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Sensing the extra body heat hovering above him, Minho opens his eyes only to see Jisung’s body leaning halfway across his. He smells like the sweet floral perfume he always uses in summer and a bit like sweat.
“Ahhhhhh,” Jisung says into the fan, giggling at the way it distorts his voice. Minho rolls his eyes.
"Ew, you're getting your sweat on me," Minho grumbles, shoving at him so he loses his balance. "Go away, stop hogging my fan."
“Huh?” It’s a moment until Jisung responds, probably unable to hear him properly over the cacophony of his own dramatic yelping as he fell combined with the manic whirring of the rickety pedestal fan at its maximum speed. Not that the fan is helping much—it’s the kind of sticky, sweltering heat that can really only be made bearable by frigid air conditioning. Or, maybe, a cold shower, but that’s not exactly an activity for two people, and the house’s air conditioning unit is currently fucked with the technician only able to come fix it next week. So here they are, sweating buckets while lying on the limited floor space of Minho’s bedroom.
“I said stop sweating on me. And hogging my fan.”
"Your fan?" Jisung gapes at him. "You mean our fan.”
"Hell no. I said what I said. My house, my fan.”
Jisung just chuckles and flops down next to him. He accidentally kicks the base of the fan on his way down and squawks with pain while Minho cackles. Lying on the wooden floor is only marginally less stifling than up on the bed, but it feels like the most sensible choice to their heat-affected brains. The fan is really only powerful enough to gently ruffle Jisung’s brown hair, doing nothing to evaporate the perspiration beading on his skin. Minho watches a drop slowly trickle down Jisung's forehead. Then he blinks, pointedly shifts his gaze away towards the window cranked open wide to let the nonexistent breeze filter through. It’s not long before his attention drifts back.
Jisung is still finishing the last of yet another Zooper Dooper, most of it reduced to a pink, raspberry puddle, the odd bit of ice still floating around inside the plastic. He squeezes one of the last remaining chunks into his mouth, then somehow manages to miss, the piece breaking off to land on his thigh. He pops it back into his mouth and wipes haphazardly at the wet mark it leaves on his skin. Minho licks his own lips, tasting the remnant stickiness from his own cola flavoured icy pole he’d finished earlier. The delicate inner corners of his mouth still sting from where the plastic cut into them.
“I’m bored.” Minho complains. The floorboards creak underneath him as he shuffles around, trying to keep the least amount of sweaty skin from coming into contact with them. They’ve been sitting here for so long practically motionless that his body hurts, but it’s too hot to do anything else. Minho attempted to read a book a while ago but stopped when his sweat left a mark on the paper, and he quickly lost interest in scrolling on his phone.
It’s warm enough that even the cats are bothered. They ignore the two every time they try to tempt them into playing with them, instead lying with their legs spread out in the shade and their tails flicking irritably every few moments.
When Jisung doesn’t respond to him, Minho pokes at his shins with his toe. “Hey. We should do something. Go to your place.”
Jisung pouts. "My place? Nooo, why? There's nothing to do at mine."
"We could not die of heat stroke," Minho suggests. "That's pretty fun."
"Or," Jisung says, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. "We could go to the pool."
"The pool? You're not serious."
On a hot summer day like today it’ll be completely packed. Teeming with families, screaming young kids and annoying teenagers. Not an environment either of them like, especially when neither of them are good swimmers.
"As a heart attack." Jisung says. "Not the public pool though, obviously, I mean Chan's."
"Chan's?" Minho echoes. "His family’s not home, though? Weren't they going to the Gold Coast?"
"Uh-huh." Jisung nods, sticks his finger into his mouth before absently swiping again at the sticky pink residue still on his thigh. "So? It's fine, I'll text him. But the Bahngs love us. I’m sure they won’t mind us using their pool if it saves us from sweating ourselves to death."
There’s no arguing with that, so Minho nods and sets about finding themselves some towels and their highest SPF sunscreen. Jisung finds him, another two Zooper Doopers swinging from his fingers. Neither are their favourite flavours, they're near the end of the pack. Minho grabs the orange from him, knowing that Jisung prefers pineapple.
"They’re fine with it, Chan replied. Lend me some swimmers?" Jisung asks.
