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Three weeks after Minho’s first day at the new library branch, he sees The Sign. He doesn’t know that the sign is going to change his life. He just thinks it’s hilarious, takes a picture to post on Twitter, and goes about his day.
The post goes viral, which is a bit of a pain in the ass, but that’s not what changes his life. What changes his life is what happens after he decides to respond to the sign.
The sign reads as follows:
Wanted: to BORROW an orange cat to have a lasagna dinner with Garfield-loving 7-year-old and 4-year-old children. Will return cat happy and cared for. Cat will not be required to eat lasagna if contraindicated. Please. No feral cats. And please take your cat back at the end. Not looking to adopt. Thank you, An increasingly desperate (but not crazy) single parent with no friends that own orange cats.
There’s no name but there is a number, which Minho blacks out before posting it online.
By the end of the week Minho’s notifications have largely calmed down but the sign is still there. Minho wonders if anyone has replied. There’s something endearingly deranged about the request that he can’t get out of his head.
Minho keeps an eye out in case someone comes to take down the sign. He’s decided the poster is probably a white woman in her mid to late 30s, friendly and outgoing, more than a little tired-looking but still well put-together, with curly brown hair and plastic framed glasses. Her name is Kelly or Kasey or Kate. The kids are probably named Kennedy and Khaleesi.
Dad’s name was Kevin, but he was a douche and is out of the picture.
Minho’s “weekend” starts at the end of a very long Saturday shift which he primarily spent reshelving the children’s section. He’s exhausted, but in a good way. He likes kids and likes to see them coming to the library and enjoying books, even if their idea of enjoying sometimes involves putting the books in their mouths or down their pants.
He takes a shower and lies on his couch, scrolling through Twitter. The Garfield sign post is still making the rounds, long ago muted for his sanity.
Minho pulls up the unedited photo and stares at the phone number. It’s silly, but he can’t stop wondering if those kids ever got their party. He can’t call just to ask, but…
Minho eyes the enormous, aggressively purring orange cat on his lap. Soonie is actually really good with people, including kids. His friends have been bringing their kids over for years, and Soonie always puts up with more than Minho expects. Doongie doesn’t mind some petting but nopes out if anyone tries to pick him up. Dori hides the second anyone other than Minho comes through the door.
Surely someone has responded to the ad by now. Minho can call and say he has a cat who could easily pass for Garfield, and it won’t be weird or a lie. Kelly will tell him that someone already got back to her, and then Minho can stop thinking about it.
He dials the number before he can talk himself out of it, puts his phone on speaker, and scratches Soonie under his chin while he waits.
“Hello?” The voice is pleasant, like caramel squeezed over ice cream. It’s deeper than Minho was expecting, but that’s what he gets for making assumptions.
“Uhhhhh hi,” Minho replies like the totally smooth guy he is. “My name’s Minho, and I work at the library and saw your sign…?”
“Oh!” The voice sounds unsure whether to be pleased or apprehensive. “Do you need me to take it down? No one’s called yet.”
“No, you’re fine!” Minho swallows. He likes this voice. He wants it to be happy, not concerned. “I have a cat.”
There’s a long silence after his abrupt declaration.
“An orange cat?” the voice finally replies, a hint of humor in it.
“Yes,” Minho answers, smiling at the oldest of his babies. “Listen.” He moves his phone closer to Soonie so the mic can pick up his purring.
A delighted laugh rings through the speaker. “Putting your phone next to a lawn mower isn’t going to convince me you have a cat.”
“Hey now!” Minho protests, suppressing a laugh.
“If you’re serious, that would be amazing,” the voice continues. “I know it’s short notice but can you meet for coffee tomorrow? I want to make sure you’re not a maniac.”
“That would be fine,” Minho says in what he hopes is a completely sane tone of voice. “Where?”
“Somewhere near your house so I can meet your cat if I like you?”
Minho laughs. “Okay.” He suggests a coffee shop a couple blocks from his apartment, and they work out a time.
“Wow, thank you so much!” the voice chirps. “The kids are going to be so happy if this works out.”
“One thing though?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your name?”
“Oh!” The voice chuckles awkwardly. “Jisung.”
Minho blinks, startled again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jisung.”
“Oh, um, yeah! Okay!” Jisung stammers. “See you tomorrow!”
Minho stares at his phone for a while after the call ends. Apparently Kelly is actually someone with a masculine voice and a Korean name, but no accent. Minho has lived in the United States for long enough to mostly abolish his own accent, but Jisung had pronounced his own name like an American, so Minho guesses he’s native.
He scratches Soonie’s neck.
“I guess I have a date,” he observes wryly. It’s not really a date, but he still wants to put his best foot forward. He reluctantly tips Soonie out of his lap, earning a feline grumble, and goes to see if he’s got any respectably clean clothes left.
***
Jisung steps into the coffee shop ten minutes after he was supposed to meet Minho. Minho had texted that he’d be wearing a lavender sweater, and holy shit no fucking way.
Jisung’s brain short circuits when he sees the man in lavender sitting alone by the window. He is without a doubt the single most attractive person Jisung has ever seen in his entire life. Jisung scans the room desperately, figuring there must be another Korean-American in a lavender sweater waiting for him because there’s no way the universe just dropped a man like that into his lap.
The man stands and waves tentatively. Almost like he’s waiting for a stranger who will be looking for someone sitting alone wearing a lavender sweater.
Jisung hopes the expression he forces onto his face is more of a smile than a grimace, but he really isn’t sure. He just remembered that Minho said he was a librarian, and he basically wants to die. Not like he’s had recurring fantasies about having sex in a library since he was twelve or anything. Definitely not.
“Minho?” he asks once he’s forced himself to make his way over.
“Yup,” the man replies. “Jisung?” Jisung hadn’t noticed an accent over the phone, but Minho pronounces Jisung’s name oddly. No one in Jisung’s family actually speaks Korean, but he suspects Minho’s family might be different.
“Yup!” Jisung blinks at the other for a long moment, trying to remember what to do next.
“Did you want to get a drink?” Minho prompts, gesturing to the mug in front of him.
“Oh, yes, great idea,” Jisung replies. Anything to give him a little time to get his shit together. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere!”
Minho smiles. He’s got a great smile. His front teeth are just a tiny bit large, giving him a slightly goofy look that somehow only makes him hotter. Jisung wonders what those teeth would feel like dragging lightly down his…
“I won’t,” Minho promises. He looks amused.
Jisung stumbles to the counter, reminding himself that he’s a 34-year-old father of two, not a horny college student. It doesn’t help, because when he was in college he actually had sex on a semi-regular basis, unlike the last few years. He’s certainly wanted to have sex—neither turning 30 nor adopting the kids changed that—but life has made it more challenging than he’d expected.
Jisung practices breathing while he orders and waits for a white chocolate mocha, then squares his shoulders and goes to rejoin the unsettlingly attractive man with an orange cat.
Minho is tapping away at his phone and looks like he’s in a commercial for tequila or perfume or something else expensive. Jisung wants to bury his face in that stupidly fluffy sweater, and then find out what’s under it.
Stop it! he scolds his dick. Be good, and I’ll give you something nice later.
Jisung grins and sits down again. It really doesn’t help that this feels so much like a date. He hasn’t been on a date since… before he turned 30, maybe?
“Soooo,” Jisung begins, fully intending to ask something relevant to why they’re meeting. “You’re a librarian?” is what comes out of his mouth instead.
