Archive of Our Own

Jisung is not a prude.

For starters, he loves sex. Thinks it’s pretty cool. He’s got a high libido, and he’s never been one to shy away from an invitation during college. Jisung loved learning new things about himself. He discusses it with his friends to help alleviate the stigma surrounding it. He’s usually the first to laugh over exchanging stories of bad hook-ups or scandalous sexcapades. After all, no one would be here without sex.

So with that being said, Jisung isn’t a prude. Except.

He and Hyunjin began reading a new romance novel at their two-man book club last month. It was over brunch when Hyunjin proposed it, pulling a ridiculously thick, hard-covered novel from his book bag and handing him a copy.

Hyunjin’s boyfriend, Seungmin, had been sitting right next to him, cackling as soon as his eyes landed on the cover.

“You’re not seriously going to make him read that, are you?” He had snickered. While Hyunjin was busy threatening him, Jisung had taken the copy in his hands and began to study the cover curiously.

There were many blues and purples. The art was a bit tacky, displaying what appeared to be a rogue-looking, beastly man holding a woman in his embrace. The cover frame was littered with stars and— was that supposed to be a dragon in the background? And where was this guy’s shirt? Where was her shirt?

“Is this a romance?” Jisung asks as soon as Hyunjin’s got a fistful of Seungmin’s coat in his hand.

Hyunjin releases his grip in favor of waving a defensive hand in the air. “Yeah, this is Lisa Kai’s new book I’ve been telling you about. Remember? About the princess chick falling in love with the dragon king?”

Jisung’s mouth shapes out confused words that never quite see the light of day in the midst of Hyunjin’s passionate declaration. He’s in the midst of mouthing a confused what the fuck reading the back cover’s synopsis when Seungmin leans across the table to pluck the book from his hands.

“It’s fairy porn, Jisung.” Seungmin deadpans.

“Oh, my. Hyunjin,” Jisung playfully teases. “You dirty dog.”

Hyunjin makes a frustrated sound as his unamused gaze darts between him and Seungmin, as if he can’t decide which one he wants to strangulate first. “Keep your voice down— it is not fairy porn. Grow up.” He sulks, but still lets Seungmin slide his arm around his waist with a smug look.

“It's a romance set in a fantasy world. There’s an actual storyline and everything and yes, there is some spice, but it’s got great reviews online. The smut’s supposed to be good and the fight scenes even better.”

“So…” Jisung thinks. He’s still lost. “Fairy porn.”

Hyunjin deflates before pointing an accusatory finger in Jisung’s face. “Dude, the past two books we read have been your choice. If I had to sit through two boring murder mysteries for half a year because of you, then fine. Yeah. I’m gonna make you read my fairy porn. You got a problem with that?”

Jisung shrugs, taking the copy back from Seungmin’s side of the table and shoving it into his backpack. “I’ll try anything once,” he concluded.

Famous last words.

This takes Jisung to the present day, an entire month later. It’s a quarter past eleven at night when he finds himself curled up in his usual nook in the living room, nose-deep into the novel.

Teasing Hyunjin aside, the story itself is rather good. It seems that Lisa Kai has garnered quite the reputation for all the right reasons. So far there’s only a select minority of side characters that piss Jisung off, the love interest is a bit cringe but overall tolerable, and Jisung love, love, loves the protagonist. He gets so easily wrapped up in dissecting every aspect of Princess Freya’s perspective that the tea he keeps reheating ends up cold and untouched. His round frames have slid down the bridge of his nose so many times that he’s given up pushing them back into place.

Jisung is curled up in an odd position on the one-cushion chair, intimately skimming each line of chapter fourteen when he catches the kitchen light turning off in his peripheral vision. Appearing around the corner is none other than his boyfriend, Minho, already dressed down in nothing but sweat shorts, bangs accumulating droplets from washing his face minutes ago. He’s so handsome that Jisung’s chest hurts just looking at him. The Dragon King from his book is dull in comparison.

“Bug,” Minho calls, walking towards where Jisung is perched. He cradles his chin from behind and plants a kiss on the crown of Jisung’s head.

Jisung pries his eyes away from his book to peer back up at Minho. “You going to sleep?”

“Going to try to, at least.”

“Wait.” Jisung feels around for his bookmark that got buried in the pillows. “I’ll come join you.”

“You don’t have to. I was just letting you know I’m turning in.” Minho leans down a second time to give Jisung a proper kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Jisung pouts. “I’ll be there soon. I have just a couple of pages left.”

Minho pinches the apple of Jisung’s cheek as he finally pulls away, before trudging around the corner toward their shared bedroom.

They’ve been dating for a couple of months now, but had been friends and roommates long before officiating things. What Jisung felt for Minho used to scare him in the beginning. His chest was tight and suffocating, almost hating that falling for someone like Minho had been the easiest thing he’d ever done. But what Jisung loved about him was how easy everything was when it came to him. How safe, open, and honest things had always been between them from the get-go.

Jisung’s chest grows fuzzy, getting caught up in his daydreams again, letting himself drift until he hears their bedroom door click shut from afar.

He averts his attention back to his book.

Right now, the main couple was bickering over something again; Freya was noticeably being a little unreasonable in this particular chapter. Jisung was no nerd; he could read the innuendos and tension between the characters building as the plot progressed. But Princess Freya had been playing hard to get for the past fourteen chapters, so Jisung expected nothing less than that.

The second Jisung is convinced the argument was going to end then and there, that Princess Freya was going to storm out of the hut, and Danian grabs her by the waist, reels her nimble body back in like a fish out of water, and initiates the filthiest kiss Jisung has ever laid eyes upon.

“Oh wow,” he mumbles to himself. This must be the smut Hyunjin was referring to.

The kiss was much more descriptive than he was expecting, and reading it from the perspective of another only made him feel warmer in the face. It was one thing seeing a filthy kiss, another thing hearing one, but reading it somehow flusters Jisung more than he had expected it to.

The chapter ends abruptly, much to his peculiar dismay, but not without the promise of what the next chapter will bring. Jisung’s eyes read the erotic lines over and over in fascination.

“On your knees, Princess,” Danian grovels roughly into my ear before he forces me to the ground. I look up at him, and my mouth begins to salivate at being face-to-face with the large bulge tucked away in his trousers. His rough fingers run through my long hair before suddenly coiling tightly around my locks. Soon, my mouth is pressing against his clothed cock, and the sound that escapes my lips is one of arousal. Heat shoots straight to my aching core. How shameful it is— how wet that had made me.

Jisung feels the need to suddenly button a blouse he’s not even wearing. He feels like he was the one getting manhandled by the burly dragon king man. 

“My god,” he whispers in disbelief. Reading the words feels so scandalous. He turns to the next page, only for the chapter to end there. His ears burn— he feels like a pervert just reading it.

Shaking himself back to his senses, Jisung shovels the bookmark between the pages, gets up to retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen, and forces himself to bed. Chapter fifteen can wait.

It cannot wait.

Chapter fifteen is nothing short of sheer filth. Reading smut from the perspective of the princess has Jisung’s eyes bulging as he continues reading beneath the comforters. Minho is snoozing at his side, his head resting against Jisung’s chest, an arm lazily draped across Jisung’s torso. He’s not asleep, but he’s getting there— probably would have been by now if it wasn’t for Jisung twitching every five seconds.

Jisung is genuinely gobsmacked by what he’s reading. He’s experiencing culture shock. Considering how normal he is about sex on a normal basis, how written erotica manages to scandalize him beats him.

“How’s your book?” Minho mumbles into Jisung’s chest. He sounds half-asleep, eyes closed, and body so still it doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Hyung, fairy porn is nuts.” Jisung reads another line, something overly descriptive of what the dragon king’s dick— or, excuse him, what the king’s member looks like. It’s like a car crash, where it’s so gruesome and descriptive, but you can’t look away. He turns to a new page, beet red. “I didn’t know it could get so… detailed.”

Minho hums sleepily. He runs his fingers about Jisung’s waist comfortingly. “You getting turned on?”

“Absolutely not,” Jisung scoffs. He’s in the middle of reading a scene where the princess’s quote, ‘sweet juices,’ is being lapped up in the most descriptive way possible when he adds, “I think my dick just shriveled up.”

Minho giggles against Jisung’s chest. “It can’t be that bad.”

The worst part about that is that he’s right. The smut itself is kind of hot. Everything from the way the princess describes how her body reacts to each touch, the way Danian inherently talks her through each and every thing they do. Jisung can only imagine saying half the things this girl is saying in the novel. She speaks with such confidence, shameless as the most lewd words spill from her lips. The boldness of it all has its appeal. He can understand why such fiction is as popular as it is.

However, the concept of ever saying any of this out loud makes Jisung want to crawl into a hole and never come out. This sort of thing was fine in theory. In fantasy. None of it was real.

Jisung, on the other hand, was very much real and very much not equipped to have sex this nasty. They’re talking so much, too, Princess Freya and Danian. Did everyone talk this much during sex? Because he and Minho certainly didn’t, and now there’s a small part of him that’s curious as to why that is.

Before his thoughts can wander, Jisung feels Minho drag a hand toward his lower body over the blankets. “Oh, Sung-ie. You’re rock hard. Didn’t take you for such a pervert.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jisung was far from being hard. Whatever reverse-psychology Minho was trying on him wasn’t working. He turns to the next page.

“Wait,” Minho whines the second he’s dismissed. “Read it to me.”

“This would be a terrible bedtime story.”

“I don’t care, I wanna hear.”

Jisung skims the next lines of the page, feeling himself flush further at the thought of saying any of this out loud. But he supposes anyone’s going to hear such grotesque things fall from his mouth, he’d rather it be Minho.

In this part, Princess Freya is preparing to suck Danian off. Jisung feels his throat go dry before starting to shyly read, “Wrapping one of my hands around the base of his—” Oh my god. “— his cooch, I begin to suck the—”

He’s abruptly cut off by Minho cackling into his side. “There’s no way it actually says cooch.”

“Of course it doesn’t!” Jisung raises his voice as embarrassment ripples through his body. “I’m telling you, hyung. The description is so dirty.” There was no way Jisung was going to be able to say the word ‘cock’ out loud without melting in utter humiliation. He’d be nothing but a puddle. Minho would never see him again. It was in everyone’s best interest.

Minho hums in response, lifting his head enough to look at Jisung head-on. “Yeah? A little bit of dirty talk gets you that shy, baby?”

Something about the slight flirtation in Minho’s voice has Jisung’s thighs twitching in place. The mortification he feels from reading the book, however, is quick to overpower whatever ploy Minho is trying right now.

“As if! Dirty talk is so—” Jisung isn’t even sure what point he’s trying to say. “Ugh. You know?”

Minho weakly shrugs, and then it’s quiet. When Jisung thinks Minho has finally fallen asleep, he hears him mumble, “I don’t know. It’s kind of hot.”

Jisung pries his eyes away to look down at Minho again, expecting to be met with a taunting gaze, but instead is met with the top of Minho’s head. His eyes are closed, lips resting in a pout, body slowly slipping to sleep.

He turns back to his book, reads the remainder of the paragraph, and finds himself enjoying the writing more than he wants to admit. Jisung runs his fingers through Minho’s hair with a free hand.

“Yeah,” he eventually agrees, unfortunately. “It kind of is.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

“So? What did you think?” Hyunjin asks Jisung before Jisung can even pull out a chair to take a seat.

There are already two iced coffees on the table, one for each of them to sip over their weekly book discussion. There aren’t too many people in the cafe at this point in the afternoon, so Jisung feels brave enough to swat at Hyunjin’s arm, and doesn’t care when Hyunjin dramatically cries from the sting.

“That was absurd. I can’t believe you’re making me read this.” Jisung jabs as he takes his seat. Hyunjin bursts into a fit of giggles when Jisung takes a sip of his drink, and his face puckers up. The espresso was rather bitter today.

“Oh whatever, you big baby. Apparently, that’s not even the craziest sex scene. I read something online about something that happens in chapter twenty-four, and I’m ashamed to say I’m looking forward to it.”

Jisung’s face drops. “Do you even care about the plot? Or are you just forcing me to read your weird book-tok fantasies so you feel less guilty about reading them?”

“Of course I’m reading it for the plot, dummy.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “I just like watching how squeamish it’s got you.”

“I think that would make anyone squeamish. I’m still traumatized by how Danian was handling Princess Freya’s boobies.” Jisung covers his own chest up like he was the one groped as he recalls the scene.

This author was into some awfully kinky shit. At least, verbally. Incredibly freaked out, as one would say.

“You’re ridiculous," Hyunjin deadpans. “Tons of people are into shit like that. Something about dirty talk really gets the girls going, I guess.”

Jisung chews on his lips in thought. Dirty talk, or at the very least conversation during sex, seemed rather common, but he wouldn’t know much about it. Most of the sex Jisung partook in was less chatter and more moaning. There were a few instances, before he started dating Minho, that Jisung slept with someone who had no problem saying the most shameless things. Just hearing the things they would say made Jisung cringe. It was a total turn-off.

“Do you actually find it hot?” Jisung winces when he asks, hoping that despite the horrified look he knows he’s probably wearing, Hyunjin will catch the earnestness in his question.

Thankfully, Hyunjin does.

“I mean, it’s a little played up for the reader, of course, but in general I think it’s pretty good,” he answers. “If you think that’s wild, then you’d be amazed by some of the things that come out of Kim Seungmin’s mouth sometimes.”

Every time Hyunjin surprise-inserts sexy Seungmin imagery in Jisung’s mind, a fairy dies. But he’d be lying if he wasn’t a little bit curious.

“What does he say?”

Hyunjin squints at him. “Promise me a safe space, Han Jisung!”

“Of course!”

“It’s not even that crazy, honestly,” Hyunjin reiterates. “But sometimes when we’re having sex, I’ll say something that I know will get a good reaction out of him. Like, I’ll be fucking him, right? And I’ll tell him how cockdumb he is. Or call him a slut, or something. Every now and then, he’s into shit like that.”

Jisung tries his best to separate Kim Seungmin, his friend, from Kim Seungmin, Hyunjin’s boyfriend, for the sake of his sanity. He has a lot of respect for Seungmin and would like to continue being able to look him in the eye after this conversation.

Again, he’s not a prude!

“Oh dear,” Jisung mumbles. He cups his own face to see if he’s blushing. “Minho’s never called me anything like that.”

“Do you want him to?”

Jisung doesn’t know. The few times Jisung has tried to express his sexual interests to past partners, they were never really received. Because of that, Jisung hasn’t explored as much as he would like to.

Initially, Jisung didn’t think it was that big of a deal— there’s more to life outside of kinky sex, after all. But still, now he’s revisiting those feelings he didn’t realize were still there. Perhaps there’s a part of him that’s a little fearful that Minho would neglect his wants in the way all his previous partners had, so he doesn’t bother trying at all. Screw Hyunjin and his stupid fairy smut unearthing these suppressed insecurities.

“I don’t know,” Jisung eventually answers. “I haven’t really talked to Minho about any of that stuff.”

“Are you serious?” Hyunjin gapes in genuine shock. “You two seem like animals, no offense. You’re all over each other when we go out.”

“We are, in a way. We have a lot of sex.” A lot of sex was an understatement, but Hyunjin didn’t need to know that. Jisung feels himself break out into a sweat. “It’s just never anything crazy. He’s never brought up anything, so neither have I.”

“Did you consider that maybe he’s been waiting for you to say something?” Hyunjin suggests. “Seungmin-ie was pretty open when he first started dating. He wanted a whole rundown on what I liked and didn’t like. Minho-hyung seems a little shyer in comparison, but I mean. I could be wrong.”