Shit. "I don't have any spare." Minho says after a beat. "You know I never go swimming."
"Oh." Jisung’s family house, unlike Chan’s which is only a few streets away, is all the way on the other side of town. An unfeasible distance to traverse on a day as scorching as today just to grab some swim trunks. “Oh well, it’s fine.” He shrugs.
It’s only fifteen minutes later that they get to Chan’s place, unlatching the side gate to let themselves into the Bahng’s backyard and dumping the towels and their phones over the deck chairs next to the pool. It feels weird being there with just the two of them, but the water of the pool looks so refreshing that Minho is glad Jisung had the idea for them to go.
They ended up just wearing the clothes on their backs. Or, not so much on, per say, because once they get there Jisung doesn’t waste any time taking off his damp tank top, apparently keen on creating more hard work for himself by applying more sunscreen.
It makes it harder for Minho, too. He had already been trying not to look at Jisung’s exposed tan biceps on the walk here, glistening with sweat under the harsh light of the summer sun. Now to have even more of his body on display? Minho swallows and tries to resist the urge to go over and help Jisung as he struggles to apply sunscreen evenly on his back, instead focusing on smoothing some onto his own skin. Then he allows himself a little treat for behaving and lets himself admire Jisung’s broad shoulders and tiny waist while the other’s back is turned.
"Why are you stripping as if your clothes aren't going to dry in two seconds once we get out of the water?" Minho says.
Jisung stops in his tracks on his path to the pool. “You’re not taking your shirt off?” Jisung asks, bewildered.
Minho hesitates for a moment then shrugs. It's just Jisung, he reminds himself, like that will stop him from feeling self-conscious, because it being Jisung kind of makes that feeling stronger. But he tries not to let himself overthink it too much, pulls his own t-shirt up over his head to leave the both of them in just their shorts. Pretends he’s only red from being in the sun too long.
Minho observes Jisung cannonballing into the pool while he applies sunscreen to his own chest and back, then watches as Jisung paddles awkwardly over to the ledge. His swimming ability is far better than Minho's, but certainly nowhere near Olympic level.
"The water's really nice." Jisung says, staring up at him, chin nestled on his folded arms. "Join me, come on."
Minho pads over and sits at the edge, dips in his foot. The water is warm, but so much nicer than the hot air that he sighs at the refreshing feeling.
They end up just standing in the water together, talking about nothing in particular. Neither of their swimming skill levels really leave room for any other activities considering the lack of floating devices nor anyone who could actually swim being nearby. Besides, the heat is making them lazy. Instead they just luxuriate in the refreshing water, letting the time slowly crawl by. After a while they end up relocating to the shallow end, sitting on the middle step where it's deep enough to stay cool and still have half of their chests submerged.
Relaxed back with his elbows propping himself up, Minho gestures up at the sky. “That one looks like you,” Minho says, pointing at a particularly irregularly-shaped cloud above them.
Jisung bursts into laughter, swats at him with his hand. His shoulder brushes against Minho’s as he giggles, the skin warm and wet. “It looks like a fucking troll.”
Minho smirks. “Exactly.”
He turns his head to look at Jisung and he’s so close, already facing him. His eyes look honey-brown, so bright in the sun. He smells like chlorine and sunscreen and sugary like pineapple. The sweet perfume Jisung uses in the summer has faded, washed away by the water and by sweat. He still smells so good. Minho licks his lips, sees Jisung’s honey gaze flicker down. Despite the heat, he feels goosebumps rise on his skin.
Jisung really is so close. Minho’s heartbeat quickens. Is he even closer than he was before? Is he…?
"I—I'm parched," Minho announces abruptly, jumping back. He suddenly feels out of his depth, even though they're only in the shallows. The water splashes between them. It puts an end to Jisung moving closer, who startles, clears his throat. “We should’ve thought to grab some bottles of water before we left.”
"Yeah. Same." Jisung says. His voice sounds a little off. "I've been gulping pool water all afternoon, too. Makes it even worse."
"Idiot. Why would you drink the pool water?"
"I wasn’t drinking it, I just happened to swallow some!" Jisung defends. His light-hearted tone doesn’t quite land, his voice a little too loud.
