Work Text:
Sometimes, when he’s standing on stage with the lights on him, all his members at his side, an adoring crowd screaming their songs back at them, Minho knows people must think ‘Wow, it surely can’t get any better than that.’
It’s a high others can only dream of, and Minho loves it. Lives for it. But he wonders if that crowd of adoring fans would be hurt or upset if he admitted that there’s something he loves even more. That it’s not his favorite place to be. Not the best it can ever get, compared to something as simple as this. Where he is right now.
Probably not. Not too many of them anyway. Jisung chooses him over them all the time at concerts, intentionally seeking out signs held up asking him to pick from options that always include him. They eat it up.
So does Minho.
A little pathetic, maybe, for him to sit up alone late into the night after a concert when he should be resting, smiling to himself while he rewatches fansite videos. Videos of his best friend beaming at the camera while he holds up a finger that declares Minho his soulmate, his husband, his first choice always—even his girlfriend in one instance (which; yeah okay sure whatever! He’ll fucking take what he can get)—but Jisung is the one indulging them with it in the first place, so Minho will fight anyone who dares judge him for hanging on it like a lovesick fool.
Or at least narrow his eyes menacingly at them.
“Hyung, I think you missed a turn.”
Minho rolls his eyes. “I didn’t miss a turn.”
“No, I think you did,” Jisung says, turning Minho’s own phone towards him to show the map. His eyes are imploring, wide and pretty under his hair that whips around his face in the wind from the open window. “Look.”
Minho literally has to fight with himself against the urge to stare at Jisung and look instead at the markers on the screen. He glances at it and looks away quickly, feeling a frown form. Then he glances again.
“I can’t see that, Sung, I’m driving. I have to watch the road.”
He saw it. He did miss the turn.
Shit.
His soulmate senses warn him when Jisung opens his mouth to call him out on it and before he can start, Minho reaches over to turn up the music. The corners of his mouth twitch up involuntarily when he sees Jisung shaking his head out the corner of his eye.
He can’t hear it over the blaring of Jisung’s playlist from the speakers, but he knows the sound of the quietly amused scoff that huffs out of him well enough that he doesn’t need to.
A glance over at his profile—his pretty face bathed in low evening sunlight, smiling peacefully and unworried out at the scenery going by—makes Minho’s throat constrict. It reminds him that looking is dangerous. He’ll get caught in it if he’s not careful, and a car crash isn’t how he plans on ending this trip, so he fixes his eyes back up front and ignores the tug of his heart.
They continue in the same direction for a while. Minho could make a U-turn and go back to the exit he missed, but he’s sure there’ll be another way up ahead somewhere where they can merge back onto their route.
There’s no hurry. Jisung sings along loudly to the songs playing on the speakers, and Minho occasionally joins him. Bustling cityscapes gave way to peaceful countryside a while back already, a welcome prelude to the quiet long weekend they have planned.
If only the sun wouldn’t ever set then he could happily keep going like this for days if he didn’t need to eat and sleep. He’d say forever even, but anything that limits any touching or looking at the man next to him, including the unfortunate restrictions of road safety, is kind of a deal breaker for Minho.
Plus he really wants to get to the cabin they booked and get everything set up. Check out all the rooms they’ll be living in for the next three nights. Scope the area they chose next to the river. Warm up the hot tub that Jisung had excitedly suggested they splash out the extra for.
He’d been practically bouncing when he saw it was an option, and Minho’s answering ‘sure’ had been so totally casual. His voice definitely didn’t crack a little on the word.
The trip itself had been Minho’s suggestion. He’d known for a while that Jisung had been really wanting to go away for a break somewhere quiet, and he’d gotten as far as “you know, a few nights at a cabin or something would be nice—” before Jisung was already squished up next to him on the floor of the practice room, prodding him to pull up booking sites on his phone immediately.
He’d meant to suggest that the eight of them go, but as soon as one of the others asked what they were doing, Jisung had said with the biggest smile on his face, “Minho hyung is taking me on a vacation! We’re looking at cabins in the mountains.”
Everyone else’s invitation had immediately died on his tongue.
“Oh, yeah. Yep, just the two of us. No one else. Just us.”