“He could have said something, though.” Jisung can’t help but sulk. “The phone goes both ways.”

“That may be true, but—” Hyunjin sings with a knowing look in his eye. “You are a little introverted. Knowing Minho-hyung, he probably didn’t want to make you feel awkward by bringing something up you might not like.”

“But we’ve been together for months by now!” Jisung exclaims as loudly as he can in the quiet coffee shop. He was not about to get glared at by the sweet old grandmas surrounding within their proximity. “If there was something he really wanted, he would have mentioned it by now.”

Now, Jisung’s feeling a little self-conscious. If Minho wasn’t happy with their sex life, then he would have said something, right?

A few years back, Jisung had overheard a phrase being tossed around by some girls in one of his classes. Dead fish, he thinks it was, where the girl lies there during sex, lifeless and nonresponsive. Apparently, it comes from their lack of enthusiasm over whoever it is they’re sleeping with— but Jisung has heard the other side of it, too. He’s heard someone complain about a bad hook-up in the past, all because their partner’s lack of enthusiasm.

From that point on, Jisung had always worried he’d be compared to a dead fish. Maybe he wasn’t one. Or maybe he was, and Minho just didn’t care. But more often than not, Jisung finds his thoughts drifting away during sex with Minho. And it isn’t because the sex itself isn’t enjoyable, Jisung can just never seem to turn off his thoughts.

If Minho is too quiet, then so is Jisung. If Minho doesn’t vocally keep his attention, Jisung starts looking at the posters on the walls or wondering if he left anything at work by accident. If he was too bloated to look good naked right now, or if his hair looks bad from whatever angle Minho’s got him in. If Minho was even attracted to him.

“How is your guy’s sex life then, can I ask?” Hyunjin’s voice pierces through Jisung’s thoughts. Jisung’s coffee is getting watered out by all the ice.

“It’s fine!” He quips a little too fast. “It’s… sex.”

The look Hyunjin gives him is devastating. “Dude. If hyung was really giving it to you good, then you wouldn’t be calling the sex,” he raises his fingers in the air, making air quotes, “Fine.”

“But it is! The sex isn’t the problem!” Jisung groans. “I think— I think I’m the problem.”

Hyunjin frowns. He reaches a hand out to pet Jisung’s forearm. “Oh, Sung-ie. Don’t say that.”

It’s been a while since they talked about Jisung’s issues with communication. Hyunjin knows how big a wound it left on Jisung to have his wants and needs ignored in the past. They didn’t talk about it. Didn’t really need to, back then, when he wasn’t sleeping around. But maybe now it wouldn’t hurt to revisit.

“Minho-hyung’s a good person,” Hyunjin assures. “And I think he would listen to what you like. He’s better than those assholes you dated.” He playfully nudges Jisung when he adds, “He’d dirty-talk your ear right off if you asked.”

Jisung thinks about every porn he’s watched where the actors say the filthiest things known to mankind, and does a full-body cringe in his seat.

Hyunjin busts out laughing. “What, no dirty talk?”

Well.

“I think it’s hot!” Jisung finds himself confessing. “It’s just hard to take seriously. I think— I just need someone to pull it out of me, you know? Force me to say things. I feel like if my attention’s kept during sex, then I’d be less out of it, maybe. Like the second it’s too quiet, I check out and get all in my head.”

“Makes total sense,” Hyunjin immediately assures with an over-eager nod. “But have you shared any of this with Minho-hyung?”

Jisung shrugs. “I’ve been too embarrassed to.”

“He has no shame,” Hyunjin says bluntly. “You could ask to piss on him and he’d probably let you.”

Jisung visibly winces at that. “Ok, well. I wouldn’t go that far. That’s disgusting.”

“Hey, I never said it was for me.”

“It’s not for us, either!” Jisung squawks in defense.

“Point is,” Hyunjin lifts his melting iced coffee in the air to swing around like a baton. Condensation from the cup drips all over the table. “I think Minho-hyung can handle a little bit of kinky sex. He’s a big boy.”

“And I’m not!?”

“Yes, but you’re also shy, Jisung-ie.” Hyunjin reiterates with the twirl of a finger in his face. “I think your last relationship didn’t make sex super fun for you. And now that you’re with someone as normal and healthy as Minho-hyung, you’re still struggling to communicate those needs. That’s all.”

There’s an awfully long pause in the air. Sometimes he hates it when Hyunjin’s right.

“You sound like my therapist,” Jisung can’t help but sneer.

Hyunjin sneers right back. “Bitch, I am your therapist.”

Before Jisung can jab back, his phone buzzes. He picks it up and reads the preview message from none other than Minho.

kitty hyung [1:49pm]

Hi hiii i’ll be home before dinner today

[cat dancing sticker]

My night class got cancelled

Let’s go to the new sushi spot tonight

“Kitty hyung,” Hyunjin coos from where he’s eavesdropping on the other side of the table. “Oh! Oh! Do you ever call him that when you fuck? I bet he’d love that.”

“Alright, that’s my cue to leave.” Jisung grabs his book bag and throws it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Just talk to him!” Hyunjin calls out to him.

Jisung waves him off and slips back into the outside world, mindedly leaving his doubts at the door.

That evening, Jisung thought long and hard about how to approach the topic with Minho.

When he looked at the big picture, dirty talk didn’t have to be inherently explicit. Jisung thinks he might have dabbled in dirty talk already without realizing, through every yes and harder, faster, more, more. Maybe he’s got it all wrong— maybe it didn’t have to include such specific detail the way Princess Freya and Danian did in chapter fifteen. Maybe it could be much simpler.

“Baby.”

Oh yeah, something like fuck yes, baby might do the trick. Jisung has always been too shy to call Minho anything other than his name during sex. He loves nothing more than doting on Minho and calling him sweet nicknames on a day-to-day basis. Calls him baby every other sentence, answers all of Minho’s calls with an overeager ‘Hi, kitty boy!’ Refers to him as every sweet pastry that exists on the shelf.

Yet the second they’re getting hot and heavy, Jisung’s mind draws a blank. He gets tongue-tied and too flustered to do much else, and spends the rest of the sex trying to figure out where he failed himself in life.

“Hannie, baby.”

Oh, that’s right. Minho has never had a hard time calling him names during sex. He’s always calling Jisung baby, especially. It never fails to tint his cheeks a rosy red. Man, he loves his boyfriend so much. Minho rocks.

“Jisung.”

There’s something plush in Jisung’s hands, rocking against him. It’s Minho, grinding in his lap, whining in his ear. They’re both fully clothed, and Minho’s face is a lovely shade of pink. Oh man, how long was he out for?

“Yeah?” Jisung responds like an absolute idiot.

See, this must be what he and Hyunjin were talking about earlier. Jisung’s rock hard, and he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to realize.

Minho’s hard as well, pushing his ass back into Jisung’s palms, grinding his cock over Jisung’s in a desperate need for friction. “Stop teasing…” he huffs. He tries to grind into Jisung’s lap again, grabbing at one of Jisung’s wrists. “Touch me? Please?”

He guides one of Jisung’s hands onto his chest, placing Jisung’s fingers to where the bud of his nipple hardens underneath his shirt. Jisung gropes the flesh there without a second thought and is instantly hypnotized by the way Minho rolls his head back at the very touch. A soft, contented sigh escapes him, and he leans further back to grind his hips in Jisung’s lap.

Minho was the most beautiful person Jisung had ever had the honor of laying eyes on. His beauty and self-assuredness went hand in hand, in the way he danced, how in tune he was with his body when it came to sex. Minho was an incredibly sensual person, in nature. In some weird, twisted way, Jisung had hoped that over time, being with someone like Minho, that self-assuredness would rub off on him.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and Jisung still couldn’t present himself as well as Minho could. He envied Minho in that way, how he wasn’t scared to be himself; Jisung was tired of being scared.

“Am I too quiet when we have sex?” Jisung blurts.

Minho pauses, pulling himself upright to look at Jisung. His eyes are lightly glazed over from being aroused. “Are you too quiet?” He repeats confusedly.

“Yeah. Like. Do I— you know.” Jisung shrugs his hands in the air with an awkward smile. “Dead fish… during sex. You can be honest.”

Minho tilts his head, processing the question. He seemed to be thinking really hard on it, which must mean Jisung’s fears were a reality, and he definitely did dead fish when they fucked.

What comes out of Minho’s mouth, however, is: “What the fuck are you talking about? What the fuck is a dead fish?”

“You know what, never mind that.” Jisung should have known his chronically offline boyfriend would have zero idea what he meant by that. “I was just worried.”

“Worried about what, baby?” Minho’s hands tangle together behind Jisung’s neck, lightly playing with the ends of his hair.

This should be easy. All Jisung had to do was express to Minho that he would like to introduce something small into the bedroom, and see where it goes from there. The worst he could say is no.

“That I’m too quiet whenever we have sex,” Jisung relays quietly. “I feel like I don’t look as into it as I actually am, because I don’t really…” he fumbles for the right words. “You know. Feel like I say much, or do much.”

“Hey, where is this all coming from?” Minho asks softly. There’s a sorrow laced in his airy voice— one that makes Jisung’s stomach drop knowing he’s caused it. “Did someone say something to you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Jisung answers with the same gentleness that Minho gives him. “It’s just been on my mind today, that’s all.”

“Don’t tell me that book of yours is putting ideas in your brain.” Minho teasingly smiles. “You know, not all sex is supposed to be super kinky like your fairy porn.”

“It’s not fairy porn!”

Oh my god. He can’t believe he just defended his best friend’s fantasy romance porn out loud. Hyunjin can never know of this.

“And also, it’s not entirely that.” Jisung doesn’t even try to lie about it. Minho can read him better than any stupid book. “It just got me thinking that maybe there’s something better I could be doing when we— you know. That would make it more enjoyable.”

“Jisung.” Minho shifts his weight so that he’s no longer entirely on Jisung’s lap, but instead snug at his side. His legs remained draped across Jisung’s thighs, and he kept a firm arm wrapped around his shoulder. “I enjoy the sex we have because it’s with you, not because of what you say or do during it.”

Jisung can’t stand it sometimes when Minho’s looking at him like this— so sweet and full of love. Who was he to deserve to be looked at in such a way?

“Hyung, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” Minho cocks his head to the side. “Are you not happy with the sex we have?”

“No, I am!” Jisung hurried to assure, but Minho didn't look convinced.

“But…? I hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere.” 

“Ok. Just hear me out.” Jisung shifts so he faces Minho a little more. He takes one look into those big, intimidatingly sparkling brown eyes and wills himself to chill out. “There’s no way you haven’t noticed that when we’re, like, actually fucking, I’m really quiet.”

Minho hums in thought. “Not really,” he answers. “You’re awfully noisy underneath me.”

Jisung tries to ignore the way Minho suggestively wiggles his brows at him before continuing. “Verbally, not vocally.”

“Oh.” Minho blinks a few times. “I mean, yeah. But that’s okay.”

Jisung snaps his fingers. “No, exactly. I don’t like being like that. I want to be more vocal, hyung. I don’t want to be embarrassed and all in my head anymore when we have sex.”

“And you think we can fix that with… dirty talk?” Minho laughs, but there’s no malice behind it.

“I want to at least try. I might die if I keep living like this.”

Minho snorts. “Okay, my dramatic baby. I hear you loud and clear.”

“And you swear it’s okay,” Jisung pointedly stares. He searches for any twitch, any little indication that Minho was either weirded out or not into this idea entirely, but finds nothing. That doesn’t make him feel any better, however. He had been plenty wrong in the past, before. “If it’s not your thing, you can just say that.”

“I personally haven’t done it a lot before, but it can’t be that hard.” Minho leans in, pressing a kiss to Jisung’s cheek, then his jaw, and down to his neck. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“I promise I won’t be offended if you don’t want to. Seriously.”

“Jisung,” Minho pulls back to give Jisung a more stern look. “I want to do this. If you wanna break out of your shell, then I’d be happy to help. Okay?” He leaves a light kiss on Jisung's lips.

“Alright. If you say so.” Jisung leans in to give him a second kiss, one that Minho eagerly returns. “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby.” And with that, Minho swings himself back into Jisung’s lap and buries his face into Jisung’s neck. “Now, can you fuck me before I start freaking out?”

The tightness in Jisung’s chest dissipates in an instant, choosing to laugh in the moment instead of worrying about the future. He wraps his hands back around the curve of Minho’s ass, giving it a delectable squeeze. “Yeah, okay, but I’m the dramatic one.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Things start relatively simply.

In the time he and Minho were apart, Jisung expanded his research. Jisung preferred to see and hear dirty talk for himself rather than reading carefully crafted words that came only after several drafts. He wanted to see what people came up with on the spot, and did some hunting on a private browser.

A lot of the porn Jisung came across had a relatively similar pattern. For the most part, the dirty talk came from whoever was on the receiving end, cooing and crying on how good it feels, how big they were— that sort of thing. Jisung felt like he could achieve that.

Yet the first time Jisung tried putting it into practice, he froze up.

It’s around bedtime when Minho bruisingly latched onto Jisung’s hips. He’s snapping his hips into Jisung with violent precision, nailing his prostate with each thrust, cooing whenever Jisung cries out.

Jisung knows that Minho knows that Jisung was going to try and be more verbally vocal tonight, and didn’t do much to pull it out of him just yet. It was at Jisung’s request, but now he was beginning to regret it.

Feels so good, hyung, is what Jisung wants to say. You’re fucking me so good, is what sits at the tip of his tongue. Yet something deep in his chest grew tight and uncomfortable at the idea of vocalizing it, suddenly feeling very insecure.

Would that be too plain? Would it be considered not plain enough? Jisung has never done something like this before and fears how strange he’ll look saying such things. What if Minho gets weirded out by it? He might kill himself if he gives Minho the ick mid-sex.

Jisung didn’t realize he was angrily staring down a frame of Minho’s cats on the wall when he felt a hand on his face. Minho forces their eyes to meet and tilts his head with a small, curious smile.

“You disappeared for a minute,” he says.

Jisung’s nose twitches. “No, I didn’t.”

Minho gives him a gentle, knowing look. “Are you okay?”

At that, Jisung feels his lips immediately quiver into a frown. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No, don’t say that.” Minho moves a hand to cradle Jisung’s jaw. “What’s wrong, bug?”

“I’m—” Jisung swallows the filthy words that sat on his tongue for too long. They’ve now soured and burn his throat like a flurry of hot stones.  “I’m nervous.”

“That’s okay, baby. I know you are. We can worry about it another time, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just thinking, um,” Jisung licks his lips. His eyes roll upward toward the ceiling as he thinks. He looks back at Minho a few seconds later. “Could you do it for me?”

Minho blinks at that. “You want me to do it?”

Jisung nods shyly. He’s embarrassed enough as is. “Maybe if you just start saying shit, I can get into it. I don’t know.”

“I can do that,” Minho assures. “Any preferences?”

Jisung hums in thought before shrugging. He can’t believe they’re having this conversation with Minho still inside him. It’s a miracle he’s still hard— Jisung certainly wasn’t anymore. It makes him laugh.

“Do your worst.”

Minho laughs back. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I wanna know what kind of filth the great Lee Minho can come up with—” Jisung pauses with a squeak when he feels Minho pinch at both his nipples.

“Your wish is my command.” Minho grinds into Jisung teasingly, squeezing the base of Jisung’s cock, and snickers when Jisung cries out. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” Jisung whimpers back without a second thought.

