous, honeyed voice and it is so fucking unfair. It almost makes Minho angry, how there’s probably nothing on earth that he isn’t good at.

"You like it?" Jisung asks, eyes bright.

Minho nods. "It’s really good. You wrote it?"

"Written, composed, and arranged by yours truly," he says proudly, jutting his chin up high.

"You’re incredible," Minho says without thought.

Jisung flushes as he rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle, muscles flexing with the movement. Minho’s mind plummets into the gutter. Sue him, he’s a horny motherfucker.

"I know," Jisung says despite his obvious embarrassment. Minho tears his gaze away from his arm when Jisung meets his eye again with a sweet smile.

Minho crunches on a Dorito from the bag in his lap he’d carefully smuggled in, poking at Jisung’s leg with his foot in a desperate attempt to keep his attention. "You should play for me sometime."

"What, guitar?"

Minho stretches his arms high above his head a second time with a grunt and a nod, lips twitching into a smirk when it successfully earns Jisung’s attention, his eyes flickering down. "Mhm," he hums, resting his chin on Jisung’s exposed shoulder, their faces inches apart. "And sing. Your singing voice is really nice."

Jisung’s eyes drop to Minho’s lips and he reaches for his face suddenly, Minho’s heart hammering against his ribcage. Jisung's thumb brushes against his bottom lip and Minho lets his mouth fall open like a fucking Pavlovian response. Heat quickly rushes up his neck when Jisung pulls away with raised eyebrows, and he realizes that no, Jisung was not about to stick his fingers down his throat in a public library.

"Oh?" Jisung says, a teasing grin creeping onto his face. "I mean, I was just trying to wipe a crumb off your mouth, but if that’s what you want―"

"Shut up," Minho whines, slapping two sleeved hands over his face. Of course his plan would backfire and end with Jisung teasing him. "I wasn’t thinking." He angrily retrieves the small bag of Dorito contraband from his lap, rolls it up, and stuffs it in his bag. That will not be happening again.

"You sure?" Jisung presses, leaning in closer, voice suddenly an octave lower. Minho’s breath catches in his throat when fingers dig into his thigh. "I wonder if you'd like it if someone came back here and caught you with my fingers in your mouth, all desperate and drooling."

Minho nearly chokes on his own spit, cheeks and ears blazing and arousal swirling in his stomach. "Jisung―"

"Hmm?" His hand slips towards Minho’s inner thigh, massaging the sensitive skin with his fingertips in the way he knows drives Minho wild. "Would you like that, baby?"

Baby. If Jisung using that voice on him and touching him like this wasn’t indication enough of what was about to happen, that sure was. It makes Minho’s head spin, like always.

"N-No..." he gasps as Jisung’s hand brushes over his hardening dick under the table.

Are they really doing this here? If anyone were to pass by―which is unlikely, as they’ve been tucked away in the back corner of the library for nearly an hour with absolutely no traffic―all they would see is Jisung sitting calmly and Minho squirming inexplicably in his seat.

Minho definitely does not want to be caught in such a position, but he can at least admit to himself that the risk of being caught, however slight, only serves to get him riled up that much quicker.

"No? Then be a good boy and stay quiet," Jisung murmurs, drawing a whimper out of Minho’s throat when he squeezes him through his pants. "You’ll have to manage by yourself this time unless you wanna get in my lap."

Minho somehow only becomes more flustered at the thought―of him crawling into Jisung’s lap and dry humping him in broad daylight in the fucking library, at the memory of the last time they’d done this with Felix in the adjacent room, Jisung’s hands firm on both Minho’s mouth and cock at once, keeping him up at night to this day.

"I can―ah," Minho gasps when Jisung starts pushing down harder, bucking up into his hand. He plants his elbows on the table and brings a hand to his mouth, biting down on his knuckle hard enough to ground himself.

"You’re so cute like this," Jisung says, his tone somewhere between adoring and condescending. He pushes his laptop back to make room for his arm as he leans over the table, resting his head on his hand to watch Minho with half-lidded eyes. Minho feels like he is on fire.

"I’m―always cute," Minho retorts as evenly as he can, promptly biting down on the fabric of his sweater when another moan threatens to spill out.

Jisung hums contemplatively, eyes scanning Minho’s face. "I guess," he teases, "but when you’re like this―?" He presses the heel of his palm into Minho’s cock almost too hard, making him let out a muffled cry and bury his face in his arms. "So sensitive and shy and whiny. Fuck, I could―"

With devastating timing, someone finally decides to intrude upon their sanctuary, approaching footsteps on the opposite side of a row of shelves adjacent to their table, earning their attention and silence.

Minho scrambles back into a sitting-up position, pushing his glasses up his nose and trying to make it look like he’s doing something other than getting fondled under the table just in case they decide to round the corner. Jisung, ever shameless, doesn’t move an inch, hand stilled in Minho’s lap.

Minho clears his throat. "You were saying?"

"Was I saying something?" Jisung tilts his head, resuming his ministrations.

"Jisung," Minho says as he writhes in his seat, pointedly glaring towards the student just barely visible through the rows of books.

"You said you could keep quiet, didn’t you?" He grins, unbuttoning Minho’s pants with practiced movements. "Do I need to make you, again?"

Minho groans softly at the threat and the feeling of Jisung pumping him as best as he can without getting Minho’s dick fully out. He gives up on trying to act natural, burying his face in his arms again and using them to muffle his whimpers.

Jisung is going to fucking kill him, and Minho is going to enjoy every goddamn millisecond of it.

"Let me see you, baby," Jisung coaxes him gently, running his free hand through Minho’s hair. "She’s gone."

Minho shakes his head, mortified by the drool that’s escaped his mouth around the sleeve held firmly between his teeth. Jisung withdraws his hand, but Minho doesn’t dare lift his head and expose the mess he’s made of himself just yet.

Until Jisung’s hand is firm in his hair, pulling it up from where it rests on his arms. A needy whine escapes his throat at the feeling as a string of saliva breaks between him and his sleeve, landing on his chin. He squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment, covering the stain on his sleeve with his other hand.

"Oh," Jisung breathes. "God, look at you."

"You’re evil," Minho responds, cracking an eye open to see Jisung reach up and wipe his spit away with his thumb before bringing it to Minho’s lips. Jisung’s eyes are impossibly dark, trained on his lips as he obediently sucks the digit into his mouth.

"I think you like it," Jisung whispers.

Oh, he has no idea.

(Or does he? Minho isn’t so sure anymore.)

Jisung’s thumb is soon replaced with a kiss as he leans in, pressing his lips to Minho’s. His hand doesn’t leave his hair, giving little tugs that make him gasp against Jisung’s lips, Jisung eagerly taking the opportunity to shove his tongue into Minho’s mouth.

Jisung’s kisses are eager and messy and make Minho feel like he’s drowning and taking a gulp of fresh air all at once, and he feels like he reaches nirvana every time his lip drags between Jisung’s pretty teeth. Jisung makes him feel so much it’s almost scary.

A sudden touch to his bulge makes Minho gasp and grab Jisung’s wrist. "W-Wait. I don’t want to, um… you know. In public."

"What?" Jisung grins, cocking his head to the side. "Gonna cream your pants again?"

Minho blinks at him, scoffing incredulously. "Me? Like you didn’t do the same th―"

Jisung quiets him with a brief kiss, and then he’s standing and adjusting himself before packing his things into his backpack. He gives Minho a pointed look, like he expects him to do the same, so he follows his lead, confused.

"What’s happening right now?"

"We’re going to the bathroom," Jisung tells him. "I wanna get you off."

Oh.

"Just―uh… just me?" Minho stammers out, zipping his backpack up with shaky hands and stumbling to his feet. Jisung only shrugs, grabbing his hand and practically dragging Minho towards the nearest restroom, not that he was resisting.

It’s towards the back of the library where they’d been sitting, and thus hopefully less busy than the others. Luckily there’s no one standing around to see a red-faced Minho getting pulled into the bathroom, hard-on just barely concealed by the hem of his sweater he has pulled down in an obvious attempt at covering his bulge.

Jisung is all over him in an instant, lips finding his as if drawn by a magnetic force. Hands slide up Minho's sides, bunching his sweater up at his waist as he licks into his mouth hungrily, like he’s trying to devour him.

Minho shudders, melting at the touch, and loops his arms around Jisung's neck as Jisung backs him up until his ass hits the edge of the countertop. Jisung bites Minho's lip, and he whimpers at the urgency with which Jisung trails wet, hot kisses down to his neck while his hands work to uncover Minho's dick.

