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"Okay, hear me out—" Jisung flopped dramatically onto the couch, nearly crushing the book under his elbow as he scrambled to hold it up. The glossy cover flashed bold letters:
The Adventurous Lover’s Guide to Next-Level Intimacy.
"There’s a whole chapter on rope play, and— Hyung, are you even listening?"
Minho, halfway through peeling an orange at the kitchen counter, didn’t even glance up. "No."
Jisung groaned, kicking his legs against the couch cushions like a petulant child. "Minho-hyung, this is serious! The book says—" He flipped a page with exaggerated urgency, nearly tearing it in the process. "—being tied up can, like, multiply pleasure.
Something about trust and surrender and— God, why am I the only one invested in our sexual evolution?"
Minho finally turned, orange peel dangling from his fingers, and raised an eyebrow. "Sexual evolution," he repeated flatly. "Did the book also tell you that you sound like a horny TED Talk?"
"Yah!" Jisung lobbed a throw pillow at him, missing spectacularly as Minho sidestepped with the ease of someone who’d spent years dodging Jisung’s terrible aim.
"Just— look at this!" He thrust the book forward, pointing at a diagram of a blissed-out person wrapped in elegant rope patterns. "They call it kinetic art for the body. Doesn’t that sound cool?"
Minho wiped his hands on a towel and walked over, plucking the book from Jisung’s grip. He skimmed the page, lips twitching. "Ah. So you want me to turn you into art."
Jisung’s ears went pink. "I— Well. If you’re offering."
Minho tossed the book onto the coffee table with a deliberate thud, eyes glinting as he loomed over Jisung. "You realize I was a Boy Scout back in the day, right? Knots were basically my thing before dancing was." He dragged a fingertip down Jisung’s collarbone, grinning at the full-body shiver it provoked. "You sure you can handle my specialty?"
Jisung squirmed, knees knocking together. "I— It’s not like I’m scared or anything," he lied, voice cracking. Minho’s smirk widened.
"Uh-huh." Minho leaned in, close enough for Jisung to feel his breath against his ear. "Then go shower. I’ll get the ropes."
Jisung squeaked, scrambling off the couch so fast he nearly face-planted into the rug. Minho’s laughter followed him down the hall, warm and fond.
· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·
Jisung emerged from the shower with his skin still pink from the heat, towel clutched awkwardly around his waist as he padded into the bedroom. Minho was already there, seated cross-legged on the bed with a coil of soft black rope laid out beside him like some kind of erotic picnic.
He glanced up, smirk slow and deliberate as his eyes dragged over Jisung’s damp hair, his bare shoulders, the way his fingers fidgeted with the towel’s edge. "Took you long enough," Minho drawled. "I was starting to think you drowned in there."
"Shut up," Jisung muttered, ears burning as he let the towel drop. The air hit his skin like a tease, and he scrambled onto the bed before his nerves could talk him out of it. "Okay, so— how are we doing this?"
Minho’s grin turned sharp. "We’re doing it my way." He nudged Jisung onto his back, guiding his wrists behind him with a firm grip.
The first loop of rope slid against his skin, cool and smooth, and Jisung’s breath hitched as Minho pulled it tight just enough to feel the pressure, not enough to hurt. "Color?" Minho asked, fingers pausing.
"Green," Jisung breathed. "Definitely green… proceed."
Minho’s fingers worked with practiced ease, weaving the rope around Jisung’s wrists in a series of intricate loops that somehow felt secure without biting into his skin.
“Boy Scout shit,” Minho murmured, almost to himself, as he knotted the final tie with a sharp tug that made Jisung gasp. “Too tight?”
“No, it’s—fuck, it’s good,” Jisung admitted, testing the restraints with a wiggle. The movement sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin, and he bit his lip to stifle a whine.
Minho noticed, of course, because he always noticed his smirk was downright predatory as he trailed a fingertip down Jisung’s inner thigh.
“Legs apart,” Minho ordered, nudging Jisung’s knees wider. The rope coiled around his ankles next, securing him to the bedposts with just enough slack to squirm but not enough to escape.
Jisung’s breath came faster now, his chest rising and falling under Minho’s lingering gaze. “Look at you,” Minho mused, dragging a palm up Jisung’s thigh. “All spread out for me like some kind of present.”