Minho smiles. He’s got a great smile. Jisung is pretty sure he noticed that already, but it’s still true. “Yeah.”
“Nice, nice,” Jisung replies idiotically. “Um. That’s cool. I love libraries. Do you, um. Do you have kids?”
“No kids,” Minho replies.
“No one special in your life?” He can’t believe how bad he is at this. “A lady or, um, a um, gentleman? Or, um…”
“Only my cats at the moment,” Minho replies, his smile thinning slightly. “But if you’re worried about having a gay man around your kids, I’m not interested in continuing this conversation.”
“Fuck, no!” Jisung blushes and glances around, embarrassed at the volume and vehemence of his outburst. “No, I’m so sorry. I’m gay, so of course I don’t care about that. If anything, I worry they don’t know enough straight people, because all of my friends are gay too. Like, all of them. Literally everyone I know is gay.”
Minho relaxes. “I guess I’ll fit right in.”
“Oh,” Jisung gulps. “I mean, good. I mean.” He sips his drink then fiercely shakes his head to try and clear it. “I’m not sure if you picked up on this, but I’m being so awkward, I’m really sorry,” he says more calmly than before. “I don’t get out enough.” Minho is staring at him with an unreadable expression, but it doesn’t seem like an unfriendly one.
“Let’s start over,” Jisung suggests. He holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jisung, thank you for answering my ad.”
Minho smiles and shakes his hand, quickly and firmly. “I’m Minho, nice to meet you. Like I said on the phone, I work at the library, and I have a cat. Three, actually, but I think one would be perfect. He’s good with kids, and his stomach is made of Teflon—he’ll eat anything if you let him, which I don’t usually, but I’m not worried about him eating a little lasagna.”
He reaches for his phone, which Jisung just now realizes has the silhouettes of three cats on the case. He hands the phone over, and Jisung sees it’s open to an album titled Soonie. It has over 1000 pictures in it.
The cat looks like… a cat. It’s orange, and a little too well fed maybe, but looks about as happy as any other well-cared for cat. “He’s cute,” Jisung gushes as gushingly as he can manage. “How long have you had him?”
Minho appears capable of talking about his cats for hours, and as indifferent as Jisung is toward pets in general, he’s pretty sure he could listen to Minho talk about anything for hours. He’s funny in a dry, slightly weird kind of way, and he clearly loves his cats. His eyes light up and his face gets soft while he talks about them, and it’s absolutely adorable.
They pivot to his job at the library, and he clearly loves that too. This is slightly more dangerous ground, because while Jisung thinks owning cats is nice, he thinks being a librarian is hot.
“What do you do?” Minho asks inevitably.
Jisung blushes. “Um, I’m um, a music producer. I mostly write, but I compose too. Mostly for other people these days.”
“Wow, that’s a lot cooler than being a librarian.”
“No way!” Jisung insists. “I pretty much sit in front of a computer all day. And most nights. I’m lucky because I can do a lot of my work from home while the kids are sleeping. My parents watch them after school, but it would be a lot harder if I were still performing.”
“You miss it?” Minho asks shrewdly.
Jisung shrugs. “Yeah, sometimes. The hours were insane. Not that my hours aren’t insane with the kids. It’s better now than when Duncan was younger. He’s the four-year-old. The seven-year-old is Miranda. She’s usually an angel, thank god, but Duncan used to set her off sometimes. The first year with them was rough.”
“They’re adopted?”
“Yeah?” Jisung rocks his head from side to side. “Kinda. They’re… they were my brother's kids, so I’ve known them since they were born. He and his wife died in a car crash, um, about three years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Minho frowns sincerely.
Jisung smiles. It still hurts, but at least he can talk about it now without tearing up. “Thanks. I miss them. But they’re great kids. And my parents help out a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I feel bad calling myself a single parent because they do at least as much parenting as I do, but if I don’t people assume I’m married, so…” he shrugs.
“No one special in your life, then?” The question sounds innocent, but Minho’s fingers are playing with the rim of his mug in a way that doesn’t seem entirely innocent. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and suddenly Jisung’s mouth feels like a desert.
“Not since the kids,” he replies. “I can’t blame them, though. My last relationship ended because I worked too much. And the one before that. The kids are a better excuse than ‘I suck at prioritizing my romantic partners.’”
Minho wrinkles his nose, and it’s about the cutest thing Jisung has ever seen. No one that hot should be allowed to be that cute, too. It’s seriously unfair.
“Do you want to meet the cats?” Minho asks abruptly. “If you’re convinced I’m not a maniac?” His grin goes a little sideways, and something twinkles in his eyes.
“Um, yeah!” Minho’s mug is empty, and Jisung got his drink in a to-go cup out of habit, so they stand and leave together.
“This way,” Minho says, jerking his head down the street. “It’s just a couple of blocks.”
“Cool cool cool,” Jisung says, bouncing on his toes. “Let’s go!”
***
This is fine Minho thinks, opening the door to his apartment. No big deal. I’m just bringing a hot guy home for the first time in a million years. No problem. It’s not like he has much going for him anyhow. He’s just funny, and a good listener, and a musician. And really hot. I hope he can’t cook. That would be unfair.
Soonie is waiting at the door, as usual. Minho scoops him up so he can’t escape while Jisung closes the door. As soon as Minho puts the cat down, he’s sniffing around Jisung’s feet, headbutting his ankles when he doesn’t immediately get attention.
“Wow, he likes me,” Jisung laughs.
“Don’t be too flattered. He likes everybody.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Jisung drops to the floor right there in the entryway, sets down his cup, and holds out his fingers for the cat to smell. Soonie ignores them in favor of shoving his head into Jisung’s palm. “He knows what he wants.”
“Attention and food,” Minho laughs, taking off his shoes. “He’d like you even more if you had food.”
“Good to know.” Jisung’s leg jitters as he pets Soonie, but he still looks more relaxed than he had at the coffee shop.
“So what are you thinking this party would look like?” Minho asks, sitting down on the floor so he isn’t looming. “Soonie’s good with people, but I’d rather he not be expected to entertain twenty kids at once or something like that.”
“Definitely not,” Jisung replies. “I was thinking just me, and my parents, and the kids. And you, of course.”
“Right,” Minho blinks. Of course he’d be there—was he just going to hand Soonie over to a stranger because he has kissable lips and shining eyes and laughs at Minho’s jokes? “That sounds fine.”
“My parents are super chill, you’ll like them. Um. If my mom figures out that you’re gay, she might ask if you’re single.” He blushes, focusing on Soonie. “And if she finds out you’re single, then… um… yeah. Just a heads up.”
Minho laughs. “What are their names?”
“Sarah and Mike. Han.” He pronounces the family name with a hard a, American-style.
“Are you the only one in your family with a Korean name?”
“It’s my middle name,” Jisung replies. “My first name is Peter, but I went through an ‘authentic’ phase in college and switched to Jisung. I don’t know what I was thinking—my dad’s family has been here forever, and my mom was adopted. But I never really liked Peter, and then I started selling music as Jisung, and now here we are. How about you? Does everyone in your family have Korean names?”
“Yeah, because everyone in my family is Korean. I moved here for school.”
“Wow, really? I couldn’t tell.”
“It’s been a while,” Minho smiles.
“That must have been tough.”
“Not that bad,” Minho replies. “I went into the military right after high school and had already decided I wanted to go to college here, so I just studied English the whole time I was enlisted.” He shrugs. “I’m still not out there. I am here.”