Minho's never seen him this worked up about touching him before, and the light nibbling at his collarbone and the hand reaching into his underwear are sending him into another dimension.

Minho glances at the door nervously. "Shouldn’t we, ah… go in a stall, or―"

Jisung scoffs against his skin. "No one comes back here, baby. Don't worry."

Minho's traitorous brain thinks that Jisung must know that from experience, but before he can question it, Jisung's hands are grabbing at his thighs and lifting him onto the countertop. His hands slide down to grab at Jisung's bare biceps and the thought is entirely gone from his head when Jisung's hands grab his ass and pull him closer, grinding against him.

"Fuck," Minho gasps, heart pounding because Jisung has never touched him with anything but his hand yet there he is, grunting in his ear as he rolls his hips into Minho's in such an erotic manner that he has to close his eyes and take a stabilizing breath before he comes in his pants.

If he looks for too long or thinks too hard about what's happening, he'll imagine them doing this without the barrier of clothes between them, Jisung hard and throbbing against him, Jisung lifting him up onto the counter to spread him open and fuck him senseless, Jisung telling him how good he feels, telling him that he's the only one he needs―

Okay, maybe he's getting a little ahead of himself. But fuck, he wants Jisung so much it hurts.

"Jisungie," he whimpers, threading a hand through the back of his hair as he weakly rolls his hips in tandem with Jisung's. Jisung hums questioningly as he sucks just under Minho's jaw, above his pulse. "Please."

"Please what?" he asks cruelly, digging his fingers into Minho's ass and pressing him closer. Minho gasps, hand tightening in his hair. He doesn't miss the little moan Jisung lets out at the feeling.

"Jisung."

"Tell me what you want, baby."

Jisung likes making Minho tell him what he wants, Minho has learned, no matter how much it embarrasses him. Jisung's shamelessness seems to have rubbed off on him, just a bit, or maybe he's just so riled up and desperate that it isn't so hard to get the words out.

"I want you to touch me," he pleads, the words coming out much whinier than intended. Jisung is the one who said he wanted to get him off, after all, and Minho would rather it be sooner than later, the threat of someone walking in on them lingering in the back of his mind.

"So impatient," Jisung chides, hand snaking down to cup Minho through his pants. "All this romantic scenery, and all you wanna do is get off."

Minho huffs a laugh as he eyes the napkins tossed carelessly on the floor, promptly clamping down on his lip when it morphs into a moan. "Shut the fuck up."

"Oh, but you like it so much when I talk, don't you?" Jisung says, voice low in his ear, and God Minho never should have fucking given him that leverage over him. "Do you like it when I call you pretty? Tell you how good you are for me?" He pulls Minho's dick out unceremoniously and hunches over it, Minho barely able to process what's happening before he realizes oh, that's Jisung's spit dribbling onto the tip of his cock and making Minho jolt.

Jisung pulls back, looks him in the eye while he slathers it around with a slick sound, Minho desperately trying not to buck into his hand or moan out loud. "Hmm?" Jisung prompts, and Minho belatedly registers the question he'd asked. There's no point in denying it, so he nods, moaning softly as Jisung tightens his hold.

"You like it when I tease you, too, huh?" Jisung asks, like he doesn't know. "You like it when I embarrass you."

"Stop," Minho groans feebly, forehead falling onto Jisung's shoulder to hide how affected he is by his words.

"Okay." Jisung's hand stills and Minho huffs, rolling his hips fruitlessly. He lifts his head to return Jisung's smug expression with a glare.

"Not what I meant."

"Admit it."

"Admit what?" Minho tries, praying for him to drop it.

"That you like it when I tell you what a needy, sensitive baby you are." He grins, resuming his strokes at a tantalizingly slow pace. Minho tips his head back with a whine; whether it's out of exasperation, embarrassment, or the torturous drag of Jisung's hand along his cock, he isn't quite sure himself.

"You like it when I tell you what to do," Jisung continues, not a question, thumb pressing into his slit and making him keen. "So be a good boy for me and say it."

"Please―" Minho chokes on his own spit and makes a noise akin to a sob, burying his burning face in his hands. "I like it, please, fuck, I like it so much―"

"Thought so." Jisung smirks infuriatingly, using his free hand to pull Minho's wrists away from his face and join their lips, swallowing his moans while he fists his dick harder and faster. It doesn't take long before Minho is approaching his climax, mewling and panting against Jisung's lips.

"J-Jisung―" he splutters, stomach coiled so impossibly tight his rational thinking just barely peeks through to save the day (and his clothes), "napkin. Get a napkin."

And then Jisung is gripping the base of his cock firmly, pulling away and yanking Minho away from the peak. "Wh―"

"Can I suck your dick?" Jisung blurts.

Minho's eyes bulge out of their sockets. "What?"

"I―I mean," he starts, fidgeting, suddenly an entirely different person from the one who had been saying all those filthy things to Minho, "can I try? I just―y'know, I've never... and you've never―so I figured... uh, I dunno. Do you think you'd, um, would you like that?"

Minho tries to blink himself back to his senses. Jisung, allegedly hetero fuckboy extraordinaire, volunteering to suck his dick in a dingy fucking public bathroom, completely unprompted? He doesn't have time to unpack that before his body answers for him with a violent swirl of arousal in his stomach and an abrupt nod.

"Yeah, um, I―I think I would," Minho lies, knowing damn well Jisung is about to ruin his life.

"Okay, um―" He takes a step back and gestures for Minho to follow. Minho slides off of the counter in a daze, heart jumping as Jisung drops to his knees before him, prettier than Minho could have ever imagined as he blinks up at him with wide eyes.

He licks his lips and tugs Minho’s pants down a little, taking him into his hand again as he has so many times before, but the accompanying breath on his cock and anticipation is so unlike anything Minho’s ever experienced. He’s not going to last long at all.

"Can you pull my hair while I do it?" Jisung asks blatantly while he places his hat on the counter, and Minho is the one who blushes, quickly nodding and tangling his hand in the smooth locks. Jisung isn’t unaffected by the situation though, tips of his ears noticeably red. He licks his lips. "Also, don’t worry about, um, being still or anything."

"What?"

"I don’t have a gag reflex," he tells him. "You can fuck my face if you want."

Oh, okay. That’s cool. That’s totally fine and doesn’t make Minho nearly nut on the spot the moment Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick the underside of his cock. The foreign feeling of the warm, wet tongue tentatively mapping out his length is enough to drive Minho insane and unfairly close already, whimpering as he tightens his hair in Jisung’s hair and pulls, earning a sweet noise from the younger.

"I’ve barely started." He grins up at Minho teasingly and maintains eye contact as he spits on the tip of his cock again, his fist working to spread it around until it’s glistening with his spit.

"Fuck," Minho moans, using his free hand to brace himself on the cold countertop, knees threatening to buckle. "Don’t get the wrong idea," he says, not wanting Jisung’s ego to inflate any further if he manages to make Minho come in record time. "I’m just sensitive, remember?"

Jisung raises his eyebrows, rising to the challenge Minho hadn’t meant to pose―but he should’ve known better. Shit. He’s in for it now.

"You sure are, baby," Jisung agrees, letting his mouth fall open as he guides Minho’s dick into his mouth. Minho’s breath stutters as he wastes absolutely no time in taking him in further, and he has to shut his eyes tight and take a deep breath to avoid either coming down or bucking his hips into Jisung’s throat. Then Jisung’s nose hits his groin, his entire length buried in the heat of his mouth and dear God it feels fucking unreal.

He risks a glance at Jisung, finding his eyes creased and shining with a smile as he exhales heavily through his nose. Fucking show-off. Minho tugs on his hair in retaliation and his cock muffles a moan, and he knows how much Jisung likes it when he moans around him but he was not prepared for the feeling whatsoever, crying out in surprise.

Jisung exhales sharply in what he can only assume is a laugh, teary eyes holding Minho’s gaze as he pulls off until just the tip is left in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, sucking it like a popsicle before sinking back down, bobbing his head and humming.

It’s unlike anything Minho’s ever felt before, pushing him to the edge so quickly and filling him with pleasure so intense he feels tears spring to his eyes, and before long he’s throwing his head back and practically sobbing as he comes in Jisung’s mouth.

He slumps on the counter, spent, head hanging and trying to catch his breath when Jisung stands, grabs his jaw, and tilts his head up. Minho blinks at him blearily, expecting a kiss, but what he gets instead is Jisung forcing his mouth open and spitting his own cum into his mouth.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He swallows it down without complaint, staring at Jisung with wonder while Jisung wipes his own mouth with the back of his hand, licking his lips.

