Chapter Text
Lee Minho
Hi hi
Jisung stared at the text, the butterflies in his stomach making him feel slightly nauseous. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, ignoring the pavlovian half chub of his dick in response to two simple words smooshed together to make a meaningless sentence.
Or maybe it was meaningless to most, but to Jisung it held too much meaning.
It started like this. When Jisung met Minho, his first thought was: I hate him.
Actually, that’s a lie.
His first thought was: He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
He hadn’t known what to expect when Chan said he’d hired a new choreographer for their entertainment company 3Racha.
They’d started from the bottom, just the three of them: Chan, Changbin, and Jisung. They’d met as hopeful idol trainees, bonding over the shared trauma of that experience and dreams of one day debuting and making it big. That dream never materialized, it transformed into something else entirely. Producing music and helping other idol hopefuls meet their own dreams. Still making it big but behind the scenes. They’d started with just the three of them, Chan as their fearless leader, Changbin and Jisung as lead producers. They’d eventually added Jeongin and Hyunjin as heads of media training and choreography, respectively. Hyunjin sometimes double dipped into style management when he had the time, which he didn’t, and that’s why they’d ended up hiring Felix. Then Seungmin as lead vocal coach.
And then Chan said they were hiring Minho.
“Why do we need another lead choreographer? We already have Hyunjin?” Jisung whined, hating the idea of change. Growth was exciting, but it was also scary. He got along really well with the other department leads, they were a happy unit of seven.
“Because, as much as Hyunjin loves dance, he'd really like to split styling with Felix.”
“You mean he wants to spend more time with his boyfriend,” Jisung rolled his eyes. They were so in love it was sickening.
“That too,” Chan smiled. “He’ll manage clothes and accessories while Felix manages hair and makeup. With the number of trainees and groups we’re managing now, it makes sense. Minho also comes highly rated. Hyunjin recommended him.”
Jisung had shrugged, unconvinced. As much as he hated to admit it, because he didn’t want to inflate Hyunjin’s already inflated ego, Hyunjin was the best. Anything less than him was going to be a downgrade.
And then he’d gone with Chan to meet Minho in the dance room downstairs.
He’d been dressed casually, t-shirt and gray sweats with a backwards cap. Intense gaze focused on the trainees he was working with in the room, voice quiet but commanding as he guided them through the sequence they were working on, and god could he move—easy and understated, like it came to him as easy as breathing, like he was moving through water.
He was drenched in sweat and still, he was the most beautiful man Jisung had ever seen. And he hated him, because he always hated what he couldn’t have.
Jisung knew, theoretically, that he was attracted to men. He’d labeled himself bisexual a long time ago. Still, he’d only ever dated women, the right man never materializing in his life...until that moment.
“It’s nice to meet you, Minho-ssi,” he’d mumbled when Chan called him over for introductions. He’d bowed too formally, feeling like an awkward idiot when Minho laughed delightedly.
“Call me hyung, Jisung-ah. Chan says I’m older than you. You should give me your number, so we can hang out some time and get to know each other.”
Jisung had given it begrudgingly, his gut instinct to deny and flee, but not wanting to seem rude. He figured he could make a few excuses and get out of it later or maybe Minho was just being polite and didn't really have any interest in following through, but Minho had texted the very next day about getting sushi after work.
Jisung meant to say no, he really did, but he loved sushi, and he was curious. What was it about Minho that made him so attracted?
So he went…for research.
Minho was even prettier in a hoodie with his hair styled, light make up and one dangly earring in place. Jisung liked his sense of humor, the quiet way he talked, the way he laughed. He had a full blown crush before he’d even finished his second bite of sushi. As did some other guy in the restaurant apparently, because he wouldn’t stop staring at Minho.
“What are you glaring at?” Minho had asked, turning his head to follow Jisung’s gaze. Jisung hadn’t even realized he’d been glaring. He averted his gaze, feeling mildly embarrassed.
“Nothing. Just…that guy over there. He’s been staring at you since we got here.”
“Ah.” Minho smirked. “You think he’s interested?”
Jisung frowned. “I think he’s rude.”
And definitely interested.
Minho hummed, unbothered. He turned back to his plate and picked up another piece of sushi. “Do you like men, Jisung-ah?”