The room smells of sex and the autumn-scented candles they burned earlier, and everything is turning into a daze. Slowly, Minho begins to buck his hips into Jisung again, gradually rebuilding the pace they were at before— then going a mile further with it. Jisung is whining and squirming again within seconds.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Minho groans directly into Jisung’s ear, and Jisung instinctively turns his head away. Even just Minho’s breath against his skin is more than enough to make him thrash. “Fuck. I could keep you like this every day. Feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, baby. It’s driving me crazy.”

A high-pitched whine shrills from the back of Jisung’s throat. Where the hell did Minho learn to talk like this? It’s so much, it’s so dirty. His entire body smokes like a ten-car pileup. The world could explode right now, and Jisung would be too busy burning to ashes to even notice. God, he can’t even look at Minho right now.

“Tell me. Do you like it?” Minho asks, his voice more ragged than it was a moment ago. “Does it feel good, baby?”

With his eyes screwed shut, Jisung enthusiastically nods. “Yes, yes,” he answers quietly, tight-jawed.

Maybe Minho is into this way more than Jisung could have imagined. He has half a mind to wonder if that were the case, why Minho didn’t mention it earlier. His prostate begins to be thoroughly assaulted, however, and the thought escapes him.

“Only I can make you feel this good, isn’t that right?” Minho asks.

“Yeah…”

Minho’s fingers suddenly tangle into Jisung’s bangs, and Jisung feels his head being yanked backward. His eyes fly open in shock, pre-cum pathetically dribbling onto his stomach at such an assertion. It’s been a while since Minho had been rough with him like this, and he forgot how much he missed it— his body certainly didn’t.

“I wanna hear you say it,” Minho requests sweetly. “Tell me only I can make you feel this good.”

Jisung’s body is on fire, but less with arousal and more with sheer embarrassment. Minho looks so good, making him feel so good, yet the words continuously die in his throat before he can open his mouth.

“Only you—” is all Jisung manages. “Just you.”

Fortunately, considering this is their first go at this, Minho shows him mercy. He releases his grip in Jisung’s hair in favor of putting his hands back around Jisung’s hips and thrusting deeper. Holy shit, Jisung might actually cum from this.

“That’s right,” he hears Minho praise. “My good little cockslut.”

Suddenly, Jisung isn’t on the brink of an orgasm. Instead, he’s busting into a full fit of belly laughter.

The name came so out of left field that a loud pfft escaped from his mouth before he could reel it in. He thinks he just spat all over Minho’s face.

“Cockslut?” Jisung laughs, not believing his ears. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Minho can’t even humor him with a giggle. He’s still as a statue, mouth twitching in search of an explanation. “You—” he sputters like a buffoon. “You said do your worst!”

“By calling me a cockslut!?” To be flattered or offended was the question.

Minho sits back on his heels, wrapping a hand around the base of his dick, probably making sure he is still hard. He sheepishly hangs his head in defeat.

“Yeah, I probably should have asked if you were into that first.” He has the audacity to blush, holding a hand to his face. “I don’t even think I’m into that.”

When Jisung finally calms down and he gets his giggles out, he lets out a big sigh of relief. “I think I’m too insecure to be called a slut.”

Jisung gets flashbacks to an early college boyfriend. The guy was balls-deep in him when he suddenly called Jisung a dumb whore. Not the worst insult, all things considered, but Jisung still shed real tears because that just wasn’t true!

He enjoyed being treated like a lover, not a whore. Jisung loved having sweet nothings whispered into his ear and against his lips. He thrives most when being told how handsome he is, how good he feels, and just overall feeling incredibly wanted. Minho does an excellent job conveying all of those things without saying it, but that stupid fucking fairy porn book made Jisung realize that maybe he does want more. All he has to do is ask, yet it’s proving to be the most difficult thing to do of all.

Minho’s mouth twitches. “Okay. Deal. No name-calling.”

“Oh my goodness. Sorry for laughing in your face like that. Holy shit. That killed my boner so fast.”

“Ha. ha.” Minho unamusedly quips.

“No, like, actually.” Jisung sits up on his elbows and averts his gaze to his very soft, very sad cock. “I think we gotta call it a night.”

A couple of days later, on a Monday, Minho kindly informs Jisung that he’ll amp up the dirty talk the next time they fuck. The goal was just to see if Jisung could stay serious when it happened.

Jisung was almost offended by the way it was proposed.

“Why’d you say it like that? I can take it seriously!”

Minho squints at him. “I know that’s a lie, and I want you to know that it’s okay, and I love you anyway.”

“I’m not lying!” Jisung insists. “Now that I have a warning, I can, like, emotionally prepare.”

So that’s exactly what he does. Jisung goes to work that morning, thinks about all the ways he’s going to be super cool and suave about whatever freaky stuff will come out of Minho’s mouth the next time they have sex, and he does it with a smile. He meets up with Seungmin on his lunch break and finishes a big deadline that his boss was worried about. He also finds a $20 bill on his way to the convenience store after work and thinks the sun is shining a little brighter today. All is well in the world.

And then it all goes to shit hours later, when Jisung has Minho bent over the couch, driving into him hard and fast from behind.

Jisung is merciless as he fucks him, hypnotized by Minho’s ass jiggling each time he snaps his hips forward, moaning when Minho does. He finds too much pleasure in the way Minho’s knees are quick to buckle each time Jisung nails that sweet spot inside him. How easy it is to subdue him into a babble of whimpers and pleas, and how it riles Jisung up more than anything to hear Minho cry like this.

“Hah, hah, Jisung-ah, Jisung-ie,” Minho pants, craning his neck in an attempt to look at Jisung. “I wanna look at you.”

In an instant, Jisung is pulling out, dragging Minho around the couch and pushing him onto the soft cushion, hooking his hands behind Minho’s knees and sliding back in. It’s sudden and it’s without warning. Minho impossibly sinks into the couch with his brows knit tight in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, Jisung, fuck,” he moans, head tilting to the side. He musters the strength to look up at Jisung, his eyes big and full of need. “Yeah, baby. Fuck me with your big cock.”

As soon as the words leave Minho’s mouth, Jisung’s world screeches to a halt. Records scratching and everything. It was more baffling to hear than it was hot. Jisung’s thrusting stutters to a stop in sheer flabbergast.

“Dude.” Jisung’s shock comes out in the form of a laugh. Oh no, he’s going to laugh. The most beautiful man in the world just mewled over his big dick, and Jisung’s about to laugh in his beautiful face. “Was that real? Were you being for real?”

In an instant, Minho's face scrunches up and grows a dark shade of red. He throws his hand over his mouth and glares up at Jisung. “Oh my god, you’re such a dick.”

“No— baby, no! I’m sorry! It’s just—” Jisung hates that he can’t stop the giggles from erupting in his chest. He knows Minho said he was going to try and play it up a little, but he wasn’t prepared for him to go all pornstar. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I literally told you I was going to!”

“It still surprised me!”

“Jisung, I can’t believe you right now.” Minho screws his eyes shut and whines like he’s in pain. He sounds genuinely horrified by Jisung’s reaction.

Guilt plummets to the bottom of Jisung’s stomach. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Minho says nothing and just glares at him. The redness of his face travels down to his neck, burns his ears, and even his chest. God, he’s so sexy when he’s mad at Jisung.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Jisung dramatically gapes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I will. When you least expect it.”

“Noooo,” Jisung whines with a big smile on his face. He leans until their chests are rubbing together, and grabs Minho’s legs so that they wrap comfortably around his torso. Minho’s breath hitches when Jisung slowly starts to thrust into him again. “Who else is gonna make you feel as good as I do?”

No matter how much of a strong front Minho puts up, he’s just as bad as Jisung. He folds as soon as Jisung starts grinding into him, his thighs tightening around Jisung’s waist.

“You’re mean,” Minho grumbles. “I’m doing all of this for you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I know, baby.” Jisung turns to press a kiss to Minho’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I won’t laugh again, I promise.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Minho’s voice shakes when Jisung quickens his pace.

The room grows quiet when they resume. Jisung’s pants soon turn into moans, keeping his mouth busy by licking and biting at Minho’s throat. The silence lets Jisung focus on how good Minho feels wrapped around his cock, listening to all his boyfriend’s cute sounds when pinching at his nipples.

Through this, he waits, waits, and waits for Minho to spit out some other filth, but it never comes. Jisung keeps his thrusting adamant until he feels himself getting close, before abruptly slowing down.

Minho gives him a confused look. “What?”

“Are you not gonna say anything anymore?”

Minho blinks before a furiously flustered expression overcomes him. “No, I’m not gonna say anything anymore! You psyched me out, asshole!”

“But Minhoooo—”

The two of them spend the next morning making up for the time they lost during the night before, making gentle love while they wait for the sun to fully rise to help them wake up.

It takes two rounds of fucking to convince Jisung he’s in the right headspace to maybe try again.

“Okay, bug. We’re gonna start small and simple,” Minho states, naked and kneeling between Jisung’s legs.

“Yes, sir,” Jisung salutes back, equally naked. His socks are still on, for some reason.

Minho cocks his head to the side. “Do you wanna try that?”

“Try what?”

“Um,” Minho is suddenly sheepish. “Calling me by like, a title. That could be easy, maybe. Just sticking to one word.”

It’s like Jisung's memories had been wiped of the past five seconds when he retorts with, “What do you suggest?”

“Something like sir, or mister, whatever you prefer.” Minho begins to list off. “Uh, master—” Jisung snorts. Okay, maybe not that one. “Or I don’t know, daddy—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Jisung feels his gag reflex agitating at the thought of using such language. His poor, withered, and abnormally tall father comes to mind, and every horny bone in his body shrivels up and dies. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Minho snickers. “Okay, drama queen. How about sir?”

Jisung nods eagerly. He can do that. Maybe. Only one way to find out.

Minho mimics Jisung’s nod, rubbing his hands down Jisung’s torso. A delectable shiver shoots down Jisung’s spine as his back arches into the touch. His cock stirs back to life, imagination running wild with the idea of Minho ordering him around.

“I’ll go easy on you, but I’m still going to ask,” Minho says softly. “Color?”

Jisung blushes like a schoolgirl. “Green?”

“Okay. I’m going to spoon-feed you some things to say, and you just repeat them back to me. Sound easy enough?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

A slight sting rings in Jisung’s ears. He looks down to where Minho’s hands have migrated to his outer thighs. Minho had just slapped the skin there. Oh my god, is this what getting punished in a BDSM way feels like? Is that where this was going?

“Not, yeah, sounds good,” Minho playfully mocks. His tone is intentionally sultry, so incredibly sexy that it’s stupid. “Yes…?”

Oh. Right. Jisung had already forgotten.

“Yes, sir?” Jisung squeaks, before snorting. This is so silly.

He knows Minho feels the same because he also giggles, then immediately schools his expression. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.” Jisung attempts to do the same. He’s hanging on by a thread.  “Super serious. So serious…” There’s a pause. “...Sir.”

Minho’s hands are back to grazing over his stomach, up his chest, and over his nipples, before raking down to where his cock is already filling out. Jisung bites back a whine, hips already bucking up. Minho’s hands slide over his hip bones, gently squeezing the flesh there, before averting his eyes back to Jisung’s. His expression is so serious, so intense that Jisung wants to look away.

“Tell me you want it,” Minho says with a rasp, and something deep inside of Jisung panics.

Oh my god. He can’t do this.

“Red! My color’s red!”

The bed was like a boat that had suddenly been pelted and sunken to the bottom of the sea. Everyone had drowned before they could even leave the dock. Minho stills as soon as the word rings in the air, hanging heavy like the anchor Jisung threw overboard without warning. Jisung feels it in the thickness of the air, and he feels it in his chest. He wasn’t even that freaked out; now he’s just nervous that he’s scared Minho.

But to his relief, Minho only blinks. He pulls his hands away in favor of throwing them in the air, shooting him the most bewildered look Jisung has ever seen him wear.

“I didn’t even do anything yet.”

Which, in retrospect, was true. Maybe Jisung panicked a little too soon. Then, he’s laughing again, except this time at himself.

“Wow, hyung. Just wow. Not you invalidating my safe word.”

Minho just stares at him. “You’re stupid.”

Jisung feigns great offense at the insult. “Jeez! What kind of—” he stumbles to find the words. “Dominatrix, masc, mistress, are you?”

A very deep sigh leaves Minho. “You didn’t use, like, any of those words correctly.”

“Okay. I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Sir. I’m ready now.” When Minho only blankly stares in response, Jisung adds, “Cue the sex.”

“No.” Minho abruptly pulls away and gets off the bed. He walks to the corner and shimmies into a pair of sweatpants from the floor. “Get up.”

Jisung sits up so fast his head spins. “Get up?”

“Yeah, get up,” Minho repeats. “I’m beating your ass.”

Minho, in fact, did not beat his ass. He helped Jisung clean up and dressed him back into his pajamas, made him two fried eggs to have with his coffee, and kissed him on his way out the door.

Jisung sits on the couch, his coffee gone cold, and his mind a mess. He googles random kink terms and BDSM titles and goes down a rabbit hole, trying to figure out where he went wrong. Minutes later, he’s leaning his forehead against the armrest, half-hard because he thinks Minho would have made a really hot dominatrix in another life, and groans so loud it echoes throughout the apartment.

He is going to slap the shit out of Hwang Hyunjin.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

“This shit is not for the weak.” Jisung enunciates with great agony the next time he meets with Hyunjin.

They’re not meeting for the book club. Jisung’s on his work break, and Hyunjin, who is unemployed as always (he’s a freelance artist), was more than happy to grab ramen.

“It’s not for everyone.” Hyunjin shrugs without missing a beat, not bothering to take his eyes off the menu. There’s a comfortable silence between them for the next minute, and it isn’t until the server leaves with their order do they properly greet each other. “I take it didn’t go well?”

“It’s not that it didn’t go well,” Jisung tilts his head side to side as he works out the honest answer in his mind. “Minho’s kind of a natural. He was great, it was— pretend to be shocked— me that kept ruining it.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. How dare he? It’s not like he would know. He wasn’t in the room with them. “Okay, walk me through what you guys have been doing.”

Jisung does so without shame. He starts with Minho’s initial response to the proposition and tells him about every time he laughed in Minho’s face. How quick Jisung was to get entirely turned off by the smallest things, and the frustration that came with not being able to take any of it seriously, despite both his and Minho’s earnest attempts so far.

By the time he’s finished, he’s sitting cross-legged in the booth with his head in his hands. Hyunjin rests his chin in the palm of his hands, dissecting Jisung like he’s his personal project. In a way, he kind of is.

“Okay,” Hyunjin says after a moment. “There’s a simple solution to this. Are you ready?”

Jisung perks up, alert and full of hope. “Yes. Tell me.”

Hyunjin beckons him closer with the wave of his hand. Wordlessly, Jisung goes, leaning over the table eagerly. Nerves prickle the hair of his arms when Hyunjin meets him in the middle to whisper into his ear.

“You need to get over yourself,” he answers in all seriousness. In an instant, Jisung scoffs and pulls himself back into his seat.

“Wow. Thanks, asshole. I would have never figured it out without you.” He doesn’t even care that the server was right in front of them to drop off their food. Jisung mumbles a thank you before stabbing his drink with a straw and angrily sipping.

“Jisung, I mean, come on. You either need to give it up and admit dirty talk just isn’t your thing, or you need to do some self-reflection here.”

“This feels like more than some kink I need to get over at this point,” Jisung stresses. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s a personal vendetta now at play.”