"Thought you’d like that," he explains with a wink, pulling Minho close. Minho doesn’t dare to dignify that with a response, but allows himself to melt against Jisung after tucking himself back into his pants, closing his eyes and sighing in post-orgasm bliss. "How’s my sensitive baby?"

Minho’s eyes fly open at the words (more specifically the ‘my’ part), his poor, exhausted body vigorously working to make blood rush to his face. 

"Fuck off," he whines, burying his face in Jisung’s shoulder while the younger pets his hair. He knows that that was Jisung’s roundabout way of asking how he did though, and doesn’t want to leave him hanging with uncertainty, so he mumbles an affirmation with a reluctant smile. "Felt good."

"Really? I couldn’t tell," Jisung teases and Minho huffs, lifting his head to fix him with a disgruntled pout.

"Of course, there’s room for improvement," Minho teases back, mocking Jisung’s words from the first time they ever did anything like this.

"Oh? I’ll have to work on it, I guess," Jisung says. "I’ll be a pro like you in no time."

The implications make Minho feel lightheaded, but he’ll have to contemplate the possibility of Jisung sucking him off again and hold him referring to Minho as a dick-sucking pro over his head later. There are more pressing matters at hand, literally, as Minho presses his hand against Jisung’s cock straining through his pants.

"Keep dreaming," he laughs, sinking to his knees.

. . .

"Minho, is that a hickey?"

Minho’s eyes widen in horror, hand flying to his throat. Fuck, how did Jisung leave a hickey without him noticing? "No. Where?"

Seungmin leans over the cafeteria table, poking at a spot just under the left side of his jaw. Minho quickly bats his hand away, ears undoubtedly red. "Oh my God, it is!"

"You’re glowing, man," Changbin adds, munching on a fry. "And you’ve been unusually chipper lately. Did you finally get laid?"

"No," Minho says quickly, regretting ever drunkenly lamenting to his friends about his lack of a sex life. "None of your business. Fuck off."

"Who’s the unlucky guy?" Seungmin asks, grinning. Pure evil.

"Someone we know?" Changbin asks.

"He’s been spending an awful lot of time with Jisung lately," Seungmin comments, peering at Minho suspiciously. "Haven’t you?" Shit shit shit.

"Well, I’m helping him with math, so―"

"Right," Seungmin says dryly, "math."

Changbin’s eyes bulge. "Wait, you think it’s Jisung? Isn’t he like, extremely… you know?" He makes a football-throwing motion with his hand, which Minho knows is gay-people (or maybe just Changbin) sign language for "straight."

"He sucks at sports," Minho says. Changbin’s eyebrows fly up.

"Is that code for something?" he asks. Then he leans in, whispering, "Does he have a tiny dick?"

"No. I-I mean, no, that’s not what I―" Minho sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don’t know. He’s straight, right?"

"You tell us," Seungmin scoffs. 

Fuck, he’s onto them. 

Minho isn’t ashamed about what goes on between Jisung and him. He wouldn’t be too keen on revealing the details, but otherwise he’d be happy to let the world know they have… something going on. However, it isn’t something they’ve ever talked about; he doesn’t know if any of Jisung’s friends know, if he’d be mortified if the secret got out. He likes to think Jisung is better than that, but he still doesn’t want to go around telling people without Jisung’s permission.

So he derails the conversation, honing in on the matching hickey on Seungmin’s neck.

"Enough about my hickeys," he says. "Were you two going to tell me you finally hooked up or…?"

Seungmin flushes bright red, hand covering the poorly-concealed mark on his neck. Beside him, Changbin rubs the back of his neck, ears red.

"I should get to class," Seungmin says, abruptly standing and gathering his things. Minho raises an eyebrow and gives Changbin a curious look, but he avoids eye contact. "See you guys."

"Should I ask?" Minho wonders, once he’s gone.

"I don’t know," Changbin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "We’re figuring things out, I guess. He’s scared it’ll go wrong and ruin our friendship, but if I like him, and he likes me… Why should we miss out on something that could be great, y’know?"

Minho hums in agreement, nodding thoughtfully. He’s right―Minho needs to stop being scared of taking risks. There's little reason to stop himself from at least trying to take that final step with Jisung when they could have something beautiful.

"I hope you guys work it out," he says. "I’ve been waiting for years."

"Gee, thanks." Changbin rolls his eyes, but smiles. "Anyways, back to your straight boy toy."

"He’s not―" Minho huffs. "We’re not―"

"Your face got like ten times redder when Seungmin brought him up." He crunches a fry knowingly. "Did you convert him, Minho?"

Minho chews at his lip. "Don’t tell anyone."

"Oh my God―" Changbin chokes on his chocolate milk. "Wait, I was joking. Well, half-joking. I knew you had the hots for him, but really? Like, you actually―are you guys…?"

"I don’t know," Minho groans, dragging his hands down his face. "I don’t know if I’m just some experiment, or―wait, what do you mean you knew?"

"It’s so obvious," he laughs. "Anyway, go on."

Minho shakes his head in disbelief. "I don’t know. I really don’t," he says dismissively. "But seriously, please don’t tell anyone."

"I won’t," Changbin promises, "but you should tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"That you like him," he says simply. "That it isn’t some ‘experiment’ or whatever to you."

Minho blinks. "But... what if that’s all he wants it to be? And I make it weird?"

"You’re fucking a straight guy. How much weirder can it be?"

Minho decides not to correct him, only nods contemplatively.

"Besides," Changbin adds, "there are much worse things than your sexy math tutor having a crush on you."

Minho laughs, batting his eyelashes. "You think I’m sexy, Binnie?"

Changbin throws a fry at him. "All I’m saying is that if anyone can land a straight boy, it’s you."

Minho scoffs. "I’ll try my best."

. . .

Jisung likes Minho. Probably.

Right?

How many straight boys are willing to go this far for an alleged favor for a friend?

No, that’s not where his confusion lies. There’s simply no way Jisung is straight. He could be in denial; Minho hasn’t been witness to him refuting his heterosexuality or being interested in boys―or anyone, really―besides whatever he has going on with Minho. Which he is definitely way too into to be straight, by the way. Minho hadn’t been completely sure at first, but Jisung’s attraction quickly became blatant, whether it was purely sexual or something more.

So, with the threat of heterosexuality out of the picture, that leaves the possibility of Minho being nothing more than an experiment in sexuality. This could very easily be a no-strings-attached situation to Jisung. Just because Minho was potentially his gay awakening doesn’t mean he’s romantically interested.

Even if they have amazing chemistry in and out of bed―well, couch, usually. The bed just feels so daunting and intimate to Minho, and it remains one of the lines they haven’t crossed, along with any sort of penetration that isn’t each other’s mouths. It isn’t that Minho doesn’t want to take that step with Jisung, he just… doesn’t want to rush it, doesn’t want to scare Jisung off if he doesn’t like him after all, doesn’t want to put a strain on their friendship.

But goddamn does he want Jisung to fuck him into his mattress already.

At the same time, Minho is patient, and it’s not like they don’t fool around plenty regardless. He opts to bide his time just a little longer, to wait for some sign that Jisung has come to terms with his sexuality, that he’s interested, that he wants to go all the way, anything.

Jisung certainly keeps him busy in the meantime.

"You look so good in my lap," he tells Minho, gazing up at him almost reverently. His hands are firm on Minho’s hips while he rides Jisung's thigh, rocking into him like his life depends on it. He feels like his body is on fire, and the flames are fed by Jisung’s sweet, filthy words, his undivided attention, his fingers digging into the tender skin of his hips hard enough to bruise.

Minho mewls and bites down on his lip, raw and slick with spit―his, Jisung’s, left behind from their sloppy kisses and Minho drooling around Jisung’s fingers.

"Come on, baby," Jisung coaxes him gently, bouncing his leg. The extra stimulation drives Minho crazy and he throws his head back with a moan, so close, knuckles white where he grips the back of the couch. 

Jisung grabs his wrists suddenly, flipping them over so that Minho is lying against the arm of the couch, stunned and breathless with Jisung half-draped over him and grinding into him hard. Minho moans unabashedly, lets his mind wander as usual with their clothed cocks dragging against each other, wishing Jisung would just take him right here on the fucking couch.