Jisung froze, mouth going dry. “You mean, like, romantically?”
Minho hummed in agreement, eyes pinned on Jisung as he waited patiently for an answer.
“I-I mean…um….ye-yes?”
“Yes?” Minho arched a brow at him. “Or yes.”
Jisung took a breath, he wasn’t about to deny who he was, he was way past that stage in his life, but outing himself to people he didn’t know was always scary. “Yeah, I like men and women…but I’ve only ever been with women. I haven’t been with a man…yet.”
His face felt like it was on fire as Minho blinked at him rapidly, offering another quiet hum before he changed the subject. Jisung hadn’t known how to interpret it, but he hadn’t let himself dwell on it.
They finished their meal, moving on to other topics. Minho paid the bill, ignoring Jisung’s protests to let him pay. They’d walked aimlessly down the street afterward until Minho stopped abruptly outside an apartment building.
“This is my place.”
“Oh,” Jisung said, feeling caught off guard, and more than a little disappointed. He liked Minho. He really, really liked Minho, and he didn't want the night to end.
He’d looked to the ground then, afraid the disappointment and longing he felt were written clearly across his face. “I guess I’ll let you go then, hyung. I had a good time tonight. Thanks for dinner.”
Then Minho stepped forward, crowding his space and tipping his chin up with a gentle hand. He was even more beautiful up close, his fingers warm on Jisung’s skin. “You said you haven’t been with a man…yet. Would you like to?”
Jisung’s breath stuttered, mind going completely blank. Did Minho mean—?
He leaned in then, careful eyes studying Jisung’s face like he was looking for a sign. His gaze landed on his lips and Jisung parted them, letting his tongue dart out to lick along the seam. Then Minho was kissing him, right there on the sidewalk, slow and sweet. It made desire spread like wildfire in his belly. He felt needy with it, desperate for more the moment he pulled away. Then Minho smiled and took his hand, leading him upstairs to his apartment.
That was the night Jisung found god and realized his name was Lee Minho. He’d never been touched so well, kissed so thoroughly, realized pleasure like that was possible. Maybe he wasn’t bisexual at all? Maybe he was Minhosexual, he just hadn’t realized, because he hadn’t met Minho yet.
He’d been half in love before he even left his bed. That's why it hurt so much, when Minho turned to him with a gentle smile and said, “We can keep it casual. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Jisung had smiled and nodded, even though it felt like maybe he was dying. “Of course. hyung. Casual is good. This was fun. Skrrt!”
Minho had laughed that delighted laugh again and they’d been sleeping together ever since. Three months to be exact.
Casually. Routinely.
A solid friends-with-benefits situation. Maybe even best friends-with-benefits, if that was possible, because they clicked so well. Jisung was willing to give him all his time even if there was no sex involved. So they were spending a lot of time together, inside and outside of the bedroom.
And it was great, wonderful, amazing.
Nevermind that Jisung’s feelings for Minho grew.
He’d thought it would fade, that initial crush, the strong attraction he felt. All things faded with time, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to fall. He loved love, had always been open to it, wearing his heart on his sleeve and giving it away freely.
Love for Jisung was like diving into a shallow pool of water that looked deeper than it was. It hurt when he jumped and unexpectedly hit the bottom, but then he brushed himself off and got back up. He was a pro at bouncing back and not being afraid to dive in again. With Minho it was different. Falling for Lee Minho was like diving headfirst into a well without a bottom. He just kept falling and falling and falling, even when he knew that the further he fell, the harder it would be to climb his way back out.
It was okay though, he’d take any part of Minho he could get. It didn’t matter if Minho didn’t love him back. All he had to do was send him a little Hi hi text, day or night, and Jisung would drop everything. Seriously, everything.
“Jisung-ah? Are you even listening?”
His head snapped up, phone falling to his lap. The screen went dark. He cursed himself. He was supposed to be spending a comfy night in, with Hyunjin and Felix. They had gossip and snacks prepared, a movie on queue, and Hyunjin had promised salon worthy manicures.
“Sorry, Chan just texted. I’m needed at the studio apparently.” The lie came as easy as breathing. They hadn’t said they were keeping things between them a secret, not exactly, but they also weren’t telling people they were sleeping together either.