Minho doesn't say anything else and it falls silent for a moment. Not the good silent, they're often completely silent when they're together and it's always the good kind, but this time it's wrong. Tense. Minho looks down, watching his feet as he swirls his legs in the water in front of them. The only sounds are the quiet lapping of the water, the odd creaking of the tin roof in the sun. The loud buzzing of the cicadas in the grass, a backyard audience to their uneasy quiet.
Jisung sighs and stands up. Minho’s heart clenches.
The water cascades off Jisung when he steps out of the pool. He's so pretty. Minho hadn’t wanted to hurt Jisung, he hadn’t even thought through the action before he’d leaned away. He just hadn't expected to ever be in this scenario. But Jisung’s voice had sounded almost subdued. Resigned. Is Minho just reading into it? Is it just wishful thinking, or had Jisung really tried to kiss him just then?
He follows him out of the pool, watches as Jisung grabs his towel and starts to dry off, his back still to Minho. "Jisung." He says softly. He still doesn’t turn.
"Jisung.” Minho repeats. He reaches over to grab his wrist, gently. Steps closer when Jisung doesn't move away, looks at him with searching eyes. Jisung's gaze flashes to his lips once again, then snaps back up, narrowing with something like wariness.
But that is all the confirmation Minho needs. He surges in, presses his lips to Jisung's firmly. Pulls back to look at him, a question in his eyes. Is this what you want, too?
Jisung doesn’t answer with words.
Their lips meet again and everything else fades away, his world narrowed down to only Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. His insistent hands tangled in Minho’s hair, his soft lips against his own. Their heads tilt and Jisung’s tongue meets his and Minho is on fire. Jisung’s mouth tastes a little like chlorine and a little sweet like pineapple. But underneath all that, he tastes like something distinctly Jisung. Minho can't get enough. This is better than he’s ever imagined, and he’s imagined it so many times. He’s wanted Jisung so badly for what feels like so long.
His hands wind up in Jisung’s hair, tugging at the damp strands, then move to wrap around his back, fingers slipping and sliding on his wet skin. He wants Jisung even closer. He wants to fuse their bodies into one.
He thought he was warm earlier, simply sitting in his bedroom? That was nothing. Everywhere their bodies make contact burns. Each of Jisung’s touches against his skin sets Minho alight. Sparks are flying off them, he hopes they don't get reported for breaking the fire ban.
He can’t help the noises that leave his lips. He’s never been kissed like this before. It has him hotter than a live wire. “Your body—drives me—crazy,” Minho pants out, a hand slipping down to grasp at Jisung’s little waist. Jisung’s fingers paw at Minho’s chest, drawing out a puff of breath when they graze against a nipple.
It should be embarrassing, how fast Minho is coming apart at the seams. Every brush of their tongues makes him melt further. Then Jisung’s hips buck into his own, and any embarrassment is gone, replaced with only a burning need when he feels his hardening length against his own through their layers of clothing.
Jisung groans against his mouth. He pulls back for a moment to pant out the question, “Please, can I touch you?” They regretfully part their bodies at Minho’s frantic nod, just enough so that Jisung can get a hand between them.
"Jisung," he whispers, as Jisung slowly pulls him out of his still-damp shorts and boxers. Minho licks his lips. "I—I've never... Not with a boy."
Jisung’s eyes crinkle. "Me neither," he tells him in a whisper. He presses their sticky foreheads together as his hand finally moves to touch him properly. "I’m glad my first is with you."
Jisung’s guitar-calloused hand feels so good around him, so hot and tight. It's a bit dry at first, a bit rough, but then Jisung swipes the sticky precome leaking from the tip of his cock and the glide is smoother. Minho opens his mouth in a soundless gasp and tucks his hot face into the curve of Jisung’s neck. It feels so much better when Jisung touches him compared to himself, to anyone else.
They’re pressed so closely together, Minho doesn’t know where one ends and the other begins. He clutches tightly at Jisung’s bare back as he strokes him off, moans into his neck. “Jisung, Jisung, feels so good. Don't stop," he begs.
“Not planning to, pretty,” Jisung murmurs.