"So fucking pretty," Jisung breathes between his own moans, smoothing Minho’s hair back from his forehead. Minho leans into the touch with a whine, desperately rolling his hips in time with Jisung’s while his fingers find their way back into Minho’s mouth. "Bet you’d look even prettier getting fucked stupid."

Holy shit. Minho isn’t proud of the squeak he lets out at that, nor the way he’s seeing stars in an instant, orgasm hitting him like a freight train with a choked moan Jisung’s fingers fail to muffle. 

"Fuck," Jisung hisses, slowing his movements to help Minho ride it out until he stops twitching with the aftershocks. Jisung shifts to rut against Minho’s thigh instead, avoiding overstimulating him, and continues, voice strained. "You like that, huh? Thinking about your cute ass getting pounded into the couch?"

Minho lets out a shaky whimper, still trying to catch his breath. If he hadn’t just come, that surely would’ve done the trick, although he can’t imagine why Jisung is still trying to rile him up after he’s already made a mess of himself―unless the thought of Minho getting fucked is getting Jisung off, too.

The notion makes Minho’s stomach turn and he lifts a heavy arm to tug at Jisung’s hair just how he likes while Jisung humps his thigh like an animal in heat. Minho almost wants to laugh, wondering how Jisung’s friends―the whole campus―would react if they saw him now. Not that he wants to share this experience with anyone else, not at all. 

He wants Jisung all to himself.

"Yes," he blurts out, earning a surprised look from Jisung. "I-I was thinking about your big cock filling me up." Jisung’s pupils dilate and his hips stutter, and Minho’s face is scorching but he forces himself to keep going. "Thinking about you holding me down and fucking me until I cry."

"Oh fuck," Jisung groans, hips rocking hard into Minho a final time before he goes rigid, moaning as he comes.

They kiss lazily as they come down, and they pretend to be asleep with sticky messes in their underwear and Jisung draped atop Minho when Felix comes home.

Felix doesn’t mention it, just as Minho and Jisung don’t mention what they said to each other in their hazy, sex-clouded states of mind.

. . .

Jisung [4:36pm]
heyy so uh
you still have that crush?

Minho’s heart picks up speed at the notification on his screen, mind racing with questions of why Jisung would ask him this. He chews the inside of his cheek, fingers hovering over the keyboard on his screen.

This is a good opportunity to confess, he recognizes. Once he figures out why Jisung is asking, at least. Once he makes sure Jisung isn’t about to put a stop to their extracurricular activities.

Then again, over text probably isn’t the best way to do it. Fuck, what does Minho know? Maybe he’ll just try to drop some hints, and hope Jisung picks them up, then confess for real in person. Jisung’s pretty sharp, after all.

Minho [4:41pm]
maybe~
why?

Jisung [4:43pm]
how’s that working out??

Minho [4:43pm]
good..i hope?
i think i'll tell him soon

Jisung [4:58pm]
oh okay

Minho [4:59pm]
why do you ask?

Jisung [5:04pm]
just curious haha
actually i was just gonna ask if you wanted to go to a party on friday

Minho [5:04pm]
with you?

Jisung [5:06pm]
yeah if you want
maybe if your crush is there we can make him jealous and you can make your move lol
are you ever gonna tell me who it is btw?

Minho [5:07pm]
hahahaha
maaaaybeee~~ ;)
what time?

Jisung [5:10pm]
;---;
i can pick you up at 9?

Minho [5:10pm]
sounds good ^^

It’s the perfect opportunity. Parties mean dancing in close proximity, silly, hormone-driven games, and drinks. A little liquid courage is surely all Minho needs to ensure that he doesn’t chicken out of confessing to Jisung once and for all. 

What could go wrong?

. . .

Minho's never been to a frat party, but it's just about what he'd expect.

The entire two-story frat house is filled with sweaty bodies, alcohol, smoke, and so much noise. The pounding music is almost loud enough to drown out the thoughts in Minho's head while he downs the last of his drink. He dabs the thin layer of sweat from his forehead with a napkin, left behind from his and Jisung’s brief excursion on the dancefloor. He wipes carefully around his eyes, not wanting to ruin his makeup.

He may have spent a disproportionate amount of time getting ready for some shitty fraternity party―but it's Jisung who invited him here, and frankly, Minho is trying to get fucked. He's clean and groomed all over in preparation, save for the sweat, of course.

He's starting to wonder if he should have come up with some sort of concrete plan. Minho had just hoped for things to progress naturally, to have fun with Jisung and his friends, for both of them to get smashed, and then Minho would drag him upstairs and ask him to fuck him. Maybe confess his feelings if he's feeling loose-lipped enough.

If all else fails, surely Jisung wouldn't turn down a blowjob.

Right―Jisung.

He's been acting off ever since he picked Minho up a little over an hour ago. Barely, not enough for most people to notice, but just enough for Minho to pick up on and start to rethink his "plans." Had he caught the hints Minho dropped about Jisung being his crush? Is he uncomfortable? Why would he invite Minho to the party anyway?

Especially if he was just going to leave him standing off to the side awkwardly while he took far too long to go grab another drink.

Minho could go hunt down Changbin and Seungmin, but he's not so sure he'd like what he'd see if he did. Last time he spotted them, they were in the middle of a heated make-out session on the couch, oblivious to Minho trying to get their attention to make fun of them. Hopefully that means they worked things out.

God, he wishes that were him straddling Jisung's lap in the middle of a party, both uncaring of anything and everything else. Instead he's hugging the wall, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for Jisung's return. Some super attractive guy even hits on him, which is unexpected but not unwelcome even though he politely turns him down and tells him he's waiting on someone.

Until he gets so tired of waiting for that someone that he pushes off the wall with a sigh, heading towards the kitchen. He spots Jisung before he gets there―and he's not alone.

A girl is leading him up the stairs, and all Minho can see is the back of Jisung's head as he follows her, his heart dropping to his feet.

The pair disappears up the stairs and Minho feels fucking sick. Is that why Jisung has been acting strange? Has he been waiting for a chance all night to slip away and add another girl's name to his list, to get Minho off his back once and for all?

Fuck, it's not like Minho owns him. He shouldn't even be upset with him for doing this when the only reason they ever started this whole thing was under the premise of Jisung returning a favor. They aren't together. It's not romantic. They're just bros.

Still, his stomach burns with jealousy, and he wants nothing more than to storm upstairs after him and stop him before it's too late.

But he doesn't, only blinks forcefully, willing away the tears that threaten to form as he goes to the kitchen to grab another drink. He doesn't want to get drunk―especially not now, knowing he'd probably spill his heart out if he did―but he would like to loosen up a bit more before he sets off to get even.

It doesn't take long for him to find the guy who'd hit on him earlier on the dancefloor, and Minho wastes no time in making his way over, dancing closer until the taller man's hands find his hips.

"Change your mind?" he grins, hovering so close Minho can feel the heat radiating off of his body. It's not ideal; Minho has clearly established that it's Jisung he wants to be pressed up against, but this guy is hot as hell, pretty eyes, long black hair, and if Jisung is going to fuck around with someone else, maybe Minho should take the opportunity to test out his new skills.

So he loops his arms around the stranger's neck as he dances―it's harder than it is with Jisung, since this guy is so much taller―and smiles. "I got stood up."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Now who would do that to someone as cute as you?"

"Not you, I hope."

"I would never!" he gasps and smiles, creased eyes and pretty teeth. The guy's a total heartthrob, even if Jisung's heart-shaped smile is infinitely more breathtaking―

Get a fucking grip, Minho tells himself, and smiles back at the stranger, buzzing with anticipation as he leans in even further, his lips almost touching Minho's ear.

"You wanna get back at 'em?"

Minho's breath hitches and he nods, perhaps too eagerly as it's met with an amused chuckle. The smile stays on his face as he brushes his lips against Minho's, gently at first but encouraged into something more hungry, open-mouthed when Minho's hands find his long strands. His hands press into the small of Minho's back, bringing him closer, and the friction makes him gasp.

Before Jisung, this was really all Minho had experience with: drunkenly making out with strangers at parties. He's not so much drunk now as he is a little tipsy, but he has loads more experience under his belt, so it's easier than it should be to break the kiss and ask the stranger if he wants to go upstairs.

He's all over Minho the second they reach the top of the stairs, pressing him against the wall and kissing him ravenously, which feels great and all but isn't exactly what Minho meant when he said he wanted to go upstairs with him.

He kisses down Minho's neck, wet and needy, and Minho feels something spark within him at being desired.

"I'm Jaebum, by the way," he tells Minho as his hands slip under his shirt. "What's your name, angel?"

