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Jisung loves Minho plain and simple, no questions asked.
He loves when Minho goes for walks late at night with him, loves when he cooks him the most delicious meals, loves the way he steals glances when he thinks Jisung isn’t looking with something disgustingly sweet and fond in his eyes. He loves the way Minho looks early in the morning when he’s just waking up, face puffy from sleep and hair sticking up in every which way.
He also really fucking loves the way Minho stretches around his cock and fits him like a glove.
Jisung could write sonnets about Minho’s body if he were dedicated enough to the cause, but words often fail him when it comes to matters of Lee Minho. There is just something in the way he moves, in the way he stretches out in bed so pretty and pliant, willing to let Jisung take him apart however he pleases.
Right now he’s got Minho on his knees, head buried in the sea of pillows that litter their bed, and he just can’t take his eyes off him. But not off the way his rim stretches around his cock, the way he sucks him in so wonderfully, no.
What Jisung can’t take his eyes off is the tiger permanently inked on Minho’s skin that stares up at him and moves with every minute movement of Minho’s body, of his shoulders, and the muscles of his back.
He runs a hand up the smooth expanse of inked skin, committing to memory by touch every little intricate line drawn on his back like he’s done so a million times before. Minho sighs into the pillows, goosebumps rising on his flesh as Jisung reaches his mid back and keeps going up, up, until his palm is pressed flat between his shoulders and he’s pushing Minho further down.
(Jisung needs to send Changbin another thank-you gift for the incredible work he’s done on him.)
His torso is covered in a sheen layer of sweat when he presses himself flush against Minho’s back, burying his cock impossibly deeper inside him. Minho’s walls clench around him and Jisung thinks he can see stars when he closes his lids.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, lips pressed to the shell of Minho’s ear. He can feel a full-body shiver course through Minho, and it makes his cock throb inside his ass. “So pretty like this for me, hyung.”
“C’mon, Jisungie,” Minho groans and it’s almost a moan with how wrecked he already sounds. “Fuck me like you mean it, yeah?”
Jisung’s body shakes when he laughs, though there is no real humor behind it. It’s amusement that rocks through his body at the way Minho doesn’t hold back from asking exactly what he wants. And Jisung will always comply, gripped tightly by the vines that is loving the man beneath him.
His hands glide back down Minho’s body and settle on his hips, his fingers digging hard enough into the flesh to leave bruised prints behind. He watches the muscles on Minho’s back work, watches as the tiger moves when Minho grips the pillow under his head, almost suffocates himself with it.
It’s a shame that it muffles his moans when Jisung starts drilling into him faster, but he doesn’t mind. He fucks Minho in earnest until his thighs shake, until his legs can’t hold him up any longer and he collapses on top of him, Minho’s hole a vice around his cock. And then he’s moaning right at Minho’s ear, feeding him the dirty noises he’s being denied of, finding pleasure in the way Minho’s body shakes and he tightens impossibly around him.
When he comes, it s with Minho’s name muffled against the back of Minho’s neck and stars behind his tightly shut lids. Minho comes not too long after, his cock trapped between his body and the mattress, and Jisung just knows he’s going to bitch about having to do laundry of freshly changed sheets.
“Fuck,” Jisung grunts, body moving with the rise and fall of Minho’s chest. “I can’t take you from behind, hyung. I came embarrassingly quickly.”
Minho chuckles into the pillows. “You’re the one who said I should get it done, now suffer with the consequences of your actions.”
“I still have my cock in your ass,” Jisung bites down hard on his shoulder, pulling a yelp out of him. “Watch your fucking mouth, hm?”
“You’re already going soft, though,” Minho says with a scoff, and Jisung can almost see the way he rolls his eyes. “How threatening.”
The bickering goes on even as Jisung pulls out and wipes them clean, as he teases Minho’s hole with rough fingers only to get kicked in the ribs for it. But Minho is his pretty little thing, the apple of his eye who can do no wrong. So, instead of getting mad or scolding him for the pain, he pulls Minho into a tender kiss instead, his hands soft where they cup the man’s jaw.
Minho sighs into his mouth, sated and content.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
Changbin looks up from the stencil he’s working on, his pierced brow raised questioningly at him.
“I don’t know, can you? I’m not usually the one you pester in this studio.”
