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The thought floats through Chan’s mind for the first time in the middle of dance practice one day, unbidden and almost accidental - Jisung likes sex.
It’s actually more vague than that, closer to Jisung knows what sex is, but that’s such an embarrassingly stupid realization to come to that Chan pretends it doesn’t happen at all, and ignores it in favour of the other one.
He doesn’t even know for sure that Jisung likes sex - just that he likes watching it, which is - worse, somehow. More of a hammer blow, leaving Chan feeling woozy and -
What happens is this.
They’re taking a quick break, to go to the bathroom, to drink water, and Chan is suddenly shocked out of choreography mode by a screech across the room. He jumps and whips around to the direction of the noise, but it turns out it’s just Felix, laughing his head off. Like, fully fucking dying laughing, hanging off Jisung’s shoulder, tears in his eyes. Laughing at something Hyunjin just said, judging by the way he’s also grinning, delighted by the reaction he’s managed to elicit. That’s unusual. Hyunjin’s not normally that funny.
“What’s going on?” Chan asks, and that’s his first and biggest mistake, because Felix gleefully blurts out, “Hyunjin caught Jisungie jerking off,” and Chan’s mind immediately shuts down like an overloaded computer. He doesn’t even register the scandalized look on Jisung’s face, or his whiny “Guys, come on!”
“What?” he says blankly. The reboot starts slowly, sluggishly, a single tiny flashing light. Jisung jerks off. Duh. Also -
What?
“It was an accident,” Jisung’s insisting, a little desperate. “My phone connected to Hyunjin’s headphones.”
“I had to listen to Sungie’s weird porn,” Hyunjin adds solemnly.
Chan feels like he’s levitating about a foot above his body. This is a lot of information to take in at once. There’s a flush high on Jisung’s cheeks, and a note of panic in his eyes, and Chan is -
Weird how?
Like, category wise? Or -
“The porn ad,” Felix sniggers. “Even weirder.”
- a weird plot? An unconventional medium?
“Stop,” Jisung complains. “This is so unfair. It’s not my fault the universe won’t let me bust a nut in peace.”
Chan’s brain bluescreens again, a ghostly 404 error floating past his vision. He’s pretty sure if anyone looked him in the eye right now they’d be able to see explosions and empires falling inside his head. All his huge thoughts dominoing into each other, one by one, crashing to the ground in a mushroom cloud of dust. Jisung knows what sex is. Jisung likes watching it.
“Gross,” Hyunjin says, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t say bust a nut.”
“God, sorry,” Jisung corrects sarcastically, “the universe doesn’t want me gooping fat ropes -,”
Felix shrieks in delight and Hyunjin slaps his hands over his ears, squawking like a bird. Chan stands stock still, feeling various pieces rearrange themselves in his head as he stares at Jisung. He’s laughing at Hyunjin’s dramatics, completely oblivious to the fact that Chan is currently enduring all five stages of grief at once.
“When was this?” Chan asked, surprised by how normal his voice sounds. He’s trying to figure out what he was doing, when Jisung was -
“Last night,” Hyunjin says. “After dinner. I was about to paint.”
“So was I,” Jisung sighs mournfully. Felix cackles.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Chan says, and then immediately regrets it. That’s - that’s probably a weird thing to say, right? For someone who’s pretending that this information didn’t knock the wind out of him?
“You wouldn’t,” Felix says, his expression still scrunched with joy. “You never notice anything.”
Clearly. It seems like he’s the only one who’s taking this development like a fist to the throat, blowing his whole world apart and putting it back together in a new light, so it must be less of a development and more of a fact. Common knowledge, to those who know.
What the fuck. Do they all just sit around and talk about their sex lives without him?
He’s just - he’s never thought about it before, Jisung’s sex life. Or lack thereof, maybe, considering the circumstances. It’s not like Jisung is intensely private about most things; Chan actually wishes he would share less, sometimes.
This never came up. Between the two of them.
