Work Text:
The original situation was deeply unserious in comparison to the two years following.
It was mid September and they'd just relit Jisung's candles at midnight for Felix. He blows them out, dosing the flame in soju scented breath and an excited, drunken howl. Someone shouts "Twenty three!" and Chan hiccups so hard that Changbin checks to make sure he's not throwing up. Felix shouts for everyone's attention, every word slurred and more drunk than any person should ever be before three in the morning. He pulls out some package, wrapped in newspaper with a bow on top and hands it to Jisung.
There's a few words mumbled in the quiet — something to the effect of "You're a man, Han-ah. This symbolises your welcoming into true adulthood." Hyunjin chirps something along the lines of "Not the height of a man, though." Chan prompts the crowd following Felix's sort-of toast with a "Here here!" that is followed by the rest of the group like sheep. Jisung rips open the paper, his eager thanks melting away and a crackling laughter breaking from his throat as he looks down at the gift. He holds it up through whines of recovery from his drunk giggles.
A clone-a-willy.
Minho is flushed from the alcohol in his system, and he's honestly glad because he's sure he would have turned siren red at the sight of it. Everyone is laughing, between fits of hysterics and exclamations of bemused confusion in Felix's direction.
Minho is giggling. Not because of the gift, exactly.
Minho has a crush on Jisung.
To Chan's wording, at least. Minho would almost call it love at this point, but he really doesn't know. Six years and counting of trying to tame the butterflies in his tummy, of trying not to stare when Jisung lingered closer than normal. Six years of overthinking every breath and word.
So — like any sane, drunk man — Minho gets more than a little red and a little giggly at the sight of the toy-maker in Jisung's hand. The world seems to move a little too fast in that moment, and before he knows it, Jisung is pushing his dick into the moulding kit. There's the flash of someone's camera, Jisung grinning and laughing at the camera flash and yelling something about Felix being a little too excited to get dick pics from him. The group breaks into laughs in return — all a mix of drunken words and pathetic laughter. The distraction allows Minho for time to admire what he's looking at. He's seen Jisung's cock a lot in his life — they're eight boys — but this feels different. There's something inherently more sexual about watching his crush make a sex toy modelled after his own huge, ridiculously perfect penis.
The party moves on in its own time. Seven out of eight of them end up throwing up either in the bathrooms, the kitchen or in the yard somewhere.
Not Minho.
Minho — incredibly drunk still — takes the moulding kit. He heard Hyunjin cackle something to the beat of "Watch a sasaeng steal it," or something, and got the intelligent idea to fake a robbery. He doesn't take anything else — hides the moulding kit beneath his bed as the party goes on, giggles about it off and on for the remainder of the night.
But it's a night of blackouts. No one remembers the moulding kit the next day, moving into a morning of hangover cures and zero questions asked. Jisung mentions a strange sticky stuff he found on his dick the next morning, but it's turned into some sort of joke of "Name the weirdest creature that Jisung could have fucked." No confusion, no stress.
Except Minho, who finds it under his bed and falls into a panic.
He knows he can't just give it back. Jisung will call him a creep, surely, or worse. Everyone will think he genuinely wanted to use it (which, of course, he wouldn't even think of) and stole it for his own gain. But if no one remembers, then it's no harm no foul. The toy goes unused for years, Minho finds it and brings it out in a few years and acts just as confused. It's a mystery lost to the ages that he confesses to on his deathbed after he and Jisung have gotten married and had three kids. Preferably it would be a moment he has alone with Jisung so they can laugh about it without him having to air out his dirty laundry to his children.
So he keeps it. Pulls it nervously out of the mould and throws it in his toys drawer before he can get too obsessed with the look of it. Or the feel of it, God forbid.
They established a rule early on in their relationship as a group. It was about a year or two in, when Chan had walked in on at least three people in the same month trying to get some alone time, and then someone walked in on him a month later. If you get walked in on, you owe the other person for not locking your door.
They refer to it as the "apolotreat" system. Apology-treat. Your treat as an apology for them seeing you stroking it.
Minho has been treated to many apolotreat lunches, mainly because he likes not knocking. He likes wandering in and curling up on other people's beds, falling asleep wordlessly or playing on his phone while they do whatever they want. But more often than not, he's barged into Felix jerking off in his gaming chair, or Chan getting a well needed break from work. And, to his perverse delight, Jisung — sprawled out on his bed or slouched in his gamer chair, his other hand combing his hair from his face as he moans smoke into his empty room. And Minho is always pleased at the prospect of being treated, especially by Jisung. Hearing him groan in defeat before smiling and saying, "It's a date, baby." Hand still loosely curled around his throbbing cock, head thrown back in shame as Minho tries not to stare too long. Spins on his heel and makes a hurried escape to his own room to deal with the boner in his own jeans.
And Minho would dress up when Jisung took him out. Dress up by his standards — he actually does his hair before putting his beanie on, and he's got a touch of dark eyeshadow near the corners of his eyes just to make his eyes look that much bigger. Jisung comments on it. "It's cute," or something to the same effect. Minho loves catching him in the act cause it gets him dates.
Minho's never on the hook because he's yet to be caught. He's certain to lock every door and barricade every lock-less one. He's as quick as possible unless he's certain he has time to himself. These acts never involve another person in his case — he hates hookup culture and can't try dating because of his current status in the industry.
This leads to pent up nights after endless tours and tiring rehearsals. This leads to the forgetting to charge your toys and finding out less than five minutes after you press it to your dick. This leads to desperation, desperate times calling for desperate measures…
The model of your best friend, band mate and crush's cock. Grinning up at you from the base of your toy box.
Minho swore it was just one moment of weakness, fingers drawing over the ever prominent vein that runs up the side of Jisung's cock and bulges in the toy like an extra ridge. Minho almost drooled over the thought.
Just one time. The lube coating the toy before Minho sank down on it with a dreadful sigh of relief. He could feel Jisung's fingertips ghosting by his waist, his voice bubbling in his gut as his pace increases. Tightening the soft tissue of his belly as he releases over the towel beneath him with a sob of guilty pleasure.
He cleans it over his guilty muttering. Swears it's a fallback toy. A "the world is ending" solution, an "All my toys are dead and no one's here to fuck me" toy.
Minho uses it a few times in a year. The times slowly become more frequent the next, going from once a month to once every two weeks. Then it's weekly. And before he knows it, it's been barely six months, and it's his favourite toy.