Jisung rolls his eyes at him. “You make it sound like I hate your tattoo designs, which is not true—”
“Hyunjin is still your artist of choice, though.”
“—but this isn’t about me! Technically.”
Changbin tilts his head to the side, vaguely resembling a puppy. He’d probably kill Jisung if he said that out loud. “Technically?”
“Well, I mean, I’ll certainly benefit from it too,” he concedes, ignoring the way he can feel his cheeks warming up. “But. This is about Minho.”
“Huh?” Changbin swivels his chair so he’s fully facing Jisung, curiosity slowly replacing the confusion painted on his face. “What about him? Does he want another tattoo done?”
Jisung shakes his head lightly. “Nothing like that, hyung. I just—I. Uhm.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “When would it be okay for him to switch out his jewelry? And… to have it played with…”
Watching in real-time as Changbin’s face contorts in disgust is pretty hilarious if Jisung says so himself, especially when this isn’t even the worst thing he’s had to hear come out of his mouth to date.
“I hate both of you,” he says, and Jisung knows he doesn’t mean it. “Considering it’s been, what? Six months since he got it? It should be fine for him to switch out for something else, so long as it looks completely healed and you’re not getting cheap stuff. I can’t speak for him if it’s going to be fine for you to have your grubby fingers rubbing on his nipples, but if you’re asking me if it’s okay to put your mouth on it, then the answer should be yes if he thinks he’s fully healed.”
Upon Jisung’s blossoming smile, he picks his pencil back up with a roll of his eyes.
“How’s your navel doing, by the way?”
“Fine, I guess?” he says with a shrug. “It only kind of stings if I sweat too much, but that only happens when Minho and I fu—”
“Forget I asked!”
“—ck for hours,” he finishes regardless of Changbin’s protests, a devilish smile on his lips. “Or if I happen to hit it somehow.”
Changbin sighs, exasperated. “I’m not fucking kidding when I say I hate you. If you pick something new for Minho out front with Felix, come back here and I’ll switch yours for a smaller jewel. Tell him it’s on me.”
“I could kiss you on the lips right now,” he says, hopping off his seat on the tattoo bed. “But I won’t out of respect for my boyfriend.”
Changbin frowns. “And not out of respect for mine?”
Jisung sends him a wink and scurries out of the room, cackling at the curses Changbin yells at his retreating back. He navigates his way back to the entrance like one navigates their own home with a bounce on his step and a hitch to his breath.
He finds Felix draped over the glass display, looking bored to death, his bleached blond strands covering most of his face. He looks like he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in ages.
“Hey, pixie,” he calls out as Felix pops the gum in his mouth. Felix’s eyes move to stare at Jisung, and that’s enough confirmation he needs that the boy is listening. “Slow day?”
Felix props himself up on an elbow, lethargic. “Isn’t it always? Do you need something?”
“Damn, did Hyunjin pound your ass until sunrise?” he says with a chuckle. “Cheer up, dude.”
Felix’s lips slowly curl into a smile. He shakes his head lightly. “Changbin. So?”
“Wow, and he dares call me nasty.” Jisung scoffs. “Show me what cute nipple jewelry you’ve got.”
Felix’s brows shoot up behind his bangs, and he suddenly looks a thousand times more awake. “Hyung’s allowed to change his already?”
Jisung’s answer is a smile and a nod as Felix walks around the display and toward another set closer to the entrance, pulling a few sets of drawers open.
“These are all the ones we have,” he gestures at the jewelry of varying designs and colors, singling out a few specific ones. “Those are my favorites, though, and I think they fit hyung quite perfectly.”
The jewelry in question is a set of bunny ears and one of vampire fangs, and Jisung can’t even argue with Felix’s opinion. They would fit Minho pretty perfectly, so he doesn’t hesitate to ask Felix to get sanitized sets for him.
“What about the chains you showed me last time?” Felix asks, popping the sets Jisung had chosen on the autoclave. “With the choker?”
Popping his card out of his wallet, Jisung smiles. “Yeah, I bought it. Was just waiting for Changbin to say it’s alright for us to play with it, y’know? ‘Cause I didn’t want him to be in pain.”
Felix pouts. “But pain is part of the fun.”
“When it’s pleasurable, sure,” he agrees. “But not pain for the sake of pain. If you haven’t had Minho hyung threaten to cut your dick off because you did something he didn’t like then I’m not taking second opinions on this.”