Blessedly, Minho chooses this moment to intervene by loudly asking if they’re going to spend the rest of their hour in this room fucking around, and if so, could he please be excused to do something more productive with his time. It snaps Chan out of his reverie - or more accurately, it drags him clumsily back to the present, tripping over his own thoughts.
“Right,” he says, still feeling dazed. He tears his eyes away from Jisung, finally. “Yeah. Okay -,”
He raises his voice and calls everybody back to work, pushing his mental breakdown roughly to the side. While everybody’s getting into position, he steals a glance at Jisung in the mirror. Something new and strange twists in his gut, watching him fool around to make Hyunjin laugh. Jealous, almost, that the stupid Bluetooth fuck-up happened to Hyunjin instead of him. Now Hyunjin knows something Chan doesn’t. Knows a part of Jisung that Chan hadn’t even thought to consider.
He wonders what that part of Jisung is like.
Minho starts the music, and Chan’s consciousness stumbles reluctantly back into his body.
-
Chan spends the rest of the day doing his best to behave like nothing’s wrong. Nothing is wrong. Jisung wanders in and out of his orbit, like he usually does. He hangs around in the studio and in Chan’s bedroom, brings him the food he ordered and forgot about, shows him weird shit on Tiktok. Chan tries not to stare, and succeeds some of the time.
He feels suddenly hyperaware of Jisung’s behaviour. His habits. How much of his time he spends in his room, how long his showers are. It feels stupid now, in retrospect, that it never occurred to him what Jisung might be doing with all that time alone.
Probably not with all of it, though, right? There’s no way Jisung jerks off that much. It’s probably just like, a normal amount. Like everyone else.
Alone in his bedroom that night, Chan considers it. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not actually sure how much everyone else is jerking off. Or what a normal amount even means, but that question is more readily answerable by a quick search in a private browser, which tells him that any amount, pretty much, is normal. Once a day. Once a week. Once a year.
Jisung is almost definitely jerking off more than once a year. Probably more than once a week, too.
Once a day?
Chan’s fingers feel a little tingly.
A daily routine, like brushing his teeth, maybe. Wash up, eat dinner, make himself come, scroll until two in the morning. Even though - Jisung’s not really a routine person. Maybe it’s just kind of whenever.
Is the porn an integral part of it? Hyunjin and Felix didn’t seem too surprised, in the practice room. Kind of the opposite, actually. A real classic Jisung moment, except Chan’s usually in on those. He’s known Jisung for so long. For so long. Likes to think he knows Jisung better than most people. Likes to think he’s had a hand in shaping who Jisung’s become.
How did he miss this?
His mind wanders, in that limbo state before he fully falls asleep. Half-lucid daydreams, picturing Jisung in his room, cozy and bored, bored enough to be horny, not horny enough to get off unassisted. He opens a new browser on his phone (on his laptop?) and -
And?
Maybe Jisung likes to take his time. Tease himself, warm himself up. A nice idea, but Chan doubts it, somehow. Jisung has trouble with impulse control on the best of days. So, scratch that - he doesn’t take his time. He gets straight to it, his hand down his pants -
Or, no - the fantasy pauses, and rewinds a few seconds. Jisung takes his pants off. Shoves them down around his knees, kicks them onto the floor. Videos on silent, probably, after the headphones debacle. Or maybe he’s just extra careful, double checking the connection, sound turned down so he can barely hear - maybe the sound is important to him. He rucks his shirt up out of the way -
Chan’s eyes snap open, jolted out of the limbo, his blood pounding in his ears. He rolls onto his stomach and shoves his face into his pillow. Jisung. His sweet Hanji. Jesus Christ.
-
“Hyung,” Jisung says, appearing at Chan’s door. Hovering, really, one foot still in the hall. “Are you busy?”
“Yes,” Chan says, but it’s only optically true. In reality, he’s been staring at his computer screen all afternoon, barely seeing it. Absently clicking at things, trying to quell the restlessness he’s been feeling since practice yesterday. The initial overwhelming blow has ebbed away into something that feels a bit like anxiety, persistent and distracting, coming and going in waves. It rears its head again now.