Minho feels himself flush at the nickname, and then hates himself for comparing it to the way baby rolls off of Jisung's tongue, low in Minho's ear.

"Minho," he says, blindly fumbling around for the doorknob of the room to his right when Jaebum shows no indication of moving this elsewhere anytime soon. He's desperate, and he wants something to make him forget Jisung, just for a moment.

Minho pulls him by the shirt collar into the bedroom once he finally manages to get the door open, and they stumble in entangled, Jaebum's hands smoothing over Minho's sides, Minho slinging an arm over his shoulder to his hair while the other stays balled in the fabric of his shirt, lips locked together in a frantic kiss.

Jaebum starts to maneuver them in the direction of what Minho assumes must be the bed. He lets Jaebum guide him, focuses his attention on kissing him, on sliding his hands down―

"Oh shit." Jaebum pulls away abruptly. "Uh―sorry?"

Minho blinks in confusion, following his gaze to the floor beside the bed, and there sits fucking Jisung, looking up at Minho with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide.

"Jisung." Minho tries not to let his voice waver as he smooths down his shirt. "What are you doing in here?"

Jisung is looking between him and Jaebum with an unreadable expression, gaze settling on Minho as his eyebrows draw together. "I couldn't find you, so I―"

"Bullshit," Minho snaps. He feels his hands tremble. "I meant why are you still in here, after you ditched me to come up here with that girl?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees realization dawn on Jaebum's face. Minho feels a little pang of guilt at having dragged him into this, but how was he supposed to know Jisung would be sitting in here alone and ruining everything again?

"Minho, we didn't―" Jisung lifts himself to stand, a little wobbly on his feet. He steps towards him, Minho takes a step back, and Jaebum steps forward, halfway between them. Jisung gives him a glare unlike anything Minho has ever seen from him. If looks could kill...

Minho gently places a hand on Jaebum's arm, and Jisung's eyes follow the motion sharply. "Don't worry, he's harmless."

Jaebum steps back again, hands raised. "My bad. You never know with these drunken frat boys."

"And who the fuck are you?" Jisung spits, sizing Jaebum up. He turns to Minho, jabbing his thumb at him before he can answer for himself. "Who is this? Is this him?"

Minho scoffs, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because, Minho―" He steps closer until they're face to face, and Minho can see his eyes are a little glassy and a lot desperate as he grabs Minho's sleeves. He opens his mouth to speak again, but cuts his eyes over to Jaebum who's standing by, wide-eyed. "Can we get some privacy? Go find someone else to drag up here."

Minho didn't take Jisung for the jealous type, but he's into it more than he'd like to admit.

"Hey, for the record, he brought me up here because you ditched him," Jaebum points out. He looks at Minho and softens a little. "If you want me to go, I'll go."

Minho bites his lip, glancing back at Jisung, at the silent plea in his eyes to hear him out. And really, he stands no chance. He gives Jaebum an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Damn," he laughs, veiling his disappointment. "It's cool. Hey, you want my number in case this doesn't work out?"

The smile on his face makes him wonder if he genuinely wants it or if he's just trying to rile Jisung up further.

"No, he doesn't," Jisung answers for him, glaring daggers.

Minho waves at him awkwardly as he retreats, giggling when he makes the "call me" gesture with his hand. Jisung is anything but amused when he looks back to him, and that makes anger swirl in Minho's chest because Jisung brought someone up here first. What kind of double standard?

"Jealous mu―"

Jisung cuts him off when he lunges forward, smashing their lips together. Minho grunts in surprise and he wants to push him away but all he feels at the contact is relief, melting completely at Jisung's touch.

Jisung still wants him.

But to what end?

"Jisung―" he tries, resolve weakening when Jisung's hands grab at his hips, just as Jaebum had done but a million times hotter to the touch.

"I never wanna see you kiss anyone else again," he mumbles against Minho's lips, turning his organs into a jumbled whirlpool of raw emotions.

First, his head spins with the possessive edge to Jisung's voice, the way his fingers dig harder into his hips at the thought―but then there's anger and indignation swirling in the pit of his stomach as he recalls the hurt he felt watching Jisung leave him for that girl. Whether they actually did anything, or whether Jisung came back to look for Minho like he said, he needs to know before this goes any further.

"Oh, but you can?" He places his palms on Jisung's chest and pushes him away. "How... how do you think I felt?"

With the way Jisung's eyes widen, he worries his tone might have been a tad too accusatory, too emotional. They aren't dating, after all. Jisung's isn't his. But he's not Jisung's either, not really, and if Jisung is going to be obvious about his groundless jealousy, so will he.

"I'm sorry." Ah, that's that then. He did fool around with that girl. Jisung lied to him.

Minho scoffs, shaking his head, and turns to leave. Maybe Jaebum hasn't wandered too far yet. 

He's stopped by Jisung's hand on his wrist. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "Let me explain, please?"

"What's there to explain, Jisung?" Minho demands, snatching his hand away. "You ditch me, lie about it, and then I'm the bad guy for kissing someone else? We―we aren't even―"

"I know we're not," Jisung says, and he sounds so broken that Minho's heart aches. "I didn't lie. Please, just..."

In better circumstances, Minho would make a joke about how Jisung is the one begging for once. Instead he sighs, crossing the distance to the bed and plopping himself down. "I’m listening," he says, folding his arms. Jisung hesitantly follows after him, perching himself on the edge of the bed and preparing to spout some bullshit excuse.

"Okay, so," Jisung begins, playing with the frayed threads of his ripped jeans, gaze trained on the floor, "the thing is, ah... I like you. A lot."

Huh?

Minho blinks rapidly, heart pounding in his chest, stomach flip-flopping like a fish out of water. Before he can respond or even check to make sure this is real, Jisung is speaking again.

"And―and I know you already like someone, so I―when she came up to me, I just thought I'd try it or something, you know? Try to like, move on or some shit, because I knew it was only a matter of time before you got comfortable enough with, you know. All that stuff. Before you moved on to bigger and better things."

Minho wants to speak up, to tell Jisung it's him, that there are no better things (though perhaps in a less cheesy manner), but his heart is caught in his throat.

"Anyway, we just kissed," he continues. "She wanted to do more, but I couldn't. I just kept... thinking of you. So I left, and tried to find you, but―" He looks up finally, timidly meeting Minho's gaze, words dying on his tongue. He clears his throat. "But you were already, um... So I came back up here, and then... That wasn't him, was it?"

Minho stares at him, wide-eyed and speechless, furrowing his brow with a sound of confusion.

"Your crush," Jisung clarifies, voice subdued, defeat in his eyes.

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, huffing out a laugh. "You're really dumb, you know that?"

It's Jisung's turn to blink at him in bewilderment. "What? I mean, sure, but―what, is he the guy?"

"It's you, Jisung," Minho says, softly but surely.

His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. "M-Me?"

"From the start," Minho confirms, features lifting into a hesitant smile.

Jisung's eyes light up the dim room and he glances down at Minho's hand before gingerly taking it into his own. "Really?"

Minho intertwines their fingers, beaming. "I... kind of thought it was obvious? I mean, what about you? You're the 'straight' one." He adds air quotes with his free hand.

Jisung laughs too loud, his smile too bright, and fondness twists Minho's heartstrings. "Yeah, so much for that. But hey, how was I supposed to know?"

"Seriously?" Minho balks. "I dropped so many hints. God, you're dense."

"But you like me anyway," he says, grin so wide and giddy like he can't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah," Minho agrees, leaning in, "I really do."

Jisung’s thumb brushes across his cheek as their heads tilt and mold together tenderly, both smiling softly. They kiss, again and again, and with every meeting of their lips Minho feels like he could float away, no longer bogged down with concerns of any of this being one-sided or meaningless. There's nothing to gain, no favors being repaid, just Minho and Jisung, two idiots who like each other a whole lot, and Minho could not be happier.

Until, of course, he swings a leg over Jisung and straddles his lap, feels Jisung's hands firm on his thighs and then his ass. Once they finally break apart for air, Jisung trails his mouth down Minho's neck, his lips scalding against his skin. Minho tilts his head back with a sigh, allowing him access as he sucks softly at the sensitive skin.

"Can I mark you, baby?" he murmurs. "Let everyone know you're mine now?"

Minho shudders, the words going straight to his dick. But if they're going to do this, he has to know Jisung is really in it. He looks down at him through lidded eyes.

"Only if I can do you, too."