Felix scrunches his nose, sliding the packets of sanitized jewelry over the counter to him. “Yikes. Good luck with that beast.”
Jisung smiles sweetly at him.
“Tell Changbin I’ll be back some other time for the switch he promised me, okay?”
Jisung gets home to an eerily quiet apartment, which wouldn’t be unusual were it any other day of the week. But it is Minho’s day off from work, and though he’s not the loudest out of the two of them, he’s never this quiet if he’s home.
Which can only mean he went out and forgot to tell Jisung, or—
He takes his shoes and jacket off by the door and quietly makes his way to their bedroom. He’s not trying to be sneaky, but he also doesn’t want to be too loud in case he’s right. The door to the bedroom isn’t fully closed, but from where he’s standing he can’t really see inside it.
When he pushes it open, however, his suspicions are confirmed.
He finds Minho spread out on their bed, shirt ridden up to his chest and lower half completely bare, left hand wrapped in a loose fist around his cock. With his earbuds plugged in and his eyes slipped shut, he doesn’t hear or see Jisung coming in.
He’s so pretty Jisung thinks it’s unfair.
With his skin flushed the prettiest shade of pink, his hair a mussed mess, and pleasure written all over his face, Jisung wants to touch him so bad it kind of hurts. He doesn’t want to startle Minho and ruin his fun, but he also doesn’t want to just stand by the door of their bedroom watching him like a creep.
He tries knocking softly on the door, hoping that whatever Minho has playing on his phone isn’t loud enough to completely drown him out from the outside world. As expected, though, it doesn’t work. Minho continues stroking himself with languid jerks of his wrist, brows twitching whenever his palm rubs over his cockhead.
Jisung feels a shiver run down his spine.
His next move is the most logical thing he can think of in his current state of affairs—he fishes his own phone out of his pocket and hits speed dial at the speed of light.
He doesn’t even bother bringing the device up to his ear; he watches as Minho’s brows draw in confusion, as he reaches for his phone with the hand that isn’t on his cock, as he brings it up to his face to glare at the offending thing, and then—
Then Minho finally sees him there, and the color that spreads on his cheeks is just as pretty as he is.
“Fuck you,” Minho croaks out, yanking his earbuds off and throwing them aside along with his phone. The hand on his cock stills by the base and tightens around it just slightly. “Did you have to cut me off like that?”
Jisung raises a brow at him.
“You’d have kicked me if I had touched you without you being aware of my presence,” he states simply. It has happened one too many times; he knows better now. “What were you even listening to, anyway?”
“You,” Minho says flatly like his words will have no effect on Jisung. He would be very wrong to think that because Jisung’s guts sure twist with interest upon hearing it. “You weren’t here, so I had to make do.”
“Me?” Jisung challenges still, because what the hell could Minho have possibly been listening to when he doesn’t recall ever recording filth and sending it over to him? “We do a lot of stuff, hyung, but recording sex isn’t one of them.”
Minho grunts, slowly working his loose fist on his cock again.
“Well, it should be,” he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “It was just—random voice notes. You have no idea how hard it is to find a grocery list sexy.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says with a chuckle, no real heat behind his words. He shuffles a bit closer to the bed, still not quite wanting to burst Minho’s bubble. Minho regards him with what one would deem as an almost bored look, but Jisung knows it is arousal mudding his brain. “Can I watch you?”
Minho considers the question for a moment, rubbing a thumb over the slit of his cock, his eyes going half-lidded. There’s sweat starting to bead at his hairline, his skin flushing just a bit brighter.
“Sure,” he ultimately answers, scooting a little to the side. “No touching unless I tell you to, okay?”
Jisung quite likes this game.
He likes watching the way Minho sinks against the pillows, the way he completely disregards Jisung’s presence and just slips his eyes shut again. Jisung almost wants to ask Minho if he wants him to say something—he had been listening to Jisung’s voice when he walked in, after all—but he’s well aware that he can’t dirty talk for shit, and every time he’s attempted to do so ended up with them in fits of giggles.
Minho is clearly not in any hurry to get himself off even despite Jisung’s presence with him now. He doesn’t tighten the grip of his fist, doesn’t hurry up. He keeps stroking himself with those lazy, languid strokes that Jisung knows he likes best.