Hyunjin blinks. “With who?”

“With myself!” Jisung exclaims. “I need to figure out how to not get so easily embarrassed and in my head with everything. Minho-hyung can only do so much.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Hyunjin squeezes a lemon slice into his water. “You’re too in the clouds. I think you really need to think hard about what stresses you out going into sex, and find ways to alleviate them.”

“But what if it’s still not enough?”

Hyunjin shrugs. Although the topic they’re discussing is ridiculous, he still appears authentically concerned. “You won’t know if you don’t at least try.” He breaks his chopsticks in half before stabbing them into his noodles. “Do you trust Minho-hyung?”

Something pinches at Jisung’s heart hearing that. “Of course I trust him,” he answers softly.

“And you feel safe and comfortable with him?”

“Of course.” Jisung begins to feel slightly defensive at the blatant line of questioning. As if Jisung’s shortcomings should be looked at as loving Minho less. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing bad,” Hyunjin sighs. “I’m just trying to make you see the obvious. You love this person, and you feel like you can be yourself with them. The next time you two are intimate, you just need to—” He wildly shrugs his shoulders as he chews his food. “You need to train yourself to just do and say what you want without thinking twice. If you’re so worried about the silence, don’t let it get a chance to fester. Just… do it.”

Jisung can’t help but pout, because he knows Hyunjin’s right. There have been times when Jisung’s mouth started reacting before his brain could. Perhaps all this time, that mindset was left outside the bedroom door every time without noticing.

“Just do it,” Jisung mumbles, more to himself than to Hyunjin.

But Hyunjin encourages him, nonetheless. “Just do it. Now, tell me how you felt about the tentacle thing in chapter nineteen.”

Jisung chokes on his food. He makes a quick recovery, however, chugging his water while glaring at Hyunjin. “Bringing up tentacles when I got a mouth full of noodles. You’re an evil man.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

“Can you tell me what I’m doing to you?”

“Um.” Jisung’s attention darts to a random book on the shelf across the room. The Rainbow Fish, the title reads. He doesn’t remember it being that small a book. “Fucking me?”

Jisung's tone is overly flat and awkward when he answers, and he knows it— definitely deserves the eyeroll Minho gives him. “Well, yes.” Minho agrees. Pause. “How am I fucking you?”

Jisung hums as he pretends to think, knowing what Minho wants him to say, but still finding ways to avoid it.

“Slowly…?”

They barely took two steps into the apartment when Minho threw him over his shoulder and stripped him to the bone. He was determined to get Jisung talking and decided today would be the day.

The drag of Minho’s hips is devastatingly slow as they roll into Jisung’s, fucking him like they have all the time in the world. His gaze narrows, feigning a grouch. “It’s about to be not at all if you keep being a brat.”

Jisung throws his head back, too fussy to focus on how Minho’s cock throbs inside him. “You’re being so rude today.”

Minho adjusts his grip on Jisung’s waist as he continues to thrust agonizingly slow. It’s far from satiating either of them, but Jisung did ask for this, in retrospect.

“I’m not being rude. I’m just doing what’s been asked of me.” He leans to kiss Jisung chastely. “Do you wanna stop?”

Jisung props himself up to his elbows with a huff and gazes up at his cute boyfriend in defeat. He really doesn’t want to stop, but embarrassment beseeches him all too easily. He wants to tell Minho that he needs words pulled out of him, that he likes when Minho is a little mean to him, but can’t find the confidence to explicitly say so.

Jisung makes a sound of disagreement. “No. I just…” he bites the inside of his cheek, tilts his head as he stares at the wall. “...need help.”

Minho doesn’t press further, rolling his hips into Jisung’s again. Jisung whines, feeling his cock faintly brush near his prostate.

“Okay,” Minho says. “Remember your safe word?”

Jisung fights off rolling his eyes because if he does, Minho really might strand him here, Naked and Afraid style. “The traffic one.”

“Can you say it?”

“Bro.”

“Jisung.”

Jisung throws his head back into the pillow again and lets out a childish, guttural groan. “Red, yellow, green. Yes, yes. I got it. I promise.”

Minho stares at him a little longer before sighing. His hands slide off Jisung’s waist and to the back of his thighs, hoisting Jisung’s hips into the air to fuck him deeper. A gasp rips out of Jisung at the change in position, blood rushing to his cock in an instant. He suppresses a whine, and he feels Minho’s pull all the way out, the blunt head teasingly pressing against his hole.

“Color?”

It feels so fucking weird to use the traffic light system when they’re technically having very vanilla sex, but to normal people, this wouldn’t be weird at all. This really is just all in Jisung’s head. It’s just as Hyunjin said earlier that week, don’t think. Just do.

So with a sigh, Jisung swallows his embarrassment to answer with, “It’s green…”

Minho smiles, rubbing his thumb against Jisung’s thigh in comfort. “Good job, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of Jisung’s knee. “Good boy.”

Jisung scrunches his nose and covers his face with his hands. He wants to let out a moan, to let Minho know how much he loves the praise, except the sound gets caught in his throat and dies there. He hates when that happens, because then he suddenly can’t catch his breath, and Jisung starts to involuntarily check out.

It doesn’t last for too long, because Minho is sliding all the way back into Jisung with one smooth thrust, and Jisung chokes at the intrusion.

All Jisung is capable of for the next few minutes is a garble of whines and moans, Minho’s name leaving his lips every few seconds. Jisung feels like melting. He wraps his arms around Minho’s arms and arches his back, letting his mind grow fuzzy and letting Minho’s sounds distract him from the outside world.

It feels so good, and Minho never fails to make Jisung feel so full. He wants to tell him that so badly, but for some reason, it’s hard to.

But soon again, leaving a wet kiss on Jisung's neck, Minho slows his pace and reels back. “Let’s try this again.”

Jisung whines in defiance. “Hyung.”

“Don’t be a brat. Look.” Minho’s head dips forward. Jisung’s gaze follows, already knowing what is going to be asked of him next. “Tell me what you see, bug.”

He watches as Minho slowly sinks his cock in and out of him. The words are there— sitting on his tongue. Existing. It’s just a matter of getting them out.

Don’t think, Jisung. Don’t think.

It’s quiet between them for a second as Jisung chalks up the bravery to answer. “I see you.”

“Yeah, doing what?”

Jisung gulps. “Uh, having sex with me.”

The minute he answers, Minho has a hand gripping at his jaw, forcing Jisung to meet his eyes, and he is slowing to a stop.

“This is what’s going to happen.” Minho’s stare pierces him. It’s intense, but Jisung feels the softness behind it all the same. Like being blinded by the sun— warm, but still walking away with burns. “You’re going to tell me everything you see, and everything I do to you. And if I’m not happy with what you say,” he fucks Jisung achingly slow, pushing so deeply into him that Jisung can feel it in his stomach. “I’m going to stop until you change my mind. Do you want me to stop?”

In an instance, Jisung shakes his head.

“Words, baby.”

“No, I don’t,” Jisung manages to squeak out before he can think about it.

“Do you want to cum tonight?”

How Minho can say such words with a straight face is beyond Jisung. He feels a little envious of his boyfriend’s confidence, even now.

“It’d be nice!” Jisung answers awkwardly.

He’s taking this seriously, he really is. It’s not his fault he’s too quick to cringe at himself. Minho looks and sounds so fucking hot that it’s almost too much. Jisung feels like a total loser in comparison.

Minho laughs. “It'd be nice to… what?”

Jisung was seriously going to die. “It’d be nice to—” God. “To cum…” 

His sentence ends much quieter compared to before, but much to his relief, Minho minutely rewards him. Still smiling sweetly at Jisung, his dreadful pace turns into a slow one. Too slow for comfort, but it was better than nothing.

“Good,” Minho softly praises. With one hand, he pushes one of Jisung’s knees to his chest and fucks him deeper. Jisung moans, his eyes trailing around the room, instead of Minho himself, feeling his face redden beneath Minho’s intense gaze.

“Stay with me.”

Jisung’s eyes flicker to Minho’s, and tries not to hold his breath. “I’m here.”

Minho smiles. “I love you.”

Jisung feels the words settle in his chest. “I love you.”

“Ready?”

Another moan escapes Jisung as he nods. “Yeah.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Minho pushes Jisung’s other knee to his chest and shallowly thrusts. “Tell me what you see.”

Firstly, Jisung is overwhelmingly distracted by how beautiful Minho is. He’s been growing his hair out lately, but just short enough for his bangs to fall back into place if Jisung were to try tucking a strand behind his ear. Jisung loves the way it curls around his nape and that it always smells of citrus.

He loves it— he loves Minho.

“I’m thinking about how handsome you look right now,” Jisung says. He wishes Minho were in reach so that he could tangle his fingers in his hair. “And how sweet you are.”

This comes easily to Jisung, loving Minho, showering him with compliments. Loving Minho has always been easy.

Minho smiles at that. He takes one of Jisung’s hands and kisses his open palm.

“Thank you, baby,” he replies. “What else?” Slightly, just slightly, does his pace quicken.

“You’re not kissing me right now, and I really wish you were.”

“How about you tell me what I’m doing to you, and I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re…” Jisung looks down between their bodies, admiring his boyfriend’s perfect cock and squirming at the lewd sound of squelching between them. Even now, after all the warnings Minho gave him, does Jisung still look for answers other than the obvious.

“You’re making me feel good?” Jisung tries.

It’s not a lie, and Minho knows it. Snickering, sinking deeper into Jisung, he presses a kiss to Jisung’s jaw. “That’s good to hear. I like making you feel good.”

Jisung’s face burns, and he moves to cover his face again. “Hyung, quit.”

“Don’t hide.” Minho pushes Jisung’s hands away. “How else am I gonna kiss you?”

Quickly, Jisung moves his hands to wrap behind Minho’s neck, and welcomes him with an open-mouth kiss. Minho’s thrusts are still stagnant, except they’re deeper now. The echoing sound of their hips making contact grows louder in a frenzy. Without breaking the kiss, Minho shifts Jisung’s legs until they’re hooking over his shoulders. Then, he scoots slightly back, giving the two of them just enough space to watch together as Minho properly fucks him.

Jisung’s head spins. Minho is now hitting his prostate more than not, and he isn’t sure how long he can last. He knows what he has to do, but the words keep dying in his throat. And soon enough, Minho is going to punish him for it.

Don’t think, Jisung. Don’t think. Don’t—

“You know what I see?” Minho inquires.

Jisung snaps out of it. He grumbles, distracted by the building warmth in his abdomen and his spiraling thoughts to give a proper response.

“I see a cute boy in my bed.” The rasp in Minho’s voice has Jisung screwing his eyes shut. “Who's taking me so well. My Jisung-ie, you know you’re so cute when you cry on my cock.”

It’s not as filthy compared to some of the things Minho could really come up with, but the vulgarness is still enough to make Jisung hot all over. There’s a small worm in the back of his mind downplaying Minho’s words, arguing that Jisung isn’t even crying. He tries to shovel the thought into a deep hole somewhere. Maybe if Jisung weren’t his own worst enemy, then maybe he would be crying by now.

“Harder, Minho,” Jisung pleads. He’s so hot all over that it almost physically hurts. It makes him want to cry. He wants Minho to make him cry. “Harder.”

“You know what to say.” Minho coyly replies, and Jisung wants to throw a fit. “Come on. Your turn. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“You’re driving me nuts, first of all.” Jisung watches the way Minho fucks him and involuntarily clenches around him. “And you’re going, um… in and— and out— of me.”

His face burns when the words leave him, but he can’t help but feel proud. It’s more than what he’s ever been able to say, at least.

But Minho, ever the devil, only cocks his head. “In and out of you? Whatever do you mean?”

Jisung thins his lips in annoyance. When he takes too long to answer, Minho’s hips halt. Jisung digs his heels into Minho’s lower back in a panic.

“No, stop— don’t stop,” he whines. “Minho.”

Minho is merciless, pouting when he replies, “But I asked you a question.”

“You—” Jisung clears his throat and wriggles his hips to remind himself how deeply seated Minho is buried in his ass. This must be how soldiers feel when they look at a locket with a photo of their lover encased in it during times of war. How hard the battle is, yet a shining reminder of what winning the war brings. “You’re using your…”

Minho watches him excitedly, mouth shaping the words he wants Jisung to say next. “My…?”

“Your… cock.”

It’s nearly muffled, and overtly much too quiet, but Jisung got the words out. His heart wildly beats in his chest, saying it out loud. Minho, too, nearly beams from above him. He probably wasn’t expecting Jisung to say it, either.

Jisung’s bravery is rewarded by Minho going back to rolling his hips. Jisung feels his cock weakly twitch against his stomach, sparking back to life after being neglected for so long.

“Good,” Minho praises sweetly. He pulls back a little more, enough to return to those shallow thrusts that drive Jisung up the wall. “What about my cock? Hm?”

Jisung has half a mind to cringe hearing cock slip from Minho’s mouth again like that, but his body betrays him first. His own cock dribbles against his stomach where it lies. It’s so dirty— and it’s all because of Minho.

“You’re fucking me with— with…” Jisung pants, angling his head to watch Minho thrust into him. He tries not to stop speaking again, knowing they’re only going to continue in circles if Jisung doesn’t pull it together. He’s so embarrassed that it takes everything in him not to shut down. “Fucking me with your cock, hyung-ie.”

A pitchy moan is pulled out of Minho, and— oh. Jisung really liked the sound of that.

Minho moves both of Jisung’s legs and hugs his thighs together, picking up the pace. “Good, baby. What else?”

Jisung fights the urge to draw a blank, so thoroughly exhausted. But talking through the motions with Minho really does enhance the overall experience. He can’t believe he suffered through years of quiet sex with people. He can’t believe he’s been dating Minho for months, yet this is the most he’s heard him speak when fucking.

“You feel good, Minho,” Jisung nearly sobs, especially as soon as Minho starts fulfilling his earlier request and thrusting deeper inside him. Two, three seconds of silence pass before Jisung suddenly bursts into giggles. “Sorry.”

“Why? What for?”

Jisung is still giggling at himself, moans mixing in. “I’m really bad at this.”

Suddenly, he finds himself folded in half as Minho presses his full weight against Jisung’s thighs. A surprised sound escapes him, stunned to silence when Minho’s face comes close to his own.

“No,” Minho grunts, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in. “Stop that. You’re doing so good, Sung-ie. You feel so fucking good.”

A shiver rakes up Jisung’s spine at the praise. “Oh,” he sputters. “Um. Thank you.”

They both fall quiet, before Minho soon joins him in a fest of giggles. “You’re welcome.” He pecks Jisung between the eyes. “Color?”

“Still green.”

Sex was subconsciously always a big stressor for Jisung. It felt like he was always racing against time, worried and rushing to get himself into the right headspace, and feeling unwell when he couldn't enjoy it to the fullest. His past partners weren’t the greatest at prepping him, and they sure weren't ever patient enough to take their time with Jisung. Each time, Jisung bit his tongue, screwed his eyes shut, and prayed to some higher entity that his body would be able to relax, just for the moment to never come.

Jisung more often found himself lost in his thoughts during sex, letting his insecurities eat away at his bare skin while he lies on display for another. He’s too focused on whether his moans sounded okay enough, if he had a double chin when someone went down on him, or if his hygiene was good enough, no matter how many times he already showered.

He still gets that way, being with Minho, but Minho has never given him any reason to worry. Which is why more than ever, Jisung wants to be better at communicating. He wants to be better.