The guilt doesn't hit him when he knows Jisung isn't in the house whenever he rides the toy like his lifeline — moaning Jisung's name with his face pressed unceremoniously in a pillow. Jisung isn't sleeping in the next room over when he closes his eyes and pretends he's beneath the younger boy and he's praising him like he's worth something. He's in the house next door. That makes it easier.
And then the decision is finalised. Minho is moving in with Jisung. Alone.
It's not something he would've agreed to if he felt the toy thing was more important than time with Jisung. Living with Jisung, no less.
Movie nights and dancing on the couches during karaoke, feeding each other across the dining table. Buying things together for their place. Watching Jisung assemble IKEA furniture and throw off his shirt cause they plan to move in the summer. Jisung bragging about those stupid sweet cocktail recipes he looked up for them to try together, and giving the sweeter ones to Minho cause he knows how much he loves them. Jisung walking around in his boxers. Jisung.
And their third roommate, known predominantly as The Elephant In The Room That Jisung Hasn't Spotted Yet, So Is It An Elephant?
Or, the toy. Jisung's build-a-boner results he's never seen like a bastard child from a long ago hookup.
It feels worse when Minho doesn't stop. He doesn't stop using it in the dark of his room when he can hear Jisung yelling at his computer, fingers rattling over his keyboard as Minho bites on his pillowcase to not yell the younger boy's name like a war cry. He takes times Jisung's out with his friends as an opportunity to fuck himself on the toy until he passes out, praying Jisung goes straight to his own room to pass out when he gets home. Prays he doesn't come and try to get Minho's attention.
Today was one of those days. Minho awakens comfortably to a text from Jisung.
"Headed to the studio, shouldn't be back til dinner. Want me to grab takeout?"
Minho digs his heels into the bed. Jisung's so considerate.
He flicks back a text as if Jisung doesn't do this for everyone every few days, some variation of "yes please Hannie :)" to hopefully have Jisung glowing when he eventually gets home. The idea of it makes Minho roll around in bed pressing his thighs together — Jisung pressing his chin on Minho's shoulder, his hands on his waist, "Hey baby," like they were dating. Or married. Or engaged and Minho was planning their wedding and super busy so Jisung grabbed takeout so he wouldn't have to cook. What a considerate fiance.
These sorts of daydreams are most of Minho's day when he's living with Jisung. It's hard not to have such sweet little daydreams, little what ifs and hopes for a more intertwined future than they already have.
Minho rolls onto his side, thighs pressed tightly together over his gradually puffing erection. He stares across at the wall as Jisung's voice invades the corners of his awareness, thinking of the view he'll get when he gets home with dinner — arms strained around the boxes of takeout, lips parted as he takes a few harsh breaths through his teeth. The "Hey, baby!" a little strained, a little relieved. Muscles tensed, hair a mess, kicking shut the door as he grunts and puts the boxes on the table. And he would've gotten Minho exactly what he wanted because he's perfect and sweet and considerate—
Minho rolls to the edge of his bed and pulls out his toy box, wrapping a certain hand around the model of Jisung's cock.
He pulls it up to his bed, tracing a needy finger down the curve of the telltale vein on the side. Minho nibbles on his bottom lip. It's the same colour as Jisung's cock as well, which he remembers Jisung commenting on. Something like he's surprised they got the shade so close to exact, holding his cock up to the colour swatch. Felix shrugging and saying he considered getting a pink sparkly one but he only saw the colour option after he ordered the one in Jisung's colour.
He sits back into his pillows, reaching into the nearby drawer for lube. He considers the state of his sheets — probably due for a wash. Which is good, cause he can't be bothered grabbing a towel.
He shuffles off his sleep shorts, watching as his cock bobbles onto his shirt with an interested twitch. He whimpers softly at the size difference, holding the dildo up beside his cock.
Minho's tip curls toward the body of the toy, drawing slightly over Minho's favourite vein. Jisung holds a good two or three inches on him, making his dick twitch in interest.
Minho moans. He needs it inside him right now.
Minho pops open the lube bottle, the bottle groaning with a burp as he squirts a heady amount onto the toy in his hand. He presses it to his hole, steeling himself for the stretch. Minho knows his body — he knows he should stretch himself out, he's ridiculously tight and he knows it. But he's too needy, too eager.
He presses the slick head of the toy to his winking hole, pushing in as he throws his head back with a soft moan. The sound of Jisung moaning in tandem with him comes like a fluffy daydream, the sensation of his hands tracing Minho's figure, the feeling of his breath on Minho's ear.
"You're so tight," The delicious fantasy of Jisung rasps against the shell of his ear, "So good for me, baby…"
"Hannie…" Minho pants into the empty space above him. He can hear the degrading lilt to Jisung's voice — You can take more.
He presses in further, moaning with a flutter of his lashes as he feels the vein — his favourite vein — dragging over that delicious spot inside him that makes his eyes roll back. He can hear the cocky graze of Jisung's laugh against his skin, feel the indents of his fingers like a ghost pressing into his skin. "There you are…"
"You're so big…" Minho's too beyond shame to think about what he mutters into the silence. He can feel Jisung's voice laughing in the high of pleasure, encouraging him as he pushes more into himself. The words blend into breathless moans that materialise in Minho's imagination, pushing him further.
"You can take it." The Jisung he imagines is a little meaner, he recognises that. A little masochistic, each word a little more degrading than Minho knows Jisung could realistically say to him. But he's too horny to care for the logistics — the constructive criticism of his sensible, guilty self hiding behind the arousal.
"I can take it…" Minho echoes. He knows he can take it — he's been taking it for the past year. But it never gets smaller, or less erotic. He bottoms out with the toy in his hand, moaning as he pushes himself forward onto his knees. It's moments like this he wish he invested in putting a suction cup on this thing, or getting a fucking machine at least.
Minho starts fucking himself with the toy from behind, straining slightly to reach the right angle. He moans softly, imagining Jisung adjusting the pace and trying to steady his knees behind him on the bed. His hands finding Minho's hips as he deepens each thrust. Minho's wrist gets a hold of the movement, finding the angle that drags over his prostate and feeling his cock twitch against his tummy.
"So fuckin' pretty…" His idea of Jisung's voice comes in a harsh growl despite the sweetness of his words. Minho moans louder at the thought of Jisung speaking the words to him. Jisung finding him so pretty.