He slowly fills to full mast, his cock a deep red between his fingers, knuckles shiny with precum. Jisung is hopelessly hard in his pants, but he doesn’t dare touch himself—Minho’s command hadn’t been directed at him, but he still doesn’t want to test his luck.
Not at least until he gets to see Minho come.
Minho runs the hand that isn’t on his cock up his bared stomach and Jisung’s breath hitches. For the briefest of moments, he wonders —he wishes— if Minho will slip it under his shirt and play with the titanium pierced through his nipples. His chest has been forbidden territory ever since he got his nipples pierced, and Jisung can honestly feel himself withering away, unable to touch him where he knows he’s most sensitive.
But Minho doesn’t let his hand slip under the fabric. He runs it over instead, lets his finger brush just slightly over the pebbled buds only to hiss at the contact, the hand on his cock squeezing just slightly. Jisung wants to jump him.
He knows then what Minho is doing. Jisung digs his fingers into his thigh hard enough to leave fingerprint marks behind when Minho’s hand inches closer and closer to his mouth; it feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind when Minho’s pretty, arched lips fall open at the mere graze of a finger over the thin skin, the way he glistens with spit as his tongue rolls out and swirls around a digit, then another.
Minho can be cruel when he wants to and this might as well be Jisung’s punishment for interrupting him in what was supposed to be his own private time. He takes two fingers into his mouth and Jisung doesn’t know whether to look at the way his tongue sinfully works on them or the way he strokes himself.
A pathetic whimper escapes his lips and he almost clamps his mouth shut with a hand over it. He bites his lower lip instead, suppressing another noise when Minho’s eyes blink open ever so slowly to give him a look . It almost feels like Minho can’t see him though, eyes glossed over with pleasure, a blush high on his cheeks and bleeding to the very tips of his ears.
And Minho whimpers, too, shoves his fingers deeper into his mouth, pressing against the bed of his tongue, letting drool pool around the digits and dribble past the poorly sealed seam of his mouth. Jisung watches with unbridled thirst as the drool slides down his chin and his neck.
“Hyung.” The word escapes his lips like a whine, another pathetic whimper that he can’t hold back even if he wants to. It pulls a sigh from Minho, his eyes fluttering closed again, his cock drooling precum over his fingers. And then it hits him that this is exactly what Minho wants—what he might’ve wanted all along.
He might be shit at dirty talking, but if this is what Minho wants—
“You’re so pretty like this,” he offers, his voice unintentionally whiny. He couldn’t be sultry right now even if he tried, what with Minho looking so fucking gone before him. At the words, Minho sends his fingers deeper into his mouth, almost choking on it. “So pretty and needy that you couldn’t even wait for me to get home.”
Minho’s entire body reacts to his words this time, his hips jerking into the loose grasp he’s got on himself, his cock throbbing with the need for release.
“Are you gonna come just from this, hyung?” he asks, a little breathless, not meaning to sound condescending but doing so anyway. It’s not like Minho will mind in the heat of the moment. “Are you gonna cream yourself just from hearing me talk?”
His words seem to work like a spell. It only takes another couple of jerks of Minho’s fist for him to come, spurting thick white over his fingers and onto his pelvis, his entire body shaking with the force of his release. He’s not loud when he comes, his low whimpers muffled by the fingers still in his mouth, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he breathes, his skin feeling like it’s being prickled by needles. He wants to touch Minho so fucking bad.
Minho pulls his fingers out of his mouth and, on a shaky breath, whispers: “Kiss me.”
Jisung kisses him. Tenderly at first, almost like he’s afraid to touch Minho, that he will melt right through the gaps of his fingers. More fiercely when Minho growls into his mouth, grabs him by the neck, and pulls him in until he’s toppling over him.
Minho’s body runs hot with the heat of a thousand suns, but that’s to be expected when he’s just been strung out on pleasure. Jisung licks into his mouth with want, swallows every feral, needy noise that comes out of him, his hands cupping Minho’s jaw, holding him still.
“Where did you go off to?” Minho asks with a hum, bumping his nose against Jisung’s, pecking the corner of his lips.
“To see Changbin,” he answers, only pulling back when Minho begins to move around to pull his shirt off. Jisung licks his lips out of habit as he watches Minho wipe himself clean with his shirt without much care. That will need to be tossed in the washing machine as soon as possible. “I had some things to ask him, and also some stuff to get.”