“So good, hyung-ie. You’re doing good, too.” Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Jisung shifts around so that his legs are around Minho’s torso, reaching out to wrap his arms around Minho’s shoulders.

With a groan, Minho presses a bruising kiss to Jisung’s mouth. His hand rears backward to grip the meat of Jisung’s thighs, fucking him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Jisung loves it when he gets to have Minho like this: deep and heavy, hot and wet from how much they can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Keep going,” Minho whines against Jisung’s teeth. “Please, keep talking. I don’t wanna stop.” He pistols his hips sharper now, his flushed face covered in desperation. Jisung feels his stomach flip. “Don’t make me stop, Jisung. Please.”

Ten times out of ten, Minho is the one who has to fill the air with conversation. He’s good at it, keeping Jisung focused through words of encouragement and sweet sounds. But now, the tables are turned, and Minho has managed to corner Jisung in such a position, giving him the power he’s always been so poor at cradling that he’s left with no choice but to keep it.

Something about Minho’s neediness gives Jisung the boost of confidence he needs to at least try.

“I feel you so much. In my stomach.” Jisung says, struggling not to stutter through his embarrassment. “So deep. I love it, hah. Love it so much.”

Jisung feels Minho’s blunt nails digging into his flesh, and it makes him squirm. He’s subconsciously rolling his hips now back onto Minho’s cock. Minho wraps his hands around Jisung’s length, and the simmer in Jisung’s belly suddenly rises to a boil.

“Fuck, Minho,” Jisung whimpers, soon following up with a string of unsteady yes, yes, yes, yes’s. “Oh my god. God. I’m—” the words die in his throat.

It’s more than enough to bait Minho. Minho leans in until their noses are brushing, his tempting mouth so close to Jisung’s that for a half a second, Jisung’s worries fly out the window.

“Yeah?” Minho encourages, keeping his pace quick and brutal. Like if he fucks into Jisung hard enough, he can suckerpunch the answers right out of him. “Tell me what you want.”

Jisung is embarrassed by the way his voice shrills when he squeaks out a curt, “Please.” All he knows is that he doesn’t want Minho to stop. He’s finally at a delicious pace, and at this rate, he’ll do anything to keep it that way. “Wanna cum, hyung.”

Instead of giving him just that, Minho halts with a particularly hard thrust, enough to make Jisung groan. It was like the wind was knocked out of him; how sudden the pacing of everything changed.

How cruel Minho was, teetering them both on the edge like this. Jisung mewls when Minho returns to a simple and slow, deep roll of his hips.

“You wanna cum?” Minho parrots, phrasing it more as a statement than a question. “Tell me how you want to cum.”

Jisung thrashes around in frustration, curling his fists into the sheets and kicking a foot out.

“God, you’re horrible.” He winces, feeling Minho slowly dragging himself out. Minho shows little empathy, beaming with laughter instead.

“So mean, my love.”

Jisung casts his shame in a ditch and peers up at Minho with his best puppy eyes. “Minho.”

Minho puppy-eyes him back with an innocent smirk. “Yes, baby?”

“Come on.” Jisung rotates between wriggling his hips against Minho’s and bucking upwards. “Please—” He blinks harshly, pushing himself onto his elbows. Sees how deep Minho is inside him and how painful it is to sit in nothingness. He can’t bring himself to look Minho in the eye when he finally says, “Fuck me.”

Minho is rough when he grabs Jisung by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. He clicks his tongue. “Hm? You’re so quiet, I can barely hear you.”

With the encouragement of Minho’s hips slowly moving again, Jisung whimpers again. “Fuck me, hyung-ie. Please. I need it.”

“There you go,” Minho coos. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his chest, and Jisung feels his mouth water. “Look at you. So good. So good for me.”

Minho returns to the unrelenting pace from before with his own need now spilling into his thrusts. Jisung’s eyes nearly bulge out from the sockets. He feels so much that he may cry in the next couple of seconds. His hand wraps around one of Minho’s arms tightly, hiccupping when Minho starts stroking his cock between their bodies.

Jisung’s face burns. There's this pounding in the back of his head that definitely foreshadows a headache tomorrow. He feels drunk. A hangover is on the horizon, given how dizzying this all is. It’s unreal how Minho can look at someone like Jisung and say such things. 

“Close—” Jisung chokes. “Fuck, I’m going to cum.”

“Yeah,” Minho moans. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock.”

It’s so lewd to Jisung that it should have been enough to turn him off, but Minho looks and sounds so pretty doing it that the polar opposite occurs. And he’s close— so close. The hand rubbing the tip of his cock is applying the perfect amount of pressure, ransacking Jisung’s horrid thoughts and blistering through them before they even have the chance to fester. Minho nails his prostate with the snap of his hips, and he implodes.

Jisung’s entire body curls up as a violent orgasm overtakes, claws digging into Minho’s skin and raking all over. He sobs through the motions when Minho finishes too, concluding with a sharp bite to his shoulder.

They’re quiet for a moment as they both catch their breath. Minho rigidly pulls out and rolls onto his side, facing Jisung, yet too much in a daze to actually look at him. Jisung feels the exact way. He stares up at the ceiling.

Together, they lay there. Absolutely stunned, and thoroughly fucked out.

“Holy shit,” Jisung says.

Minho snorts into the pillow. “I concur.” He’s sweating, flushed all over, his chest red, and his eyes still glazed over.

Jisung finds the energy to turn towards Minho. “I think I died.”

He expects Minho to come up with some retort that’s going to fluster him again. Yet instead, Minho smiles warmly, reaching a hand out to graze against Jisung’s chest. His fingers feather upward until he’s grazing Jisung’s jaw.

“Was it too much?”

Jisung turns so that he’s now facing Minho, and keeps a hand wrapped around Minho’s wrist so that he’ll keep holding him like this. Minho always had this odd way of making him feel like he was something precious. It’s not all the time that he feels it; his own insecurities keep him from feeling it most days. But things have been improving over time— Minho makes Jisung want to know what it feels like to be loved all the time.

So Jisung will never not scurry to assure his sweetheart when the slightest flicker of doubt arises. He tightens his grip around Minho’s wrist and presses a long, chaste kiss to his lips.

“Not at all,” Jisung assures dotingly. “It was good. Really good. I really liked it.”

“Are you sure?” Minho’s brows furrow, as if waiting for that empty look Jisung always feels he wears after sex.

But it never comes. Jisung feels so satiated and warm that there’s nothing he wants to think about other than how much he loves his Minho-hyung.

“Was I okay?” Jisung mirrors his doubts back. Just this once.

Minho scrambles to wrap a tight arm around Jisung’s waist and pull him close. Their chests are pressed together in a way it almost hurts to breathe, but Jisung welcomes it.

“You were perfect.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Alright, I don’t know about that.”

“I’m serious,” Minho protests. “I know that wasn’t easy for you, but you did it. And you sounded really cute doing it.”

Still, Jisung squints at Minho, unimpressed by the biased praise, no matter how much he wishes his brain would just let him accept the compliment. He knows Minho can read him like an open book, huffing through his nose when he bluntly adds, “I was super turned on.”

A switch goes off inside Jisung’s mind, and he happily swings his arms tightly around Minho’s neck in response. “Oh, okay. Cool.”

Minho giggles. “Yeah. Cool.”

The battle was not entirely lost on this one.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

After that, Jisung’s confidence slowly began to build.

He took Hyunjin’s advice for the next few weeks and started incorporating more into his routine that would help him feel good about himself. Little things, like investing in nicer toiletries to help him stay on top of his hygiene. Taking longer showers. Practicing his vocalization in front of the mirror on days Minho worked late, and Jisung was too horny to wait for him. He would talk himself through every orgasm and grew comfortable with the idea of Minho hearing what spilled from his mouth, no matter the circumstance.

It was embarrassing as it was riveting to power through. And over time, that confidence started to slowly follow Jisung into their sex life.

After the initial shyness dulled out, Jisung actually found teasing Minho rather fun. As much as Jisung found it agonizingly hot whenever Minho had to coax the words out of him, each time Minho had to talk him through it, he liked the alternative just as much: going at his pace, dropping lewd comments when Minho least expected it, choosing what he got to say and when he’d say it.

There was just something about Minho’s reactions that spurred Jisung on. He thinks he understands what Hyunjin meant when he was speaking from experience. It was an adrenaline rush to coo when Minho was beneath him, knowing he could say just about anything and he’d get a gorgeous reaction out of it.

So lately, Jisung had taken control back. Minho had no complaints, and Jisung was feeling much more assured than ever. For the past month, it seemed like the scenic route they chose to take through their kink exploration was short, but well-lived.

Today is Wednesday, meaning Minho doesn’t go into work until closer to the evening, so the two sleep in and have a late brunch.

Since the moment they woke up, Jisung had been embarrassingly needing to get his hands on his boyfriend. Minho always smells good when he’s fresh out of the shower, when he’s cooking in the kitchen with his hair still damp, mouth still tasting of his morning coffee. It’s no brainer that Jisung’s practically crawling into his lap the moment he sits on the couch.

As much as Jisung had been enjoying throwing Minho around in the bedroom these days, Jisung still gets these waves of neediness, craving nothing more than for the other to open him up and bend him against the nearest countertop. The issue, however, was that the need to cringe, clam up, and shut down only ever occurred when Jisung felt at his most vulnerable.

Sex was vulnerable. Being the one who was opened up and explored was vulnerable. And what Jisung had learned about himself in the past few weeks is that if he doesn’t have to feel that way when having sex with his favorite person, then he tries to avoid it. He doesn’t think Minho has caught on.

He trusts Minho more than anyone in the world, and he didn’t like how much he killed the mood when he was on the receiving end. This was easier for both of them. This was okay.

Yet, a new problem arises.

Minutes after Minho sits down, Jisung has a leg thrown over one of his thighs, straddling him by the time he pulls Minho’s hardening cock from his shorts. Nothing crazy, for starters. He has already lathered Minho’s cock in his spit, watching his boyfriend intently as filthy sounds fill the quiet room. The pleasure he got to watch flicker across Minho’s face was more than enough to satiate the fire inside him.

Sounds were fine. The lewdness made Jisung bashful, but it was the good kind. Overall, it didn’t bother him; it fit. It was normal. Making sex messy and wet was incredibly worth it if it meant he got to have Minho like this..

Right now, Minho was panting from each of Jisung’s touches, fisting both his hands into the fabric of his shirt as his gaze darted between Jisung’s eyes and hands. Jisung shows a little more attention to the head of his cock, and Minho chokes back a whine.

“Just like that,” he moans. “Fuck, Jisung.”

The encouragement does wonders for Jisung, yet his mind still begins to wander.

Let’s see. He’s hovering over Minho right now. Jisung feels rather relaxed. He reminds himself that he can set the tone of what happens next, at least for the next few minutes. Minho isn’t going to necessarily make him do or say anything in this position. He can just keep quiet and focus on the sweet sounds his boyfriend is making if he wants to. Watch Minho’s eyes when they darken in pleasure. The pink of his mouth, lips parted to shakily exhale. And it’s all because of Jisung.

Jisung can’t help but hum because his boyfriend was too cute for words.

Suddenly, Minho bucks his hips and makes a startled sound. Jisung, who shamefully spaced out a bit, too deep in his thoughts to fully be present, comes back to reality when he thinks he sees Minho mouth something to him.

“What?” Jisung dumbly asks.

Minho has grown impossibly redder in the face, shooting Jisung a bewildered look. Realizing something, he huffs out a small laugh.

“You’ve never called me that during sex before.”

Jisung called him something? “What did I call you?”

Minho gives him a humored look, as if trying to decipher whether Jisung was being serious or not before answering. “You just called me kitty.”

Oh. Jisung racks his brain for the happenings from the past ten seconds, and is somehow drawing a blank. He must have said it without realizing. God, that’s embarrassing. Minho doesn’t really strike Jisung as a petplay kind of guy, so it's safe to say that he’s thoroughly mortified.

“Oops,” Jisung responds like an idiot. “Sorry.”

Minho tilts his head and chuckles. His eyes are nearly sparkling. “It’s fine. I liked it.”

A quiet settles between them for a moment. For now, it’s comfortable. But knowing Jisung’s tendency to spiral, he knows it won’t last long.

If Minho says he likes it, that means Jisung should have no problem saying it, right? It shouldn’t be. Minho’s already reacted positively; therefore, this should be easy to do.

Jisung feels Minho’s hands move to his forearms to comfort him, reeling him in before Jisung’s mind floats away again.

“You can keep calling me that,” Minho suggests. “You can be silly with it. Tease me, or whatever you feel like doing.”

It can’t get much clearer than that. So Jisung goes back to slowly stroking Minho, shyly nodding. “Okay.” He seals the conversation with a kiss.

By the time Jisung has Minho back to the squirming mess he was minutes ago, Jisung thinks of the right time to call him kitty again.

Guess it could be anytime, but what if Jisung looks stupid saying it? God, he’d certainly feel stupid saying it, and especially if it didn’t do anything for Minho. Minho said he liked it, but what if he doesn’t as much as the first time? What if Jisung says it too many times?

Jisung thinks back to the breakfast he just had and regrets putting so much creamer in his coffee. He could have milk breath for all he knows. How dare he try to say dirty things to his boyfriend with bad breath? Did he remember to wipe the crumbs off his face before initiating all of this? He probably looks hideous right now. He hasn’t showered since yesterday afternoon. Fuck.

Jisung wipes a free hand across his mouth. He can’t tell if there were crumbs or not. God damn it. He just realized his mouth was hanging open the whole time. He clamps his jaw shut. He must’ve looked like such a pervert. Jisung tries to blink himself back to the present so that Minho doesn’t catch on, but it’s too late. He already feels his chest tightening in an ugly coil, and Jisung wants to cry because he feels so fucking stupid. This shouldn’t be so difficult for him. Why is it so difficult for him?

So in the end, Jisung doesn’t call him kitty again— doesn’t actually call Minho anything. Jisung doesn’t say anything. He’s so anxious, sick to his stomach, overly aware of how the handjob has grown sloppy and unfocused all too soon. It’s so quiet between the two of them that Jisung is holding his breath.

“Hey,” he hears Minho gently call. Jisung blinks harshly to check if he’s randomly started crying yet— and miraculously, he hasn’t. He didn’t even notice his hand wasn’t on Minho’s dick anymore until Minho’s hands were around Jisung’s waist, tugging him to sit in his lap.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay if talking makes you uncomfortable.”

“But I’m not uncomfortable,” Jisung forces out the words in a shameful frustration. “I like it. I want to do it. I just feel like I look so stupid.”

Jisung wishes he could get out of his head during sex the way it feels like so many others can. He envies every disgusting sexcapade Hyunjin shares with him at their stupid two-man book club. How saying such filth comes easy to him, but never to Jisung.

Sex with Minho was always good, always so special. But Jisung knows it can be better if he can keep his insecure, destructive thoughts outside the bedroom. His past partners had given him reasons to shut down, but never Minho. He just wishes he could express that.

“Jisung, you don’t look stupid.” Minho runs his fingers delicately up and down Jisung’s side. “My sexy boyfriend is in my lap, touching me and calling me names. Stupid is the last thing I’m thinking.”

But Minho is too nice to let Jisung in on the small icks if they were to exist. Minho wouldn’t say anything to Jisung if he had bad breath and crumbs around his mouth, or if he had a stupid look on his face. And deep down, Jisung knows that’s because Minho doesn’t care.

