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It starts with an apology.
Minho sees it happen out of the corner of his eye, and then there’s a crash and someone crying out before suddenly Jisung and Hyunjin are sprawled on the ground in a tangle of limbs. Chan swears and hurries to turn off the music, and Jisung is the first on his feet, eyes wide and panicked.
“Sorry!” he says, something twisting in his expression even as he reaches down to help Hyunjin up. “I’m so sorry, Hyunjinnie—are you okay? I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking—”
But Hyunjin just shakes his head. He looks a little dazed still, but it’s definitely more annoyance that makes him smack Jisung’s hand away. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. Just watch where you’re going next time.”
And Jisung nods, rapid, no argument, no attempt to defend himself. Minho frowns, but before he can say anything the younger man continues, “I’m really sorry, Jinnie, I wasn’t looking, it’s all my fault, you don’t have to dance next to me, we can switch places—”
He’s babbling, and Minho sees the other members stiffen, alert. Seungmin and Changbin exchange concerned looks, and Jisung still looks small and scared and Minho’s chest tightens at the panic in his eyes.
Even as he moves to step forward, though, Jeongin pipes up. “But Jinnie-hyung, you were the one who moved wrong.”
Which—even Minho can’t help but turn to blink at their youngest, flummoxed. Hyunjin’s whole face pinches up. “Excuse me? I didn’t—”
“Yeah, no, I agree with Iyen-ah.” Felix is doing that wiggly thing with his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Jinnie, but you really did step left too quickly.”
“Totally,” Seungmin agrees, then looks straight at Minho. “Right, hyung?”
Minho clears his throat, lifts his chin, and looks Hyunjin straight in the eye. “Yes. We all saw it clearly.”
Hyunjin blinks at him. Over his shoulder Jisung shuffles his feet, mumbles, “No, it really was me, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Actually you’re right.” Hyunjin cuts him off neatly as he turns to smile at Jisung, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was totally me. I thought we were on Beat 3.”
“They do sound similar,” Changbin adds.
As the others nod in agreement, Jisung looks around at all of them, lost. “But I…I could swear—”
“Come on, Hannie, let Hyunjin-ah screw up every once in a while.” Chan strolls up, throwing a nonchalant arm around his shoulder. “He needs to be brought down a peg anyway.”
“Hey!”
As the others fall into laughter and ribbing, Minho watches Jisung stand there encircled protectively by the other members. Chan’s arm is still around him while the others stand close, and he can see the gears turning in the younger man’s head, replaying the last few moments of the routine. Minho does it too: remembers very clearly the mistake Jisung made, how he misremembered the choreo and stepped right instead of left and crashed right into Hyunjin who had been dancing perfectly beside him.
Seungmin makes some pointed comment that has Hyunjin shouting “Yah!” as he tries to kick him, and the others laugh but Minho hardly registers it, continuing to watch Jisung who, after another moment, finally shakes his head and shrugs. Jeongin nudges his shoulder, whispers something that makes him grin, bright and beautiful as always, and just like that, they’re back.
They retake their positions a couple minutes later. Minho glances back at Hyunjin and hopes his smile communicates his gratitude. The other man grins back, easy, and that’s it. They don’t talk about it, and that’s perfectly fine.
Over the rest of the day, Minho watches as the others converge around Jisung, subtle yet present like a moat surrounding a castle. Jisung gives his lunch to a staff member, saying he’s not hungry, so Chan sends a text and a few minutes later Changbin sweeps into the dressing room with an armful of sweet snacks he mysteriously found backstage. During rehearsals one of the backup dancers tries to approach but Hyunjin intercepts him smoothly to ask about a dance move he recently saw online, while Seungmin draws Jisung into looking over their setlist with Felix. At the fansign Jisung magically ends up at the very last table, and they all spend extra time chatting with each person who comes by so that by the time they reach him it’s only a quick interaction.
It’s quiet, unremarkable, existing almost unnoticed in the way Jeongin stands close next to Jisung on stage or how Felix and Seungmin keep challenging him to Mariokart. It’s in how Chan lengthens their breaks by a couple more minutes, while Changbin and Hyunjin hog the camera during filming of SKZ-Code, making jokes and being silly and only approaching Jisung when he seems interested.
And it works. As afternoon turns to evening Minho watches as Jisung’s shoulders relax, as the tension slowly leaves his body and the little lines at the corners of his eyes disappear. He smiles a little more, laughs a little louder, and by the time they wrap for the day and finally head back to their dorm he is a solid, comfortable weight next to Minho in the car, an easygoing presence as he unlocks their door and finally brings them home.
“Man,” Jisung says, stretching his arms up above his head as Minho nudges their shoes into their usual places in the foyer. His back muscles flex beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and Minho’s mouth goes a little dry.