Minho gives him a suspicious once-over. “What do you mean by that?”
“Hold still,” he says with a cocky grin, quickly getting off the bed to run back to where he’d left his jacket.
He yanks Minho’s dirty shirt off his hand in the process, stopping by the bathroom and tossing the article in the washer before going on his way. The two small packets Felix had prepared for him still sit in his jacket’s pocket.
When he comes back, he finds Minho with a thin blanket thrown over the lower half of his body. It is almost comical, honestly, but he knows he might just be trying not to feel cold in his nude state.
He shows the two sealed packets to Minho only to have him squint at them. He cocks his head curiously.
“I didn’t know they were dealing drugs in the studio now,” Minho says, sinking back against the pillows.
Jisung gasps, horrified.
“I—What! They’re not—” he huffs, wanting to throw the packets right at Minho’s face. “ We don’t fucking do drugs, why would I even—”
Minho giggles then, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’re so fun to tease, Jisungie.”
Jisung actually throws the packaged piercings at him. Minho makes a noise of curiosity in the back of his throat, picking them up to inspect them. Jisung watches him closely—as his eyes widen just slightly when he sees the contents inside, how his lips fall open, the pretty blush that bleeds on his cheeks. Again.
“He said enough time has passed and that you’re allowed to change the jewelry now, so I wanted to get you something new.” What he actually wants to say is that he misses his nipples, but he figures he could do without being so direct just yet. Instead, he opts for: “How have your nipples been feeling, hyung?”
It takes Minho a moment to answer, his thumb running over the plastic covering the jewelry, seemingly put into a trance. He opens and closes his mouth a few times as if trying to speak.
“It’s… they’re fine,” he ultimately says, voice small. His eyebrows twitch almost unnoticeable. “They’re not sore anymore. It doesn’t hurt.”
Jisung feels fire lick down his spine and settle in his groin. Cool. This is fine. He can be normal about this.
“They’re just…” Minho adds with a pause. “Very sensitive. More than it used to be.”
He locks eyes with Jisung then and Jisung feels see-through, like Minho can read every one of his thoughts. It is likely that he knows because he just knows Jisung like the back of his hand.
“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” Minho asks. Jisung feels his face burn with a mix of shame and desire.
He could lie his way through this. He could easily tell Minho that he’s just worried about his well-being, that he’s just checking because Changbin mentioned it, but he knows that Minho would know he’s lying. He’s already told him that he went to see Changbin because he had to ask him things; it would be too easy for him to connect the dots.
“I just miss it,” he says, going for honesty. “Playing with you.”
Minho smiles, gently patting the empty space next to him on the bed, and Jisung feels like he’s being rewarded for being a good boy.
He can feel his heart beating in his throat from sheer excitement.
“There’s something else,” he says, trying to keep his voice level and clear. Minho raises a brow in question—a prompt for him to keep going. Jisung can’t help the grin that settles on his lips. “I got you something else.”
He turns to their closet and goes through their least used drawer—a safe bet that Minho wouldn’t think to go through in a million years. From under the neat piles of clothes they haven’t used in months, Jisung procures a sturdy black box hidden for what has felt like eons.
It is only then that he makes his way over to Minho, a smile still frozen on his face but nervousness making him jittery. He knows Minho is going to like him because he just knows Minho that well, but he can’t predict what his reaction is going to be. He tries to keep his eyes at face level, tries not to let his eyes wander down to where he’s fully naked under the thin blanket.
It is a challenge, but Jisung is stronger than this.
Minho swipes the box out of his hands as the bed dips and digs into it before Jisung even has the chance to settle beside him. And Jisung hears it—the moment Minho’s breath catches, the soft gasp that then escapes his parted lips when his fingers touch silver and leather.
“What do you think?” Jisung asks, scooting close enough that he can hook his chin over Minho’s shoulder.
Minho huffs. “I think that you’re a sneaky bastard,” he says, passing the box back to Jisung. “Put it on me.”
Jisung has been mentally preparing himself for this very moment for months now, ever since his eyes landed on the leather collar while browsing the internet. The silver chains connecting the heart in its middle to a set of equally silver nipple piercings sealed the deal for him more than anything else, truthfully.