Jisung sways in the doorway, hesitant. “Can I work with you?"
Truthfully, Chan’s been avoiding him. Not overtly, just as casually as possible, to not rouse suspicion. He doesn’t trust himself to be normal with Jisung. He doesn’t even really know what normal looked like anymore. This is the first time they’ve been alone together in over twenty four hours.
“Don’t you have your own room?” Chan asks. Jisung cracks a smile and comes in, finally, letting the door swing shut behind him. He crawls onto Chan’s bed, settling onto his stomach, and pulls Chan’s closed laptop towards him. Chan keeps telling him not to work like that - he’ll get too sucked in to what he’s doing and fuck up his wrists, his back, his posture, but he does it anyway, and then complains when his joints hurt.
“I was thinking we could go through the songs you dumped from the other week,” Jisung is saying, typing in Chan’s password. “One of them was pretty hype. We could probably use it, or at least salvage parts of it -,”
Chan gets up while Jisung’s talking and goes to sit on the bed too, leaning against the headboard, only half listening. Jisung looks like he got out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still damp and fluffy. He’s in grey sweatpants and a soft matching hoodie, a combo he’s been favouring a lot recently, when he’s home. He looks small. Comfy. Cute.
There’s a slight flush on his cheeks, down his neck. That’s cute, too.
Chan wonders if it’s just from the heat of the shower.
“I thought you were supposed to go out with Hyunjin today,” Chan says when there’s a quiet moment.
“Oh. Yeah,” Jisung says, unconcerned. He doesn’t even look up. “We were just gonna see a movie. He moved it to Thursday.”
Weird. Maybe weird. Chan’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Is everything okay between you two?”
“Yeah.” Jisung hesitates, finally meeting Chan’s eye. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know.” Chan feels his face heat up. He doesn’t know what he expected. He’s the only one who’s been weird about this. “The thing the other day, at rehearsal. I thought -,”
“Oh.” Jisung’s blushing now, too, the tips of his ears turning red. He shifts a little on Chan’s bed, uncomfortable. “Yeah, no. That’s fine, we talked about it. It was just funny.”
It was, objectively. Chan doesn’t know why his teeth have sunk into it like this, like it’s the most serious incident that’s ever occurred. Like Jisung did something that he, Chan, now needs to sort out for him. Like the things Jisung used to do, that Chan had to sort out. And he did, gladly. Jisung was always someone Chan was happy to take responsibility for, even if the constant damage control was tedious sometimes.
This shouldn’t feel like that at all. Damage control. There’s no damage.
“He knows, right?” Chan says, and Jisung looks at him, confused. “That you - that you do that. That’s why it wasn’t a big deal. Right?”
“Um,” Jisung says.
“You talk about it?” It feels important, somehow. Having all the details. Jisung being the one to give them up. Chan’s whole body feels hot, tense like he might burst into pieces any minute. He waits, hardly daring to breathe. Jisung makes him wait.
“Sometimes,” he says eventually. Uncertainly. Taking stock, maybe - this is new territory, and Chan knows he’s being aggressive about it. He knows. He just can’t seem to stop. “Not in like, detail.”
“Felix said it was weird, what you were watching,” Chan prompts. Is he making that up? That’s pretty much what happened, right? He can’t remember. He’s been replaying it so many times, he’s losing track.
Either way. It makes Jisung exhale a little airy laugh. “He’d say that anyway.”
“He knows what you’re into?” Chan doesn’t like how he sounds. Surprised, jealous. He guessed, but it being true -
“No.” Jisung’s nibbling at his bottom lip now, picking at some dry skin. “He just thinks it’s funny. Saying I’m weird. He doesn’t know.”
Warmth floods through Chan’s abdomen, a hot surge of relief. Felix doesn’t know. Hyunjin doesn’t know. The realization spreads out in front of him, rich and tempting. He keeps his voice as steady as he can.
“Does anybody know?”