“What? No!” Felix cried, poking his head in from the kitchen where he was popping more popcorn. “It’s girl’s night. Tell Chan to fuck off.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Jisung huffed, climbing to his feet. “He’s my boss.”
“He’s a work-a-holic is what he is. Let me text him,” Hyunjin offered, whipping out his phone.
“No!” Jisung cried, barely holding himself back from diving for the phone. “No, I messed something up on a track. It’s my mistake, let me go fix it. If I get it done fast enough, I’ll come back. We can still have our sleepover.”
Hyunjin pouted but nodded once, Felix offering a hug on his way out the door. He made it to the street before he pulled out his phone again.
Lee Minho
Hi hi
i’m home
wanna come over
Han Jisung
omw
Felix’s apartment was closer to Minho’s than his own. It was a quick walk, the night air cool enough to dry his sweaty palms and slow his racing heart. He felt a little bad about dipping on his friends, but leaving Minho on read wasn’t happening. He craved their stolen moments together like they were his favorite drug.
The creak of the elevator in Minho’s building was almost as familiar as his own. He didn’t even have to think as he entered the door code, slipping off his shoes and sliding his feet into the green dinosaur slippers Minho kept out for him.
“Hyung?” he called, shuffling down the short entryway to peek into the living room, frowning when he found it empty.
“In here,” Minho called back from the kitchen. Jisung turned, following the sound of his voice, ignoring the way his insides melted like hot butter when he caught sight of Minho in sweats and a faded tee, hair still damp from a shower, stirring something on the stove.
“I hope you’re hungry. My mom sent enough left overs to feed an army.” Minho looked up, eyes so bright Jisung swore he could see galaxies in them.
“Always, hyung. I can always eat,” he replied, quieter than he’d intended. He cleared his throat.
“You got here fast,” Minho commented, looking back down at the pot.
Jisung shrugged, studying his profile. “I was hanging out with Hyunjin and Felix.”
“Oh?” Minho frowned, looking back up. “You could have stayed.”
Jisung shook his head. “I wanted to see you,” he admitted. “Did you have a good visit? How are the cats?”
He knew Minho had taken the day off to visit his parents and his three precious cats, they were friends after all.
Minho smiled, turning to grab two bowls from the cabinet and adding rice from the rice cooker into both as he spoke “Ah, yes, the babies are great and my mom as well. She told me to tell you hi.”
Jisung’s heart flipped. “You…told her about me?”
Minho looked up at Jisung again, eyes still bright. “Of course. I tell my mom everything. She knows all about my Jisungie.”
His tone was teasing, but Jisung wanted him to be serious. He bit his lip, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back tonight. I thought you might try and stay.”
“I considered it,” Minho said, turning back to the stew. “But I wanted to see you too.”
Jisung’s heart did another flip.
Minho spooned soup over the rice, then handed a bowl to Jisung before turning the burner off and putting a lid over the pot. He led them into the living room, locating the remote.
“Do you wanna watch something scary or sciency?” he asked, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth before turning to Jisung. “There’s a new documentary on polar bears.”
Jisung’s heart flipped again, he was pretty sure Minho hadn’t ever even watched a documentary before they started hanging out. Now he watched them because Jisung did. But it didn’t mean anything, he needed to keep telling himself that.
They ate in relative silence on opposite ends of the couch, but Minho was reaching for him almost as soon as he put his bowl down. Stretching out across the cushions and pulling Jisung on top of him “For comfort,” he said, carding his fingers through Jisung’s hair with one hand, the other coming to rest on the small of his back. Jisung’s head was turned to face the TV, ear pressed against Minho’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. It was times like these when it was hard for Jisung to remember.
They were just friends.
They were just friends.
They were more than halfway through the documentary when Minho shifted his position, moving his legs so Jisung was straddling one of his thighs. He didn’t mean to get hard, but at this point it was an ingrained response. Minho’s thigh was thick and warm, and it was pressed right against Jisung’s crotch. Minho was also petting him with his hands, squeezing the back of his neck and trailing his fingers up and down his spine, before going lower, tracing along the line of his waistband before gliding back up. On the next pass, he dipped his hand into the back of his joggers and squeezed his ass.