It doesn’t take very long before Minho’s hips are stuttering. “Gonna—gonna cum,” Minho gets out, before he’s releasing all over Jisung’s hand with a strangled shout. They stay there for a moment as Minho comes down from his high, and then Jisung shuffles back to wipe his hand off on his towel. Minho looks at him in dismay. “Gross.” Minho mutters, once he’s recovered somewhat from his brain turning to mush.
“What?” Jisung defends, throwing the now soiled towel away. “We don’t need it. We’ll just air dry.” When Minho just raises an unimpressed brow, he exclaims, “What would you suggest I have done, then?”
“I suggest you get over here.” He says, vaguely threatening. Jisung steps over suspiciously, probably expecting some form of an attack rather than the gentle kiss Minho presses to his lips.
“Oh,” Jisung says, a grin sneaking onto his face.
“Oh?”
“You’re just really cute.” Jisung giggles.
Minho grabs him and manhandles him closer, kisses him again. “I’ll show you cute,” Minho grumbles. Slides his hand down Jisung’s torso, ready to return the favour.
Jisung pulls away at the touch. "Wait, sorry," he says sheepishly at Minho's questioning expression. "I'm just really hot. Not only in the sexy way, in the we-really-need-to-move-out-of-the-sun way. Before we keep doing anything. Imagine if I passed out or something, I'd be so embarrassed."
"Oh, hah," Minho giggles. "Me too. Continue in the pool?"
Jisung’s eyes widen. He slaps at Minho. “You are not getting me off in our mutual friend’s family pool! I’ll never be able to look any of them in the eye again.”
Despite Jisung saying this, it’s easy for Minho to change his mind. All it had taken was Minho announcing that he wanted to try blowing him, and Jisung turned to lobster-red putty in his hands. They end up in the pool with Jisung sitting at the edge with his legs in the water, Minho positioned between them. It feels a bit ridiculous but it works, and they both end up sufficiently cooled by the water. Jisung’s skin is probably burning through his shorts from the concrete, but Minho doesn’t receive any complaints.
It’s a testament to how hot it really is today that Jisung’s shorts are now only slightly damp. Minho pulls them down low enough to free Jisung’s cock without much struggle, staring at it unabashedly. He grins up at Jisung. “I’m going to suck you off now,” he declares.
Jisung nods jerkily. “Uh-huh.” Jisung spreads his legs wider to accommodate him and his hand makes its way to Minho’s hair, where it’s dried all lopsided and fluffy.
Minho licks his lips in anticipation, eyeing Jisung’s cock in front of him. He takes it into his hand and strokes him a few times, enjoying the way Jisung reacts to his touch; how his fingers twitch in his hair and his legs tense. Then he leans in, laps at the head a little, gets a feel for the taste. He looks up at Jisung with the tip resting against his lips, gives him a little smirk while Jisung’s throat bobs.
When he slowly takes him into his mouth, Jisung tastes like chlorine, a little salty, like sweat and like skin. He tastes like summer and like a word Minho isn’t yet strong enough to name. It takes a little while for him to find a rhythm, to work out his own limits. Jisung is too big for him to take his cock all the way; at least not yet. He steadily works his way up and down, getting used to the fullness in his mouth.
Every intake of breath and little sigh Jisung makes spurs him on. He tries taking Jisung in as deep as he can go, until the head of Jisung’s cock brushes the back of his throat. His eyes water as he tries not to choke, but it's worth it for the way Jisung moans sweetly as he does. Minho does it again, working his tongue over him and sinking down as far as he can go while he sucks at him. He’s taken by surprise when Jisung thrusts into his mouth helplessly, his cock bullying its way in far too deep. Minho gags, pulls off to fix a glare at the younger, who apologises with a gentle stroke to his cheek. Minho moves the hand that’s not keeping Jisung steady at the base to grasp at his hip, holding him tightly in place so that he can keep going.
He can tell as Jisung gets close, he’s getting louder and can barely help himself from rutting forward in tiny movements. His thighs are trembling. He hopes none of Chan’s neighbours are hearing any of this; no one else deserves to hear his Jisung like this.