Still, his hands shake a little as he reaches into the box, as his fingers close around the leather band and Minho turns his back to him, waiting. It’s not out of nervousness, but rather out of unbridled excitement—he delicately fastens the buckle around Minho’s neck and waits for him to turn around, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.
Minho’s face is almost unreadable, but Jisung doesn’t miss the slight quirk on the corner of his mouth or the way his eyes study him like he’s prey.
“D’you want me to…” he trails off, licking his lips nervously and gesturing at his chest. The sight of the chains hanging down the middle of his torso is nearly enough to make Jisung come untouched.
Minho leans back on his hands, his lips curling into a smug grin.
“Go ahead,” is all he says with a curt nod.
Jisung has to take a deep, steadying breath before allowing himself to move. Throwing a leg over Minho’s lap, he settles between his boyfriend’s spread legs, mindful not to have the rough material of his jeans rubbing raw against his unclothed dick. He can feel the moment Minho holds his breath in anticipation as Jisung raises his hands, his gaze burning right through him.
“Don’t do that,” Jisung chides lightly, eyes flitting up to meet Minho’s as he holds the ball ends of a piercing. “Take a deep breath for me, baby.”
Minho does as he’s told because he’s always so good for Jisung, and Jisung takes the momentum to apply enough force to unscrew the tightly closed jewel. Minho’s body shudders with it, his eyes fluttering shut and a light gasp leaving his lips when Jisung manages to get it open.
Jisung might be biased, but Minho is honestly the prettiest man he’s ever seen.
He takes his time sliding the small jewel off if only so he can enjoy the way Minho squirms from it, the way his brows draw into a light furrow and his pretty lips press into a thin line. There is only so much torturing he can do, though, and he’s got his hands on the chained jewelry soon enough.
Minho’s eyes slide open at the rattling of the chain, watching as Jisung fumbles to get it open.
“Okay?” Jisung checks, a warning that he’s about to get his hands on his nipples again. Minho nods, eyes unwavering from his hands, and it’s Jisung’s turn to smile at him. “Deep breath.”
Minho does take another deep breath, and it comes out shaky on an exhale as Jisung does quick work of sliding it on. Jisung doesn’t give himself time to admire his work just yet, choosing to work on the other nipple quicker than he did the first before allowing his brain to fully register the image before him.
“Jisungie,” Minho breathes as he struggles to close the piercing, his voice almost a whine. “Come on.”
Jisung chances a glance at Minho’s face and finds him with his eyes closed again, his lips slick with saliva and a pretty shade of pink, almost as pink as his cheeks. And then he looks down, past the barrier of his hands and at Minho’s crotch, at his half-hard cock as it beads with precum. His heart almost leaps out of his chest.
“Christ, hyung,” Jisung murmurs, tightening the ball on the bar. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“Yeah?” Minho asks as if he doesn’t know the answer, that yeah, Jisung really means it. With half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile on his lips, he asks, “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous,” is the first thing that comes to Jisung’s mind, and he lets it roll off his tongue with too much ease. A habit. He takes in the sight before him then–of Minho with black leather around his neck and silver hanging from it, curving under his pecs and attaching to his nipples–and feels his cock throb in his pants. “You look like fucking sin.”
Minho snorts when he chuckles, reaching up to fist the front of his shirt and pulling him close.
“You’re adorable, honey,” Minho says, a little mean and condescending, lips brushing against his. “Do something about it.”
The speed with which Jisung climbs off the bed to step out of his pants and pull his shirt over his head is only slightly pathetic. He knows Minho won’t judge him for it—at least not right now. Not while his dick is filling out again and his nipples have hardened with Jisung’s touch.
He’s just stepping out of his boxers when Minho crawls over to the edge of the mattress, eyes glossy with want and chains dangling from his neck. There’s a flush on his cheeks when he kneels in wait and looks up at Jisung, his lips parted ever so slightly. Domesticated kitten, Jisung thinks fleetingly.
Jisung knows what it is that Minho wants, but still he cocks a brow at him in question. Minho doesn’t answer, at least not with words—he reaches out a hand, beckoning him over, and Jisung’s feet carry him without thought behind it.
Minho’s hand is warm when it lands on his hip, smooth as it runs down his side and slides down to the back of his thigh, right under the curve of his ass. He’s still looking up at Jisung, his long lashes fluttering as he slowly blinks up at him, the corners of his arched lips curling up into the tiniest smile. Gentle.