"Please," Jisung whispers, pupils dilating. Oh. Well, that's definitely... good. He offers Minho a sweet little smile before diving in and latching onto his skin. Minho moans softly at the feeling, grinding down in his lap.

"Needy baby," Jisung coos, splaying his fingers across Minho's thighs. "I wanna cover you up, mark you all over."

"Mm, not until I get a turn," Minho says, pushing Jisung's shoulders until he's lying flat on the bed beneath him. He rolls his hips into him, unable to resist with how beautiful Jisung looks, dark hair fanned out around his head, eyes shining in anticipation as he wets his pretty lips, gazing up at Minho.

Minho bends down, pressing his lips briefly to Jisung's before moving down his jaw and to his neck. He noses around, leaving open-mouthed kisses while his hands work to unbutton Jisung's shirt. He sighs in content when Jisung pets his hair, latching onto his collarbone and sucking the skin between his lips.

He doesn't stop there, sucking all around Jisung's neck and even his chest while his hands absently smooth over his abs and play with his nipples. He sucks a little harder with every spiteful thought of that girl, of every girl that might look at Jisung and see him as an easy fuck. He's Minho's now.

Jisung lets out pretty little moans and praises all the while, serving to make Minho fully hard in his tight jeans. From what he can tell with each roll of his hips, Jisung is faring about the same.

He tips Minho’s head up with a finger under his jaw suddenly, gently, coaxing him back up to his face for a warm kiss. "I think you've done enough damage, don't you?" he laughs softly. "It's not exactly turtleneck weather."

Minho pulls back to assess said damage, splotches of red blooming all over Jisung's golden skin with promises of bruising and oh fuck, yeah―he'd definitely gotten carried away. He smiles sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I like it," Jisung grins, pulling him back down for another kiss. "I mean, I might not tomorrow, when my entire neck is red and purple, but―"

"Shut up," Minho laughs. "It's not that bad."

"Bullshit. You just mauled me. You're an animal."

"And you liked it, so what does that say about you?"

Jisung scrunches his nose up in something akin to a pout, and then he's grabbing Minho's arms and flipping them over, pinning his wrists to the mattress by his head. Minho's heart thumps violently in his chest at the sight of Jisung on top of him, shirt hanging off his shoulders to reveal his toned stomach, eyes dark and bright all at once as he dips down.

Minho subconsciously holds his breath and shuts his eyes in anticipation, but all that comes is a light kiss to the tip of his nose. Then his cheeks, his forehead, until Jisung is peppering every centimeter of his face in kisses so light that they tickle. Minho giggles, turning his head to try and avoid the assault, but only assists Jisung in reaching every bit of his face.

Jisung relents, finally, kissing Minho on the lips slowly and deeply, and Minho wants him with every fiber of his being.

"Jisung," he whispers against his lips, "I want you. Want you to fuck me."

He hears Jisung's breath catch before he pulls back to look at Minho, his eyes searching but full of that same want. "Are you sure?"

Minho is as sure as the marks blossoming on Jisung's skin, as the flush high on his perfect cheeks, as the heart pounding in his chest, so he nods.

"You don't wanna wait until we're somewhere nicer?" he checks, running a hand through Minho's hair.

Minho lets out a lighthearted scoff. "Like where, your trashy bedroom?"

"Hey," Jisung says in a warning tone, though there's a smile on his face.

"No," Minho answers, draping his arms over Jisung's shoulders, "I don’t care. I just want you."

Jisung bites his lip and rubs against Minho. "I've wanted to fuck you since the first time I touched you." Minho's eyes flutter shut, sighing as Jisung grinds against him. "You remember, right?" A hand gently covers Minho's mouth to jog his memory, as if he could ever forget that. He can't say as much with his mouth covered, so he nods with a hum.

"Fuck, that was hot," Jisung laughs, removing his hand. Minho is more than a little disappointed. "Kept me up at night. Had me, like, looking up 'am I gay?' quizzes and shit."

"Oh yeah?" Minho giggles, reaching up to nudge Jisung's shirt off his shoulders. "And what was the verdict?"

"That I'm a dense motherfucker, apparently."

Minho laughs as he lifts off the mattress to assist Jisung in pulling his own sweater over his head. "Glad you've come to terms with it."

Jisung's eyes rove over Minho's torso, and it's then that he realizes he's never actually been shirtless in front of him. Jisung has always been the more shameless of the two, freely changing his clothes in front of Minho when his old ones got dirtied with cum. Minho is more private, prefers changing in the bathroom even if Jisung has already seen him at his most undignified, lowest points.

But here he is, open and vulnerable under Jisung's soft touch as he runs his hands over the exposed skin. He runs his thumb over the scar on Minho's stomach and butterflies dance behind it. His hands travel higher to Minho's chest which he may not have seen but has abused far too many times by now, ghosting over his nipples just barely enough to make Minho twitch.

"You're so beautiful," Jisung whispers. He leans down for a kiss, trails his mouth down and shifts down Minho's body to kiss down his chest, stopping to suck a mark just above his beating heart. He inches down further still, glancing up at Minho with a mischievous glint in his eye before taking his nipple into his mouth. Minho arches his back with a sudden cry, taken aback by how incredible it feels.

Jisung smiles up at him as he circles his tongue around the bud, flicking his thumb over the other nipple as he kneads his pec.

"Fuck, Jisung," he gasps, winding a hand in his hair and tugging. Jisung gasps and then sucks hard on his nipple in retaliation, and Minho swears if this went on for long enough he'd probably come untouched.

Jisung pulls off eventually, leaving his nipple red and puffy. Minho thinks he finally has a moment of reprieve but then Jisung is sucking the opposite one into his mouth, and Minho's pants are growing more and more uncomfortable as he whimpers and writhes at the feeling.

He finally gives Minho a break after sucking another mark under his chest, grinning up at him with spit-slick lips while he reaches down and palms him without warning.

"Ah, Jisung―" he moans, bucking into his hand.

"Hmm?" he hums, crawling back up to hover over Minho as he kisses him and rubs his bulge, setting his every nerve ending alight with desire.

Minho reaches down almost desperately, fumbling with Jisung's belt with hands shaky from arousal.

"Calm down, baby," Jisung murmurs, gently taking ahold of his wrist. He sits back, straddling Minho, and Minho licks his lips while he watches him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He slips off of the bed to pull them the rest of the way off, along with his shoes, and Minho belatedly realizes he should take the chance to do the same.

Jisung digs around in the nightstand drawer, coming up with a bottle of lube and a condom while Minho shimmies out of his jeans and underwear. He swallows, heart fluttering nervously in his chest.

"You ever finger yourself?" Jisung asks casually as he crawls back onto the bed left only in his underwear. Minho glares at him, face burning. "What? I just wanna know what I'm working with. How accustomed you are to... you know."

"Things in my ass?" Minho scoffs. "Yes, I've―I've fingered myself."

He leaves out how his short fingers don't really do the job and how he likes to pretend they're Jisung's, even though he's fairly sure they can’t measure up and that Jisung would be able to hit his prostate better with his slightly longer fingers (that Minho has definitely not spent a bit too much time staring at ever since he first started tutoring him).

"Okay, good," Jisung says, squirting lube onto his fingers. He looks at Minho, eyes glinting as he apparently reads his mind. "Did you think about me?"

"What?" Minho blurts, absolutely giving himself away.

Jisung's smile is equal parts beautiful and infuriating. "It's okay, baby," he soothes, running his dry hand over Minho's thigh before grabbing a pillow that he slides under him, with his help. "I'd say don't be embarrassed, but you're so cute when you're embarrassed, so I won't."

"I'm not embarrassed," Minho blatantly lies. He's not sure why he bothers at this point.

"Oh, you aren't?" Jisung says―almost condescending, like he's talking to a child. "That's good. You can tell me all the details of your little fantasy then, hm?"

"Ugh," Minho groans, burying his face in his hands as the back of his head hits the mattress.

"I'm just teasing," Jisung chuckles, bending down to pull his hand away and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. He asks gently, eyes soft, "Should I stop?"

Minho's heartbeat stutters at the concern in his gaze, the consideration he has for Minho's comfort despite how he knows Minho has always been very into his godawful fucking teasing. Plus, the fact that he's about to have sex for the first time is more than a little nerve-wracking, and the lighthearted quips are welcome and give him an excuse to hide in his hands, embarrassed at being completely exposed and vulnerable.

"No," Minho mumbles, face burning hotter at the admission. "I mean―you don't have to. It's fine."