His eyes roll back, lashes fluttering over his cheeks as his words come hushed through his pouted lips. "Hah..Hannie…"
"Lino…" He feels the growl vibrate through his body. "Linoring…"
Minho moans into the mattress, burying his face into his bed as the dildo rubs over his special spot with every thrust. He can imagine Jisung knelt behind him — spanking, groping his ass as he fucks him deeper. Slap, slap, slap. The wet sound of their hips joining makes him whine. Minho's voice is muffled, "Han-ah…"
Slap, slap, slap…
"Linoring, I'm here…"
Knock, knock, knock. Minho's pleasure-addled brain can't make sense of the sound change.
"—I'm home!"
The door pushes open.
Minho meets Jisung's eyes. They're wide and dark, surprise finding his features as he stares down at Minho's compromising position — the toy buried deep in Minho's hole as he stares up at Jisung with guilt and arousal.
Minho feels the tears welling, the panic burning in the chamber of his ribs and drilling a hole through his heart and lungs. His words and breath are taken away.
Jisung laughs.
Why would he laugh?
"Oh! Sorry!" It's a victorious sort of sound when he chuckles the words — not disgusted or put off, annoyed or fearful. He pulls the door shut, shouting through the closing gap. "You owe me!"
You owe me. That's it?
Minho slumps back on the dildo, thoughtless and confused. His world is falling apart around him and he feels like it's just been brushed off like nothing. Is he overreacting? Did Jisung already know? Is he so straight that he doesn't care?
Minho had two thoughts to how this would go: Either Jisung would call him disgusting, shame him to the group and demand consequences, leading to Minho switching roommates and never healing his relationship with Jisung…
…Or it would turn him on, and he would walk in and pull off his shirt and actually fuck him. Like a porn shoot with some cheesy awkward dialogue like "Jisung! What are you doing?" right before the man in question rocks his world. So eager no director could stop them.
Minho crawls off the toy as his cock deflates like a miserable balloon, collapsing forward on the bed. He lays there in dazed confusion and panic, making his way to his knees as he tries to press down the fear in his gut. He grabs the toy in a swift flick of his wrist.
Minho gets to his feet, making his way to the en-suite with the toy wrapped in his trembling fist as he slams the door a little harder than necessary.
He throws the toy in the bottom of the shower, roughly turning the shower on full bore and not caring for when he walks beneath a stream of ice cold water. He drags his fingers through his hair as the water slowly turns warm, kicking the toy out of frustration. You owe me? You owe me what? Clarity? Transparency? Taking responsibility?
Minho presses his forehead against the wall of the shower, grunting against the scream in his belly. He leans down to grab the dildo in his fist, roughly cleaning the toy with the soap suds from the body wash he dispenses on the length. He'll use his proper spray when he's stewing in his guilt and regret later.
"You owe me." What the fuck, Han Jisung?
☕︎
Minho finally emerges from his room after three days of recovery from the initial mortification, and an additional five days of managing to ignore Jisung in every single situation he was forced into alongside him. Jisung doesn't seem overly bothered — a little concerned if Minho thinks about it, but he tries not to, as it negates the point of ignoring him. He's overheard the whispers of the other members asking if they had a fight, and Jisung brushing them off.
I think he's just a little embarrassed, is what he thinks he hears Jisung say to Felix. He doesn't elaborate when Felix asks why.
Minho fights the smile tickling his lips. Jisung's so considerate.
It's been over a week when Minho leaves his room and finds Jisung in the kitchen — bare chest drawn in sunset tones and evening gleam. His hair hangs in his eyes like dusty willow branches, brown with the autumn as they sway smoothly with the dry wind. His eyes flicker up to Minho, and he feels his chest melt a little when Jisung approaches the counter where Minho is stood, paralysed with idiocy. Jisung's voice is small with nervous energy, "Hey, you…"
Minho can't find his words — gives Jisung a half hearted hum. He owes him more than that, but its the only sound he manages.
Jisung takes a harsh breath, inhaling sharply. "You've been… avoiding me a lot since I walked in on you last week." He nibbles his bottom lip, "It's okay, y'know, it's— You're human, Minho. It was bound to happen."
"It was disrespectful of me." Minho mumbles, head hung low.
"Disrespectful?" Jisung whispers bemusedly. His lips tilt, ruffling his own hair as he screws up his face. "You just forgot to lock your bedroom door in our shared apartment."
"You know it's more than that, Hannie…" Minho almost whimpers, shuffling awkward from foot to foot.
"Linoring—" Jisung takes a gruff sigh, walking closer to where Minho shrivels into his insecurity. "Can I be insanely blunt about this?"
Minho stares at where Jisung grips him by the shoulders, nodding shortly.
Jisung grins, shrugging with a breathless sort of chuckle that makes Minho's tummy flip. "I do not care… if you take it from behind."
Minho's face falls.
"I don't care that you like— well, takin' dick, I assume." Jisung tips his head to either side, weighing his thoughts, "Or takin' a girl with a strap, y'know, I don't judge. Look, my point is… I'm the last person to judge you, okay?"
Minho stares as Jisung fumbles over his words. "And I know it's— It's probably not the way you wanted to tell me, and it's probably really embarrassing, but what it will never be? Disrespectful, or— or bad or any of that stuff. You're safe here. You're still my hyung— And more importantly, you're still my Linoring. Okay?"
Minho nods slowly. Jisung didn't see the toy. Jisung didn't see the toy cause it was buried a ridiculous amount of inches inside Minho's asshole.
Minho gulps with a small smile on his lips. "I like… boys."
"Yeah?" Jisung's smile widens. "And you should be goddamn proud of yourself for telling me that, hyung!"
Minho pouts defiantly. "Hyung…"
"Baby." Jisung corrects, curling an arm around his waist. "My baby."
Minho feels his stomach churn as he leans into Jisung's embrace, giving a satisfied hum with a catlike smile.
"There you are." Jisung all but whispers, making Minho's cock twitch in his boxers. "I will say though, baby…"
"Hmm?" Minho leans impossibly close, buttered up and desperate for Jisung's attention. The past eight days of ignoring him have been hell for Minho, after all.
"You do still owe me an apolotreat." Jisung hisses with a shrug.
Minho gasps, turning to Jisung almost affronted. "You'd hold that to me when my sexuality was on the line?"
