Chapter Text
Most days, his life is no more than one big familiar disaster, balancing school with music producing and a side job to keep his income steady. He cannot be blamed, rather sympathised with by everyone he knows, since most of them have to suffer through this with him.
Or at least Chan does, since Changbin doesn’t need to earn money and no one else spends countless nights huddled in a studio chair and composing songs that will never see the light of the day. Or at least not anytime soon since they’re no more than Soundcloud almost-famous.
They’re trying, and that’s what counts.
But that’s most days, the ones where Jisung is no more than a broke student.
Today, Han Jisung is lucky – because a night at the local club that was meant as stress relief and a celebration of turning in an important assignment in time now results in swinging his hips flush against Minho’s.
Yes, that Lee Minho, the rumoured to be a rookie idol upperclassman that Jisung’s been ogling ever since he first stumbled into him in his first year. Now, a few months into passing each other at the campus, the older seems to be entranced by him.
It’s like a dream come true – and Jisung has stopped trying to convince himself he’s only dreaming.
Because Minho’s touch is too warm for that, hands spreading fire through his body from where they rest on his hips, thumbs stroking his sides. The warmth that hoards between their bodies when he leans back into his chest makes Jisung’s brain melt into mush.
Which is what makes everything a little too rushed. There’s a hasty exchange, “wanna have you in me” being breathed out against Minho’s neck, and an answering, “let’s get out of here” that travels through his ear and all the way down his spine.
And then he’s gone, vision blurred by want and lust – and without knowing how, Minho is soon falling into his lap on the couch of his dorm room. They fall back into the rhythm.
“Take it easy, babe,” he addresses Minho somewhere between kisses, but the older refuses to comply. Not that it disappoints him – quite the opposite. Together with the fact that Minho accepted being called babe, it riles him up even more.
“Make me,” Minho breathes out, words poured into his mouth. His own moan drowns out whatever Minho would want to say next – and then there’s a tongue sliding along with his own that makes him forget whatever response he’s had planned.
Another moan that enters his mouth, and he swallows eagerly, feeling up Minho’s chest and focusing on all the soft sounds it extracts.
He strives off knowing the effect he has, at least tonight. Maybe the spell will wear off by the time they meet in school; he’s fully prepared to undergo the embarrassment of Minho letting him down like what he would expect someone his league to do.
But for now, the only thing he worries about is pleasuring Minho (and, currently, unbuttoning his shirt). The needy whines that he elicits with nothing but simple body contact are a sign he’s doing this right.
A hushed plea, “feels good, don’t stop,” goes straight towards his abdomen.
Their hands are everywhere – Minho’s gripping his shoulders with more force than intended, and Jisung running them under the older’s shirt. For a dancer, Minho is pretty skinny, yet his body feels perfect under Jisung’s touch.
He’s positive he’s ascended into heaven when he feels Minho grind down onto his lap, dragging his hips against the forming bulge in his pants. The same bulge decorates his own crotch, but Jisung denies touching it just yet.
Maybe Minho will let him touch it after they move to bed, but right now, the sheer pressure and eagerness of Minho’s movements is enough to keep him aroused.
The older is a little too needy and touchy, a bonus Jisung would have only dreamed about with no expectation of seeing it live. A teeny tiny bit whiny. But that’s just as charming – and he’s too far gone to question it. Too busy with savouring every sound that leaves Minho’s mouth by his own lips.
“Jisungie,” this one sounds way too desperate, added up with Minho’s hips desperately pushing down and thighs tightening around his legs. The older’s pace picks up, rubbing them both in a more intense manner.
One of Jisung’s hands comes to rest on Minho’s thigh, stroking up and down. It was meant to relieve pressure and help him refocus, but it only makes Minho more sensitive.
He breaks away to ask whether Minho is doing okay, but the boy dives back without an answer. However, his tongue doesn’t match the previous pace, too sloppy and slow. It’s an obvious signal to slow down, yet the older proceeds to ignore it.
Trying not to smile and disconnect their lips again, Jisung willingly slows down to match him – to which Minho grumbles in protest, and then there’s no helping it and their kiss is broken again.