His lips stretch into a fond, heart-shaped smile that makes Minho's heart stutter. "Okay," he says, pecking his lips again before making himself comfortable, hovering above Minho with his elbow propping him up while lubed fingers find his entrance. Minho gasps as he circles it teasingly, touch soft. He blinks up at him pleadingly, grabbing onto his bicep.

"Are you ready, baby?" he asks. Minho nods eagerly, trembling in anticipation. He whimpers when Jisung applies just the slightest bit of pressure to his rim only to relent and circle it again. "Should I go easy on you for your first time," he ponders with a foul smile, "or make you beg?"

Minho groans, body warming at the words. "Just do it," he says. He drops his voice, mumbling, "P-Please."

"So cute," Jisung fawns, and that's all the warning Minho gets before he's gasping as Jisung's finger presses inside him. Jisung's gaze trained so intently on his face makes him too self-conscious, so he pulls him down for a kiss that he happily indulges.

"Ready for another?" Jisung asks after a while of just thrusting his finger in and out slowly, breath fanning across Minho's face.

Minho nods, insides melting at how careful Jisung is being with him. Not for the first time, he likes the thought of Jisung being rougher a little too much, but this is just as nice, Jisung being so sweet and attentive―especially now that Minho knows his feelings are reciprocated. It makes his heart do something funny, Jisung being so delicate and caring.

Minho bites down on his lip, muffling a moan when Jisung's second finger pushes in, gently scissoring and stretching him. "Feel good?" Jisung asks breathlessly. Minho nods again, glancing down at the bulge in Jisung's underwear feeling bad that he isn't getting any attention. He reaches for it, intending to slip his hand under the waistband and give him something, but Jisung shifts his hips away. Minho pouts, and the bastard giggles and kisses his forehead.

"Don't worry about me," Jisung tells him, and before Minho can argue he's curling his fingers up and startling out a moan, Minho's back arching off the mattress. "Oh? There it is."

"I'm surprised you even know what a prostate is," Minho teases in an attempt to distract from the way he's already beginning to fall apart at Jisung's touch.

"Duh. I took anatomy," Jisung scoffs. "And I... may have done some extra research lately." He mumbles the last part, his cheeks dusted with a pretty flush.

"Aww, for little ol' me?" Minho smiles, batting his eyelashes. "So sweet, Jisungie―ah!" He bucks his hips as Jisung presses into his sweet spot again, leaking onto his own stomach. He shoots Jisung a glare which is met with an innocent smile.

"I told you I've wanted to fuck you," Jisung utters, bending down to kiss Minho's neck while his fingers spread him open. "I didn't know if I'd get the chance, but I wanted to make it good for you if I did. Wanted to know what I was doing."

Minho's heart swells at the thought. "And what makes you think you wouldn't have had the chance?"

"That fucking bastard crush. Fuck you, Han Jisung," he grumbles. Minho laughs, and Jisung pulls back to grin at him. "I figured you might wanna, like, save yourself or something."

"I'd have let you do whatever you wanted to me," he admits.

"Yeah?" Jisung tilts his head, pressing into Minho's prostate again and making him mewl. "Is that offer still open?"

Minho's mouth goes a little dry at the want in Jisung's eyes, and he nods his head wordlessly.

"Another?" Jisung asks anyway, his lubed ring finger teasing his entrance. Minho hums, wincing at the stretch when he pushes in, but he likes it. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Minho answers, figuring he should do something other than nod. "Kiss me."

Jisung smiles before obliging him (Minho is a little surprised he doesn't make him say please), his fingers gradually picking up the pace, eliciting a whimper from Minho with each brush against his prostate.

"A-Ah, Jisung," he gasps, whimpers becoming full-blown moans as Jisung's fast pace quickly pushes him towards the brink. "Fuck, fuck!" He panics, hand flying down to grab Jisung's wrist and stop his movements.

"Did I hurt you?" Jisung asks, eyes wide.

"N-No, just... don't wanna come yet," he mumbles, face hot as he tries to steady his breathing. He wets his lips, reaching for Jisung again. This time he doesn't move away, lets out a groan when Minho slips his hand under his waistband and curls his fingers around him. "I'm ready."

Jisung's breath hitches and he slides his fingers out, Minho instantly missing the feeling. "How do you wanna do this?" he asks, smoothing his palm over Minho's stomach.

"I dunno. You're the expert," Minho says cheekily.

Jisung huffs, shaking his head. "Okay, how about this," he says, peeling off his underwear and shamelessly stroking himself, "tell me what you picture when you think about me fucking you."

Heat creeps up Minho's neck as countless fantasies he's had in the past several months flash in his mind, of Jisung taking him from behind, front, below, sideways―fuck, he'd take anything Jisung wants to give.

"Who said I think about you fucking me?" Minho asks instead, watching with eager eyes that say otherwise as Jisung slides the condom on.

"You're so difficult, you know that?" Jisung chides. "You're lucky you're so cute."

"Yeah, I guess I am," Minho answers, smiling as Jisung crawls back onto the bed.

"Get on your stomach," Jisung tells him, patting his thigh.

"Oh," Minho breathes out without meaning to. He's complying and rolling over before he even has time to contemplate giving him a hard time, propped up on his elbows and anxiously peering over his shoulder as Jisung straddles the backs of his thighs.

"I read this is a good position for your first time," Jisung tells him, kneading his ass. Minho's skin somehow feels even hotter and he looks away, head hanging down.

"I admire your dedication to the cause," Minho laughs breathlessly.

Jisung hums, still running his hands over his ass. Minho almost speaks up, almost tells Jisung something he wants, but decides to save it for later. He’s too mortified to ask, but then Jisung voices his very thoughts: "I bet you'd like it if I spanked your cute ass, wouldn't you?"

A surprised noise slips out of Minho's throat as he buries his face in his arms. Fuck Jisung for being able to read him so well―in everything except his massive crush, apparently. Fuck him for making Minho so goddamn crazy. 

There's no point denying it when the alternative is actually getting what he wants (very much) though, so he nods quickly.

"Use your words," Jisung says, fingers digging into his skin. "I don't wanna do it if I don't know for sure you want it."

"Yes," Minho says, wanting the bed to swallow him up. "I―I really want it."

"Enough to beg?"

And ugh, Minho can hear the smile in his stupid, sexy voice.

He tries to get his point across with a muffled whine, wiggling underneath Jisung, but it doesn't seem to work.

"I guess not," Jisung says, and then Minho can hear him popping the cap on the lube.

"W-Wait," Minho stammers out, craning his neck to look back at Jisung as best as he can, surely bright red. "Please?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he gives in easily with a grin, bending down to leave a kiss on the corner of Minho's mouth before sitting back up. His hand runs over the soft skin of Minho's ass and then he pulls it back, Minho holding his breath until his palm is landing on his skin with a sharp smack. Minho jolts, his dick rubbing against the mattress, the combination of the two sensations making him let out a strangled moan as he's spanked again.

"More?" Jisung asks.

Minho nods quickly, then adds a please or two for good measure so he doesn't have to hear the whole "use your words" spiel again.

"So polite," Jisung coos, landing another hit in the same spot before his hand rubs gently over the abused skin. "You like that a lot, huh?" he asks rhetorically, striking him on the other side once, twice, three times, alternating between rubbing and squeezing and spanking. Minho half-sobs into his arm, rutting against the mattress. "You sure you need me to fuck you? Looks like you could get off just from this."

And Minho could, he's sure. But as good as Jisung's hands always make him feel, what he wants right now is his dick in his ass, for Jisung to feel good, too, for them to feel good together.

"No, no, I―ah," Minho all but pleads, "want you inside me. Now. Please."

"If you insist," Jisung sighs, poorly feigning indifference followed by a giggle and another kiss pressed to the back of Minho's neck. Minho hears him open the lube again and his heart pounds apprehensively, only speeding up when he turns and sees Jisung lathering his cock with a copious amount of lube, a drop landing on Minho's thigh.

"Spread your legs for me," Jisung instructs. Minho obeys, stomach fluttering as Jisung positions himself, shuddering when he drags his cock along the cleft of his ass. "Ready?" Minho nods, clamping down on his lip. "You gotta talk to me, okay? Let me know if it's uncomfortable or anything."

"I will," Minho promises, lifting his hips impatiently in a manner that's hopefully enticing. "I'm ready, Jisung. Fuck me, pretty please?"

"Shit, okay," he whispers, lining himself up. Minho holds his breath as the head of his cock presses past his rim, letting out a choked gasp as Jisung pushes in halfway, slowly, before stopping. He'd been stretched well, but Jisung's dick is the biggest thing that's ever entered his ass and, well―it's a lot to take in.