“Wow. How long have you been here?” Jisung blushes. “Sorry if that’s rude. But you don’t look fresh out of college.”
“I’m 36,” Minho says dryly. “I’ve been here since I was 20. First on a student visa, then I got married in grad school, then I got naturalized, then I got divorced.” He scowls fiercely. “It wasn’t a scam—we just didn’t work out.”
“No judgment here,” Jisung laughs, holding up his hands defensively and prompting Soonie to yowl in displeasure at the loss of attention. Jisung quickly remedies this.
Minho laughs too. “The funny thing is that the immigration process was the first thing we really fought about. He didn’t understand why I wanted to be naturalized as soon as I was eligible. I didn’t want to be dependent on him and he didn’t like that.” He shrugs. “It would have come out eventually.”
“If you’re not out in Korea does that mean your parents don’t know you’re gay?”
“They do now, but they didn’t until after I left. I told them at the same time as I told them I wasn’t moving back after college. I thought they’d be more upset than they were.” He chuckles awkwardly. “They were still upset, but maybe they weren’t as surprised as I thought they’d be. They were more upset when they found out I was giving up my citizenship, but I’d been back a few times, and I just… I couldn’t do it.”
“Mmm, yeah.” Jisung sucks his lower lip between his teeth, and Minho just about chokes on his spit. “I thought about going over for music. But Brian—my brother—talked me out of it.”
“Were you close?” Minho asks, not sure if it’s an appropriate question.
“Pretty close,” Jisung replies, frowning slightly. “We were seven years apart, but he was always there for me. Let me follow him around. He never treated me like I was a bother.” He pauses and laughs. “Mostly never. He always encouraged me with my music. He taught me to play the guitar. He was a singer, too. Not professionally, but he had an amazing voice.”
Minho isn’t big on physical touch, but he really wants to give Jisung a hug. The other shakes his head the way he did back in the coffee shop and meets Minho’s eyes with a wry grin.
“Anyhow, I try and think about that when the kids are really driving me nuts. He was there for me, and now I get to be there for them. Because he can’t.”
Minho smiles, and Jisung smiles back, and it takes a while before Minho realizes they’re just sitting there smiling at each other without saying anything. It’s nice right up until Minho starts overthinking it.
Minho swallows and looks down at Soonie. “Garfield, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jisung replies, sounding a little dazed. “My dad got them into it. He loves old comic strips—Garfield, Peanuts, Family Circus—I don’t know why Garfield is the one they latched onto, but at least I’m not trying to find a beagle right now.”
“I don’t have a beagle,” Minho pouts, still looking at his cat so he doesn’t have to look at Jisung.
“I guess that worked out perfectly.”
“Can you cook?” Minho blurts, more aggressively than he’d intended. He looks up to see Jisung looking a little taken aback.
“I’m okay, I guess?” Jisung shrugs. “It’s not my favorite. A lot of the time I just heat up stuff my dad brings over. You?”
“I like to cook,” Minho replies.
“You should cook me dinner sometime.”
“Okay, I will.” Minho’s not sure why it feels like accepting a challenge, but he is sure he hasn’t met anyone he likes this much this quickly in a long time. Maybe ever.
They stare at each other for another minute before Jisung starts laughing. “Lasagna first, okay? Which my dad will be cooking.”
Minho blushes and clears his throat. “Right. Sorry.”
“If you think you’re getting out of making me dinner you’re wrong.”
“Oh,” Minho replies quietly. “Good.”
“Lasagna first. Are you always off on Sundays?”
“For the next couple of months at least.”
“Awesome.” Jisung pushes to his feet, and Minho scrambles up as well. “I’ll ask mom and dad if next week works for them, then I’ll text you. Sound good?”
“That sounds great.” Minho nods briskly. “It was… It was good to meet you.”
“Yeah,” Jisung replies, picking up his cup and reaching for the door. “It was good meeting you too.” He sounds like he means it. He grins. “Ready to block any escape artists?”
Minho laughs and picks up Soonie. “See you next week. Or whenever. You have my number.”
“Yup.” Jisung grins and waggles his fingers from around the open door. “See you.”
Minho lets out a sigh when the door shuts behind Jisung. He’s already impatient for the next week to be over.
***
Jisung manages to put Minho out of his head during his drive home, and while he’s eating dinner with Miranda and Duncan, and all the way through bedtime. He forces himself to wait out Duncan’s request to go to the bathroom (which Jisung obliges even though he knows it’s an excuse), then his request for another book (which Jisung denies), then his request for a glass of water (which Jisung also denies, pointing out that there’s already a glass of water next to Duncan’s bed).
Finally, things are quiet in the smallest of the three bedrooms and Jisung lets himself relax. He thinks about jerking off in the shower, but remembers Minho’s quirky smile and gorgeous eyes and decides to risk indulging himself.
After grabbing a towel from the bathroom, Jisung digs his sadly neglected lube out of the back of his closet. He only needs a moment of deliberation before grabbing his fleshlight rather than his dildo.
Settling back on his bed after double-checking the lock on his door, he strips off his sleep pants, squeezes lube onto his hand, and starts stroking himself. He sighs in relief and lets himself run through every moment of his time with Minho in as much detail as he can manage.
Plenty of it was embarrassing, but Minho hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d seemed to like Jisung’s awkwardness. It’s been a while, but Jisung is pretty sure he can still tell when someone’s interested in him, and Minho had definitely seemed interested.
Jisung swallows a groan, not needing much time at all before he’s hard, his breath quick and eager. He squeezes more lube onto his cock, setting the bottle on the towel and picking up the fleshlight.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jisung thinks about Minho’s mouth as he pushes into the toy. It’s better than his hand, but Minho would feel even better. Jisung imagines Minho’s lips closing around him, his tongue teasing the soft skin under his head.
It takes an effort not to rush, to take his time pleasuring himself to the memory of the beautiful man with a cat (or three). Minho had seemed halfway cat himself, his movements lazy and graceful. Jisung brings his lube-slick fingers to his nipple, imagining it’s Minho licking and nipping at him with those adorable teeth.
Jisung’s hips kick at the added sensation, thrusting into the toy. He wonders what Minho sounds like when he’s being fucked. Would he whimper? Sigh? Grit his teeth at Jisung the way he had when he’d practically dared Jisung to come to dinner?
Jisung bites his lower lip, pinching his nipple hard and thinking about Minho’s teeth bearing down on him—Minho definitely seemed like a biter. His fantasies dissolve into vague images, memories of the real man blending with flashes of imagined scenarios.
It’s more difficult than usual to stay quiet, but Jisung has years of experience at this point. His mouth falls open as his pleasure tips past the point of no return. He can’t decide if he’s coming in Minho’s mouth or his ass, but either thought has his back arching off of the bed, limbs tensing and shaking.
Jisung is almost surprised when his head clears and he finds himself alone, fingers wrapped painfully tight around the fleshlight. He pulls the toy off his softening cock, wiping himself with the towel before wrapping the toy up in it and shoving the bundle under his bed to deal with in the morning.
He grabs his pajama pants from the floor and awkwardly wrestles them back on. He feels almost drunk, his body loose and his mind foggy. He stumbles out of bed to unlock his door, nestles under his blankets, and is asleep almost before his head hits his pillow.
***
It’s only been a week, but the sight of Jisung grinning from the other side of the doorway hits Minho just as hard as the first time he laid eyes on the other.