Jisung groaned, hips twitching helplessly. “Hyung, if you don’t touch me—”
“What?” Minho arched a brow, deliberately avoiding Jisung’s aching cock as he leaned in to nip at his collarbone. “You’ll what? Cry?”
Jisung let out a high-pitched whine, his hips jerking uselessly against the ropes. “I’ll—fuck, I’ll sue you for emotional damages,” he gasped, breath hitching as Minho’s teeth scraped lower, down his sternum. “This is—ah—torture, you sadist—”
Minho chuckled against his skin, the vibration sending shivers down Jisung’s spine. “Torture?” He dragged his tongue over a nipple, slow and deliberate, and Jisung arched off the bed with a choked noise.
“Baby, this is just the appetizer.” His fingers trailed lower, skimming the crease of Jisung’s thigh, so close to where he was throbbing and yet… “Hyung,” Jisung begged, voice cracking. “Please, please—”
Minho paused, tilting his head with mock innocence. “Please what?” He traced a fingertip along the underside of Jisung’s cock, feather-light, and Jisung nearly sobbed. “Use your words.”
“Touch me,” Jisung wailed, straining against the ropes. His wrists twisted helplessly, the friction sending sparks up his arms. “Or—or I’ll die, I swear to god—”
Minho clicked his tongue, finally wrapping his hand around Jisung’s cock in a loose grip. “Dramatic,” he murmured, thumb swiping over the leaking tip.
Jisung’s entire body seized, a broken noise tearing from his throat as Minho stroked him once, twice… then stopped, pulling away just as Jisung’s hips bucked up desperately. “Minho-hyung—”
Jisung’s hips jerked uselessly against the ropes, his cock twitching pathetically as Minho leaned back just out of reach. “You—” Jisung’s voice cracked, high and desperate.
“You’re evil. Like, clinically. I need—fuck—I need you to—” His words dissolved into a garbled whine as Minho dragged a single fingertip up the length of his shaft, agonizingly slow.
Minho’s grin was pure sin. “Need me to what?” He leaned in, breath hot against Jisung’s ear. “Say it properly.”
“Fuck me,” Jisung gasped, squirming. “Or—or let me cum, or something, I’m gonna—” He cut himself off with a choked moan as Minho’s hand finally closed around him again, stroking just enough to tease but not enough to relieve. “Hyung, please—”
Minho hummed, considering, before suddenly shifting his grip to pin Jisung’s hips to the bed with one hand. The other trailed lower, fingertips brushing over his rim, just shy of where he was clenching around nothing. “You’re dripping,” Minho murmured, amused, as his fingers came away slick. “All this just from being tied up?”
Jisung whimpered, thighs trembling. “Shut up—”
Minho chuckled, low and dark, pressing a kiss to Jisung’s hipbone before finally sliding two fingers into him without warning.
Jisung’s back arched off the bed with a strangled shout, toes curling against the sheets as Minho worked him open with brutal efficiency. “Fuck—fuck—hyung, more—” Jisung babbled, hips twitching against Minho’s grip, the ropes pulling tighter as he strained.
“So greedy,” Minho teased, crooking his fingers just there, and Jisung nearly sobbed as pleasure lit up his spine. “You’re begging like you’re not already getting exactly what you wanted.”
He added a third finger, stretching Jisung until his thighs shook, the slick sounds loud in the quiet room. “Still green?” Minho murmured, lips brushing Jisung’s inner thigh.
“Green, god, yes—” Jisung gasped, squirming again as Minho’s fingers fucked into him relentlessly. “Just— fuck me already, I’m gonna—” He cut off with a whine as Minho pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving him clenching around nothing. “Minho-hyung—”
Minho shushed him, palming his own cock with a slow stroke before lining up, the blunt head pressing against Jisung’s entrance. “Tell me what you need,” he ordered, voice rough.
Jisung’s breath hitched. “You. Inside. Now—”
Minho didn’t need to be told twice. With a sharp exhale, he pushed in, slow at first just enough to make Jisung’s breath stutter then all at once, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust.
Jisung yelped, back arching off the bed as his entire body lit up like a live wire. “Fuck—fuck—hyung—” His voice cracked, toes curling against the sheets as Minho bottomed out, the stretch just shy of too much.