"Ah, equality, baby!" Jisung slips away from Minho, twirling toward the fridge. "It's the beauty of the modern world! We're past the hate and the walking on broken glass! Now…" Jisung returns from the fridge with a soda can in his fist, "Gay people can still owe me money."
Minho huffs, folding his arms. "So evil…"
"Especially for the past eight days of negligence…" Jisung pouts, leaning toward Minho in a way that narrowly borders on aegyo. "Eight days of the cold shoulder… I was almost hypothermic, baby! Ya gotta have some sympathy!"
Minho whines a little over a groan. "'m sorry…"
"I forgive you…" Jisung chuckles, taking Minho's waist in both hands like an insane person, Minho notes. Presses his nose to his cheek like someone who wants to marry Minho, Minho notes again. "I forgive you, baby. You were just scared. A bit silly, I think, but I get it."
He gets it. Of course he does. He's Hannie — Minho's stupidly pretty, smartest dumb guy on the planet roommate with enough growth and empathy to comfort and hold a village. He sparkles like a precious gem when the light hits him right and if Minho stares hard enough. Perfect, pretty, smart Hannie.
☕︎
Minho swipes his card with a murmured thanks to the aloof cashier at Jisung's favourite cafe, his breathing eased by Jisung's lack of attention to the toy. He listens to Jisung babble about an anime he's trying to convince Minho to watch (not that it takes much convincing for Minho to do anything for Jisung — he decided he was going to watch it with Jisung about an hour ago, but fuck if he'd stop Jisung from talking.)
"She reminds me a lot of you, y'know." Jisung says as he slides into the booth, pulling his mask beneath his chin. "I mean, they compare her to a cat a lot, and she's kinda— Well she's a little weird, but like in the same way as you? I mean, I think she's a little more reckless than you but I think it—"
"It depends on the circumstances." Minho hums, nodding as his eyes trace the pouted shadow of Jisung's lower lip. "Like would I do the same thing in her circumstances?"
"Well, a lot of her struggles are woman centric." Jisung explains as Minho traces his finger over a napkin patiently. "So it's kind of difficult to say? I mean, it's set kind of in uh— I mean, it's set in a fictional place? But it's based off the Ming and Tang dynasties, which was kind of not the time to be alive for women."
Minho hums affirmatively. "And she's an apothecary, I assume based on…"
"The title, yeah." Jisung leans forward. "But I mean, she's kinda blunt, she's very like… She kind of appears emotionally devoid but the people who would know her best would know the kind of soft, cat like side of her?"
Minho melts a little at the fondness that overtakes Jisung's tone as he compares him to the character. Jisung continues, wide eyes sparkling. "I mean, she's— There's like a friend of hers that calls her "Xiaomao". Y'know, like little Mao."
"Maomao is quite a cat-like name." Minho notes.
"It is!" Jisung agrees enthusiastically, "But I won't… spoil too much, y'know. I wanna watch it with you!"
"Haven't you already seen it?" Minho curls a brow, evening his expression when a waitress approaches with their drinks. Minho gives a soft thank you as Jisung speaks in a low buzz that curls into Minho's gut.
"I watched part of it." Jisung corrects, adjusting the table layout so their eventual food will fit amongst their drinks and cutlery. "But I realised I wanted to watch it with you, so I stopped."
Minho's lips curve into a smile. "Hm."
"So… will you watch with me?" Jisung asks sheepishly, eyes widening with this pleading sort of look.
Minho hums again, trying to feign nonchalance. "I'll think on it."
Jisung grins with a sparkle to his eye. He knows that's a yes. "Sure thing, baby."
Jisung winks. Minho tries to wink back, both eyes fluttering with a pathetic sort of giggle that makes Jisung laugh — loud and bright and beautiful. "Ah, hyungie… You're so naturally cute, y'know? God, how are you still single?"
Minho tries not to grumble, tries not to retort Well, someone is blind as all hell. He hums, "It's hard when you're an idol and in the closet, Hannie."
It's a cautious murmur, and Jisung nods large. "True. That would kind of stunt your opportunities." He takes a tentative sip of his drink, "Do you… y'know… like hookups and stuff?"
Minho shakes his head with a scrunch of his nose. "It's a messy system. And then I have to make it the whole company's business and get the NDAs and…" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's such a hassle. And I prefer… a more private relationship."
"That makes sense." Jisung nods, beaming up at the waitress as she brings over their food with a polite murmur of presentation. Jisung's voice comes in a low rumble when he says a low thank you, making Minho nibble on his bottom lip. Jisung looks to Minho when the waitress walks away, nodding in understanding. "I mean, hookup culture I've heard is pretty difficult in the gay community too, right? Like it's kind of a smaller dating pool…"
Minho shrugs, "From what I've heard. I've never tried it out."
Jisung nods slowly, "Ever tried…" Jisung shrugs, nervously trying not to offend. "…Girls? Like, I mean, before you knew you were—"
Minho shakes his head, tonguing his cheek. "I didn't always know I was gay but I've always known I wasn't… into women."
"That makes sense!" Jisung says with a coo, reaching across the table. He can tell Minho is curling back into his shell. He takes his hand, thumbing over his skin as a way to slowly draw him back out. Minho flushes red at the touch but seems to open back up, shoulders relaxing. "Hey, that's— That makes so much sense. Don't worry, I get it."
Of course you do, Minho wants to say, but hums against it. You're Hannie.
"So have you… ever been with a guy?" Jisung asks. His voice is soft, like he's nervous he's toeing over a line he shouldn't. "I mean, it's not— You don't have to tell me—"
"I haven't." Minho says softly.
Jisung's eyes widen, leaning in slightly. "Hyung… You're a virgin?"
Minho whacks his arm across the table with the back of his own wrist, watching as Jisung retracts on himself with a yelp. Minho kisses his teeth, "Such ludicrous questions in such a public setting, Han Jisung." He hisses as his blood permeates into the tips of his ears. He looks around defiantly, scanning his surroundings as Jisung shrivels into apologetic laughter. Minho traces his tongue along his teeth, "I should cook you."