Jisung hesitates. Shakes his head. Chan tastes copper in his mouth.
He moves, shifting closer, and Jisung moves over to accommodate him. Doesn’t get up, notably. Doesn’t leave.
“What do you like?” The restlessness grows increasingly aggravated, low in Chan’s gut. Gnawing, hungry. He feels like he could start panting. “What do you usually watch?”
“Um,” Jisung says. Scratches his nose and then starts messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “I don’t know. Just normal stuff, I guess. Nothing crazy.”
“Like what?”
Jisung laughs, a little shaky. “What, are you looking for recommendations, or something? I’ll make you a playlist.”
“Jisung.” Chan sounds serious, even to his own ears. Like Jisung’s in trouble. “Tell me.”
“It’s, um, people jerking off, mostly,” Jisung stammers, his face steadily turning pink, the tips of his ears burning. He’s looking at his own hands when he says it, but he glances at Chan after, quick and nervous. Like he’s waiting for approval. Chan’s heart jumps up into his throat, beating somewhere behind his molars.
“Girls?”
“And boys.” Jisung’s face gets somehow even redder. “Couple stuff, sometimes. You know.”
Chan’s face slips into a grin, helplessly endeared. “Just couples fucking?”
“I told you. Nothing crazy.”
He looks like he’s lying. Chan doesn’t doubt that he is, but he plays along.
“You like that they’re in love?”
Jisung groans and covers his face with his hands. “Hyung.”
It’s so cute, how embarrassed he is. Chan waits him out, lets it hang in the air until Jisung finally caves. “They’re more into it. It feels real.”
That does make sense - Jisung’s so sensitive to anything that feels like rejection, so quick to pick up on people’s bullshit. Checks out that he’d go looking for porn that feels authentic, feels easy and loving.
“Do you make it all the way through?” Chan asks, delirium tugging at his common sense, a dog on a leash. He wonders how far he can push this before Jisung says stop. If he’ll say it at all. “Do you make it till they come?”
“Oh my god.” Jisung’s voice wavers, catching on something like a whimper. His hands are trembling a bit, tugging at the drawstrings of his hoodie, the nervous fidgeting Jisung’s so prone to. It crosses Chan’s mind briefly that he should ease up, go slower, but it feels suddenly unbearably urgent that Jisung answers. That he’s okay with this. It makes him sound a little sharper than he means to.
“Jisung.”
“I skip,” Jisung blurts out. “I skip to when they come. If it’s too long.”
Easy to imagine - Jisung rushing to finish, messy and impatient, too horny to take his time. A lot like how Chan feels right now: senseless, impossibly wound up. Too close to the edge to come back.
This is fucking insane. He wonders if Jisung feels it too, the weight in the air. It’s hard to tell, from the way he’s lying on his stomach, restlessly tapping his foot against the bed, a steady rhythm that he’s probably not even fully aware of.
Chan’s eyes drift to the laptop, where it’s gone to sleep, forgotten. “Show me.”
The tapping stops. Jisung goes suddenly very still, staring. “What?”
Chan nudges the laptop towards him.
“Show me,” he says again.
He knows this is weird, weird and really fucking embarrassing, but he can’t - he can’t help it. Jisung stares for another few seconds, his throat working as he swallows.
“Just - just a video?”
Meaning - Chan can guess what he means. No further. There’s the line, Jisung tentatively digging it into the sand. Chan wants to cross it. He nods anyway. He’s known Jisung for long enough to know he needs time to settle into something new. This is new, huge, consuming Chan like a never-ending tidal wave. His pulse trips violently when Jisung’s fingers hit the keyboard, and keeps tripping every time after that; tap tap tap, little jolts through Chan’s body. Jisung mutes the laptop.
“Don’t,” Chan says automatically. “Turn the sound on.”
“But they’ll hear,” Jisung protests in a small voice. “Outside.”
“Turn it on.”