“Hi!” Jisung chirps, gesturing for Minho to come in. He lives in a single-family home in a nice but not intimidatingly nice neighborhood. There are rocking chairs and a wicker couch on the front porch, and someone spends a lot of time in the garden.
Minho steps inside, setting down the cat carrier with Soonie dozing inside and toeing off his shoes. An older woman with prominent smile lines stands a little behind Jisung. Minho nods politely.
“You must be Minho,” she says. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah. And this must be Garfield?” She lowers her voice for the last bit.
“Yes ma’am,” Minho replies in a similar quiet tone. “Sarah,” he corrects himself at a quirk of her eyebrows. She reminds him a lot of Jisung.
“Hmm,” she responds cryptically, flashing an equally cryptic look at her son. “Well, come in. The kids are upstairs with their grandpa. They probably can’t hear us, but I don’t want them charging your boy until we’ve given him a little time to smell out the place.”
Minho smiles gratefully. “Thank you,” he says. He steps further into the house. There are closed doors on either side of the wide entryway, but otherwise the first floor is a single large, open space.
Jisung waves him towards the part of the room set off with a carpet and large couch. “Go ahead and let him out, if you want.”
Minho sets down the carrier and sits cross-legged on the floor next to it. “Hey buddy,” he croons. Soonie stares through the wire door, clearly unimpressed. Minho opens the door and wiggles his fingers to coax him out.
Soonie pokes his head out of the carrier and deigns to sniff around the new space. Minho isn’t too worried—he’s moved twice since adopting Soonie, and even lent him to his friend Seonghwa for a week to deal with the mice in his basement apartment. Soonie knows what he’s about.
“Okay if I let the other wild beasts out?” Jisung asks.
Minho looks up to see the other man grinning in his direction. He reminds himself that this is not a date, just like their last date was not a date.
The fact that they have a tentative date date set doesn’t help keep him focused at all.
“Go ahead,” Minho replies, bracing himself for a long evening of ignoring Jisung’s sparkling eyes and honey-sweet voice.
It’s bad, but not nearly as bad as it could have been. Minho likes kids, and Jisung’s kids are happy kids, well loved and provided for. They love Soonie, and applaud when he neatly devours a very small portion of lasagna without hesitation.
They giggle when Minho warns them to guard their own meals, and thankfully Duncan is delighted rather than dismayed when Soonie steals the last bite from his plate when he isn’t looking.
Jisung’s father looks at Minho with a mischievous glint in his eye as he’s preparing to leave, Jisung hovering at his side. “How about I start bedtime while you help Minho to his car?” the older man suggests.
“I want daddy!” Duncan protests.
Jisung kisses the top of his head. “I won’t be long, and I’ll make sure we read an extra two books.”
“Noooo,” Duncan wails, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s leg.
Jisung looks helplessly at Minho, who smiles.
“I don’t want to interfere with bedtime,” Minho says, crouching down. “It was nice to meet you, Duncan. I’m glad you liked Garfield.”
The boy whines, hiding his face.
“It’s been an exciting day,” Jisung says gently. “Duncan, will you say thank you and goodbye to Minho?”
There’s a long pause, then Duncan peeks out from around Jisung’s leg. “ThankyougoodbyeMemo,” he says in a rush.
Miranda grins up at Minho without hesitation. “Can I hug you goodnight?” she asks.
“Sure!” Minho’s pretty sure his hug is a little awkward, but he thinks he does okay. Miranda smiles. “I hope you and Soonie come back soon!”
Minho smiles. “I hope so too. It was very nice meeting you.”
***
Jisung: Sorry I couldn’t give you a proper good night. Bedtime is sacred.
Minho: Don’t worry about it.
Jisung: I hope you had a good time. The kids were so excited I didn’t think they’d ever get to sleep. They want to know when they can see Garfield again.
Minho: I had fun. But I believe I owe you dinner first.
Jisung: True true. But it should be the other way around. You did me a big favor tonight.
Minho: Then you owe me the pleasure of your company at dinner. Family members not invited, wonderful as they all were.
Jisung: What about cats?
Minho: They like to watch, but you won’t even know they’re there.
Jisung: Now that’s all I’m going to think about. Good job.
Minho: I’ll shut them in the bedroom. Or out of the bedroom. Whatever.
Jisung: Planning on having dinner in the bedroom?
Minho: Dessert?
Jisung: I’m more of a cheese course guy.
Minho: Fancy. Is that usually before or after dinner? I’m flexible.
Jisung: After dinner, before dessert.
Minho: Are we talking about food or sex?
Jisung: …
Jisung: Both?
Minho: Both is good.
Jisung: Good. Because I’d like both. Unless you’re not actually a good cook, then I’ll just take the sex.
Minho: What if I’m good at cooking and bad at sex?
Jisung: Somehow I doubt that.
Minho: Anything’s possible.
Jisung: In the unlikely event that’s the case, I can be good enough for both of us.
Minho: Cocky?
Jisung: Earned it.
Minho: You’re setting my expectations pretty high. It’ll be disappointing if you can't live up to them.
Jisung: I’d never want to disappoint you.
Minho: …
Minho: Hope you’re free for dinner soon.
Minho: …
Minho: Good night.
***
They set a dinner date for the next Sunday, a day Minho is starting to think of as Jisung Day. They text all week about what Minho is going to cook, how much Jisung is going to appreciate what Minho is going to cook, and how Jisung plans to demonstrate said appreciation.
“Um, hi,” Minho says when he finally opens his door on Sunday night and Jisung is standing on the other side. There’s a long, awkward moment where Minho remembers the increasingly explicit text messages they’ve exchanged over the past week.
Whatever Jisung’s thinking about isn’t clear to Minho, but he’s just as tongue-tied. Even so, he looks fantastic in a loose button-down tucked into the front of black slacks, with a studded leather belt and a silver necklace rounding off the look.
Finally, Minho moves, realizing he’s going to have to take charge for the time being. “Come in?” he suggests, taking a step back and tugging slightly nervously at the bottom of his orange sweater.
Jisung steps into the apartment and freezes again.
Minho smiles. “Take off your shoes.”
Jisung takes off his shoes.
“Sit?” Minho suggests, gesturing towards the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”
Jisung sits. “Um, no, I’m good.”
Minho thinks about starting dinner—everything is ready to cook, tucked in the microwave to keep the cats away—but he’s hungry for something else first.
Jisung looks hungry too.
Minho steps closer, almost between the other man’s legs.
Jisung looks up at him, biting down hard on his plump lower lip. Minho wants those to be his teeth.
“Can I?” Jisung asks, reaching tentatively toward Minho.
Minho tears his eyes away from Jisung’s mouth. “Please,” he replies.
Jisung grabs Minho’s hands and tugs him down onto the couch beside him. As soon as Minho’s seated, Jisung’s hands scramble for his waist, his lips seeking Minho’s with an eagerness Minho finds incredibly flattering.
Minho returns the kiss enthusiastically, pressing his tongue against Jisung’s lips and groaning with pleasure when the other welcomes him without hesitation. He leans forward so far that he’s halfway onto Jisung’s lap.
Jisung hooks an arm around Minho’s further leg, tugging him forward. “Come here,” he pants against Minho’s lips.
Minho raises himself up, then squeaks as Jisung actually lifts him the rest of the way onto his lap.
“Strong,” Minho murmurs.
Jisung smirks and kisses him again, hands running over Minho’s legs, up his waist, over his back.