“Ah, hyung!’ Jisung wiggled, biting his lip when his hard on brushed more obviously against Minho’s thigh. He squeezed his ass harder, eyes sparking with mischief.
“Jisungie, you’re hard.”
“Um, s-sorry, hyung.” Jisung blushed, attempting to move his hips back but Minho was still holding onto him, keeping his dick trapped firmly against his thigh.
“Why are you sorry?” Minho smirked. “If you needed me to take care of you, you should have just said so.”
He flexed his thigh, rocking Jisung’s hips firmly against it. His eyes fluttered shut, a tiny moan falling from his lips.
Minho hummed appreciatively and then he was kissing him, his pouty top lip fitting perfectly against Jisung’s bottom one. Jisung melted into him, like he always did, letting Minho take the lead, because he was so good at it, reading Jisung’s body like an open book.
He just kissed him at first with long dragging presses of his mouth and teasing licks of tongue. His hands stayed on his ass—groping, squeezing—encouraging Jisung to rut against his thigh. Jisung felt desperate with need by the time Minho pulled away, like he always did. He was always desperate for Minho. He let his heavily lidded gaze drop to Minho’s mouth, already a little chapped and swollen from Jisung’s eager kisses.
“Get up,” he directed, helping Jisung sit back and climb off of him on wobbly legs. “Take your clothes off.”
Jisung complied, readily ripping his shirt over his head, watching as Minho did the same. His eyes tracing over Minho’s defined pecs and the subtle softness of his belly, so much lighter in tone than Jisung’s own, his nipples pretty and pink where Jisung’s were dark and rounded. He slid his pants and boxers off hastily, pausing when he realized Minho wasn’t doing the same. His pants were still on as he slid further down the couch, removing the throw pillow propping his head up as he beckoned for Jisung to climb back on top of him.
“Hyung?” he questioned, taking Minho’s hand when he reached for him. Minho guided him to straddle his chest, spreading his knees over his broad shoulders in a way that made Jisung blush. His embarrassingly hard cock was close enough to Minho’s face to feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke, making Jisung shudder. “I want you to fuck my mouth while I open you up.”
He licked up the underside of his length then, eyes looking up at him innocently and Jisung had to slam his own eyes shut to keep from busting his load right there. They fluttered open again when Minho pulled his mouth away. He watched him reach between the couch cushions, pulling out a bottle of lube and popping the cap.
“Has that been there the whole time?” Jisung asked, jaw dropping a little.
Minho smirked up at him, cheeks flushed the same color as his nipples.
“It never hurts to be prepared,” he murmured, focusing his gaze to the side as he added lube to his fingers.
Prepared for what? Jisung wanted to ask, stomach dropping. Had he put it there specifically for Jisung or did he keep it there for just anyone? The thought made him a little sick. They hadn’t said they were fucking exclusively and Jisung suddenly wished they had. He’d considered the implications of his feelings for Minho being one sided, but he hadn’t considered the repercussions of his feelings being one sided while Minho was fucking someone else.
“What are you thinking?” Minho asked suddenly, drawing Jisung out of his head. He was looking up at him curiously, head tilted to the side, catlike.
“Prepared for me, or–”
“Of course you,” Minho huffed. “Always you. Now, be a good boy and come here.”
He guided Jisung’s hips forward with his clean hand, grip tight around the side of his waist. Minho’s hands were tiny, but so was Jisung’s waist. They fit perfectly together, like puzzle pieces. It made Jisung never want anyone else’s hands on him ever again. He whined when Minho swirled his tongue over his tip, guiding him into his mouth, encouraging him to press in further. Minho moaned, eyes fluttering shut in bliss, as Jisung’s tip bumped the back of his throat. He held him there, swallowing around him.
Jisung swore, grabbing onto the armrest above Minho’s head and gripping it tight, willing himself not to come. Minho’s mouth looked so small, stretched wide around his base. Jisung wasn’t small, not by any means. He’d always felt a little guilty in the past, when partners would try to blow him and end up gagging and tearing up when they accidentally went too far, but not Minho. Never Minho. Minho sucked cock like it was his favorite thing, no gag reflex in sight, just warm wet heat and the gentle squeeze of his throat, like he didn’t need oxygen to breathe because he could sustain himself off Jisung alone.