“I can’t believe Innie took so many questions during that interview,” Jisung continues then. “And you too, hyung. I guess those English lessons really are sticking, huh? Do you think—uh.”
He pauses, probably blinking down at Minho’s arms encircling his waist. Minho doesn’t actually see it, too busy pressing up against Jisung’s broad back and dipping his chin to brush a soft kiss over the back of his neck. “Mm. Hi.”
“Hello…?” Jisung’s hands settle over his own, warm and grounding as always. “Um. What’s this for?”
“No reason.” Minho scrapes his teeth gently over the junction between Jisung’s neck and shoulder, not missing the way his partner shivers. “I just love you.”
“Fucking knew it.” He can just see Jisung’s smile as the younger man leans back, trusting Minho to take his weight and of course he does, he always does. “I see the way you look at me, you lecherous old—hmm, hyung.” Strong fingers wrap around Minho’s wrist, arresting him where he’s cupping Jisung through his jeans.
“I have a live in an hour,” his partner says then, but Minho just shrugs, squeezing the shape of him through the thick denim and savoring the shaky breath the other man lets out.
“Then we have time.”
And that’s all it takes. Jisung hums and turns in his hold, and the kiss they share is tender and warm and infinitely familiar. Minho sighs into his partner’s mouth, arms coming up to encircle his shoulders and draw him in, slotting their bodies together until there’s not an inch of space left between them, the way it’s supposed to be, the way that has always felt like home.
It doesn’t stay chaste for very long. They only have an hour, anyway, so Minho deepens the kiss, swallowing Jisung’s soft moan as their tongues tangle, slick and hot. Arousal drips down his spine to pool deep in his stomach, little tingles running down to where his cock is stiffening up in his pants, and when Jisung shifts forward and an answering hardness presses up against him Minho can’t help but gasp, head spinning, as he reaches down to grab Jisung’s hand and pull him toward their bedroom.
Years together have made them efficient; they’re both naked by the time Minho tips Jisung back onto the mattress and then crawls up after him. There’s a pang of real regret then, as he drinks in his partner’s nude form: oh, to have the time to just explore him, relearning all his planes and angles from the curve of his hips to his dusky nipples to the soft silky skin at the base of his cock. Another time, maybe. There will be plenty more opportunities after this.
As it stands, he dips down for a quick kiss instead, hot and wet and thrumming with connection before sitting back to reach for the little tube on the nightstand. “I’ll top tonight.”
“Sure.” Jisung shifts beneath him and Minho chuckles.
“Impatient.”
“Tick tock,” is his partner’s reply, cheeky grin flashing in the half-darkness of the room. Minho can’t help but smile back, fondness erupting in his chest even as he reaches out to slide a fist down over Jisung’s cock.
The younger man lets out a stuttery moan at that, hips lifting automatically. Minho strokes him a few times, marveling as always at the size of him, thick and heavy against his palm. Jisung gets a little self-conscious whenever Minho mentions it so he doesn’t talk about it much these days, but still he’ll never stop appreciating his partner’s very nice proportions, while being almost ridiculously protective of how he’s the only one who knows about the fucking beer can Jisung packs in his pants.
It’s the same now, little shivers of arousal tingling down his spine as he pumps his partner’s thick length, his own hole clenching as he watches a tiny drop of precome bead at the tip. Maybe after Jisung’s done with his live Minho will shove him down onto his back and ride him. Mm, that would be nice.
As it stands, though, they don’t have much time. Even so, Minho can’t resist curling down to drag his tongue over the head of Jisung’s cock, savoring the younger man’s breathless noise as the musky taste of him fills his mouth. “Fuck, hyung,” Jisung breathes, and Minho hums, licking a slow stripe up Jisung’s cock from base to tip, feeling his partner’s thighs tremble even as he uncaps the lube, letting the cool slippery liquid run down his fingers before bringing them down to Jisung’s entrance.
Neither of them really require much prep these days, fluent in the language of each other’s bodies, so Minho is hardly surprised when he touches a finger to Jisung’s hole and finds him already relaxed and soft and open. He slides it in anyway, feeling out the hot silkiness of Jisung’s walls as his partner’s eyelids flutter closed. “Mm, that’s nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jisung rolls his hips with a sigh. His skin is flushed with arousal, gorgeous in the half-light as he rocks lazily against Minho. “Feels really good, hyung.”
“Good.” Minho pulls his finger out and reaches down to slick up his own cock even as he strokes the inside of Jisung’s thigh with his other hand. “I want to take care of you tonight.”