Minho hasn’t spent this long making out in years, and it’s delightful. Jisung’s body feels amazing against his, more muscular than Minho had imagined. Every touch is electric. He’s desperate to get his hands on Jisung’s skin, tugging Jisung’s shirt out from his pants.
Jisung wiggles to help him. His hands are on Minho’s ass again, squeezing and tugging him close.
Minho whines as he slides his hands under Jisung’s shirt. He’s already more than half hard and feeling the smooth muscles of Jisung’s chest only exacerbates the issue.
“Fuck,” Jisung murmurs. He grinds up against Minho. He’s at least as hard as Minho, maybe more. There are bright spots of red high on his cheeks. “Shouldn’t we have dinner first?”
“I had dinner yesterday,” Minho replies, freeing his hands so he can unbutton Jisung’s shirt.
Jisung half laughs, half moans. “So did I?”
“I didn’t have sex yesterday,” Minho continues, pouting just a little and fumbling a button. “Or the day before that. Or…”
“Point taken,” Jisung interrupts. He tries to kiss Minho again, but can’t stop laughing.
Minho finally gets Jisung’s shirt undone and swears in Korean at the sinfully well-defined chest laid out before him.
“What did that mean?” Jisung asks a little shyly.
Minho grins smugly and reaches between them to undo Jisung’s belt and pants. “It means dinner can wait.”
“God, you are so perfect,” Jisung groans. “How are you even real?” He squeezes Minho’s thighs and leans back. He watches Minho through hooded eyes as Minho pulls Jisung’s cock out of his pants.
He’s on the larger side, Minho observes, circumcised like an American.
Minho brings his free hand to his mouth, locks eyes with Jisung, and spits on his palm. Jisung shudders beneath him, rocking against the hand wrapped loosely around his cock.
Minho swaps his dry hand for his wet one, stroking Jisung’s length while leaning in for another kiss.
Jisung meets him halfway, his tongue twining eagerly around Minho’s.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” Jisung pants the next time they pull apart. He squeezes Minho’s ass and thrusts into his hand.
Minho doesn’t want to think about anything except the look of pleasure on the face of the man beneath him, but he’s uncomfortably hard himself. He uses his free hand to pop the button on his jeans, fumbling for his zipper.
Jisung growls and bats Minho’s hand away.
Minho sighs with relief as Jisung frees his cock from his pants, the younger man’s shirt slipping off of one of his shoulders in the process. He clearly works out, not something Minho had expected, but he certainly isn’t complaining.
Minho tugs Jisung’s hand away from his cock and guides it to his mouth.
“Oh my god,” Jisung groans as Minho sucks on his fingers while still jerking him off. “You’re amazing. What the fuck?” He presses down lightly on Minho’s tongue, then harder when Minho hums in approval.
Minho gags and drools around Jisung’s fingers, gripping the other’s wrist.
“You like choking on my fingers?” Jisung gasps, voice deepening and gaining confidence. “You like having your mouth stuffed full?”
Minho shudders, pulling Jisung’s hand free and guiding it back to his cock. Jisung is a quick study, wrapping his soaked fingers around Minho and slicking him up.
Minho leans down and lets the built up saliva drop from his mouth onto Jisung’s cock, catching it in his hand as best as he can and using the extra lubrication to ease the glide of his palm.
“Fuck,” Jisung groans again, stroking Minho just right. “You’re so hot. You feel so good.” Minho isn’t at all surprised that he’s a talker.
Minho rests his forehead on Jisung’s bare shoulder and closes his eyes. It’s ridiculous how close he is already, but here they are.
“Fuck,” Jisung repeats. “Fuckfuckfuck.” The movement of his hand on Minho grows erratic, slows, and then stops entirely.
Minho whimpers and thrusts mindlessly into the circle of Jisung’s fingers while concentrating on working Jisung to completion. “Tighter!”
“Ah, ah, fuck, oh fuck!” Jisung’s hips jerk as he spills over Minho’s hand and onto his own stomach. He still manages to tighten his grip on Minho’s cock.
Minho bites Jisung’s shoulder, holding back since he isn’t sure how much pain the other is okay with. He wraps his cum-spattered hand around the head of his cock above Jisung’s hand, gives himself a few good twists of his wrist, and adds his release to the mess on Jisung’s perfect abs.
“Wow,” Jisung sighs after a long moment of them both catching their breaths. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Minho laughs, sitting up and opening his eyes. Somehow they’ve both managed to avoid soiling their clothing, but Jisung is looking a little worse for wear. “Uh, let me get you a washcloth.”
Jisung leans back, elbows spread wide against the back of the couch, shirt and pants open and cum drying on his stomach. “I’m good,” he jokes. “No problem.”
Minho kisses his nose. “You’re cute,” he replies, tucking his cock back into his pants and pushing himself to his feet.
“You’re gorgeous,” Jisung replies, grabbing his hand and kissing it before he can head to the bathroom.
Minho blinks, startled. “Thank… thank you,” he stammers. He gently pulls away, having to focus to keep his legs steady.
Once he reaches the bathroom he washes his hands and wets a washcloth. A quick glance in the mirror confirms that he looks about as wrecked as he feels: cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, hair messy and stuck to his forehead with sweat. He runs his wet hands through his hair, sticks out his tongue at his reflection, and goes to rejoin his date.
***
It turns out that Minho is a fantastic cook, on top of being extremely good looking, and funny, and a librarian, and sexy as fuck. Jisung is sure he doesn’t deserve having had someone like this drop into his lap thanks to a ridiculous sign he’d never expected anyone to respond to, but he is sure he’s going to do his best not to screw it up.
Minho asks about the kids while they’re eating, so Jisung fills him in on the highlights of the past week. Then Jisung asks about the library, and Minho asks about his music, and even if he hadn’t already had a fantastic orgasm and an excellent, home-cooked meal, it still would have been one of the best dates of his life.
Minho clears the table then sits back down across from him, resting his head adorably on his fist.
“You up for dessert?” he asks in a low, teasing voice.
“How about a cheese course?” Jisung replies.
Minho wrinkles his nose. “You’re cheesy enough.”
Jisung gasps in mock horror. “Does that mean you don’t want me to fuck you?”
Something shifts in Minho’s expression, humor becoming tinged with something almost predatory. “Oh, I do.” He licks his lips. “If you’ve got it in you. It’s been a long day.”
Jisung shoves his chair away from the table and stands, slamming his palms on the table and leaning towards the other with the cockiest smirk he can manage. “I will carry you to that bedroom if you need me to prove how much I’ve still got in me.”
A slow grin lifts the corners of Minho’s mouth, his eyes twinkling delightfully. “Save your strength,” he purrs. He stands, shoots Jisung a challenging look, then spins and stalks toward the bedroom.
Jisung follows, feeling like he’s being pulled along on a leash. (He files that interesting thought away for another day.) He stops in the doorway of Minho’s bedroom, looking around curiously. Like the rest of Minho’s apartment, it’s neat and pleasantly, but unpretentiously, decorated with a mix of Ikea furniture and what are probably thrift store finds.
Minho sits at the edge of a queen-sized bed covered in colorful blankets, looking suddenly almost uncertain.
“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks, heart sticking in his throat at the thought that he’s done something to worry the other.
“Nothing!” Minho smiles. “It’s just… it’s been a while.”
Jisung’s heart drops out of his throat and turns over. “I said I could be good enough for both of us,” he replies gently, still hovering in the doorway.