"So eager to eat me, baby." Jisung chuckles softly, the bass returning to his voice. Minho shoots him a look. In Minho's head, it's far too obvious — a desperate, pleading stare for Jisung to fuck him right there in the cafe. To Jisung, he's pretty sure Minho's about to kill him. He giggles nervously, taking Minho's hand in his own, "Ah, I'm so sorry, Linoring. I'm sorry, hyungie, please forgive me…"
"You're on thin ice." Minho snaps in a hushed voice. "Those questions are for inside the house."
"Yes, ma'am." Jisung ticks his neck to the side, hissing between his teeth. "I'll keep it in mind."
☕︎
Minho walks into the apartment, Jisung hot on his tail with a bag full of groceries. The front door clicks shut behind him.
"So are you a virgin?"
Minho's shoulders drop with a sigh. "You are five years old."
"You love me!" Jisung jeers, swinging the bag of groceries onto the counter. Minho twitches at the comment. Jisung's voice follows him down the hall when Minho goes to drop the toilet paper in the hallway closet. "Oh, come on, hyungie! You can tell me!"
"What do you gain?" Minho asks with a scoff, walking back to where Jisung packs the groceries into the fridge.
"More knowledge about my beloved Linoring, for one." Jisung croons, leaning out of the fridge to wink at Minho. "You know I love to learn about you, baby—"
"I'm a virgin."
It's like the twitch he feels in his cock makes the comment, not Minho's conscious self. He stands there, flushing at Jisung's floaty flirtation, his cock twitching to life as he drags his sweater down over his crotch. "I… wasn't really focused on that in high school. And then the survival show happened, and I don't like hookups."
Jisung is listening intently, leaning back against the fridge door as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I mean… hookups isn't the only option." He opens a hand in offering, "I mean half our group kind of… Channie's bi, I'm sure you could've breached the topic with him."
Minho scoffs. "And if it doesn't work, we're stuck in the same group with a tense sexual history. No offence to Channie, but I'd rather not."
"Okay, first off," Jisung puts two hands out before him, bracketing the air like an idea, "you two are far too mature to let that shit linger like high school drama." He scoffs slightly, shaking his head. Minho tries to argue but Jisung holds up a hand. "Wait a minute, baby."
Minho tugs his sweater down further, watching as Jisung relaxes back into the fridge door. "And second off, I've had a similar situation with Chan myself and ended it and there was no drama."
Minho feels his world stop spinning. "What?"
"Chan, Changbin and I used to, y'know…" Jisung nods slowly as he tries to word it in a way that doesn't edge into the details, "Mess… around… I mean, we had a lot of pent up stress, and we were in the studio together a lot. It was usually one of us working while the other two got each other off on the couch, and if the third got hard he'd join."
"I…" Minho swallows. He thought Jisung was straight, or at least that Jisung thought he was straight.
Jisung's lips curl into a grin. "Aw, what? Does that get you off, Linoring?"
Minho can tell it's a tease. The type of tease that he'd give anyone, the type of tease Felix would roll his eyes at and shove Jisung with a "Fuck off" spat from pouted lips. But Minho has to hold back a whimper at the tone, trying not to let his knees buckle.
"Just surprised me, that's all." He mutters.
Jisung's brows flick up, his grin tooth filled as he moves across the kitchen. "Probably shouldn't, but I'll take that as a compliment to our stealth."
"So what, you think I should have sex in the group?" Minho raises his eyebrows.
"That's not exactly what I said, but I did offer it as an option." Jisung steps into the pantry to pack some of their food away, raising his voice so Minho can still hear him.
Minho hums, entire face flushed red as he tries to maintain nonchalance, "Offended you haven't offered yourself."
Jisung chuckles from inside the cupboard. He thinks Minho is joking. Goddammit.
"Oh! Actually, speaking of—" Jisung clicks his fingers as he emerges from the cupboard. "Weirdest thing happened the other day."
"Does this actually relate to what we were talking about or are you just saying speaking of?" Minho sits down, folding his arms as he watches Jisung put away the groceries.
"Speaking of… me and my dick, I guess? I dunno." Jisung waves his hand. "I was helping Lixie and Seungmin, right? They still had these boxes they were unpacking into their place, so I went over with Binnie to help out."
Minho deflates a little, a pout finding his lip. "Why didn't they ask me? I could have helped."
"Ah, you were asleep, beautiful!" Jisung calls back over his shoulder as he ducks into another cabinet. "Need to get your pretty princess beauty sleep, don't you?"
Minho's gut tenses as his cock inflates slightly in his jeans. Jisung's words aren't spoken in mockery, it's a note. Like Minho is a pretty princess who needs her beauty sleep and that's just something Jisung has noticed about him. Minho looks at the counter top. "I suppose…"
"But we found these Polaroids from, like…" Jisung squints as he straightens up, trying to recall the date on the photos. "I dunno… our twenty third I think? But it was us making a fucking— Like a custom mould dildo!"
Minho feels his blood run cold. This is it. He's gonna die. "Oh!"
"And as we go through the photos, it fuckin'— It just disappears." Jisung snorts.
Minho blinks, feigning cluelessness. "What do you mean?"
"It disappears!" Jisung laughs, opening his hands in surrender. "One photo, you can see me like— putting my dick in it, and then there are photos of the party, and then its gone! The whole moulding kit!"
"Not just the complete toy?" Minho tries to hide the nervous twinge in his voice.
"Yeah, the whole kit." Jisung shakes his head. "I mean, I assume it was moved as a joke or something, or someone accidentally threw it out. I'll ask Chan actually, because it's likely that it like didn't work out and maybe he threw it out? But I dunno. Cause otherwise we would've found it in the move, right?"
"That's… probably the likely option." Minho nods slowly. "Not sure why he wouldn't told you he did though…"
"We were all hungover as shit the next day, I doubt he did it with much conscious thought." Jisung debates with a frown. "I dunno, I mean, I'm not looking for it exactly. It's just one of those weird things."
"Mystery." Minho hums matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, a mystery." Jisung agrees with a finger gun to Minho, biting his bottom lip. He shrugs with a defeated sigh. "I dunno. Who knows?"
"Who knows…" Minho echoes softly.
☕︎
Minho clambers across his bed, scrambling to grab the toy from beneath the bed. He expected Jisung remembering the toy to make him want to stop, but it made him needier than ever.
He sets it up on the floor in the centre of his room, nibbling on his bottom lip with a pathetic little whine in the back of his throat. He grabs the lube, drizzling it over the phallus sticking so blatantly up from the carpet. He uses a hand to smooth it over the toy, pressing the technique into his wrist like he is stroking Jisung off.