He relaxed his grip on his waist, tapping his thumb against his hip bone, signaling for Jisung to pull back and thrust his hips forward again. He set a gentle pace, always careful, until Minho opened his eyes long enough to glare at him and smacked him on his ass. Jisung gasped at the slight sting, hips jutting forward sharply. Minho moaned around his length again, eyes rolling back in his head.
Jisung gasped again when he pulled back to find the press of wet fingertips at his rim. They followed him forward, two fingers pressing into him as Minho swallowed around his cock. The tight muscle around his rim gave way easily, familiar with the touch, ready and waiting for the slight burn followed by the delicious stretch. Minho dragged them over his prostate almost immediately, mouth curving into a smile around Jisung’s length as he felt his thighs shake.
“Fuck, hyung,” he gasped, cock throbbing in Minho’s throat, precum spurting from the tip even as Jisung curled his toes in an effort to hold his orgasm back. Minho swallowed around him in response, moaning again, and he whined, slamming his eyes shut. He was always too quick to come. A frequent source of embarrassment for him, even if Minho said he thought it was cute. “D–darling.”
The word tumbled out unbidden and Jisung’s eyes snapped open, flaring wide when he found Minho blinking up at him, mouth still stuffed full of his cock. He pulled back quickly, forcing Minho’s fingers deeper inside of him. Minho pulled his mouth away from his cock, licking his lips.
“What did you call me?” he asked, voice more than a little wrecked.
“Um, what?” Jisung asked, feigning dumb with a furrow in his brow. “I didn’t–”
Minho’s gaze grew sharp, seeing right through his fragile facade. “Say it.”
Jisung bit his lip, shaking his head defiantly. His face was flaming. He was being so obvious, but he couldn’t stop. Minho’s gaze narrowed further, the fingers still inside of him twitching. Then Minho pulled them back, adding a third to press teasingly at his rim.
“Jisungie,” he cooed, syrupy sweet, pressing in just enough for all three fingertips to stretch him wide without pushing in too deep, knowing Jisung liked it full and deep almost as much as he liked to be teased. “Say it again.”
“I-I didn’t say–”
“You did,” Minho cut off his denial, leaning his head up, lapping at the head of Jisung’s cock with his tongue. “What did you call me?”
He murmured the last request around Jisung’s tip, sucking it shallowly into his mouth, like his dick was a popsicle.
“A-ah, hyung! D-darling! I called you darling,” Jisung whimpered and then whined as Minho thrust all three fingers as deep as they could go, brushing his prostate again.
“Good boy. Keep doing it. Keep calling me that.” And then he was guiding Jisung’s hips forward again, helping him fuck his mouth as he thrust his fingers in and out.
“Darling, darling, darling. Fuck!”
It felt like every time he said it Minho’s mouth grew tighter, fingers pressing into his prostate longer, until Jisung was spun so tight, there was no way he was holding it back. He took a breath in an attempt to warn him but all that came out was a shout and then he was coming down Minho’s throat, thighs shaking and hole spasming around Minho’s fingers.
He felt like a whining, whimpering mess, shaky arms barely keeping him from collapsing on top of Minho as the older man guided his hips back, sucking the entirety of his length clean before releasing it from his mouth with a loud pop.
“Fuck, Sung-ah, you taste so good.”
Jisung whined again, loudly, as Minho pulled his fingers slowly from his ass.
“It’s okay,” he cooed, rearranging Jisung’s clumsy limbs until he was straddling his waist, arms wrapping around Minho’s strong shoulders as he sat upright on the couch. He grabbed the lube, wrapping his other arm around Jisung.
“Hold on tight,” he encouraged and then he was standing up, carrying Jisung’s naked form to his bedroom. He dropped him gently onto the mattress before climbing on top of him, pressing their mouths together, letting Jisung taste himself on his tongue.
It wasn’t long before Jisung felt himself growing hard again and then Minho was flipping him over on his stomach, pressing hot kisses down his spine before he pulled away. Jisung heard the sound of his bedside drawer open and the crinkle of a foil packet, shivering at the thought of what was to come. The pop of the lube cap was next and then more wet fingers were at his rim, pushing in without finesse, stretching him open as quickly and efficiently as possible.