Minho scoffs and crooks a finger for Jisung to come closer.
Jisung obeys, stepping between Minho’s legs much the way Minho had done before.
Minho smiles and tugs at the bottom of Jisung’s shirt. Jisung had rebuttoned it for dinner but left it untucked. “How about you take that off for me?”
Jisung grins and fumbles for his buttons.
Minho hesitates a moment, then pulls his sweater over his head. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt under it, tight around his biceps and chest. He leans back on the bed and openly ogles as Jisung removes his shirt.
“Didn’t get a good enough look last time?” Jisung scoffs, tossing the shirt aside and crowding into Minho’s space.
“Mmm, I don’t mind a second look.” Minho hooks his fingers in Jinsung’s belt loops and pulls him down on top of him.
“Hi,” Jisung squeaks, holding himself up on his forearms on either side of Minho’s head. Their faces are so close Jisung can smell their dinner on the other’s breath.
Minho’s eyelashes flutter, and he inhales through slightly parted lips before turning his face up toward Jisung’s.
Jisung lowers himself to meet Minho, and it’s just as good as before. It feels right with Minho. Not familiar, but comfortable.
Minho nips at his lower lip.
Jisung giggles and pulls back a hair. “You’re quite the biter.”
Minho licks his lips. “Is that okay?” His tone is nonchalant, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.
“It’s very okay,” Jisung breathes.
“Because I’ve been holding back.”
“You don’t have to. I can take it.” Minho still looks skeptical, so Jisung kisses him lightly in what he hopes is a reassuring fashion. “I’ll tell you if I want you to do anything different,” Jisung continues. “I promise. And you do the same, okay?”
Minho blinks cutely. “Okay,” he smiles. He tugs Jisung down into another kiss, pushing his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, and dragging his blunt fingernails across Jisung’s back.
“Along those lines,” Jisung continues when they break apart to breathe. “I really would like to fuck you, but I’m good either way if you’d rather. Um. You know. Top.”
“I already said I want you to fuck me,” Minho replies, the intensity in his voice and expression making Jisung feel weak. Minho’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I haven’t topped much. I’d… I’d like to. Another time? But right now…”
Jisung swallows hard. “Right.” They stare at each other from a few inches apart, suddenly awkward again.
Minho laughs suddenly and pushes gently on Jisung’s chest. “Roll over,” he orders.
Jisung obeys happily, and is even happier when Minho straddles his thighs and pulls off his t-shirt.
“You like?” Minho teases, running a hand up his own chest.
“I do,” Jisung replies as steadily as he can.
Minho grins and blushes a little as if he hadn’t shamelessly provoked the compliment. He bites his lip and unbuttons his pants, then does the same for Jisung.
Jisung takes over when Minho pauses, undoing his own zipper and wiggling his hips to prompt Minho to lift up so Jisung can push his pants down his legs. He pushes his underwear down too while he’s at it.
Minho’s eyes widen greedily at the sight of Jisung’s cock, which is incredibly flattering. Minho knee-walks down the bed, tugging Jisung’s pants and underwear down with him and tossing them to the floor. After a quick hesitation, he stands and strips off his own pants and underwear, leaving them both naked.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Jisung says, pushing up onto his elbows to look at the other.
“You’re okay,” Minho replies dryly, though his bright eyes and stiffening cock show significantly more enthusiasm. He seems more confident now that his clothes are off, resting his hands on his hips and raking his eyes over Jisung’s body. “How do you want to do this?”
“Ah…” Jisung fumbles at the bold words. “What would you do if you were alone?”
Minho blinks. “If I was going to use a toy?”
“Sure,” Jisung replies. “You know what you like.” He laughs a little nervously. “Also, I haven’t prepped anyone but myself for a few years now. I think I mentioned I haven’t been on a date since I got the kids.”
“No hookups?”
Jisung shrugs. “I’m not really a hookup guy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” he adds hastily when Minho raises an eyebrow. “It’s just… a hassle. And I’m not really great with new people.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Minho comments. Jisung makes a skeptical face. “I mean it! You were a little awkward at first, but it was cute.”
“Thanks,” Jisung murmurs. “You’re um… you’re easy to talk to.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told.”
“Well anyone who told you otherwise is dumb.”
“Or you’re just special. I know I’m weird.”
Jisung blushes. “I like weird.”
Minho blinks again. He is weird, and Jisung likes it a lot.
Minho looks at him for a moment longer, then turns and goes to his closet. Jisung watches the play of muscle on the other’s bare back and thighs hungrily. Minho digs around in a drawer and comes back with two neatly bundled towels. He sets them on the bed and unwraps them to reveal a good-sized bottle of lube and a strip of condoms in one, and three black silicone butt plugs of various sizes in the other.
“Convenient,” Jisung observes.
“Hm?”
“Storing them in towels.”
“Ah.” Minho smiles. “Easy cleanup.” He climbs back on the bed and flips the cap on the bottle of lube.
Jisung swallows hard. He touched Minho’s cock not more than an hour or so ago, but now they’re both naked, and there’s lube, and holy shit, is this really happening? This is happening.
Minho seems to sense Jisung’s attack of nerves and picks up the slack. The part of Jisung’s mind that isn’t running in circles screaming observes that they’ve each taken the lead at different times that night, as needed. It feels good between them, like they understand what the other needs.
“Sit back,” Minho orders, voice gentle but firm. “No touching until I say so.”
Jisung sticks out his lower lip in a pout, then scrambles to the head of the bed. There’s only one pillow, which he pushes aside before leaning against the tall wooden headboard.
“Hm.” Minho sits back on his heels and frowns. “No, that won’t work. Trade places.”
Jisung grins and they awkwardly crawl around until Minho’s at the head of the bed, toys and towels in easy reach, and Jisung’s sitting at the end, one leg dangling off the edge.
Minho winks awkwardly at Jisung and turns, raising onto his knees. He picks up the lube and squeezes some on his fingers. He slicks up the smallest plug then switches it to his other hand. He grabs his headboard with his clean hand and brings the plug around behind himself, rubbing it against his entrance before sliding it easily inside.
“Fuck,” Jisung observes intelligently.
Minho looks over his shoulder and plainly sizes up Jisung’s cock. “Not yet.” He grins mischievously. “Patience.”
“Oh baby,” Jisung groans. “You are unreal.”
Minho smirks and reaches behind himself to play with the plug. He presses firmly on the base, humming with pleasure, then works it in and out of himself a couple of times.
“That doesn’t look like much of a challenge,” Jisung observes, desperately resisting the urge to stroke his own dick. “I think you’re just teasing both of us.”
Minho actually giggles at that, pulling the plug out and turning around to set it on the towel. He picks up the lube again and the second plug, decently larger and with a noticeable bulge at the end. He squeezes the lube straight onto this one and spreads it around with his palm.
He raises his eyebrows at Jisung as if seeking approval.
Jisung forces himself to stay cool. “Go on then,” he says with a nod.
Minho laughs openly this time, turning around and spreading his legs further than before. He tilts his hips and works the plug in, slower than the last one and with more evident effort and pleasure.
Jisung’s glad that Minho’s facing the headboard again because any cool Jisung had managed before is completely gone. He’s lucky he isn’t drooling.
Minho sighs and takes a moment to adjust when the plug is fully seated, but only a moment. As much as Jisung thinks the other is enjoying putting on a show, he also thinks Minho is as eager as Jisung is for the main act.