Jisung is the same when it comes to Minho, too. Not once has he ever been deterred by the pimples that grace Minho’s face, or if his mouth tasted too much like the dinner they ate. He’s never cared because this was Minho, his Minho. And Jisung would love him through everything, yet he can’t say the same for himself.

If Jisung can’t take himself seriously, how can he ever expect someone else to? 

Self-insecurity is an ugly beast to be reckoned with. Jisung has always been afraid of being torn open and being found unsightly. Being seen as nothing but a grotesque, normal man, who has no reason to be lusted after. To be wanted by. To be spoken to with such passion, such love— for it all feels so undeserving. Jisung is so undeserving.

The burning in his chest viciously migrates to Jisung’s face, and soon, he feels tears angrily spewing in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He can’t help but cry seeing Minho’s expression drop, his heartache much too blatant for Jisung to stomach. “I’m sorry. I ruined it.”

“Stop, you didn’t ruin anything.” Minho pulls Jisung until Jisung’s face is buried in the crevice of his neck. “You didn’t ruin anything at all.”

The moment Jisung feels his tears smearing against the skin, those hideous feelings violently bubble to the surface, and he cries into Minho’s neck and blocks out everything else. What a stupid thing to cry over. It only makes Jisung feel worse. He feels Minho kiss his shoulder, and it makes him feel worse.

“Can you, um,” Jisung croaks as soon as he manages to get ahold of himself. “Can you take over, please?”

Minho’s lips twitch into a doubtful frown. “We don’t have to keep going if you’re not up for it.”

“I am.” Jisung slightly shakes his head. “I want to. Just not like this.”

Minho is quiet for a moment. “Okay.” His gaze drops down between their bodies, still mindlessly rubbing Jisung’s side with one hand, while the other drops to Jisung’s thigh. His hold there is firm, tight but not too tight, just enough to ground Jisung back to the earth and keep him there.

Then finally, he leans in to press a kiss against Jisung’s collarbone through his shirt. “What do you want to do?”

This time, there’s no taunt laced between the words. No playful glint in Minho’s eye or smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. No challenge. He talks to Jisung about sex like he’s asking if it’s going to rain today or what he wants to eat.

And Jisung is capable of doing the same, too, when they’re discussing it at the dinner table, or laughing about it in passing. But with Minho’s softening hard-on sitting between them and his hands still groping at Jisung’s flesh, his vocal chords shrivel. He feels embarrassed yet again by his own shortcomings.

Jisung swallows his nerves down as he musters a weak, “I want you to take care of me.”

Minho doesn’t press— at least not verbally. He does, however, press Jisung onto his back against the cushion and crawl on top without a word. He mouths at Jisung’s chest and stomach, at his cock until Jisung is panting against the pillow. Minho fucks Jisung intensely and without sound, humming against his neck and moaning whenever Jisung lets out a small cry.

They do it all with little to no words. Jisung isn’t afraid to ask Minho for more, for him to go faster, or tell Minho when he’s close. But he is afraid to let his thoughts go wild, worried that he’ll sound too ridiculous, so he doesn’t let them roam at all.

Minho’s thrusts become sloppy, close to his own orgasm, yet Jisung can’t pull his eyes away from the clock hanging near the front door. Where Jisung wants to vocalize his wants, encourage Minho to finish, to make him cum, he instead whimpers behind teeth-bitten lips, stares at the ceiling, and tries not to start crying again.

When they do finish and Minho cleans Jisung up, there’s still something hollowed in Jisung’s chest. Minho knows it, too, in the way he wordlessly trails kisses across Jisung’s face, petting the back of his head to remind him that it’s okay.

Jisung lets a few more tears fall, and Minho kisses them away without a word.

It’s all terribly quiet.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

It’s barely six in the morning when Jisung stirs from an incomplete dream. He thinks Minho was there, dressed in shining armor, wielding six blades at once, in the way the Dragon King Danian managed to do from the book. Jisung thinks he himself was the dragon.

Across from where his body faces, he can feel himself waking up, registering the gentle orange light that seeps from behind the closed window blinds. The gentleness of the sun reminds Jisung of how he cried himself to sleep last night. How his insecurities had won, and how ugly the aftermath felt.

Remnants of his ache still lingered into the next day, in the way Jisung’s eyes felt sore and how his head hurt just slightly. That, and the way Minho wasn’t in his arms when he woke up.

Instead, Minho’s facing him, sound asleep and curled into himself. His legs tangle with Jisung’s, but his hands were kept to himself, bunched beneath his cheek as he softly snored. Jisung desperately hopes that’s just how he’s settled amidst his sleep, and that he didn’t feel the need to give Jisung space. He didn’t need it— he wanted Minho all over him to remind him everything was okay.

Tears burn the corners of his eyes before Jisung can stop them. He hadn’t even been awake for a full minute, yet his doubts were quick to eat away at him.

All it takes is one sniffle from Jisung to rouse Minho. Knowing Minho was awake in some shape was enough for Jisung to bury himself closer. Instead of pulling Jisung into his arms, Minho cradles his face with an inquiring hum. His thumb catches on a teardrop before it can fall.

“I think…” Jisung begins to say, before putting a hand over his mouth shyly. The grim reminder that he definitely has morning breath right now pinches at his joints. “...my insecurities are much bigger than I remember them being.”

The hand that cradles Jisung’s face moves to instead grab where Jisung covers his mouth and pulls his hand away. Minho holds on tightly to Jisung’s hands within his smaller ones and musters just enough effort to lean closer and kiss him.

It’s so soft, so quaint, that it warms Jisung. Pools like hot honey around where his heart feels cold and battered. It’s enough to make him cry all over again.

“And I love you despite them,” Minho says quietly in turn.

Inside, in a way, Jisung feels beautiful. Loved and unwary. But he feels himself crumbling at Minho’s kind words— feels his face morph into something ugly, and cries into the reappearing palm of his lover’s hand.

Quietly, Minho leaves kisses across his face until the touch burns. 

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

“You look horrible.”

Jisung doesn’t have the energy to glare back at Hyunjin because yet again, he knows he’s right. He didn’t bother showering or even brushing his teeth before driving over to their usual spot. No one important was going to see him other than Seungmin, maybe, and even then, Jisung decided he didn’t care.

By the time Jisung has settled in at their designated corner table, Seungmin returns from the front counter with a tray of breakfast pastries and afternoon coffees. The pastries today look particularly good, evident that they’re from a fresh batch. He wonders if Seungmin might have anything to do with that.

Jisung shyly tugs one of the muffins in front of him as Seungmin sits across the table. He eyeballs the streusel on top of it; it’ll make a mess the second he bites into it. At this point, he doesn’t care.

“I feel horrible,” Jisung retorts without so much as looking up.

“You’re not that sad we finished the book, are you?” Hyunjin attempts to joke, to which he lightly succeeds. Jisung huffs through his nose, fighting off a smile.

“Devastated.” As stupid as the book was, it brought up many ugly feelings inside of Jisung. Without it, he wouldn't be moping around right now. Stupid story. Stupid fairy porn. “Princess Freya could have done so much better than Danian.”

Minho could do so much better off not having to coddle someone like Jisung. All Jisung did was self-wallow, zone out, and freak over the most insignificant things. It was easier to hide— easier to ignore his desires to explore and yearn for more in his relationship.

He almost wished Minho would be more cruel to him. If Minho hadn’t encouraged Jisung’s desires, been less patient with him, and been less good to him, then maybe they’re conversations about indulging kinks would have only remained a conversation in passing.

But now this is where they’re at. Minho’s kindness and constant assurances are eating away at Jisung’s heart. Instead of fueling his self-esteem, it only makes him feel worse. It feels horrible to reflect on how wonderful your partner is, yet never feeling deserving enough.

Seungmin calls Jisung out of his trance. “You know Minho isn’t one of your fairytale princesses, right?”

Jisung feels his face heat up at that. He shamelessly holds his face in a weak attempt to hide his blush from his friends. “What does he have to do with Hyunjin’s fairy smut?”

This time, Hyunjin doesn’t bicker back. He’s squinting, peering into Jisung’s soul in a way Jisung always tells him he hates.

“So there is something wrong,” Hyunjin has his aha moment, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “No wonder you’re all mopey.”

“Am not!” Jisung mopes.

“Is this about the dirty talk thing?” Seungmin butts in.

Jisung’s mouth stops moving mid-retort, snapping his attention to Seungmin. “How do you know about that?”

“Uh, hello?” Seungmin jabs a thumb to his left. “Look who I’m dating— of course I know the ins and outs of your sex life.”

Jisung doesn’t actually care all that much, but he still pouts about it.

“Come on,” Hyunjin ushers. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung groans into his hands. “It’s not even a big deal.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Hyunjin assures. “It’s just us.”

“We—” Jisung sighs. “Minho-hyung and I were doing… stuff. And I said something without realizing it.” He begins to relay, trying to recall everything he felt leading up to his freakout. “And I was super embarrassed, but Minho-hyung said he liked it, and that I should keep going, but—”

Jisung didn’t. He couldn’t do anything but sit there like a loser, spiraling into his own worst nightmare and not giving Minho any of the attention he deserved.

“Instead of embracing it, I just got all freaked out and in my head about everything. And I felt so stupid, and I’m really scared that I’m not what Minho-hyung will want in the long run.”

Jisung’s not going to cry, no. But those unthreaded knots of dread are recoiling in the pit of his stomach, and it swells at the bottom of his throat. Afraid that if he throws up, then his heart will come out with all the other nasty stuff.

“But Jisung, you know normal, vanilla sex doesn’t equal bad sex, right?” Hyunjin argues.

“Yeah, but you can still have good sex and not be happy with it!”

At this point, Seungmin leans over the table. “I think if Minho-hyung wasn’t happy with it, you would have known by now.”

“Ever heard of settling, Seungmin?”

“Jisung, oh my god,” Hyunjin groans. “Minho-hyung is not settling with you, you freak. What is wrong with you today?”

“It’s just— sometimes, I’m scared that my dislike for myself is stronger than my feelings for him,” Jisung shamefully confesses. “It was easy not to think about it, but lately, it’s like I can’t get it out of my head. I’m never not self-conscious, and I just feel so gross by the end of it, and— and hyung deserves better than that.”

Deserves someone better than Jisung.

Hyunjin, who seems to always know what to say, only frowns at that. Beside him, Seungmin chews his bottom lip in thought, bends his fingers like he’s cradling the air in front of him.

Seungmin motions his left hand first. “Okay. On one hand, sex is a delicate thing. It’s super intimate and special and vulnerable and all of that shit. But Jisung, on the other hand—” Seungmin motions his right hand. “It’s not that serious.”

“People have sex when they’re stressed. They have sex to celebrate. When they’re happy or sad or anything. The point is that it's supposed to be therapeutic. With Hyunjin and me, it’s a means to bond and to be close. It’s not the fucking Olympics. Everyone goes at a different pace. And you shouldn’t beat yourself up over wanting to give Minho-hyung something he never asked for.”

The wording tightens Jisung’s chest like bolts, and his lips quiver. It’s hard not to be terrible to yourself.

Jisung dramatically, pitifully groans into his hands. Through the cracks of his fingers, he watches Hyunjin place one of his hands on top of Seungmin’s and interlace their hands together.

“The point is, Sung-ie, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hyunjin advises. “Minho-hyung loves you more than anything, and you not being batshit kinky isn’t going to be some turn-off for him.”

“Seriously,” Seungmin agrees. “Don’t feel guilty because you think that you should be a certain kind of person during sex, and Minho-hyung should never make you feel like you have to be, either.”

“He doesn’t.” Jisung feels a fervent need to defend, even if the situation is somewhat hypothetical. “He would never do that.”

“Give yourself a little more grace,” Hyunjin adds before Jisung can come up with a retort. “Have a little faith in Minho.”

Seungmin must sense Jisung doesn’t have any words left, and gracefully changes the subject. “Did Hyunjin tell you he asked if I wanted to roleplay as Princess Freya and Danian the other day?”

“He’s lying,” Hyunjin immediately argues with a straight face. “He’s just saying that to make you laugh.”

Seungmin squeezes Hyunjin’s hand tighter. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

It’s a quarter past seven in the evening when Jisung eventually returns home. The inside of their home isn’t empty, nor is it quiet. Jisung’s eyes fall onto the pair of sneakers Minho always wears on his way to work, and Minho’s keys dangling from the key rack by the door.

Their doorbell rings the moment Jisung closes the door behind them. He startles, because he had no idea there was someone that close on his tail coming in. But he doesn’t have a chance to think twice about it because in an instant, he hears the scuffle of Minho’s bare feet padding from the living room and straight for the entrance.

Minho blinks in surprise, as if he didn’t hear Jisung come in. “Hi, my love.” He swoops in for a peck on the lips so fast that Jisung is barely able to reciprocate. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“No, um.” Jisung is dizzied from the sudden stimulation at the doorway. Minho has a hand on Jisung’s hip, leaning past to vaguely greet the deliveryman at the door to retrieve a bag of take-out. Jisung didn’t even have the chance to take off his shoes yet. “I just got in…”

“Well, good timing. Dinner’s here.” Minho trudges back into the living room, where Jisung wordlessly follows behind, hazardously dropping his bag at the door on his way.

Minho’s got a comfortable setup going on in the living room, a large dent in their couch indicating that he’s been lounging in front of the TV for a few hours. Jisung suddenly wonders whether Minho had been waiting up for him all day or not.

“I ordered from our sushi place if that’s okay,” Minho says, eyes darting between Jisung and tugging all the styrofoam tupperware out.

Jisung’s still standing a few feet from the living room, watching in a daze as Minho scurries to set them up for a warm night in. “Yeah, sounds yummy.”

“Good,” Minho waddles past Jisung to slip into the kitchen, but not before grabbing Jisung by the waist and squeezing. “You thirsty? You want water or something?”

“Sure,” Jisung’s mouth dries as the words sputter out. Quickly, Minho speeds past Jisung again to place two waters at the coffee table. Instead of taking a seat, he lingers over the couch, as if hesitant to hit the brakes. That finally gets Jisung’s legs working again.

“Aren’t you tired, bug?” Minho suddenly asks. “You don’t want to take a shower first?”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “Why? Do I stink?”

“No, no,” Minho answers in a panic. “You’ve just been out all day, I’m sure you’re tired and want to freshen up.”

“Hey, stop.” Jisung grabs Minho's arms before he can disappear into the kitchen or somewhere else again. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Minho answers. The worried furrow of his brows says otherwise.

Jisung tilts his head to the side, trying to meet Minho’s gaze. “You’re being weird.”

Minho feigns an oblivious pout. “I thought you liked that about me.”

“You know what I mean.” Jisung’s hands travel to either side of Minho’s shoulders. “Minho, what’s wrong?”

“Um,” Minho chokes out. Like he wants to be upfront with the truth, but is hesitant to do so. “I just really missed you today. I wasn’t expecting you so late.”

Jisung feels guilt hollowing his chest more than he ever thought it could. He moves his hands to intertwine behind Minho’s neck and softly pulls his boyfriend into a gentle hug.

“Oh, honey. You could have called me.”

“I thought you wanted some space,” Minho murmurs into Jisung’s neck, tightening his arms around Jisung’s upper body. “After last night and this morning.”

Jisung sighs and pulls Minho away so they can look at each other— holds his face with a hand to keep him there. “You didn’t upset me, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just… You know me. In my head a lot more than usual right now.”

Minho hums, his eyes flickering across every feature on Jisung’s face. He leans slightly into the weight of Jisung’s palm, uncaring how his face begins to squish against the pressure.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, if that’s okay,” Jisung requests. “I want to sit on the couch and eat sushi with you and binge your weird law show.”