They won’t hear. Chan’s pretty sure, anyway. And if they do - maybe they’ll think it’s just a movie. He doesn’t actually care. Jisung puts the sound back on, low, and starts the video.
It is nothing crazy. Jisung’s hidden his face in his crossed arms, peeking sideways at the screen, where a girl with pink streaks in her hair is sitting on her boyfriend’s face. Chan assumes it’s her boyfriend, anyway, based off the title. Sexy couple have steamy FUCK in camper!! (CREAMPIE).
“Romantic,” Chan comments. It’s not even on a private browser.
“Shut up,” Jisung snaps, muffled by the sleeve of his sweater. The girl moans.
“This what you were trying to watch the other day?”
“Hyung.” Whinier. Chan lets it go for a bit.
He watches the girl steady herself with the headboard, watches the boyfriend grab her thigh with one hand, touching himself with the other. It gets more heated, enough to make Chan blush a bit and adjust his pants. He glances over at Jisung, at how his eyes have gone a little glassy, fixed on the screen. His body language has changed, too. He’s sunk deeper into the mattress, like he’s trying to hide his whole body. Or like he’s giving in.
It feels a little cognitively dissonant, watching porn with someone the same way they’d watch a YouTube video or a drama. Chan feels a little like he’s stepped out of time, like they’re in a bubble.
“Does she come on his face?” he asks, breaking the silence. Testing.
“I don’t know.” Jisung’s voice sounds different. Lower. “I haven’t seen this one before.”
“Do you want her to?” Prodding up against the line. Pushing at it, seeing if it’ll move. Jisung can be compliant, when he wants to be. The girl on screen gets louder, and Jisung pulls in a shaky breath instead of answering, shifting his hips against the bed. Minutely, barely at all, but something flares up in Chan’s body at the sight of it, harder than the porn’s done so far, hot and quick. His self control glitches.
“Hanie,” he says roughly, pulling Jisung onto his back and Jisung - Jisung doesn’t resist. Lets out a little noise of protest, but goes, rolling over like Chan wants him to. Exposing his belly - stupid. Chan gets a vivid flash of getting his teeth into it, marking Jisung up, hard enough to draw blood. Surely Jisung would make him stop then, surely he wouldn’t stay for that -
It feels like Chan’s brain is experiencing an avalanche, an accidental slip that’s tumbling into something inevitable. He pushes himself up to his knees, moves so he’s settled in between Jisung’s legs. Jisung lets him - shuffles his feet apart to make space, softens his thighs so they fall open, hands coming to rest up on his chest, curled into loose fists. His hands half-tucked into the sleeves of his sweater. Vulnerable - trusting, maybe, if Chan feels like reading into it. He’s hard, too, the outline of his cock obvious in his sweatpants now that he’s not hiding it anymore.
The air feels like smoke, or glue, too thick, sticking in his throat. Chan slips a hand under Jisung’s sweater, pressing flat against the warm skin of his belly, over his navel. Feels his quick pulse, thudding under his palm. Feels his fast breathing. Hears it, too, over the rush in his ears, over the noisy sex on screen. Little gasps for air, as though Chan’s suffocating him.
“Show me how you start,” Chan says. Quiet, final, like when he’s making decisions in the studio. “When you touch yourself. Show me.”
Jisung squirms a little, a tiny movement. His knee bumps Chan’s hip.
“Hyung,” he whines again. He’s watching Chan with big, dark eyes. An expression that makes Chan wonder what his own face is doing, if he looks as insane as he feels.
“It’s okay,” he says, gentler, soothing. He moves his hand up, up to the centre of Jisung’s chest. Pushing the sweater out of the way, the shirt under it, exposing the lovely line of his stomach, watching it rise and sink when he breathes. “It’s just me. I just want to see. Please.”
The room feels too hot, too small. Jisung keeps his eyes on Chan’s face, Chan holds his gaze.