“You do that all the time,” Jisung answers, easy, matter-of-fact, smiling up at him in a way that makes Minho’s heart do funny things in his chest. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Sungie. So much.” He taps Jisung’s knee and his partner obediently lets his thighs fall further open, sighing as Minho reaches down to nudge the head of his cock up against his entrance. “Ready?”
Jisung nods, then drops his head back onto the pillow with a low groan as Minho pushes in. It’s a revelation as it always is, the tight molten heat of Jisung’s body swallowing him up enough to steal Minho’s breath and he can’t look away, staring at where he’s sinking into his partner, Jisung’s rim stretched wide around his girth as he pushes in another inch, then another, until finally his hips press up against Jisung’s ass.
They pause there for a moment then, panting. Minho concentrates on breathing, on the breathtakingly hot clutch of Jisung’s inner walls around his throbbing cock, nothing but heat and breathless want. Jisung wiggles his hips, brow pinching up a little as he tries to get comfortable, and Minho reaches down to brush a thumb over his cheek. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” There’s no pain in Jisung’s expression as he hums softly, one hand coming up to grasp Minho’s wrist. “Just…s’full. Gimme a second.”
Minho nods. It’s easy, anyway, to wait for Jisung, to hold himself back from thrusting mindlessly into the tight heat that surrounds him. Because Jisung asked, so of course Minho follows.
Another moment passes. Minho stares down at Jisung, licking his lips at the sight of his partner spread out beneath him, a flush of pink dusting the bridge of his nose as he shifts on the bed and adjusts to the feel of Minho inside him. Then, at last, Jisung releases a breathy sigh. He looks up at Minho and smiles, soft. “Okay. You can move.”
And Minho obeys. Sliding his palms under Jisung’s thighs he lifts his partner’s hips up off the bed as he pulls out a couple inches and then slams back in, breath punched out of him as Jisung’s body swallows his cock once more, eager. Jisung moans, long and low and absolutely gorgeous as he throws his head back, mouth dropping open in pleasure, and Minho can’t help but groan at the sight as he lowers his head and gets to work.
He sets a brutal rhythm from the start just the way Jisung likes it, pounding into him fast and hard and merciless. The bed creaks beneath them, almost loud enough to cover Jisung’s moans as he lifts his hips to meet Minho as best he can, to take him as deep as possible. “Oh,” he gasps, breathless, “Oh fuck, hyung, it’s so good—ngh, fuck, more—”
And Minho would be stupid not to indulge him. He shoves up on his knees for better leverage, grinning when his next thrust nails Jisung’s prostate, making the younger man cry out. “Oh, f-fuck—”
“You like that?” Minho aims for that spot again and again, drinking in Jisung’s whimpers and soft cries as that delicious wet heat engulfs him over and over. “You like me stuffing you full of my cock?”
“Yeah,” Jisung mewls, thighs trembling as he thrusts up to meet him, walls fluttering hot around Minho’s length. “I love it, hyung, god, fuck me harder, please—”
So Minho speeds up, snapping his hips to drive into Jisung with enough force to shove him up the mattress and the way his partner moans at that, loud and unabashed, sends a bolt of heat straight to Minho’s cock. He’s not going to last, not with Jisung speared on his dick like this, pleading and desperate and so, so hot.
But he’ll be damned if he comes before Jisung does, so Minho aims for his prostate once more, mind spinning with pleasure as he hears the hitch in the younger man’s breathing. He’s close, Minho can see it in how Jisung’s hips start to twitch out of his control, and he gives it one more deep thrust, two—then, just as Jisung’s mouth falls open and he starts to stiffen up Minho quickly pulls out.
“Ah, f-fuck.” Jisung collapses back onto the mattress, panting. He’s still hard, cock flushed an angry red and curving up toward his stomach, and Minho gives him a moment, gently stroking his thigh.
“Again?” he asks, when Jisung seems to have gained some of his breath back, and his partner nods, flashes him a quick grin.
“Yeah. Please.”
Minho nods, aims, and slides home once more. He groans at the feeling of Jisung’s heat encasing him again, but that’s nothing compared to the broken noise his partner makes, fingers twisting in the sheets as he arches off the bed. “Nn, hyung…”
“Shh, baby, I got you.” He starts thrusting once more, fast, aiming directly for Jisung’s prostate. His partner thrashes beneath him, desperate, and it’s not even thirty seconds before he’s close again, breathless and shaking as his eyes roll back in his head—
And Minho retreats once more, this time pulling back until only the head of his cock remains inside Jisung. The younger man whines and blows out a breath through gritted teeth, brows pinched, but there’s no mistaking how turned on he is, cock drooling precome all over his abs as he shifts his hips in a futile effort to get Minho to move again. “Jesus, hyung, please…”
“Hm. Please what?” And Minho knows he’s wearing a shit-eating grin but fuck if that isn’t what Jisung does to him. It’s fifty-fifty odds, anyway: either his partner will demand he keep edging him, or…
“Please,” the younger man says, opening his eyes just enough so Minho can see the glint of desperation there. “Hyung. Please let me come.”