For a beautiful moment, the bass thrumming through the infrastructure of the frat house and the distant voices all fade away, and it's just Minho and Jisung. Just the feeling of Jisung inside him, his soft touch, his ragged breaths, his warm skin, Jisung.

Minho never wants it to end.

"Okay?" Jisung asks, running his hand along Minho's back.

"Yeah, just―just a second."

"Take your time," he assures, leaning down to kiss the back of Minho's neck while he adjusts. It doesn't take long before he's desperate to feel more of Jisung, so he lifts his hips and Jisung takes the hint, pushing in further.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunts into Minho's ear. "Don't laugh if I come in like, five minutes."

Minho laughs airily. "I might only last three."

"Should we make it a competition?"

"No," he scoffs. Then, shyly, "You can move."

"Maybe next time, then." Jisung leaves a kiss on the corner of Minho's mouth again, the best he can reach at this angle, and lifts his hips before slowly driving into Minho.

"Oh fuck," Minho gasps, fisting the sheets. He bites down on his arm to muffle the moans that are, embarrassingly, already increasing in frequency as Jisung slowly builds up a rhythm. He definitely isn't going to last like this, Jisung brushing right against his prostate with every thrust.

"Feel good?" Jisung asks against his shoulder, slick with spit from his kissing and sucking that Minho barely registers over trying to keep himself in check. Jisung's hand slides under Minho and tugs at his nipple, startling a moan out of him as he grinds down on the mattress.

"Yes, yes, God yes―" Minho chokes out, rolling his hips back to meet Jisung's, tears pricking at his eyes from how overwhelmed with pleasure he is. He's thankful for the fact that he's on his stomach, Jisung unable to see the drool that leaks out onto his arm as he picks up his pace, moaning softly in Minho's ear.

Minho knows how much Jisung gets off to praise, and even though it often physically pains him to attempt any sort of dirty talk, right now he's drowning in desire and the need to make Jisung feel as good as he can.

"You feel so amazing, Jisungie," he manages, petering off into a whimper. "Always make me feel so good, fuck."

Jisung moans unabashedly in his ear. "Good enough to be your boyfriend?" he asks, entirely unprompted and unexpected.

"W-What?" Minho turns his head, smearing drool across his cheek. "You're asking now?"

"Yes...?" Jisung's rhythm falters. "I don't know, it slipped out. I keep thinking about it, like, I don't want this to just be a quick fuck or, or―"

"Jisung, it's okay," Minho interrupts, feeling a bit awkward holding a conversation with him at this angle and with Jisung balls deep in his ass. "Obviously I―"

"Hold that thought," he interrupts, sliding out of Minho, who holds back a whimper at the loss. "Turn over; lemme try that again."

"Wh―" Minho starts, cut off by Jisung lifting his shoulder and turning him over so that he's lying on his back. He feels his face catch fire at being exposed to Jisung again, cock flushed and leaking against his stomach, drool on his chin.

Jisung smiles down at him fondly, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers while Minho's heartbeat goes wild. "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Yes," Minho breathes, squeezing his hand. "Obviously."

Jisung's smile is bright enough to rival the sun as he leans down and kisses Minho breathless. Minho gets so lost in the feeling of his lips and the feeling of kissing his boyfriend that he nearly forgets what exactly it is they're doing until Jisung's fingers wrap around his cock, sending a fresh wave of arousal through him.

Jisung spreads more lube down his length and then he's pushing into Minho again. Being on his stomach and getting fucked into the mattress felt amazing, but seeing the way Jisung's face contorts in pleasure as he pushes into him, knowing he's the cause of it, takes the cake.

It isn't long at all before he's close again, with the added stimulation of Jisung pumping him and the visual of his muscles tensing as he fucks into him, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, pretty lips parting with every moan.

"Jisungie, I―I'm―"

"Close?" Jisung asks, bringing his free hand up to gently pull at Minho's nipple as he snaps his hips into him harder. It's so much at once and it's all Minho can do to not start sobbing as he nods his head vigorously, writhing and crying out pathetically.

"Fuck, c'mon, I've got you," Jisung says, tightening his grip on Minho’s cock and angling his thrusts upwards just so. "Come for me, baby."

On cue, Minho bucks his hips into Jisung's touch a final time before his orgasm hits him fast and hard, a loud, choked moan leaving his lips and tears springing from his eyes as Jisung fucks him through it, pace slowing. He moves to pull out and Minho wraps his trembling legs around him hazily.

"Want you to finish in me," he pants. "Please."

"Shit." Jisung doesn't need much convincing, it seems, as he moves his hands to Minho's hips with a bruising grip and fucks into him at a brutal pace. If Minho didn't feel like he was about to pass out from exhaustion, he'd come again on the spot just from the feeling of Jisung using him to get himself off.

Just before the oversensitivity becomes unbearable, Jisung's hips are stuttering and he's hunching over Minho with a lewd moan. He lifts his weary head to seek out Minho's lips, moving against them in a rhythm slow and sweet as his hips slow to a stop.

He slips out of Minho eventually, tying the end of his condom and tossing it in the trashcan. He grabs some tissues from the nightstand and flops down next to Minho, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they give each other dopey grins.

"You look like you enjoyed yourself," Jisung remarks, his thumb swiping at a drying tear streak. He trails a tissue up Minho's stomach, gently cleaning him and making butterflies twirl under his touch.

"Hmm, it was okay," Minho says, a little breathless, giggling at the offended look Jisung gives him. "Kidding," he says, turning on his side and cupping Jisung's face with his hands as he pecks his lips. "It was... You were amazing." Jisung's face turns a little pink at the praise, so Minho continues. "My boyfriend is so sexy and sweet. He's a real catch."

"Oh, stop," he giggles. "I can't believe I asked you that in the middle of... ugh."

"It's okay," Minho laughs. "It's memorable."

"That makes it worse!" he whines, hiding his face in his hands. "Can we pretend I asked you after we fucked? Or before? Like, if anyone asks?"

"You really want that?"

"Yes."

"Enough to beg?" Minho asks, grinning impishly when Jisung's eyes widen.

"Don't you dare throw my cringey pillow talk back at me!" he gasps. "You're the one who likes it so much."

"I just said I liked it so you wouldn't be embarrassed," Minho lies.

"Wait, really?" Jisung balks. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Oh my God―"

"I'm kidding," Minho giggles, planting a kiss on the tip of Jisung's nose. "I like it. I shouldn’t, but I do. Really."

"Oh, well when you put it that way..." He smiles, visibly relaxing at the reassurance. "I'll be sure to abuse my power, then."

Minho snorts. "Like you didn't already."

"I can't help it when you're so cute," he argues, pouting.

"You're one to talk." Minho pulls him in to plant a kiss on his forehead before nuzzling into the crook of his neck, sighing in content.

"I'm happy," Jisung says softly after a moment, fingers running lightly through Minho's hair. "I'm really excited for this. For us."

Minho allows himself a huge, giddy grin since Jisung can't see his face. "Me, too." He traces his fingers down Jisung's chest in thought. "Hey, we're gonna tell people about us, right? Like, you're not..."

"Not what?"

Minho shrugs half-heartedly. "I dunno. Ashamed?"

"What? Baby, no. Look at me." Jisung cups his cheek, coaxing him to tilt his head up and peer at Jisung nervously, embarrassed by the display of vulnerability. "Don't worry about that, okay? You made it pretty easy to come to terms with."

Minho huffs a laugh, turning to gently kiss his palm. "Okay. I'm glad."

"It's a little scary," Jisung admits. "Thinking about what people will think or say... but it's none of their business, and I'll be too busy taking my cute boyfriend on dates to care, right?"

Minho hums, relief spreading throughout his body as he smiles and leans in for a kiss.

It's going to be okay. They're going to be okay.

"I'll kill anyone who gives you shit," he mumbles against Jisung's lips.

"What are you gonna do? Tutor them to death?"

"Well, we've both seen how that ends..."

"Mm, good point," Jisung says. "I'd like to keep you to myself, thanks."

"You have me." Minho smiles, pressing closer. "For all your calculus and boyfriend-related needs."

"You’re the best tutor I could ever ask for, bro."

Minho groans and buries his face in Jisung’s chest, feeling him shake with laughter as he presses a kiss to the crown of Minho’s head.

"You’re evil."

"You love it, babe."

"Yeah," Minho sighs. "I do."

♡