Jeongin had given him a bit of a funny look, Felix and Changbin snickered quietly to themselves, and Hyunjin just rolled his eyes with a small smile like he thinks he knows something. Seungmin was the only one with the manners to make it sternly clear that he could not have cared less and did not want to know, so he ignored them completely, but Chan had tried several times to come up with something to say before accepting it with a sigh. He’d told them to have fun, throwing a pitying look at Minho like he already knew everything screaming in his head right at that moment.
Whatever. Who even cares if he’s a little bit pathetic or if everyone besides the person that matters can tell he’s in love. He gets to spend the weekend alone with Jisung now at a cozy little cabin in the countryside somewhere with a fishing dock and log fire and the wilderness between them and the world.
And a hot tub.
Sometimes he gets the urge to scream his feelings from the top of his lungs at the whole world, but that would be insane. That’s not allowed. So instead he shoots a quick bubble message.
‘The weather is nice today.’
Nothing but a code replacement for what he really wants to say. He fluffs it up with some random comments, a question to STAYs, a joke if he’s feeling it. Doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to let off just that little bit of the pressure.
He won’t be sending any bubble messages out here though; they already made the mutual rule to stay off any social media or messaging apps just for these few days. Told everyone including staff, that if they try to contact them then it better be because someone is dying, otherwise whatever it is can wait.
They have the whole weekend ahead all to themselves.
The sky is clear and the sun is still warm as it slides slowly towards the horizon, not quite there yet. They still have a few hours left before dark.
Jisung is belting an IU song in the seat next to him.
Minho smiles out the other window, mumbles it quietly to himself instead, “The weather’s so nice.”
*
Further down that road, they pass a service station and stop to fill up on gas. Well, Minho fills the car up on gas and Jisung fills it up with snacks. He throws Jisung his credit card and gives him free reign, just tells him to go nuts because he doesn’t want to have to drive back out to find stuff once they settle in.
It takes some time, Minho waiting behind the wheel, left to run his imagination for what they’ll fill their days with at the cabin, but eventually Jisung comes back to the car. He’s laden with his spoils and baring a grin that could make dead flowers bloom in winter. Minho is pretty sure he could’ve sustained himself on that alone for the entire weekend, but Jisung has already set the menu demands for them both and Minho will be damned if he’s not going to give the boy everything he wants.
He smiles and nods, full attention on Jisung while he rambles away, cheerfully listing out everything he bought. Minho doesn’t hear a word he says.
He gets them back on the road, wishing he’d had the forethought to check the map while he was waiting for Jisung to finish clearing out his credit card.
There’s still plenty of time and it’s not like they have to be there before dark, but there are no road lights out here and it’s past the point where Jisung won’t make fun of him for pretending he knows where he’s going if he admits it now.
He does at least know he’s going in vaguely the right direction. The longer he drives though the more it nags at the back of his mind.
The car is quiet for a bit. Not uncomfortably; Jisung’s playlist—the same one he insisted on putting on when they started and has been playing since—continues on low volume, the windows up replacing the sound of rushing air with the soft hum of the engine.
Until Jisung starts loudly slurping an extremely large cup of cherry red crushed ice.
Minho shoots him a look.
“You know we might not be able to stop again for a while.”
“So?” Jisung asks around the straw before going right back to sucking hard on it. Minho shifts in his seat a little.
“So you should go easy on that. We don’t really have time to pull over so you can empty a super mega jumbo sized gallon of fake cherry food coloring out of your system.”
“It’s strawberry,” Jisung says. “And I already peed back at the gas station. Didn’t you?”
Minho rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer. No, of course he forgot. He was too busy thinking about how he can’t wait to set up the grill and daydreaming about pretending he’s cold so they have to share a blanket. Maybe pull Jisung onto his lap and cuddle up while they eat meat by the light of a campfire.
“You’re going to be begging me to stop before you’re halfway through that thing.”
“I will not!”
“You will, and I’ll say no. I’m not stopping the car again until we get there.”
“You would stop for me if I said ‘pretty please’ though.”
“No, I won’t,” he lies. “Not even if you give me the prettiest please in the whole wide world.”
Jisung gasps in mock offense and then sticks out his tongue. It’s already dyed red. “Mean grumpy cat hyung.”
Minho fakes a glare. The effect is ruined by the smile he fails to properly fight down.