“Please, baby, let me see,” he begs, barely more than a whisper. It’s so urgent. Urgent, veering rapidly into desperate. He pets restlessly over Jisung’s chest, stroking down his stomach and back up again. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Jisung doesn’t move for a few long, tense seconds, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Chan waits. He’s breathing mechanically now, thinking about every inhale, every exhale, hoping, hoping that he’s not pushing it too far. Jisung does a lot for him. Jisung will do this, too.
There’s a key change in the video, easily recognizable even without the accompanying warning - fuck, oh my god, I’m coming, I’m coming - and Jisung whimpers softly, his hand twitching down towards his dick. He stops at the bottom of his ribcage, hesitating, and Chan’s heart plummets for a second, before -
“Fuck, thank you,” Chan breathes. All the air rushing out of his lungs at once, all the tension draining. Jisung’s barely doing anything - just feeling himself up through the front of his sweats. Grinding shallowly up against the flat of his palm, his movements slow, his breathing shaky. It’s still making Chan feel manic. His fingers trail across Jisung’s chest, pressing into the softness of his right pec, thumbing over his nipple. There’s a noise, small and choked, from the back of Jisung’s throat.
“That’s it,” Chan encourages gently. “That’s good. Keep going.”
Dimly, he’s aware of the couple switching positions. He doesn’t bother looking, but the sounds are there. Wet, rough. Jisung notices the change, too. He swallows, and his hand pushes into his underwear instead, glancing nervously up at Chan’s face. His eyes have gone a little hazy. Getting more into it - jerking himself off properly, his dick still in his pants, so all Chan gets is hints, his stomach lurching every time there’s a flash of skin.
Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe it’s partially on purpose, a tease for his benefit. His free hand finds Jisung’s knee, wanders down his thigh, pushes it open so Jisung gasps, arching underneath him. He fists his hand in the fabric of Jisung’s pants, adds a little pressure on his chest. Pinning him, feeling his heartbeat as it speeds up.
All parts of Jisung he’s never gotten to experience before, not like this. All new, all perfect.
“D’you feel good?” Chan asks him, and he nods, a little hesitant. Everything feels like it needs to be quiet, soft. Like talking in a library, in case Jisung gets spooked. Jisung already looks a little spooked, wide eyes that are starting to slip out of focus.
“You have no idea what you look like right now,” Chan says, hearing himself as if from underwater. He can’t stop staring at Jisung’s expression, at the blush creeping up his chest and neck, at his open mouth. The inside of it, glistening, soft and warm and wet. He thinks about kissing it, wonders if it would taste as sweet as it looks.
Jisung swallows. “Are you - are you gonna,” he starts, stammering a little. “Um, will you, as well?”
Chan feels like his lungs might collapse, his bloodstream turning to syrup, heavy and slow in his body. His cock aches in his shorts, harder to ignore now than it was a second ago. He looks down at Jisung’s bare stomach, the dip of his pelvis. Imagines coming on it, seeing it glisten when it catches the light. Imagines being the first to do it, to mark Jisung up like that. He hopes he’s the first.
“You want me to?” he asks. Even his voice sounds heavy, clumsy with arousal. Jisung’s thigh twitches, straining under Chan’s hand.
“It’s intense,” he admits quietly. “You just watching.”
“I like watching you,” Chan says softly. Jisung twitches again, letting out a sharp little exhale.
“Is it - it’s okay?”
It’s asked so anxiously and sincerely that it shocks Chan into laughter, incredulous and fond, just for a second - it makes Jisung jump a little, startled.
“Baby,” Chan says. He takes Jisung’s free hand and guides it down to the front of his shorts, presses both their hands down over his dick. “Look what did to me.”
Jisung touches him, eyes wide and glassy, too uncoordinated to do much more than feel. It’s still good, Jisung’s hand on him, even if it’s not much. Chan pushes his cock up against Jisung’s palm, chasing the pressure, unable to stop now that he has it.