“Baby, can I come in your mouth?” Jisung asks, his voice husky. He looks wrecked when Minho glances up at him through lowered lashes. Minho blinks in affirmation, but doesn’t stop sucking him. He takes him as far back in his throat as he can, for one moment, two, starts the whole process again, making sure this time that Jisung can’t thrust further forward.
Even though he’s expecting it, he coughs and splutters when Jisung comes inside his mouth with a moan. Some of it escapes, dribbles from Minho’s lips. Jisung smirks and swipes at it with his thumb, pops it into his own mouth, winks. "You did well, pretty." Jisung tells him.
"You're so dirty," Minho complains, as if the action hadn't made his dick twitch in another valiant attempt to get hard. He flushes at how raspy his voice has become.
“You love it.” Jisung says smugly. Minho rolls his eyes, but can't deny it.
When they get out of the pool, Jisung grabs Minho’s towel for him (the clean one, thankfully) and dries him with it carefully. Like he’s something precious. Minho clears his throat, trying to act like it isn’t making his heart go haywire. Then he realises that he doesn’t have to pretend any longer, because now he knows Jisung likes him back. He grabs Jisung’s hand, uncaring that it’s still too warm for hand holding. He just wants to touch him, to be close.
“I’m gonna go home. Do you… want to come back to mine?” Minho asks.
“Of course I do,” Jisung beams back at him. He presses a quick kiss to their joined hands. Minho grimaces, fake retches.
“What?” Jisung splutters a laugh. “You just had your lips on my dick but this is too much?”
“Yes.” Minho deadpans. Well, that’s what he tries to do. Embarrassingly, he can’t keep the smile off his face, the fondness out of his voice.
“Uh-huh. That makes sense.” Jisung says. He’s gone a little red, a bit flustered. Minho preens. He loves being the cause of the flush on Jisung’s face. He loves being the cause of his smile even more.
“Of course. That’s because I’m always right.”
There’s a spot of pink on Jisung’s nose where the sunscreen must have worn off. Minho presses a quick kiss to it.
“Be my boyfriend?” Jisung rushes out. He’s pigeon-toed, nervous, wringing his hands together. Minho coos internally.
“Oh?” Minho smirks. “My head was really that good?”
“Shut up.” Jisung says, flushing darker. “I was going to ask anyway! But, yes. Of course it was.”
When Minho just giggles maniacally Jisung pouts. “Minho,” he whines, drawing out the ‘o’. “Answer the question, please. I’m dying here.”
“Yes, baby.” Minho says, pressing another soft kiss to Jisung’s cute little nose as an apology. “Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.”
They’re already sticky again after their short walk back. It’s still so blazing hot outside, even though the sun is dipping lower in the sky. It’s just that kind of day, one of those sweltering hot summer days where you can only get reprieve by jumping into the pool, which they’ve already done, or by sitting under the air con, which they don’t have. Or, a cold shower, though that isn’t exactly an activity for two. Wait—scratch that.
“I need a shower.” Minho says. “‘M all sweaty, and now I smell like chlorine.”
“Mmh, okay.”
“You need one too.”
“Yup,” Jisung says in agreement. “It’s fine, you can have first shower if you want.”
“It’s been so hot today, I’m tired. Might not be able to stand on my own.” Minho prods.
“Oh, shit, are you alright? Is the heat getting to you?” Jisung sits up on his elbows, concerned.
One could say that. Minho rolls his eyes internally. “I’m telling you to join me.”
“Oh.” Jisung says. He scrambles up immediately.
Later they settle into bed with the lights off, and Minho holds Jisung to his chest. The temperature of his bedroom is still far too high, and his bed nowhere near big enough, but he can't bring himself to care. Minho tugs Jisung even closer, noses at his neck. He smells like summer, smells clean like Minho’s borrowed body wash, like his coconut scented shampoo. He guides Jisung’s face closer so he can kiss him and he tastes fresh like the spearmint toothpaste they’d shared when they brushed their teeth next to each other just a few minutes ago. Past that though, he tastes like something distinctly Jisung. It’s even sweeter than honey, than Jisung’s perfume, more sugary than raspberry flavouring. The taste melts on his tongue, addictive like a sticky pineapple icy pole. Minho can’t get enough.