“Anyway, you said we’d be there by now,” Jisung grins, head tipped back on the headrest. Minho hates that the smug look on his face suits him so well. He wishes he could put in a few rounds against whichever god or divine spirit allowed him to look that attractive when Minho can’t even kiss him stupid about it. “Ahh… hyungie hasn’t gotten us lost, has he?”
He ignores the eyelashes being batted at him and the liquid fire bubbling in his core and reaches over to flick at Jisung on the forehead. He misses, probably on purpose if he’s honest, but Jisung still jerks away with tiny yelp before giggling.
“Brat. Maybe if someone hadn’t taken two hours to say goodbye like we were never going to see them again we wouldn’t have left so late.”
Jisung waves a hand. “It was like, an hour. Ninety minutes, max.”
“It was actually closer to two and a half. I was being generous. And I know where I’m going.”
“Sure.”
Jisung leans over before Minho can decide if he wants to retaliate and holds the straw in front of his mouth. Of course Minho shuts up and immediately accepts the offer.
It’s nice. Fake strawberry and additive flavored. He doesn’t move away after Minho swallows.
“Here, hyung, have some more,” he tempts him, tapping it on his lips. “You must be thirsty doing all that driving.”
He’s too sweet to say no to.
Jisung only sits back again once he’s satisfied, lips wrapped around the same straw and watching Minho like he’s doing anything more interesting than staring determinedly forward out of the front window so he won’t get caught in Jisung’s shining eyes and veer uncontrollably off the road.
Boba eyes, he’s seen STAYs online call them. Doe eyes. Bambi eyes. He wishes he could tell them how much he agrees.
The playlist loops. Minho taps the screen to change it while Jisung is too busy raking through his bag full of food and sweets, but he sees the title of the playlist and changes his mind. Warm fluttering fills his stomach, pushing a smile to his face and a lump in his throat.
“Did you want to put something else on?” Jisung asks.
Minho looks up to see him paused with his hands still in the bag, watching Minho’s finger hover over the phone screen.
“No,” he shakes his head, hand dropping away. “No I was just… checking the time.”
Jisung gives him A Look. “Because we’re lost and going to be late, right?”
Minho clenches his jaw. Forces out a breath of mostly feigned irritation when Jisung snickers annoyingly at him.
‘Road trip with hyung <3’ plays on for a second round.
*
They should be there by now.
Jisung doesn’t seem worried. He’s humming along with his music, occasionally reaching over to feed little treats into Minho’s mouth.
He does point out a burger stop that they see sign posted, but when Minho says he can’t possibly be hungry with all the snacks he’s had and suggests he’s just trying to get him to stop so he can use the bathroom, just like Minho said he would, he denies even wanting to stop at all. Says he just wanted to point out that it was there, that’s all.
Minho gives him the same ‘sure’ Jisung gave him earlier, but it doesn’t take long for him to regret it.
They finished the crushed iced drink between them and now Jisung has a soda bottle clutched in one hand. He keeps trying to offer more, knowing Minho likes that one, but he keeps refusing. Says he’s not thirsty. Starts refusing even the offered sweets.
He’s getting a little uncomfortable around the middle. He really should have gone to the bathroom back at that last stop.
It doesn’t escape his notice as well though that for as much as Jisung keeps trying to offer more drinks to Minho, he isn’t taking any more himself. He suspects he’s just trying to get Minho to need the bathroom more than he does so that he’ll stop anyway. Trying to get him to break first.
He breathes through it and puts his window down, hoping the now cool air will shock him into holding it together a little longer.
The sun dips low, still light but close to kissing the edge of the Earth, and Jisung starts wriggling in his seat.
“All that liquid finally caught up with you?” He asks.
Jisung stills, darting a quick side-eyed glare. “No. I told you. I’m fine.”
It takes, at most, another fifteen seconds before he’s shifting again. He clenches his legs together, fists curling into tight little balls on his knees.
“If you need to go just say so,” Minho tells him. “Just say ‘sorry, hyung, you were so right, please let me pee’ and I’ll pull in at the next stop.”
“I don’t need to,” he lies, his cheeks red with the effort.
“Then why have you stopped drinking your soda? Can’t handle any more?”