“It’s a date.” Minho squeezes around Jisung’s torso. He doesn’t move, only closes his eyes while Jisung leans in to softly kiss him once, twice before moving away just barely.

“And I missed you today, too,” Jisung assures. When Minho fondly smiles back at him, Jisung can’t help but give him one more kiss before dragging both of them to the couch.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens that night. They eat and they bundle up into their bodies as a mess of limbs and blankets. Minho grows tired much faster than Jisung, and buries himself in Jisung’s lap until he falls asleep.

Their law show moved onto another series, the ones that only appear on cable when it’s really late in the night. Jisung isn’t tired, but he isn’t very awake, either. He leans on a fist, watching Minho sleep in his lap while running a hand through his hair, quietly hurting over how he wishes insecurities could be washed away overnight.

He and Minho were fine, Jisung had to remind himself. They always would be.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

For the remainder of the week, Jisung’s libido had completely depleted.

It wasn’t entirely because of his mental breakdown from the other week. It just happened that every day for the rest of the week, Jisung woke up tired and went to bed tired. He went to work tired, ran errands tired, and didn’t even have the energy to meet with Hyunjin for coffee.

The days passed as normal, outside of not having any sex.

Just because they weren’t actively at it didn’t mean Jisung was thinking about it any less. There would be moments throughout the day where Jisung would let his fantasies and memories of past intimacies linger in the forefront of his mind. Shamefully, there was a time or two that Jisung felt himself breaking a sweat when having flashbacks to how beautiful Minho was in those private moments.

He wishes he could tell him with ease every time the moment came. Yet.

Minho had tried to coax him into talking about it, but it just never happened. He wasn’t going to force a conversation out of Jisung if he wasn’t up for it yet. It’s not to say Jisung was intentionally avoiding a serious conversation; he just never had the energy to. Talking was too much work, sometimes. It’s why the sex was always the way it was— quiet. Calm. Fleeting in words and overwhelming in touch.

It only happened once or twice, but Minho tried initiating between them when the time felt (and technically was) right. Admittedly, Jisung also wanted it too, deep down. But something would always crack in his confidence the moment he felt Minho’s hands trailing south, or Minho’s plush mouth against his throat. Jisung would clam up, be overcome with a sudden exhaustion, and in the end, couldn’t get in the right mindset.

Minho wasn’t some sort of asshole when it came to his partner not being in the mood for anything sexual, either. He was always respectful about it, always so understanding. There was something about it, however, that only made Jisung less secure in himself. His own guilt ate at him, without Minho needing to do— well, anything, really.

A few days short of two weeks later, Jisung stays behind at work later than he usually would.

Normally, Jisung would’ve found a way out of it, but he had some annoying paperwork to comb through. His boss was already giving him a hard time about it, and was an absolute stick in the ass today, too. Jisung seriously debated crying over it in the supply closet on his lunch break.

In the end, it was worth getting out of the way now rather than later, so he bit his tongue and stayed, but not without shooting Minho a heads-up.

His back hurts. His feet hurt more. Jisung didn’t eat enough today, too caught up in his laptop to bother taking a proper break, but he’s past the point of hunger now. Stupid boss and stupid advertising companies.

Whatever. It was a Friday, at least. As soon as he’s finished up, he can go home and die on the couch with his boyfriend. Minho said he was ordering from their fried chicken place, and that was the one thing keeping Jisung going.

Today was hard enough.

Winter bites at his cheeks and grabs at Jisung’s ankles all the way home.

The temperatures have been dipping down this week, making the weather chilly, but not enough to make Jisung take his car to work. He didn’t have the heart to lure Minho out of their toasty home on a winter night just to pick him up, so Jisung sucks it up and makes his way back.

He had promised no later than 8pm to Minho, but by the time Jisung actually heads out of the office for the night, it’s five til, and their apartment complex is a twenty-minute walk out.

It’s fine, Jisung tells himself. Minho isn’t going to explode on the spot the second the clock strikes eight. Maybe he’s being ridiculous. Perhaps he should have just called Minho to pick him up. But he already felt so guilty for his last freak out, and didn’t want to put Minho out, even if he didn’t mind it.

Jisung is sniffling by the time he’s walking into the soft comfort of home. He’s red in the face, shaking off the ghost of ice from his coat as he sheds his layers at the door.

Work sucked. The weather sucked. Jisung, in general, sucked today, too.

The weight in his chest is as heavy as the bag around his shoulders when he finally lets himself crumple. With a loud thump, he knocks his forehead against the wall and just stands there.

“Jisung?” He hears his name being sweetly called from across the room. Appearing from the kitchen doorway is Minho, watching Jisung with a smile as he takes in the sight. “Long night?”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines with his face still plastered against the wall.

“Don’t die yet,” Minho says. “There’s chicken on the table.”

“What’s the point?” Jisung continues to grovel. He knows he’s being a baby, but he’s determined to self-loathe as much as he can before finding the strength to remove himself from the wall. Get it all out of his system so that he can be his cool, normal, amazing self for Minho. “I hate my job. It’s cold outside. I’m a stupid baby. I’m a loser.”

A pause, before Minho replies with, “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

Jisung exhales heavily. “I’m only good for eating chicken when it’s bought on my boyfriend’s credit card and dead-fishing on the bed when he fucks me.”

The air between them settles, but not without a quiet, entertained huff from Minho. Soon, Minho is sneaking behind Jisung, gently ushering his layers all the way off, placing Jisung’s work bag on the floor with one hand and hanging his coat with the other.

Jisung feels the familiar warmth of Minho’s lips pressing against his nape as he wraps him in a gentle hug from behind. “Come here, little baby. Let’s get some food in your belly.”

They eat in silence, but it’s far from uncomfortable. They’re sitting at the table with the wooden corner in between their bodies, but their knees are touching, and Jisung likes leaning his elbows on the table while being close to Minho.

The food is delicious. Jisung asks Minho how the kids at work were today, and Minho shares the most recent updates on their upcoming dance recital. He’s confident that the kids are all going to do great and that he can’t wait for Jisung to see, because Jisung plans on being there. Jisung always shows up for Minho, to every recital, to every date, on days Minho’s old car won’t start and he’s running late for work. Jisung’s heart hurts a little by the end of dinner, but Minho’s laugh makes him forget all about it.

It’s not until after they’ve cleaned up and Minho is ushering Jisung into the shower that Jisung feels himself spark with life again. Jisung sticks himself to Minho’s back, staying on his heels with a whine when Minho tries to separate themselves.

“Don’t go,” Jisung grumbles.

“I’m just going to lie down.”

“No,” Jisung whines louder when Minho tries to pull away. “Shower with me.”

Five minutes later, they’re fully stripped and burning beneath the hot shower water as it washes the day away. The water pressure feels nice, and it’s making Jisung feel so relaxed. Almost too relaxed, given he can’t even find the strength to pull his face out of Minho’s neck to wash himself.

But they don’t need words to understand what the other needs— this is how they have always been. Minho makes no effort to pull Jisung away, but Jisung does feel the latter reach around for something in the shower, before feeling Minho’s hands in his hair, gently washing it.

Jisung eventually finds the strength to stand upright so soap doesn't fall into his eyes, but he does keep them closed. He focuses on how Minho’s hands feel on his scalp. How light his body feels, yet he’s never felt more grounded. A gentle reminder of how in love he is with the person he’s sharing the shower with. How safe he is here.

Minho insists on washing his own hair, but he can’t stop Jisung’s hands from running over his body. Jisung is less washing him off and more groping him, really. His hands chase after the suds that run down Minho’s fair skin, pressing kisses to Minho’s collar bones and shoulders before realizing it.

The moment is so quaint it almost doesn’t even exist.

After they’re finished washing themselves off, Jisung feels his head being redirected by Minho’s hands and being brought into a soft, but charged kiss.

It was the first time they'd properly kissed since Jisung came home, and Jisung hadn’t realized he needed Minho close like this until it was already in motion. He grabs Minho's waist and reels him in until they’re flush against each other, a mess of nothing but water and flesh. He walks Minho backward until Minho is out from underneath the shower head and against the cool tile wall.

Minho softly moans against Jisung’s teeth, chastely kissing back like it was keeping him afloat. Jisung wasn’t faring any better, digging his nails into Minho’s skin and rutting between their bodies. They’re already growing hard against each other.

He’s missed this. He missed Minho.

As if reading Jisung’s mind, Minho pulls away to nip at his jugular.

“I missed you,” Minho says quietly against Jisung’s skin. The strong pressure of the water raining onto them is almost too loud for either of them to hear.

Jisung hums, smiles sweetly when Minho pulls away, and they’re just— here. Looking at each other. Being. “I missed you, too.”

“No,” Minho’s hands dance around, like he can’t decide if he wants to constrict Jisung in his grasp or cradle his face. He opts for resting his hands on either side of Jisung’s neck, brushing their noses together shyly. “I mean, I missed you.”

There’s no need for clarification to know what Minho means by his words. Even when home, Jisung had been hiding from him— from himself. That thin line of intimacy had become tangled by Jisung’s own clumsy feet, and he had grown too afraid to undo the threads and piece them back in place, but he wouldn’t allow Minho to mend it for him, either.

Jisung wants to be strong. He wants to be brave. He wants to be someone more lionhearted than he might have been a month ago, because it’s what Minho deserves. And Jisung wants it for himself, too.

So there’s no need to say he misses Minho back a second time— he doesn’t need to. Jisung lets his eyes fall back onto Minho’s mouth and closes the gap for them.

Still gentle, yet the air has thickened with pent-up want and a simmer of patience about to boil over the pot. Minho doesn’t let go of Jisung’s neck, kissing him back just as fervently, not shying away from licking at Jisung’s bottom lip. A silent plea to be let in after being iced out for so long.

And Jisung lets him. His legs wobble the second he presses his tongue to Minho’s. His head spins. Jisung knew he wanted this again, but hadn’t realized how much that want had actually been a need all this time. All he could think about at this point was why he was purging himself from his sweetheart when Minho clearly wanted anything but.

Without another second to waste, Jisung reaches between their bodies until his fingers wrap around Minho’s cock. He’s already half hard and twitching by the time Jisung gets a single upstroke on him.

Minho deeply exhales, letting his head fall forward until it smushes into Jisung’s neck. His arms bound tightly around Jisung’s shoulders, holding on tight. If Minho was the anchor, then Jisung was the boat that would gladly sink with him.

“Jisung,” Minho whines into Jisung’s neck when Jisung quickens his movements. “Missed you.”

“I know, baby.” Jisung presses an apologetic kiss into Minho’s wet hair. “I missed you, too.”

At that, Minho pulls away, panting for a moment against Jisung’s mouth before kissing him. “Then show me,” he breathes. “Want you to take care of me tonight.”

The warmth Jisung feels overpowers his doubts, but they are still there.

“Are you sure?” He can’t help but ask.

Minho brings his hands up to cradle Jisung’s face, making sure they’re eyes are meeting. Jisung couldn’t look away even if he wanted to at this point.

“Of course I’m sure.” Minho comes closer, as if he’s going to kiss Jisung again, except he doesn't. Their lips brushing together, he adds, “Take care of me like you always do, please?”

And who was Jisung to ignore such an earnest request?

Without pulling even an inch away from Minho, Jisung blindly reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. He wants to kiss Minho again, but the latter slips from his grasp before he can.

There’s a knowing, soft grin gracing Minho’s lips. It’s as if he’s actively fighting off suggestively wiggling his brows as he steps out of the shower and hands Jisung a spare towel. They both laugh to themselves, eagerly drying themselves off like two lovesick teenagers.

The lights are off in the bedroom by the time they reach it.

They’re wearing nothing but towels tucked lazily around their waist when they shut the door behind them. Jisung is more than prepared to slam (or be slammed by) Minho against the door, but Minho is suddenly across the room at the speed of light.

He’s fiddling with something at his bedside table. Jisung expects the usual supplies to be pulled out and startles in place when he hears an odd sound. Whatever it is, Minho is very fixated on it.

“What are you doing?” Jisung asks, not really knowing if that’s the right question to ask. What is that, what was that sound, why are you so far away, the list goes on.

Minho stands upright a moment later, holding something small in his hands. Soft music begins to play out of it.

“Speaker,” Minho answers happily, with a dopey grin on his face. His towel is moments away from dropping to the floor. “So it’s not too quiet for you.”

“You’re a dork,” Jisung laughs.

Minho snickers back, before discarding the speaker onto the top of their dresser, and walking back to where Jisung still stands at the door. “You love me.”

Jisung sighs, intentionally and dramatically dreamily. “Dearly,” he hums, before bringing their mouths together again.

With the soft sound serving an appropriate amount of stimuli in the background, Jisung has never felt more present. The inside of Minho’s mouth is hot when Jisung slips his tongue back in, this time without the intent of slowing down. Minho is fortunately on the same page, clawing at Jisung’s torso and immediately rutting against him through the harsh fabric of their towels.

Jisung feels so— here. Awake. Sharing his moment with Minho with all his senses on fire. He thinks sparks will start flying out of his ears if his body’s temperature doesn’t dial down soon.

But it doesn’t seem Minho wants any of that. Briskly, he undoes the knot of Jisung’s towel and lets his own drop to the floor by the door. Grabbing Jisung’s hands, Minho starts to walk them backward towards the bed, pulling away to push Jisung onto the mattress.

Before Jisung can argue, he bites his tongue, watching the way Minho gazes at him so gently. There’s a swirl of prominent arousal in his eyes, yet there’s something much needier in his expression that makes Jisung want to keep quiet until the request is made.

“Sit against the pillows,” Minho says.

Jisung is quick to scoot as far back against the headboard as he can, fighting away the creeping urge to feel embarrassed that he’s not completely hard yet. Minho’s hands are on him in an instant, his touch being enough to not let the thoughts linger.

Minho starts by grabbing at Jisung’s ankles, squeezing the flesh of his calves, right above his knees, then again up his thighs. His eyes never leave Jisung’s face, however, as he continues to graze at the flesh above his hips and around his stomach.

“I—” Jisung starts to say, but then has to clear his throat. Since when did his throat feel so dry? “I thought I was taking care of you tonight.”

“You are,” Minho affirms. He’s hovering over Jisung now, biting lightly at Jisung’s earlobe before his kisses trail back down south. “But I wanted to do something first.”

Jisung shivers when Minho’s kisses grow wetter, more biting as they brush past Jisung’s chest. Minho lightly bites at one of Jisung’s nipples, and Jisung squirms where he lies. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” Minho answers nonchalantly. He drags his tongue down from below Jisung’s navel, biting at the skin of his hip. He grabs Jisung’s cock and begins to stroke, softly kissing at the base. “This.”

“Fuck,” Jisung groans at the instant relief Minho’s wet mouth provides. He bends one of his knees and fights to buck into Minho’s fist with a struggling sound.

It doesn’t help watching the way Minho’s tongue lolls out from his mouth, as he drags it up and down Jisung’s cock. He’s making sure he’s getting all the bases covered, and fuck, Minho looks absolutely filthy doing it. But at the same time Jisung can’t look away— the way Minho’s watching for his reaction with every touch, feigning such innocence. Jisung can’t wait to fuck it out of him.

Jisung brings a hand to the back of Minho’s head, petting his hair in a quiet encouragement to keep going. He swallows when Minho kisses the tip of his cock, and he braces himself, fully convinced Minho is about to take him entirely then and there in his mouth.