He can hear it in the echo chamber of his dizzy, horny thoughts — Jisung's breathy groans and moans, his hips pressing up into Minho's hand. Murmuring guidance, his hand burying in his hair as he praises him gently. Do you want to try with your mouth, baby? He looks down nervously at the toy below him. Could he really? He needs it inside him badly, but…
Minho presses his lips to the tip of the toy, tonguing over the tip and imagining the vibrations of Jisung's moans shuddering through his body. Jisung's soft reassurances whispered above him as Minho tucks his hair behind his ear, pushing his mouth down further. The lube tastes odd on his tongue but the vein pressed to it makes it all worth while. He moans abashedly loud, sinking further down as his front teeth drag along the skin. His skin. Jisung's skin. Minho presses his thighs together over his throbbing cock.
He plants his hands at the base of the toy, sinking as far down as he can before he gags with a soft whine. He can feel Jisung's imaginary praise burning against his flesh — his fingertips running through his hair as he praises him so sweetly. Like he always does. Because he's Jisung.
He sits up with a whine. It feels good in his mouth by shape but it's cold. It's not Jisung.
He positions himself over the toy, settling at the tip with a sigh.
He used to mess around with boys. Han Jisung. With boys.
What did he look like?
What did Chan and Changbin see? The sigh that rippled through his muscles, wet and full of desire and need? The shift of his hands as they pressed into the muscle of their flanks? Did he fill them slow and tender or did he sink onto them like a well poised ruler? When you run your tongue into the crevice of his neck, what taste were you left with?
Minho slowly sinks down as his thighs tremble with the movement, a soft moan leaving his newly puffy lips as he sinks to half mast. He looks down at where his own cock twitches feebly against his belly, small and twitching against his skin. He's always been small and he knows it, never much good for anything but his own fist. He whines softly — it's too much today. He lifts off with a shudder in his throat, whimpering as his calves ache. "Hannie… Hannie, fuck…"
"Oh. There it is…"
Minho feels his heart stop. He raises his head sheepishly, staring drearily at the open bedroom door.
Jisung — standing against his doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, one leg crossed over the other as he curiously observes Minho's position. His teeth saw over his lower lip, eyes fluttering over the toy on the floor. His gaze traces loosely over the sweat that trails down Minho's skin, stuttering over the pink of Minho's trembling lip.
Minho falls — sinks harshly down the toy with a yelp as his legs give way. He bottoms out with a sob, watching Jisung with a tearful gaze as he tries his hardest not to wail at the pleasure and humiliation.
Jisung is trying. Trying not to run over and comfort Minho, trying not to shush him and reassure him with gentle affection. Trying not to gently love him. He stands there, raising his eyebrows as he watches Minho struggle for words before him. "You did so well hiding from me for so long, didn't you?" He chuckles incredulously, wandering closer.
Minho can't respond, stuttering over babbles of nonsense and moans as he rocks his hips aimlessly.
"Oh, really, baby?" His tone sends a harsh dose of humiliation through Minho's blood and it makes him dizzy. "Too good for you to stop? My pretty little addict, huh?"
Minho feels drool pool behind his teeth as he nods. "Yours. Hannie's… Always yours…"
"Show me, then." Jisung stops a few paces away from him, leaning against his desk. "Show me how good I make you feel."
Minho stares at Jisung, cheeks flushed as tears trail down his cheeks. He can prove himself — prove he can take the real thing. Jisung isn't pushing him away, isn't calling him gross. He's watching — filled with this perverse desire and need for more. But he trains himself against it as he watches Minho, shifting his weight from foot to foot as to try and hide the growing erection in his pants.
Minho lifts himself up once more, thighs trembling as he swivels his hips slightly. He tries to show technique in his movements but he's so overwhelmed that he just looks desperate. His eyes remain locked on Jisung and where he shadows over him, his biceps tensed with the way his arms are folded across his chest. He tongues over his bottom lip as Minho sets a rhythm for himself — a slow rise and fall on the toy that makes his thighs burn. Jisung keeps shifting — restless, needy, moving his hands from where they were folded to hold up his weight against the drawer set behind him and watching Minho just over his shoulder. He gets used to it, gets better at rolling and swivelling his hips in a way that makes Jisung twitch from where he's watching.
"You're lucky you're a pretty little perv, huh?" Jisung lets a little, disingenuous scoff past his lips as he takes a few extra strides toward Minho. "Doesn't look like your cock is much use, is it? Just there to look pretty?"
"I just wanted— I just wanted to hide it—" Minho pants as he lifts off the toy again. "It was just a joke. I thought you guys would get… mph… Get worried and then I could surprise you." He sinks down again with a moan. "But— But you forgot… and all my toys— All my toys died— And it— It felt so good, Hannie… You feel so good—"
"Mm, do I now?" Jisung hums, planting himself right before Minho. "I'm surprised I'm the first to get to you, hm? Would've thought the block would be all over you."
Minho feels his breath shudder in his chest when Jisung's hand comes to tentatively pinch his chin, sliding over sweat and tears to cup his cheek with a touch of romance. "I mean, look at you. Pretty lil thing… boys would kill to fuck this pretty lil mouth."
Minho gulps, wiping his tears as he watches Jisung nervously. "Hannie?"
Jisung softens at the worry in Minho's face, "Yeah, baby?"
"Would, um…" Minho stammers over the dizzying, unreal situation. His crush degrading him with such gentle eyes and such a sweet voice, being so tentative, so tender. Minho's voice shakes. "Would boys kill to um… Would boys kill to kiss this pretty little mouth, too?"
Jisung melts, knees crumbling at the words as he drops to the floor before him. "Yeah they would."
He's smaller than Minho like this, leaning up with eagerness to cup the boy's jaw as he meets his lips. The kiss is charged with the tension of the passing moments, Minho's whimpers soft and needy as the smaller boy tries to maintain a harsh dominance despite his own gentle habits. His tongue easily claims Minho's mouth and he barely fights back, supporting himself on Jisung's shoulders.
He's being kissed by Han Jisung.
Jisung pulls away as he kneels up slightly higher — thumbs over his bottom lip, watching as Minho tries to close his lips over the touch. He huffs an amused chuckle, pressing his thumb further into his mouth and watching how Minho takes it. "Oh, I see…" He grins down at him, this desire-filled, menacing sort of grin. "You like that, huh, beautiful?"