Minho works his fingers under the base of the plug, tugging it against his rim with a gasp, then pressing it deep again. They’re both breathing heavily after he’s repeated this two or three times.
It takes a noticeable effort to remove the plug, and Minho’s hole gapes prettily just a little before closing again.
Jisung growls and clenches his fists. His dick is so hard it aches.
Minho cocks his head and smiles that odd little half-smile Jisung has been completely infatuated with since they first met. He picks up the last plug and offers it to Jisung. “Give me a hand?”
Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head, and he almost falls off the bed trying to close the distance between them. “Jesus Christ,” he swears, fumbling for the plug with one hand while grabbing Minho’s neck with the other and kissing him so sloppily their teeth knock together.
The plug ends up falling to the bed, forgotten as Minho turns around and returns the kiss just as eagerly.
Jisung crawls forward on his knees and crowds Minho against the headboard, scrambling to try and press every inch of his body against the other’s.
Minho groans and bites Jisung’s lip much harder than before, grabbing his ass with both hands and digging in while pulling him closer.
“Fuck,” Jisung swears. Minho inches forward and presses one of his thighs between Jisung’s legs and fuck, he has the best thighs Jisung has ever seen. Jisung whines and grinds his cock against Minho’s rock-hard quads. He can imagine coming like this, and it takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to pull back.
Minho’s eyes are a little wild as he leans forward, whining and trying to close the space Jisung’s opened between them.
“No!” Jisung says sharply, sticking his finger in Minho’s face.
They both stare at his finger for a moment, startled, then Jisung forces himself to hold strong.
“Hands on the headboard,” he orders, channeling several years of experience at pretending to be more confident than he actually feels.
Minho actually moans at that, detangling himself from Jisung’s body to do as he’s told.
Jisung thinks he’s going to faint. He looks around for the last plug and the lube, finally finding both and turning his attention back to Minho.
The older man is gripping the top of the wooden headboard with both hands, kneeling with his legs spread and ass out. His head hangs between his arms and he’s breathing heavily.
Jisung groans.
Minho looks over his shoulder, mouth hanging open. “Don’t bother with that,” he snaps. “Just… just… in me. Now.”
Jisung nods eagerly, dropping the lube and plug, and tearing off one of the condoms instead.
“Give me one too,” Minho says. “I don’t want to deal with a mess.” Jisung nods and hands the condom over, grabbing another for himself.
When Jisung was in college, he used to tear open condom packets with his teeth because he was convinced it was sexy. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but he doesn’t feel any need to show off now. He gets the condom on as quickly as possible, lubes himself up as quickly as possible, and maybe he blacks out for a moment because suddenly he’s kneeling behind Minho, and holding his cock, and he can’t remember how he got here.
“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, kissing the back of Minho’s neck. Minho turns his head and smiles, gripping his now-sheathed cock with one hand and hanging onto the top of the headboard with the other. All of the teasing and sarcasm is gone from Minho’s expression and it’s just sweet, tender happiness.
“Come on then,” Minho says gently, moving his hand from his cock to the headboard and wiggling his ass at Jisung.
“Fuck,” Jisung repeats, tearing his eyes from Minho’s face in order to line himself up, cock gripped firmly in his fist. He swallows hard and pushes against Minho’s rim. There’s a long moment of resistance as Minho takes a deep breath, rolls his hips, and relaxes enough for Jisung to penetrate him.
It feels so fucking good that Jisung has a moment of terror thinking he’s going to come on the spot.
“Oh my god,” Jisung gasps.
Minho whimpers and trembles. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
Jisung braces the hand that isn’t holding his cock against the headboard and struggles to hold himself still.
Minho clings to the top of the headboard with white-knuckled fists, forehead resting on the wood between his arms. “More,” he half commands, half begs.
Jisung inhales slowly through his nose and presses in further, moving slowly as much for himself as Minho. He waits for Minho to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t, so Jisung keeps going until his hips are flush with Minho’s ass.
“Oh,” Jisung pants. “Oh, fuck.”
Minho clenches, and Jisung fights down his orgasm again, thanking his lucky stars that they’ve met when he’s an adult with a modicum of self-control. Twenty-year-old Jisung would never have made it this long.
“Touch me,” Minho gasps.
Jisung reaches around Minho’s body and rests his hand on the other’s thigh.
“Touch my cock, asshole.”
Jisung slides his hand up Minho’s thigh and cups his balls.
“Fuck you!”
Jisung laughs and pulls out just enough to snap his hips back into the other. The slap of his balls against Minho’s ass is intoxicating.
“Anything you want,” Jisung groans, thrusting into Minho’s ass and palming Minho’s cock because he can’t remember why he’d want to tease when he could be doing everything he can to make Minho feel as good as Jisung is feeling.
Minho rocks back to meet Jisung’s hips, and it only takes a minute before they’re moving in sync. It’s so much better than a first time should ever be, but they’ve been on the same wavelength since they met, haven’t they?
“Hold… hold your hand here,” Minho gasps, letting go of the headboard long enough to show Jisung what he wants, a firm grip at the base of his cock that he immediately rocks into with each of Jisung’s thrusts. “Just like that. Just… like… ahhh.”
Jisung whimpers and rests his forehead on Minho’s back, doing everything he can to maintain a steady pace with his hips and a steady grip with his fist. He can feel Minho shuddering beneath him, can feel the other losing his rhythm as he falls apart.
Jisung’s never come at the same time as a partner, but it feels damn close this time. Minho jerks and groans under him, and it drives him insane. Jisung cries out and pushes as deep into the other as he can, grinding deep into Minho and trusting the other will stop him if Minho needs him to.
His orgasm hits like fireworks behind eyes squeezed tightly shut. His senses are overwhelmed, but it’s over far too quickly, leaving him stunned and almost numb.
Minho takes over, coaxing Jisung down to the mattress so they can catch their breath. He whispers soothing words in Jisung’s ear, removes and ties off their condoms and sets them on one of the towels, then lies down behind Jisung and rubs his shoulders.
It’s too much. It’s too perfect.
Jisung grins over his shoulder at Minho, amazed. “I’m so glad you had an orange cat,” he mumbles.
Minho laughs and kisses his forehead. “Me too.”
***
Jisung falls asleep and naps for a little more than twenty minutes. Minho rests his head on his arm and watches the other’s face. He’s close to sleep himself, but never quite crosses over.
Jisung wakes with a start, apologizing profusely and desperate to know the time.
Minho assures him that it’s been less than a half hour, but Jisung doesn’t relax until he finds his phone.
“Sorry,” he says, scrambling for his scattered clothes. “But I can’t stay the night. I… I…”
“It’s okay,” Minho tries to assure him. “You said you couldn’t stay. School tomorrow, right?”
“Right.” Jisung freezes halfway through fastening his pants. “Right. Fuck.” He crawls back onto the bed and kisses Minho like he wants to devour him.
“Hi,” Minho smiles when Jisung pulls back again.
“Hi,” Jisung echoes, looking dazed. “I… I have to go.”
Minho stretches lazily while Jisung finishes dressing. He considers showing Jisung out naked, but grabs his robe after the other looks so adorably alarmed at Minho’s lack of clothing.
They kiss again at the door, a little awkwardly, but they both laugh, so Minho feels okay about it.
Minho texts after Jisung leaves, saying he had a great night and hoping Jisung sleeps well. He falls asleep before receiving a response.