But instead of getting back, Jisung moves his focus to where they’re joined.
Minho’s head stretches back, revealing his neck and the younger attaches to it on instinct, sucking a soft mark into the skin right above his pulse point. Another one under his jaw.
“You’re so hot, I want you inside of me already,” he confesses and his teeth graze one of the blooming marks. Minho answers with a moan, voice breaking in the middle.
And then his movement slows down.
Jisung dives forward again, lips attaching to one of the already forming marks. Just a press, then one long stripe licked up the older’s neck. Minho’s body is shaking underneath his touch. He means to create another blooming mark, one that would colour the side of Minho’s jaw, make him look pretty–
“I- please give me a moment,” Minho’s words are no more than a broken whisper, but they’re enough to make Jisung pull back.
He’s considered too wild in bed, and it’s not like he hasn’t been told this to his face. Usually, a comment like that only riles him up more – but this is Lee Minho, so maybe he should really slow down.
If he wants to gain something from this, that is. Like, you know, a relationship. A friend with benefits – the label doesn’t matter. Ideally a boyfriend, though.
He waits for Minho to regain his composure, breath evening out and eyes that fluttered shut refocusing on his face. It feels nice, too, to see Minho blissed out. Which is probably what this is, since there’s no more pressure on his crotch, and when he experimentally thrusts up, he’s met with resistance and familiar squirming.
But he expect Minho to shake it off, or at least say something. Instead, the older melts into his chest – which is the least expected scenario, considering how aroused he’s been until now.
And yet, it somehow makes sense.
His arms enclose around Minho’s body to press him closer, enjoying the warmth that hoards in between. And the sound of Minho’s heartbeat which sounds as if he’s just won a marathon. He probably isn’t better, though.
“Are we… still doing this?” he asks uncertainly. The silence stretches.
“Doing what?” Minho inquires, picking up his head – which seems to be a fairly hard task now. Jisung internally coos. “Oh, you didn’t come yet.”
“I- no, I didn’t,” Jisung confirms, letting out a chuckle. “I kind of wanted you to fuck me.”
Minho’s cheek immediately catch aflame. Then he begins stumbling, partly trying to detach himself from Jisung until he slips and almost tips backwards. It’s when Jisung secures the older in his arms that he finally stops squirming.
“No, I, uhm,” Minho’s voice jumps a little higher, “you’ve got this wrong. I’m not… the one…”
“Are you a bottom?” Unexpected, but far from unpleasant. “All okay with that, too,” he winks, but then his smile drops. What he expected to be shyness doesn’t disappear from Minho’s features.
He stares at the older in question, patiently waiting for an answer. “Jisungie… I wasn’t about to go further. I’m sorry.”
That feels like a bullet through his stomach.
“No, no, don’t get me wrong,” the older adds when he processes Jisung’s expression, “I enjoyed this a lot. I just… didn’t expect us to go further.”
Sort of funny, since they left the club for that particular reason, with one of them being too eager to get their hands and lips on Jisung, and the other simply following their lead. He’s pretty sure Minho was mumbling something about making him feel good when they pressed against each other on the dancefloor.
“You don’t have to be ready, of course,” Jisung shakes his head, though the pang in his stomach is telling a different story. “Sorry for rushing you.”
And then, Minho’s lips are covering his. No more than a simple press to get his point across, a sign of consent – but then his hands claim their place around Jisung’s neck and he tilts his head to the side for better access. Minho slides his tongue inside for a moment, then captures Jisung’s between his lips. Jisung’s head is spinning when the older pulls back, just as breathless.
”You’re a good kisser. Let’s do this again someday.”
Jisung wants to argue because it’s Minho whose lips have been driving him crazy, but he chooses to nod. That’s way more compatible with pressing his lips against Minho’s. Here comes another kiss, a short peck, before Minho pulls back again.
“And…” Minho trails off, reaching for Jisung’s hand to intertwine their fingers before his head disappears in the crook of his neck again. “Let’s finish what we started, then.”