Minho feels his jaw fall open slightly as he hears Jisung unzip his jeans, working his free hand into his briefs as he gets back to his feet. "I think I can let you get a taste of the real thing before your reward, hm? I can't hold things away from you from too long, not with that face."
Jisung pulls out his cock. The real one — not the model that Jisung made on a drunk birthday dare. It's alive — twitching, throbbing and leaking right by Minho's puffy lips.
Minho pants — the scent of him is overwhelming, warm and real as he drags his nose over the head of his cock with a desperate whimper. He trails his nose down the length, practically nuzzling like an enamoured, begging cat as Jisung lets out a hollow chuckle.
"There you go, hm?" His voice is so soft that Minho almost coos, dragging his lips over the body of his cock before sinking back down on the toy. Jisung frowns as Minho lets out a disgruntled whine, "Mmm, too high for you to do both at once, huh?"
Jisung glances hurriedly around him, taking a hand to Minho's desk chair and sliding it over to take a seat. He shuffles forward so Minho is sat between his spread knees, staring at his cock like a national treasure. Jisung lets out a sigh, watching where Minho stares at him impatiently. He opens a hand, "All yours, beautiful."
Minho dives in, opening his mouth over the head of his cock like he was trained for it. Jisung hisses at the sudden heat, curling his fingers into a handful of Minho's hair. "Jesus Christ, Linoring…" He holds his trembling hips to the chair, watching as Minho mouths happily at the slick, blushing head of his cock. "Oh, damn, you really are desperate…"
It's the little comments that make it so Jisung. It's when Minho hears the silly little words between them that he remembers this is a real moment between them, and he almost comes. Minho pursues — pushes his face down Jisung's cock with a pleading stare that makes Jisung moan at the sight, his fingers coming to Minho's hairline. "Look at you…" Jisung hums softly, moving Minho's hair so he can look into his eyes. "So fuckin' good for me…"
He feels Minho try and nod with a mouthful of cock but it turns into no more than a moan, his eyes watering as he presses all the way down. Jisung gasps at the sudden heat enveloping him, burying his fingers in Minho's scalp as he pants nervously.
"Holy shit, holy shit, Minho—" Jisung concentrates his grip on either side of his head, watching the way his nose presses to the trail of hair from the base of his cock. Jisung laughs — partially disbelief, partially barely concealed arousal. "Yeah? You like that, huh? Pretty little mouth finally being put to good use?"
Minho whines, rolling his hips on the toy as he pulls off Jisung's cock with a sloppy mewl. "Mhm!"
"Yeah? Holy fuck, you're cute." Jisung grunts with a rasp, tugging his hair slightly as he licks up the thick vein that lines beneath his skin.
His favourite vein. The one he's been addicted to for an embarrassingly long time. The one that's drawn him to orgasm without ever touching him in reality. Pressed to his tongue, it pulses, throbs, begs for Minho's attention.
"You and that tiny cock of yours." Jisung purrs. "Huh? Too small to be any good to someone wanting to get fucked good, huh?"
Minho whines, loud and desperate as he pulls away from Jisung's cock. His voice comes in a desperate squeak, wet and out of breath. "You're so pretty!"
Jisung's grin twists into a smile with a warmth of fondness. His voice is tinted with a sweet coo as he draws his fingers through Minho's hair. "Thank you, beautiful."
Minho's hands grip Jisung's legs beneath his knees, leaning closer to him and the chair. "I just wanted to feel you…"
"Well, how's the real thing, gorgeous?" Jisung asks with a tilt of his head. He sighs softly when Minho's reply comes as an eager moan, his head sinking straight down Jisung's cock once more. His fingertips press into Jisung's thighs as the latter buries one hand in his hair, guiding each mouthful that Minho takes.
He watches as Minho swings his hips as best as he can on the duplicate buried deep inside him, supporting himself on Jisung's knees as he guides his head tenderly.
"Shit, you're so fucking cute…" Jisung pants, his hips bucking up into his mouth helplessly. "God, how did it take me this long to make a move…"
Minho whines again at the words, the sound vibrating up his cock and through his body. Jisung gently pulls Minho off his cock, watching as the boy goes limp in his hold. His fingers twisted in Minho's hair, guiding him with a puppeteer's expertise. He tilts his head at Minho's slack jaw and blown wide eyes, lips quirking. "God, you look fuckin' used…"
"You've been wanting me?" Minho pants, slowly gaining momentum as he bounces on the toy. "You have a crush on me?"
Jisung chuckles again. He can tell Minho isn't all there — eyes blown wide and drool running down his chin like a desperate puppy. Subspace, Jisung assumes. He's seen it before in a few partners — namely Chan, who suddenly loses all inhibitions and begs to be Jisung and Changbin's good, cock sucking puppy who'd love to be double teamed on call with Hyunjin (the morning after was always an experience for poor, dignified Chan.)
Jisung raises his eyebrows with a smile. "Yeah, baby. I've had a massive crush on you for… fuck, as long as our time together has been."
Minho rubs his cheek on Jisung's knee, making the latter groan. "I need to fuck you…"
Minho practically leaps off the toy. "Where? Where are you going t—?" He starts to climb onto Jisung's lap but Jisung laughs, picking him up under his thighs.
"Oh, nohoho, baby, you've already worked far too hard." Jisung grunts as he drops Minho on his back on the bed. "You've done so much work, haven't you, Irino?"
"Yes!" Minho mewls softly as he's dropped onto the mattress. "Yeah, yeah, I did— I did so good…"
"Yeah? You don't need to do anymore work, my beautiful…" Jisung coos, nosing up his jaw. Minho giggles, high off the reality of the situation. Jisung sucks softly at his jaw, humming as Minho feels the lube bottle pressed at his entrance. He's not sure where or when Jisung got a hand on it but he doesn't care. He squeals into Jisung's neck when he squirts the lubricant inside him, and Jisung lets out another soft laugh of disbelief. "Holy shit, the sounds you make in subspace, baby…"
"Huh?" Minho asks dizzily, pressing his nose into Jisung's cheek, quickly distracted by the sensation of skin on his lips.
"Don't worry about it, baby." Jisung moans softly when Minho starts kissing his cheek. "Just said you sound so fuckin' cute."