Jisung runs his fingers through Minho’s hair, lightly scraping his nails over his scalp just to get Minho to lean into the touch. The hum that Minho lets out is almost a purr, soft and low and rumbling. And then he’s wrapping his warm fingers around the base of Jisung’s cock, licking his lips before bending down and taking him into the heat of his mouth.
Jisung’s body trembles on an inhale as Minho takes all of him into his mouth at once. He curses on the exhale, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Minho’s throat and making him gag. But Minho doesn’t pull back—only breathes harder through his nose and relaxes his throat, his eyes slipping shut.
He can’t take his eyes off Minho. He can’t stop looking at where their bodies connect, the way his lips stretch around his cock, that saliva pushes past the tight ring of his mouth. Jisung throbs with arousal, pulls a muffled moan out of Minho that drives him just slightly insane, his body bending in half as he tries not to thrust into Minho’s mouth, if only so he doesn’t choke.
The work of Minho’s mouth on him is sloppy, lazy bobs of his head with far more saliva than necessary, just the way he knows Jisung likes best. When he pulls back to breathe, his breath coming out in harsh puffs from his parted lips, he’s got his eyes on him, tongue poking out to flick at his slit and swirl around his cockhead, teasing.
Minho fists him once, twice, and crawls back on the mattress, away from him, Jisung’s hand slipping off his hair. Jisung is winded, but even more so at the sight of Minho—with tousled hair, the collar, the chains, and the piercings, the saliva that coats the lower half of his face and dribbles down his chin, his neck. He’s got a Cheshire smile on his lips as he settles against the pillows, as he shoves a hand under them and fetches their almost-gone bottle of lube.
“Come on,” Minho purrs, tapping the space next to him. “Lie down for me, baby.”
Jisung thrums with anticipation. He was looking forward to getting his dick wet and inside Minho, truthfully, but if Minho wants it the other way around then he’s not going to protest. He lies down just as he’s told, his heart thudding hard and loud in his ribcage, his ears ringing when Minho throws a leg over him and straddles his thighs.
“I’ll let you fuck me, honey,” he says, his smile unfaltering as he uncaps the lube. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Minho squirts a more than generous amount of lube on his outstretched palm and then some more over Jisung’s cock. Jisung can feel his entire body burning, his cock throbbing and leaking precum where it rests against his hip.
“You don’t want me to stretch you?” he asks, a little winded.
Minho’s smile turns sweet.
“Mm,” he hums, shaking his head. “Did it while you were away.”
Jisung feels electricity jolt down his spine and settle on his dick. Minho wraps his slick hand around his cock, pumping him enough times to evenly spread the lube over his length, getting him so hard it kind of hurts.
“Were you that horny?” Jisung says with a chuckle, itching to hold onto him. “I wasn’t even gone for that long.”
“You were gone long enough,” Minho says with finality.
And then Minho is straddling his hips, his left hand holding his cock still by the base, and Jisung feels like he can’t breathe. His hands fall on Minho’s waist like they were made to be there, on the soft curves of Minho’s body, holding onto him. Minho smiles down at him, and it’s sweet, and then he’s sinking down on him.
Minho fits around him like a glove, and it never fails to make his head spin. Jisung feels like he’s being punched out of breath, Minho’s heat overwhelming his senses, making his fingers dig into his flesh, bruising.
Minho doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, until he has to flatten his hands on Jisung’s chest and his head tips forward, his breath coming out in puffs from his parted lips. And Jisung thinks he’s beautiful, always so beautiful with his rosy cheeks and shiny lips and heaving chest, only for him to see.
Jisung’s hands travel up Minho’s torso, his touch almost featherlike as he goes up his sides, under his pecs, and his thumbs barely brush over his nipples. Minho’s body reacts so beautifully to it—his walls clench around his cock and his arms buckle as he bends in the middle, his tongue running over his lips as his eyes slip shut.
Jisung does it again, his touch harsher this time, and the moan that rolls off Minho’s tongue is beautiful. He’s missed this—missed toying with Minho where he’s most sensitive, missed the little noises that escape his arched lips every time he rolls the pebbled buds between his fingers.
Minho fucks himself on Jisung’s cock with evident effort, his thighs shaking with every rise and fall of his hips, his nails digging into Jisung’s chest with every roll of Jisung’s thumbs over his nipples. The chains attached to the jewels clank softly with every brush of Jisung’s thumbs, the noise only spurring him further.