Well, all rightey then. Minho reaches down to trace Jisung’s rim where he’s still stretched wide around the head of his cock, making the younger man’s breath stutter. “There’s my good boy,” he coos, “asking for what you need.” And before Jisung can come up with a retort, he grasps his knees and spreads him wide and finally goes for it.
He sinks in deep, both of them groaning, then restarts his pace. He means business now, making sure each thrust nudges the head of his cock right up against Jisung’s prostate and it drives his partner absolutely wild, Jisung’s eyes going unfocused, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he writhes beneath him. “Fuck, hyung, oh, oh my god—I can’t, I just—please—”
It’s nonsense but it hardly matters. Minho knows exactly what Jisung needs and how to give it to him, so he drops his head and moves faster, harder, driving his cock into his partner’s body without mercy. It’s glorious, it’s absolutely divine and it’s only made better by how Jisung just loses his fucking mind, moaning as he writhes on the bed, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow as his entire body starts to shake, and he’s there. He’s right there and Minho doesn’t slow down even as he reaches down to wrap his fingers around Jisung’s cock, and it only takes a couple of quick pulls before Jisung wails, back curving into a beautiful bow as he finally comes, shooting long ropes of translucent white all over his stomach and chest.
He clamps down on Minho’s cock, everything hot and tight and so fucking good and that’s all it takes. The world whites out, everything lit up in pleasure and heat as Minho moans, shoving in as far as he can go, cock pulsing so deep inside his partner he can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins. It goes on forever, waves of ecstasy surging through him over and over as he rides out his orgasm, only faintly aware of Jisung’s breathless noises, of his partner’s toes curling in the sheets as Minho fills him up, marks him, lays his claim.
His legs no longer work. Minho collapses forward onto Jisung, ignoring the younger man’s soft “Oof!” as they fall together back onto the bed. Jisung doesn’t seem to mind, though, arms coming up automatically to pull him in close, and Minho can’t even care about the mess of cooling come squished between them as he tips his head up for a kiss, warm and gentle and absolutely vibrant with love.
They lie there for another few moments, kissing and touching and enjoying the afterglow. Minho nuzzles Jisung’s throat, entire body buzzing. “Was it good?”
“Yeah, fuck. So good.” Jisung sounds like he’s still getting his mouth to work, the words a little thick. He pauses then, and Minho can just see his smile, crooked and just a bit sheepish as he says, “That obvious, huh?”
He sounds…not ashamed or guilty, just amused, so Minho laughs, brushing his lips over Jisung’s bare shoulder. “Don’t worry, STAY won’t notice anything. You’re getting so much better, Jisung-ah.”
His partner ducks his head a little at that, shy. “You really think so? I mean Dr. Kim was just saying last week that she’s really impressed by the progress I’ve made, but I didn’t know if I should believe her.”
Dr. Kim is Jisung’s therapist, whose biweekly sessions he always makes no matter what their schedules look like. He’s watching Minho now like a kid presenting a school art project, and Minho can’t help but smile, heart feeling too big for his chest. “Yes, Sungie. You should believe her.”
Jisung’s answering grin is everything beautiful in the world. “Okay.”
And that’s that. Minho throws a leg over Jisung’s thigh, sighing when his partner responds by hauling him in, grumbling something about it being too fucking cold in here as he reaches down and pulls the comforter up over them. The scent of sweat and sex surrounds them, desire and connection and just Minho and Jisung, and Minho pulls his partner into another kiss, every inch of his soul glowing with the depth of the love he has for this man.
They’ll have to get up soon, of course: Jisung has his live, and Minho should probably grab a shower before hopping onto his nightly call with his parents. Work and family and the rest of the world await them, but somehow in this moment, wrapped up in his partner’s scent and smile and the reverence of his touch, it just doesn’t seem all that important. The only thing that matters is the man in his arms, and Minho smiles and kisses Jisung and thinks, We are forever.
Because they are. Because that’s what they’ve found in this space they’ve carved out just for the two of them, this haven where nothing exists except for Han Jisung and Lee Minho and the love they share. And it’s perfect. He could never ask for anything more.
Jisung murmurs then, a low rumble up his chest, something about setting an alarm so they can nap for a bit. Minho hums his agreement and curls closer, letting his eyes slip shut. He isn’t worried, or afraid. He never will be, because he knows when he wakes up, Jisung will be there. Jisung will be his, as he always is, as he always will be.