Minho paused, hips flush against Jisung’s ass, and let out a shaky groan. “Jesus. You’re tight.”
Jisung whined, shifting against the ropes. “Move, move—”
Minho chuckled, dragging his cock out torturously slow before snapping his hips forward again, hard enough to jolt Jisung up the mattress.
“Like that?” he murmured, voice dripping with faux innocence as he repeated the motion, each thrust deliberate and deep. Jisung could only nod frantically, his words dissolving into a string of punched-out moans as Minho set a punishing pace, angling his hips just right to hit that spot inside him with every snap of his hips.
“Fuck, you’re pretty like this,” Minho growled, gripping Jisung’s hip hard enough to bruise as he fucked into him relentlessly. “All tied up and taking it so good—” Jisung keened, his cock leaking against his stomach with every thrust, the ropes biting into his skin in the best way.
He couldn’t touch himself, couldn’t do anything but take it, and the helplessness of it all like the way Minho controlled every gasp, every twitch of his body sent him spiraling higher.
Minho leaned down, pressing his chest against Jisung’s back as he nipped at his earlobe. “Close?” he murmured, breath hot against Jisung’s skin.
Jisung nodded desperately, his thighs trembling. “Yeah? Gonna cum just from my cock?” Minho’s voice was smug, but his hips stuttered, betraying how close he was too.
Jisung whimpered, his entire body tensing as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. “Go ahead,” Minho urged, biting down on his shoulder. “Come for me, baby.”
Jisung’s orgasm hit him like a lightning strike it was sudden, blinding, and so intense his vision whited out for a second.
His back arched off the bed, ropes pulling tighter as he came untouched, streaks of white painting his stomach in erratic bursts.
His mouth fell open in a silent scream before sound rushed back in a choked, "Hyung—fuck—" as Minho fucked him through it, each thrust dragging oversensitive sparks from his trembling body.
Minho groaned into the crook of Jisung’s neck, hips stuttering as Jisung clenched around him. "God, feel that," he gritted out, fingers digging into Jisung’s hips.
"You’re milking me—" His rhythm faltered, and with one last, deep thrust, he came with a shuddering exhale, warmth flooding Jisung’s insides.
For a moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the creak of the bed as Minho slumped forward, careful not to crush Jisung beneath him despite the ropes still holding him down.
Jisung’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his skin tacky with sweat, his limbs boneless. "Holy shit," he wheezed, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. "I think I blacked out."
Minho huffed a laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to Jisung’s shoulder before pushing himself up. "Drama queen," he murmured, but his fingers were already working at the knots with practiced ease, unraveling the ropes with the same precision he’d used to tie them.
The moment Jisung’s wrists were free, he flopped his arms forward with a groan, rubbing at the faint red marks left behind. "Okay?" Minho asked, thumb brushing over the tender skin.
Jisung nodded, stretching his legs as Minho undid the ankle restraints. "Better than okay," he admitted, grinning when Minho rolled his eyes. "I was right, by the way. The book was right—"
Minho snorted, tossing the ropes aside before collapsing onto the bed beside Jisung, their sweat-slick skin sticking together in the most disgusting yet oddly comforting way.
"Of course you'd focus on being right while still looking like you got hit by a truck," he muttered, but the way his fingers traced idle patterns down Jisung’s spine betrayed his affection.
Jisung wiggled closer, pressing his face into Minho’s neck with a contented sigh. "Mmm, your truck. And it was a nice hit." He punctuated the statement with a lazy bite to Minho’s collarbone, grinning when Minho swatted at his hip halfheartedly.
"Disgusting," Minho declared, but he was already reaching for the discarded towel at the foot of the bed, wiping Jisung’s stomach clean with more care than necessary.
Jisung let him, humming appreciatively as Minho’s fingers lingered over the faint rope marks on his wrists. "These okay really?"
"More than okay," Jisung assured, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. "Felt like—I dunno, like I was wrapped up in you. In a sexy way. Not like a burrito. Unless you’re into that. No kink shaming."
Minho rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "You’re exhausting." He grabbed the duvet, yanking it over both of them in a haphazard cocoon before dragging Jisung flush against his chest. Jisung went willingly, limbs tangling with Minho’s like they’d been doing this for years…which, to be fair, they had.