There’s still no response when he wakes up, but Minho sends a text saying good morning anyhow. He doesn’t get a response to that one, either.
It doesn’t bother him until he still hasn’t heard anything by that night. Before their date they’d texted multiple times a day for a week. Now it’s going on 24 hours and Minho’s two texts stare blankly back at him. His phone says they’ve been read.
Minho turns on a movie but doesn’t watch it. He plays with the cats. He cooks himself dinner. He tries not to think about the night before in explicit, pornographic detail and ends up getting an erection anyhow. Which he ignores.
He debates texting again, but what’s he going to say? Obviously the ball is in Jisung’s court.
He tries to go to sleep early, but his sheets smell like sex and Jisung. He’d meant to clean up the night before, but they hadn’t made much of a mess, and he’d been too tired to bother. The reminder had been nice this morning.
He drags himself out of bed and changes his sheets.
On Tuesday he goes to work.
On Saturday he texts his friend Seonghwa and asks how long it takes to know if someone ghosted you. Seonghwa comes over after work with a box of wine.
“I really liked him,” Minho frowns after his second glass. “I thought he liked me.”
“If he hadn’t been on a date in what, four years? Maybe he panicked.” Seonghwa squeezes Minho’s knee. “I think you should text him again.”
“I’m not desperate,” Minho glares.
“I know that,” Seonghwa replies calmly. “But maybe he’s worried you’re mad.”
“I am mad.”
“But do you want to see him again?”
Minho shrugs and drinks. “Yes, so I can yell at him.”
“There you go. Text him and say that you really like him, and it sucks that he didn’t text you for a week, and if he wants another chance at your ass he’d better start coming up with a really good way to make it up to you.”
Two hours and several glasses of wine later, Minho texts almost those exact words while Seonghwa is in the bathroom. He glares at his screen after hitting send, willing Jisung to text back.
He almost drops the phone when he gets an incoming call instead. He panics and hits decline.
“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa asks, sitting down and picking up his glass again.
“I texted him and he called me.”
“Just now?!”
Minho jumps as he gets a voicemail notification. “He left a voicemail.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Don’t you dare.” Minho points at their glasses. “Get me more wine.”
Seonghwa snorts and does as he’s told.
Minho stares at his phone and tries to decide if he wants to listen to the message on his own or put it on speaker. He’s still thinking when Seonghwa comes back with the wine.
Minho takes a long drink and hits play, turning on the speaker.
“Hey, Minho.” Jisung’s voice is just as pretty as the first time Minho heard it. “I fucked up. I’m really sorry. I, um… I freaked out, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m really, really sorry because I really like you, and I didn’t want to fuck this up. I hope I didn’t? Um. Yeah. Call me back, or text, or whatever. Or don’t, I totally wouldn’t blame you. But anyhow, I’m sorry. Yeah. Bye.”
“I told…” Seonghwa begins.
“Shut up.” Minho drinks more wine, staring at his phone.
“What are you going to do?” Seonghwa asks after a minute.
Minho grins and sets his phone aside. “I’m going to make him wait. Do you want to watch a movie?”
Seonghwa looks disapprovingly at him.
Minho rolls his eyes and picks up his phone.
Minho: Are you free tomorrow?
Jisung: Yes
Minho: You can come over at six and apologize. If you’re convincing enough you can take me out to dinner. Somewhere nice. I like sashimi.
Jisung: Okay. I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Minho: If you aren’t here at 6, I’m blocking your number.
Jisung: Got it.
Minho puts his phone down and drinks.
“Well?” Seonghwa prompts.
Minho sighs, trying to seem like he doesn’t care and probably failing miserably. “He’s coming over tomorrow to apologize. Maybe. If he doesn’t freak out again.”
“He won’t.”
“He might.”
Seonghwa laughs. “He won’t.”
Minho smiles. “I hope not.” He takes a deep breath and sits back on the couch. “It’s been a weird month.”
***
Jisung thinks about ducking out of his meeting—not a date, he fucked up so it’s not a date—with Minho a hundred times between their texts Saturday night and finding himself in front of Minho’s apartment door at 5:57 the next day. He still has time to back out. All he needs to do is turn around, block Minho’s number, and forget any of this happened.
Forget about Minho’s smile, about Minho’s wry humor, about Minho’s amazing cooking and, oh yeah, the best sex Jisung has ever had.
Also, his mother would kill him. Possibly the kids, too. It’s only been two weeks and he’s been pestered on all sides about when Minho is coming over again.
Jisung knocks before he can talk himself into doing something stupid.
The door opens immediately, and there’s Minho, soft in white jeans and a pink sweater, hard in the set of his mouth and tension in his shoulders.
“I heard you coming down the hall,” Minho says, stepping back to let Jisung in. “How did you get in the building?”
“Tailgated.”
Minho wrinkles his nose and crosses his arms. “Okay, talk.”
“Can we sit down?”
Minho glares at him for a minute, then nods sharply.
Jisung toes off his shoes and follows Minho into the living room. He tries very hard not to think about what had happened the last time he’d sat on this couch.
Minho blushes slightly, and Jisung wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says simply. “I didn’t want to fuck this up, but I did. It just… it was a lot really fast.” He looks at his hands clenching on his thighs so he doesn’t have to look at Minho’s face. “I do like you. A lot. I haven’t liked anyone this much since… ever?”
“I like you too,” Minho murmurs.
Jisung glances up at Minho but can’t meet his eyes for more than a second. “I… I was pretty sure you did. And that freaked me out, too. I was… So I was driving home, and I kept thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up. If I hadn’t come home when I said I would. Dad was with the kids, he would have called me, but what if I hadn’t heard the phone?”
Jisung feels his throat tightening and takes a deep breath. He’s not trying to get Minho to feel sorry for him. He’s trying to apologize.
“But that isn’t important,” he continues, forcing himself to look at the other. “I could have said something. I’m sorry.”
Something softens in Minho’s eyes, though his mouth is still set in a thin line.
“It helps knowing what you were thinking,” Minho says slowly. “You… you were worried they’d think something had happened to you?”
Jinsung nods, not sure he can speak.
“So you thought… what? You wouldn’t go out on another date for the rest of your life?”
“No!” Jisung protests. “Just… maybe not until my parents aren’t around anymore, and the kids are grown up. I didn’t say it was rational!”
The corner of Minho’s mouth twitches slightly. It seems like a good sign. “Well.” He sighs. “Maybe if we both set alarms.”
Something flutters in Jisung’s chest. “Maybe?” he agrees cautiously.
Minho shrugs. “Maybe you could come over earlier.”
Jisung bites his lip and nods eagerly.
Minho’s eyes twinkle wickedly. “And maybe it would be less tiring for you if I topped.”
Jisung chokes and laughs at the same time, which makes Minho laugh. They’re laughing together again, and Minho doesn’t look upset anymore, and Jisung thinks he could faint.
“So… you forgive me?” he asks shyly.
Minho rolls his eyes. “I’m giving you a second chance. That’s all. I don’t like you that much.”
Jisung risks a smirk. Just a little one. “I think you might.”
Minho’s eyes flash. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Absolutely not,” Jisung agrees, hands raised in surrender. They stare at each other for a long moment. “So,” Jisung finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?”
“Dinner,” Minho nods.
Jisung grins, the last bit of tension leaving him. “I’m good when you are.”
“I’m good,” Minho replies.
Jisung doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, but, for now, they’re good. And that’s enough.