Though he’d never admit it out loud, Jisung knows he’s embarrassingly close.
He wraps his arms around Minho’s torso, presses his palms against his back, and pulls him until Minho is lying on top of him, their chests rising and falling in sync. Minho’s skin is sticky with sweat, his breath warm where it fans into the crook of his neck, lips slick as he presses them to Jisung’s neck.
The movement is awkward and Jisung almost slips out when he rolls them over, but the smile he gets to see plastered on Minho’s lips is definitely worth it. Minho’s hair is a halo on the pillow, his skin the prettiest shade of pink, his cute teeth showing between his slightly parted lips.
He presses a kiss to the corner of Minho’s mouth, on his cheek, under his jaw and down the column of his neck, until he’s stopped by the leather collar. Jisung can feel the vibrations of Minho’s throat under his lips when he hums, pleased, his thighs tightening around Jisung, pushing him deeper.
Jisung takes the hint, the good partner that he is.
He works his hips in slow moves, drilling his cock deeper into Minho but never picking up the pace. Instead, he trails his kisses lower, runs his tongue over a collarbone, and Minho keens. He keens when Jisung kisses his pec right above his heart, as his hand brushes the thin chain aside, as his thumb rolls the pierced nipple.
Jisung would torture him any day, what with how sensitive he knows Minho to be, but right now he doesn’t. And maybe it’s because he’s selfish, because he’s so close to bursting at the seams himself, because Minho’s heat around him is getting to be too much.
He swirls his tongue around Minho’s pebbled nipple once, twice, and it rips the most beautiful moan out of the man beneath him, Minho’s hands finding their way into his hair again. So, Jisung does it again, rolling the one he doesn’t have his lips attached to between his thumb and forefinger, and however weird it is, to play with him and the jewelry now, Jisung quickly finds that it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter when Minho sings so beautifully with every roll of his tongue, every rock of his hips, every graze of his teeth on sensitive skin. Minho moans, twists his hair between his fingers, tugs so hard Jisung’s scalp burns, and it’s delicious.
Jisung can feel his orgasm building, the pressure on his bladder growing with every clench of Minho’s walls around him, every noise that escapes his pretty lips going straight to his dick, getting him impossibly hard. Jisung buzzes with pleasure.
“Jisung,” Minho whines, breathless. “Jisungie, I wanna—”
Jisung lets go of Minho’s nipples, straightening his back and framing his waist with his hands instead. He can see the way Minho’s body trembles with the space put between them, his eyes closed shut as he wraps a hand around his leaking cock, stroking himself in tandem with the snapping of Jisung’s hips.
Jisung can’t understand how he ever got so lucky to get to be with a man like Minho.
His orgasm hits him unannounced despite the telling signs, the tightening of his muscles making him curl into Minho as he comes inside him, his vision going dark. Jisung comes with a broken moan and Minho’s name on the tip of his tongue, his fingers tightening around his waist hard enough to bruise.
It’s only when Jisung has stopped coming, his chest heaving with the force of his orgasm, that Minho reaches his high again, spilling sticky white over his knuckles and across his belly. He’s beautiful when he comes, his arched lips parted in a silent moan, his brows knitted together with the intensity of it.
And Jisung can’t help but kiss him, seal their lips together and lick into his mouth, taste him on his tongue.
“So perfect,” he mumbles into Minho’s mouth, giggling when Minho sighs, exasperated. “You’re so perfect for me, Minho. It’s unfair how much I like you.”
“ Like me?” Minho stresses the word and Jisung knows he’s just being insufferable. “I let you cum inside me knowing damn well I’m going to hate the cleanup and all I get is like? What am I, a Facebook post?”
Jisung bites hard on Minho’s shoulder, pulling a loud yelp from the man and earning himself a punch on the arm. “Stop ruining my post-coital bliss by being so annoying. Jesus . You know I love you an embarrassing amount, do I have to say it every time?”
Minho runs a gentle hand over the spot he punched, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.
“Yes,” he says, pecking Jisung on the lips. “I like hearing you say it.”
Jisung smiles, feeling all sorts of warm and fuzzy on the inside.
“Should I record an hour of me saying it so you can jerk off to it next time, then?”
Minho pauses. “Maybe.”