“I love your body,” Minho suddenly compliments, his lips still pressed against Jisung’s tip. He twitches against Minho’s mouth, thrown off guard by the words, but Minho keeps going, stroking him faster. “Love your cock. Love you.”

Jisung’s body burns from the praise. It turns him on so much, but he feels on fire hearing Minho say it. “Baby—” he tries to say, but Minho doesn’t seem interested in what Jisung has to say.

“I love watching how shy you get underneath me,” Minho coos. Pre-cum is steadily dribbling out of Jisung’s cock now, and listening to Minho’s sweet words only makes matters worse. The slick, wet sound of Minho jerking him off has Jisung already wanting to cry.

“You always get so red, but I think it’s so cute. It’s so cute how embarrassed you get. How you can’t even use your words properly. Especially when I’m making you feel good, isn’t that right?”

Jisung chokes on a whimper. He doesn’t think Minho is actually expecting a response, but he can’t lie by saying he doesn’t enjoy what’s happening right now. He’s not thinking about how flushed he may look, or how lewd his cries might come out.

The only thing on Jisung’s mind right now was how good Minho was making him feel, the music in the back, the sound of his cock leaking all over Minho’s hand. Just Minho, Minho, Minho.

“Yeah,” Jisung finds the courage to answer, nodding along to whatever Minho has to say about him. “You’re doing such a good job, baby.”

Minho moans as he sucks a mark into Jisung’s skin at the praise. When he’s finished, he finally, finally, wraps his lips around Jisung’s cock and goes to town. He bobs his head, taking Jisung deeply but not to the point of deep-throating— but Jisung knows he can do it, perhaps with the right encouragement.

The moment Minho’s nose brushes against Jisung’s pubic bone, Jisung feels a shiver run through his entire body. He almost instantly finishes when Minho reels back and begins to properly suck him off.

“Shit, baby.” Jisung sighs, distracted by what might be Minho’s best blowjob to date. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Minho only hums around Jisung, the vibrations making Jisung’s hips kick slightly. He goes at it for a bit longer, likely fully intending on making Jisung cum that way if it wasn’t for Jisung forcing him off his cock. Minho is weaned off, but not without leaving a trail of spit behind. He isn’t given the chance to wipe it away before Jisung is sitting up and crushing their mouths together. He wants to taste Minho— he wants all of Minho.

“Someone’s eager,” Minho snickers as soon as Jisung is finished ravishing the inside of his mouth.

“Be quiet,” Jisung retorts before hauling Minho back to the center of the bed, manhandling him into the exact position Minho had him in moments ago. Minho hadn’t even touched himself yet— his cock was fully hard, red, and aching for relief.

Before Minho can fully settle into the comforter, Jisung is all over him. From his neck and down to his chest, Jisung kisses and bites all over, but all in due time. One hand comes to grope at one of Minho’s pecs, letting a nipple get caught between his fingers as his mouth attaches around the other one.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” Jisung bites around the nipple before attacking it head-on.

“Sung-ah,” is all Minho can mew. He can be just as sensitive as Jisung at times. His hands fly up to tangle into Jisung’s hair.

When Jisung moves to lick at the other nipple, his hands travel downwards. He grabs the flesh of Minho’s torso, groans at how much of Minho there is; that's his for the taking. His nails sink into the pudge of Minho’s waist, and he can’t help grinding his hips down, directly onto Minho’s neglected cock.

“You’re so beautiful, Minho.” Jisung’s words slip out as a whimper when he comes back up for air. He grabs at the back of one of Minho’s knees and pulls it flush into Minho’s chest, grinding deeper down, chasing the need to relieve the pressure building in his gut. He stares openly at the red flush of Minho’s chest and the dark spots around his nipples, where they will surely fade into a purple shade by tomorrow.

He can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to Minho’s jaw. “My pretty baby.”

“Jisung, touch me,” Minho pleads. “Please. I need to feel you.”

“I’m right here,” Jisung assures, just as Minho always did before. “I’m gonna take care of you.” Just as Minho requested. Just as Jisung has always done.

He’s certain he’s red in the face saying so, but he’s constantly reminding himself that there’s no reason to feel embarrassed. This is Minho, his Minho-hyung.

Jisung pries himself away to mimic Minho’s earlier movements; from kissing down his chest, past his stomach, before bravely taking Minho’s cock into his own mouth.

Unlike Jisung, Minho has no qualms about bunching Jisung’s hair into his fists and tugging. Whimpers and cries are quick to fall out of his mouth, likely from going so long untouched. But it’s alright now— Jisung was there to take care of him.

“Yes,” Minho pants, lifting himself enough to be able to watch Jisung go down on him. When Jisung finds a steady pace to bob his head, Minho’s fingers loosen in his hair, instead gently holding the back of his head. A soft reminder that Minho was right there with him.

“So good, Jisung. Your mouth feels so good.”

Jisung has half a mind to choke at the words, but he pushes the feeling away. He instead busies himself by blindly lubricating his fingers, his attention still primarily on sucking Minho off, before bringing his fingers against Minho’s rim without warning.

He’s pretty sure he warmed the lube enough in his fingers, but the cool substance still comes as a shock, brushing against such a sensitive part of Minho’s body. But as soon as he startles, Minho relaxes against Jisung, going as far as to pull Jisung off his cock so that he can get more comfortable. He takes it upon himself to hold his thighs up, giving Jisung as much access as he may need.

Minho is as self-assured as he is beautiful. Jisung can’t help but attack him with a few more love bites first as he slips the first finger in.

“You taste so sweet, baby.” Jisung reiterates into the flesh of Minho’s thigh, slowly thrusting a digit in and out of him. “Love you so much.”

“More, Jisung,” Minho begs. “I want more.”

Jisung obediently follows, giving Minho a second finger. He pistols them in and out like this, panting into Minho’s open mouth as they let the sound of sex and music pollute the air. He must have been too eager, going too hard on Minho, because he was already twitching to get off Jisung's fingers.

“Wait.” Minho writhes against Jisung’s palm, fighting to get away. “I don’t wanna cum yet.”

“Don’t be like that, kitty,” Jisung scolds, and Minho visibly twitches at that.

Jisung had been doing a lot of thinking, in the time he and Minho weren’t having sex. He gave plenty of thought to the ways he could rile Minho that one mile further, and decided this was one thing he could work through.

And god, is he glad he did. Seeing Minho have a visceral reaction to that was almost enough to make Jisung finish untouched.

One of Minho’s hands flies around Jisung’s wrist, trying to slow down his strokes in a panicked frenzy. “Jisung,” he pants. “You don’t have to—”

“Stop,” is all Jisung says to shut Minho up. “I want to. I like how you react to it. You’re so cute.” He curls his fingers when he fucks his digits into Minho more fervently. “How could I hate seeing my kitty all shy like this, hm?”

The hand that isn’t still wrapped around Jisung’s wrist now flies over Minho’s mouth. He tries to cover the instant sobs falling from his lips from the name.

“Oh my god, Jisung.” Minho preens, his hand slipping to grip Jisung’s forearm. Jisung doesn’t slow down, keeping the quick, steady pace of his fist rolling down onto Minho’s leaking cock. He leans in enough so that they’re moaning into each other’s mouths, tightening his fist when it falls over Minho’s tip.

It doesn’t take long for Minho’s whines to aerate upwards in pitch the closer he gets. “I’m going to cum, Jisung. I’m—”

Jisung hums. “It’s okay. You can cum, kitty. I’ll fuck another one out of you soon enough.”

Immediately, Minho’s hips are violently bucking up, crying through his release. Safe to say, Jisung has no clue where the sudden burst of confidence has appeared from, but it isn’t unwelcome. Especially if he’s able to milk an orgasm as intense as this one out from Minho, who is already shaking from how hard he came.

Minho breathes heavily when he finally winds down, running a hand through his hair before peering up at Jisung with a look of disbelief. “Holy fuck,” he finally says. “How did you do that?”

Jisung doesn’t even know where to begin answering that. He takes the insinuated compliment in stride and snickers as he slowly pulls his fingers out, wiping them into the sheets before grabbing Minho’s hips comfortingly.

“I don’t know. With the help of your cute face, maybe.”

Minho rolls his eyes, pulling Jisung back into his vicinity to kiss him sweetly. It’s easy to lose track of time in a moment like this.

This is the Minho that Jisung had fallen in love with. His soft, sweet, giving Minho-hyung. He didn’t need Minho to spew filth in his ears or throw him around— press him headfirst into the mattress to know that he was everything Minho had ever wanted. Of course, times like those were always welcomed, but that wasn’t what they had to be to love each other.

Loving each other like this was beautiful in itself, too. Quiet, fewer words and overly handsy. Expressing through touch and action what couldn’t be miffed into words. Isn’t that what making love to someone is?

Jisung shows his love for Minho in the way he drags his tongue across Minho’s lower lip without any sense of urgency. Minho gives the same energy back, raking his fingers through Jisung’s hair, evident that he’s not in any rush to hook his thighs around Jisung’s waist and tug him downwards.

It had only been a few minutes since he came, but Minho was already fully back to hardness and leaking between their stomachs by just a little bit of kissing.

There’s a mischievous look on Minho’s face when they eventually break their kiss. “So are you gonna fuck me now, or…?”

Jisung laughs at the choice of words. “Oh yeah? Is that what taking care of you entails?”

“Of course.” Minho rubs a thumb across Jisung’s cheek. “You know what to do.”

“Do I, now?”

Minho hums, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. “You always do, baby,” he murmurs against Jisung’s mouth, before bringing him into another kiss.

Jisung takes his time after that. He takes all the time in the world working Minho back up again, trailing soft kisses across the expanse of his neck, his chest, and his stomach. Minho whispers an abundance of sweet words and praises against Jisung’s mouth when Jisung does eventually press in, caressing the back of Jisung’s head when he bottoms out. Whimpering to himself when Jisung is slow to speed up his thrusts.

“Feels so good, bug,” Minho whines once he catches Jisung’s eye. He’s got one hand around Jisung’s neck and the other one loosely fisted around his cock. “Faster.”

“If I go any faster, I’ll finish way too soon,” Jisung can’t help but giggle, but he obliges anyway and picks up the face. His stomach coils, hearing the soft sounds he’s able to punch out of Minho.

“Don’t care,” Minho says in a daze, scratching his nails across Jisung’s shoulders. “I want to feel you finish inside me.”

“Fuck,” Jisung groans in response because god damn, will Minho be the death of him. He buries his face into Minho’s neck, lifting Minho’s hips higher to fuck him deeper. The sound of skin slapping only makes the uncoiling in his stomach worsen, and with Minho crying into his ear like this— fuck, he’s not going to last very long.

“Fuck. I love you,” Jisung gasps against his skin. His strokes have become so long, so languid, that he’s almost completely pulling out with every thrust. “You’re so good to me, kitty. So sweet. Love you so much.”

Minho weakly sobs in response, and prioritizes holding on for dear life as Jisung tries to fuck it out of him. “Gonna cum.”

At that point, Jisung swats Minho’s jerking hand away to replace it with his own. Minho does little to argue with him, swinging both arms underneath Jisung’s arms and holding on tightly as Jisung strokes Minho in tune with his own staggering thrusts.

“Yeah, Minho. Cum with me, baby.”

And that’s all it takes for Minho to be squirming through a second orgasm. Luckily, Jisung is right behind him, finishing inside of Minho with a low moan against Minho’s throat. Though going through the motions was rather intense, Jisung actually makes a quick recovery. Minho, on the other hand, is limp as can be, breathing heavily and covered in sweat.

When Jisung finds the strength to pull himself into Minho’s line of sight, he can’t help but huff with a grin seeing the debauched look on his boyfriend’s face. But as exhausted as he may appear, and thoroughly fucked, too, Minho looks perfect.

“Hi,” Jisung greets. Minho only weakly nods back. “Did I kill you?”

It takes a few more seconds for Minho to catch his breath. He lays a hand over his chest and grins lazily. “Only a little bit.”

Jisung coos over his poor baby as he wraps him into another hug, uncaring for the semen covering Minho’s stomach and sticking their skin together. This was nothing short of an aftermath of love, after all.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jisung whispers against Minho’s cheek, before placing a kiss there. “I really needed that.”

“Don’t thank me,” Minho says. “You did all the work.”

“I mean just being here,” Jisung reiterates. “Being with me.”

Minho sighs, pulling away in Jisung’s embrace just enough so that they can look at each other. 

“I like us just the way we are. I never said otherwise because there was nothing to say.” He brushes a sweaty strand of hair behind Jisung’s ear. “I like how you take care of me.”

“Thank you.” Jisung gives Minho a fleeting, chaste kiss. “You’re a good lover.”

Minho kisses him back. “You’re a good lover too, baby. And you don’t need to pornstar-talk my ear off for that to be the case, either.”

“It wasn’t all too bad, even if I was being a bit dramatic,” Jisung chuckles. “But we don’t have to do it anymore if you don't like it.”

“I like doing anything with you,” Minho says with a tenderness that’s almost off-putting. “Except maybe don’t pee on me, maybe.”

Jisung can’t help but cackle. Never in a million years would Jisung ever be into something like that, but the thought of propositioning Minho doesn’t become any less funny.

“Even if I told you I wanted to try it?”

Minho gives him a judgmental look, as if Jisung couldn’t be serious. Jisung wasn’t being serious, but Minho didn’t need to know that yet. This was actually Hyunjin’s fault for planting the idea into his head in the first place.

Jisung cutely presses a finger against his face. “Hyung, just once. I mean it.”

Minho’s gaze averts to the ceiling, before deeply exhaling. “Ok. Well. Maybe if it’s just one time…”

Holy shit. Hyunjin was right. Hyunjin, you disgusting, perverted visionary.

“Hyung, I’m totally kidding. Ew.”

Minho groans in defeat, but not without a big, embarrassed grin plastered across his face. He rolls onto his stomach, burying himself into Jisung’s neck with a huff.

“Your face is ew,” Minho argues pitifully.

“But hyung,” Jisung ignores the jab and forces their eyes to meet for the nth time. “You can still compliment my humongous dick when it’s inside you, though. Any time, really.” He begins cracking up all over again at his admission, and laughs even harder when Minho only blankly stares back.

“Hey.” Minho shrugs. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

Jisung hums when he calms down a bit, fondly smiling down at Minho. “I love you, my silly kitty.”

Minho leans onto his elbows to give Jisung one more kiss. “I love you too, bug.”

“You want to join Hyunjin and I for a book club tomorrow?” Jisung asks when they find the energy to pull apart and start cleaning themselves up.

Minho shimmies on a pair of boxers. “You guys are already reading something else?”

“You think Lisa Kai has only written one romance fantasy?”

“Oh jeez,” Minho giggles. “Don’t tell me Hyunjin got you hooked on those, did he?”

“They’re not too bad!” Jisung laughs back, throwing a shirt over his head. “This next one is about actual fairies and shit.”

“Hell yeah, fairy porn.”

“We’ll have to reenact it in the bedroom sometime.” Jisung suggestively wiggles his brows at Minho from across the room. As soon as his shorts are on, he launches himself back onto the bed. They can worry about changing the sheets later.  “What do you think?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Minho thinks. “Roleplay isn’t really my thing. I’m more of a dirty talker.”

“Oh, yeah? You should show me sometime.”

“I could show you right now, if you want.” Minho crawls back onto the bed. With open legs, Jisung intercepts Minho’s body, tugging him forward with his heels on the back of Minho’s thighs.

“That could be arranged,” Jisung smiles against Minho’s mouth, before pulling him into a kiss, and doing it all over again.