Minho feels it. The familiar tip of Jisung's cock nuzzled at his dripping wet hole.
Only this time it's real — warm and twitching with interest as Jisung sits up, grabbing Minho's legs just beneath his knees. His voice buzzes through Minho's skin as he presses his lips to his lover's inner knee. "You ready, beautiful?"
Minho has dreamt of this moment — Jisung's hands winding up his legs and smoothing over his thighs as he nods eagerly over his certain words. "Yes. Please, Hannie, please—"
Jisung pushes in, bottoming out smoothly in one thrust inside Minho's stretched hole.
Minho's head falls back into the pillows as Jisung presses his knees to either side of his head, admiring the way he bends so easily. He groans at the new position and how Minho tightens around him with an eager moan, panting into the air between them as Jisung leans closer to Minho's lips.
"How are you still tight when you're stretched out, Jesus Christ, Linoring…" Jisung pants into Minho's parted lips.
"Because I'm— Because I'm made for you!" Minho grunts, clenching his teeth as he takes in the reality of Jisung's throbbing dick. "Holy fuck…"
"Yeah? Made for me?" Jisung starts rolling his hips slowly, biting his bottom lip. "Is this why you didn't let other boys fuck you, huh? You were waiting? Huh? Waiting for Hannie-hyung?"
Minho whines at the honorific. "Yes, hyung!"
"Yeah?" Jisung almost growls, thrusting deeper. "You were saving yourself for me? Didn't want anyone else to see you like this?"
"Didn't want anyone else!" Minho corrects, words interrupted by moans as Jisung leans over him, hips jack rabbiting into Minho's at the words.
"Holy fuck, Irino."
Minho's face goes slack jawed, eyes barely held open by the desire to see his lover. Jisung is putting every ounce of adrenaline from catching Minho into his thrusts, but slows them when the reality of the situation dawns on him again. How much he loves Minho, how much he desperately has ached for him for the past years of their intertwined lives. How it's all come to this moment — some pleasure drunk, lust driven action that's left him exactly where he's wanted to be.
Minho feels it, lips parted as Jisung's hips slow to a roll. "Irino, baby, I…"
Jisung watches Minho's eyes flutter a little more open at his tone, staring up at him. "Mmhh?"
"I love you." Jisung pants into his mouth. "I'm sorry this… I'm sorry I couldn't say this before we— Fuck, kitty…"
"Kitty…" Minho whimpers in return, drunk on the lust and disbelief. "You love me?"
"Yeah, I'll…" Jisung chuckles through a few panted breaths. "I'll talk to you about it after. You just… Oh, fuck— You just worry about being my pretty kitty, huh? Pretty kitty taking my cock so well…"
The velvet tone wrapping each word makes Minho's brain fry again, a dizzy smile finding his lips as Jisung leans further into his space. His voice bounces with each intense thrust over his prostate, drawling and intoxicated "Kitty…"
"That's right…" Jisung pants, folding him best he can. "Such a good kitty, yeah?"
"Yeah, I'm Hannie's good kitty…" Minho slurs over the drool in his mouth, his small, hard cock bouncing against his stomach.
"That's it…" Jisung's voice has the rasp of his oncoming orgasm dragging over each syllable. "Come on, kitty, come on…"
Minho's breaths become closer together and his moans begin to pitch up in his throat as an eager grin finds Jisung's lips. "Yeah, there you go, come on…"
Jisung buries himself deep inside Minho with a final yell, throwing his head back.
Minho feels it — the cum flooding into his insides like molten lava to his gut, and he can't hold his own release back any longer. His is more pathetic — a litter of thick squirts of white across his face and chest from the angle Jisung has him folded at. Each whine is interrupted by his own release dolloping on his lips and chin, his eyes screwing shut to protect his vision.
Minho's eyes relax but stay shut. Jisung slowly pulls out, manoeuvring Minho's body into a somewhat more content position as he litters his cum covered cheeks in kisses. His hands find home on Minho's waist and Minho almost breaks into giggles from the butterflies that erupt under Jisung's touch, the younger man's weight sinking over him. He hears Jisung let out a sigh.
"You're a bit of an idiot, you know that, right?"
Minho is still a little too floaty from his orgasm to really argue like he usually would, but he tries regardless — tilting his face toward Jisung's. "Mm, no…"
"You are a little bit." He chuckles softy. "You definitely could've brought out the toy the next morning and no one would've said anything."
"There's a 'but' in there." Minho says matter-of-factly.
Jisung sighs, lips fluttering over Minho's own. "But, I can't say I'm complaining. It is.. so hot that you're such a little perv."
"Little." Minho hums. It's amusement. Jisung has always been the smaller out of them, but Minho loves when Jisung calls him little in any sense of the word.
"Is what I said." Jisung pinches Minho's upper lip with his kiss, the action slowly melting into warmer kisses. Jisung's tongue pushes into Minho's mouth and he can't help the eager little whimper that finds his lips when he does, his arms wrapping around the younger boy's neck.
Minho parts his thighs a little more so Jisung has room, breaking the kiss with a desperate gasp. "So… I'm an idiot."
"Correct." Jisung nods.
"What does that make you?"
Jisung shrugs, moving his lips to Minho's. "Uh, also an idiot, I think. Sounds like you had a pretty obvious crush on me."
Minho shrugs as a mirror, trying not to break into giggles before the words leave his mouth. "Those are… just… rumours."
"Oh, rumours?" Jisung rolls them around the bed, kissing up Minho's neck and jaw with tickling fingers to his waist as he breaks into laughter. "Rumours, beautiful? Is that it?"
Minho chokes out a yeah between giggles, and Jisung settles over him with a panting breath. "Well, beautiful…"
"Hm?" Minho tries to hold his defiance, but it's difficult when this is exactly what he's wanted for so, so long.
Jisung traces his sides with an admiring stare, eyes trailing over his figure with a raised eyebrow. "Would you… confirm or deny those rumours for the public?"
Minho feigns thoughtfulness, giving an amused "Hm…" as he avoids Jisung's gaze. "They're pretty true…"
Jisung hums as he presses his lips barely over Minho's. "That's my girl…"
Minho settles beneath Jisung as he kisses over his upper lip, eyes fluttering shut in a victorious sigh.
He's done it. He's won. He got his not-so-picture-perfect love confession, he got the boy, and he got the real dick, not the clone-a-boner hiding in his bottom drawer.