And Jisung stares, blatantly stares at their hands with his mouth open, jerking himself faster, more carelessly. The urgency comes back, tenfold, crawling up Chan’s chest, into his throat, threatening to choke him entirely, when the panting moans on screen speed up, syncing with the heartbeat thudding in his ears - ah, ah, ah -
Jisung squirms, overwhelmed, so beautifully responsive. His hand goes slack, and Chan’s grip on him tightens, his heart pounding so hard he almost feels sick.
Fuck, fuck me -
“She’s going to come again,” Chan observes idly. “You like that part.”
Jisung whimpers, his mouth falling open on a noiseless gasp.
- yes, yes, god -
He’s struggling under Chan’s hands, and Chan zeroes in on all their points of contact - Jisung pulling both his hands free to grab at Chan’s sleeve, at the elbow, at the shoulder -
- oh my god, I’m gonna come -
“Wait -,”
- please -
“Jisung -,”
“Kiss me,” Jisung gasps, “please, please kiss me -,”
- and Chan does. Because he’s selfish, because Jisung asked him to, because he’s wanted it from the moment he learned it was there to want. He slams the laptop shut and lets Jisung pull him in, and in the sudden, ringing silence, it’s loud. Their harsh breathing, the slick sound of their mouths, the creak of the bed as they move. It’s too good, too all-consuming, having Jisung soft and solid underneath him, kissing him until his jaw goes slack, until Jisung’s breath is coming in quick little sobs, until he’s rocking into every grind of Chan’s hips. Chan thinks about fucking him like this, on his back, deep and rough, his tongue in Jisung’s mouth. When he says it, Jisung moans and bucks underneath him, knees squeezing Chan’s sides.
“Let me,” Chan mumbles, “let me -,”
Jisung nods, screwing his eyes shut when Chan reaches between them to pull Jisung’s cock out of his pants in a messy, one-handed fumble. It doesn’t matter. He needs to finish this. He needs to see.
He stares down at Jisung’s cock, how it fits in his hand, cute and flushed. Wet at the tip, shiny. Chan rubs his thumb over it, and Jisung jerks and hisses, his fingers digging into Chan’s shoulders - he’s strong, Chan always forgets, but he is. It makes Chan’s whole body hot.
“Hyung -,” Jisung begs quietly, kicking his hips up, pushing his dick through Chan’s fist. Desperate, a little demanding - good. Chan strokes him quickly, his ego swelling with how Jisung keens, how he keeps breathing out little moans on every exhale, how he starts mindlessly humping into Chan’s fist. Just like Chan imagined - messy, impatient, desperate to finish.
“You do this with anyone else?” Chan finds himself asking. He’s already asked. He needs to hear it again. Jisung shakes his head, unable to speak. “Tell me.”
“Just - just you,” Jisung chokes. His head tips back, his body tensing. “Just you - oh, fuck -,”
Chan buzzes. Fuzzy all over, vibrating like an engine. “Good boy.” He tastes copper again. He thinks he does. “Giving me what I want. You gonna give this to me, too?”
He will. Chan knows he will. He feels it in his bones, in the back of his throat - Jisung shudders and lets out a shaky gasp and comes all over Chan’s fist, on his stomach, quick hard pulses. Sweet little noises as Chan strokes him through the aftershocks, keeps going, achingly curious, until Jisung squirms and tells him breathlessly to stop.
Chan stops. Kisses Jisung again, greedy for it now that he can have it. Wipes his hand on his sheets and realizes it’s shaking, realizes his whole body’s shivering. Too much adrenaline, or too much oxytocin, or something. Jisung’s gone boneless underneath him, barely able to keep up. Chan keeps kissing him, knows he’s talking, telling Jisung he’s perfect and good and -
He’s still hard, but it feels like an afterthought compared to how heavy his want is. He wants to come. He wants more than that - wants to yank Jisung’s mouth open and climb inside it. Wants to crack his ribcage open and live there, in the cavity next to his heart. It’s difficult to think right.
“Hyung,” Jisung mumbles after a bit. He stirs, getting some of his strength back. “Hyung, can I -,”
He pushes at Chan’s shoulder, surprisingly hard, and rolls them over. It takes a second for Chan’s mind to catch up to Jisung settling between his legs, touching all up his thighs, at the waistband of his shorts. A sliver of anxiety worms its way through to Chan’s brain, too overwhelmed to understand what he wants.