“Ready, hyung,” Jisung whined into the pillow he was clutching tightly to his chest. “I’m ready.”
“I’m hyung now, huh?” Minho teased, pulling away to rip the condom packet open. His voice was still a little raw and rough from sucking Jisung’s cock, tone shaky, panted breaths coming fast and shallow. It almost sounded like he was just as desperate as Jisung, but that wasn’t possible.
“Say it again,” he whispered, one hand on his waist, cock pressed to Jisung’s rim. It made Jisung’s entire body shake.
“D-darling–” Jisung broke off in a moan as Minho pressed in, filling him so well, until he felt the bulge of it against his belly.
“Fuck, Jisung.” He collapsed on top of him then, chest to spine, mouth pressed to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling with his, pressing their joined hands into the mattress as he fucked into him again and again.
This was when it was the hardest to remember. When Minho’s cock was so deep it touched his soul and his quiet voice crooned gentle curses and praise in his ear.
“You’re so good for me, Sung-ah.”
“So sweet.”
“Your ass is so tight, so good.”
“Fuck.”
“Darling.” Jisung closed his eyes, and let pretend. Just for this moment. They were a real couple, and in love, and Minho wanted Jisung to call him darling because it meant something precious and sacred to both of them.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”
Minho’s hand wrapped tight around his cock, stroking him just the way he liked, making Jisung come too with a harsh whine. Minho always made sure they came together. No matter how many times Jisung came first, he always came with Minho too. It was just another reason why Jisung loved him. Why his heart felt like it was exploding in his chest when they were close like this.
He felt the soft press of lips against his sweaty shoulder as Minho rolled them to the side and Jisung kept his eyes shut tight, letting himself pretend for just another moment. Then Minho wiped his cum covered hand against his thigh, making him whine.
“Gross, hyung!”
Minho laughed that laugh Jisung loved.
“It’s your turn to clean up.”
He slid his softening cock slowly from Jisung’s hole, rolling the condom off and tying it up before he plopped it unceremoniously into Jisung’s hand.
“So gross,” Jisung whined, making a show of it to cover up the hurt, keeping his back to Minho as he stumbled into the ensuite. He disposed of the condom and washed his hands, splashing cold water onto his face for good measure before he reached for a washcloth and cleaned the rest of himself. He took his time with it, making sure his chill bro, nonchalant mask was firmly in place before he exited back into the bedroom.
Minho was spread out on his back, still butt naked with his hands behind his head, when Jisung reentered the room. He didn’t even lift a finger when Jisung offered a warm wash cloth to him, just arched a brow, waiting until Jisung took the hint and cleaned him up. It made his cheeks heat, the intimacy of him cleaning Minho up while Minho watched him do it.
He tossed the soiled rag into the laundry basket, clearing his throat, the mood suddenly awkward. It always was, this was always the worst part. “Thanks, hyung. I needed that.”
He ran anxious fingers through his messy hair, searching for his clothes, belatedly realizing they were in the living room. He turned to get them when Minho spoke.
“Where are you going?”
“Um.” He turned back, feeling confused. “Home?”
Minho was sitting up now, reaching for Jisung. “It’s late, you should stay.”
Jisung froze. They’d never done that before. “You want me to stay?”
Minho smirked, standing up to pull the covers down, one hand wrapped around Jisung’s wrist, keeping him there.
“Sure, but only if you keep calling me darling,” he teased.
“Yah!” Jisung whined, reaching out to smack him. Minho giggled, catching his other arm easily and wrestling him down onto the bed. The next thing he knew he was curled up in Minho’s arms, lights out with the comforter tucked snuggly around them both. His skin burned every place their naked bodies touched. It felt so good Jisung could cry.
“It was good for you, right?” Minho whispered sleepily into the dark, fingers brushing down Jisung’s arm.
“Of course, hyung. It’s always good,” Jisung scoffed, heart fluttering out of control even as a lump formed in the back of his throat.
He felt a pinch against his side. “That’s not right. What are you supposed to call me?”
Jisung groaned internally, hating himself and his big mouth and the fact that Minho was now making it a joke. “I’m sorry, darling.”
Minho hummed, a smile obvious in his voice. “Skrrt.”