“Jisung,” he protests weakly. This somehow feels too vulnerable, too much - his belly exposed, his body under the spotlight. “You don’t have to.”
Jisung blinks up at him from under his bangs like he can hear his thoughts, eyes soft, a little sleepy.
“Let me,” he says, echoing Chan’s words back at him. “Please, hyung, I want to.”
He’s still touching, palming gently over Chan’s cock. His mouth is so red. Chan was always going to let him.
He holds the back of Jisung’s head as Jisung goes down on him, petting his hair, his cheek. Trying to be gentle, even though he feels like he might fly apart at any moment. Jisung hums, leaning into the touch, mouth unbearably soft and wet and hot, perfect, incredible, like the rest of him. Chan tells him as best he can, his heart lurching as Jisung moans in response, the tips of his ears turning red.
It doesn’t take long before Chan gives a gasped warning, his hips twitching. It makes Jisung gag softly, eyes watering, ignoring the stuttered apology that Chan offers. He pushes down further, the same determination and stubbornness he sees in the studio sometimes. Overdoing it - choking himself on Chan’s cock, and that’s it, it’s too much - Chan moans when he comes, sudden and hard.
Despite the warning, Jisung chokes. He pulls off Chan’s cock, drool spilling out of his mouth, and Chan automatically cups a hand under his chin to let him spit, and then Jisung does - a godawful disgusting mess, saliva and come, right into Chan’s palm. There’s a string of it connecting to Jisung’s bottom lip, translucent, pearly. He coughs and spits again, his eyes wet.
“Fuck, sorry,” he pants. “Got too ambitious.”
Chan feels like he’s floating, still recovering from his orgasm. “It’s okay,” he breathes. His clean hand goes back into Jisung’s sweaty hair, petting softly. “It’s okay, baby.”
Jisung wipes his nose and mouth, then his eyes, on his sleeve. They leave dark, wet marks in the grey fabric. Chan stares, enthralled by him.
It feels like he’s moving through space, for a bit. Finding some tissues, wiping off his hand, between his fingers. Slowly, methodically. Cleaning Jisung up, even though his clothes took the brunt of it.
“You’ll have to wash this,” Chan says, tugging at the hem of Jisung’s hoodie.
“I’ll have to burn it,” Jisung sighs. “It’s ruined forever.”
Chan pokes him softly, makes him flinch and grin. He leans over and kisses Jisung’s cheek, and then his mouth. Still greedy. Still wanting.
“Stay with me,” he says. He’s got Jisung underneath him again, where he should be. They’ll have to leave this room eventually, to eat, to live their lives, but Chan thinks it can be postponed a little longer. He just met this Jisung. This Jisung that’s only his, for now. He’s not willing to let him go yet.
“For how long?” Jisung asks. His fingers tangling in Chan’s messy hair, pulling softly. “Enough to watch me jerk off again?”
Chan snorts. “Maybe.”
“Perv,” Jisung teases lightly. Chan tickles him a little, up his sides, makes him giggle.
“I can’t believe you did that for me,” Chan says after a moment. He touches Jisung’s cheek gently. Squishes his earlobe. “Thank you, Hanie.”
Jisung blushes a little under the attention. “I always do what you tell me to.”
“You do not.”
“I do,” Jisung insists. “When you’re like that. I always do.”
Something about that catches in Chan’s scrambled brain. Like that - it’s processing slowly, like there’s a bad connection, but before anything forms, Jisung pushes up onto his elbows, into Chan’s space. Shy, eager.
“Can you kiss me again?” he asks.
It’s possible he’s just asking. It’s also possible he saw something in Chan’s face, and this is a distraction - but it works. The fog starts creeping back in, tunnelling his vision into Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.
His, for now, by whatever means will keep him here.
His, for as long as Jisung will let him.