“Nuh-uh!” Jisung opens the bottle, still more than half full, and takes a large swig out of it, swallowing loudly with a gulp. “See. I’m fine. Now you.”
“Now me what?” He asks, but physically recoils away when Jisung points the open end of the bottle at him. “I don’t want…”
The smug, knowing look that takes over Jisung’s expression, eyebrows saying more than his mouth even needs to, shuts Minho up immediately. He grabs the soda and takes a drink, making sure to swallow more of it than Jisung had, just to prove a point.
“You’re the only one struggling. You really want to keep going?”
“You’re full of it,” Jisung lifts the bottle again, empties the rest of it into his mouth, and makes a show of swallowing it loudly. He lets out an oh-so-refreshed ‘ahhhh’ before crushing the bottle in his hand and screwing the lid back on it.
He throws it over his shoulder to land behind them in the pile with the rest of his rubbish that he’s apparently collecting in the back seat, then smirks confidently back at Minho and says, “There’s no way I’ll need to stop. Iron control, baby!”
Minho rolls eyes eyes, says ‘suit yourself’ through his teeth, gritted against the discomfort, and drives on.
*
The shadows get longer as the sun begins to sink behind the horizon.
Minho is maybe kind of concerned now. About several things; namely the fact that he thinks he might have gone down this road once already about twenty minutes back and that he definitely overestimated the remaining daylight, but even more than that… the swelling pain under his belt.
He needs to go so bad. The dull ache has turned into an urgent pressure. He’s sweating, and winding the window down further so that the wind rushes in his face helped a lot less than he’d hoped it would.
Jisung’s knees are bouncing, pressed tight together with his hands clawing anxious little scratches over the leg of his pants.
“Just admit that you need to go,” Minho says. He’s practically pleading. If he were any closer to whining he’d be at risk of starting sounding like Jisung. “I’ll not even gloat. That much.”
Jisung shakes his head, brow creased in concentration. Or pain.
Minho tries to subtly move the waistband of his own pants so that they’re not digging so meanly into his stomach right where his bladder is. It doesn’t help much, considering how his bladder feels swollen to the size of a soccer ball in there.
“Okay, okay. I’ll not gloat at all.”
Jisung narrows his eyes at him.
“I think you’re just trying to get me to say that I need to go because actually you need to go and you don’t want to admit it,” he says, spectacularly on the mark.
“I would never,” Minho says. Jisung’s expression does not change in the slightest. “I’m seriously so fine to just keep going. I could go all night.”
Jisung’s gaze drops for just a moment, as if he thought he could X-ray through Minho’s skin to see his bladder, and he turns away with even redder cheeks than before to look back out the window.
“Well I don’t need to stop either,” he says.
“Fine,” Minho manages to force out between breaths. Fuck, it’s really starting to hurt. “Good. Great. We can keep going then.”
*
As they enter a more wooded area, Minho wants to believe that this means he’s on the right track, not that he’s gone and made them the disposable extras in the first scene of a really shitty horror movie.
Between the trees they see that the sky turns to amber and blush, a few scattered clouds in the distance reflecting the dying light. Jisung has been rocking slightly for a few minutes now, but he still won’t ask to stop.
Minho wonders briefly if he shouldn’t just find a place to stop anyway, just let him win just so he can empty his own bladder. He pushes the thought down, drops a hand from the gearstick and physically pushes down between his legs as if he could force his need back.
“Struggling to hold it?” Jisung asks, looking pointedly down, but Minho doesn’t fail to notice how strained his voice is.
He snatches his hand back up and puts it on the wheel.
“No. I was just,” he licks his lips. “I was just getting more comfortable. Not—” he interrupts, lifting a finger to shush Jisung when he feels more than hears him take a breath to come back at him, “—because I need a bathroom break. I’ve just been sat here driving for so long. Do you know how hard that is? Hm? Do you?”
His eyes dart to the side. Jisung is still looking down at Minho’s lap. “No, hyung, how hard are you?”
“…What?”
“What?”
Minho keeps his eyes ahead, brain empty for a few long seconds. When he risks another look he sees that Jisung is staring at nothing, shining eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open while he processes what he just said.
Only the instinct of sheer self preservation stops Minho from jerking the wheel and sending them spiraling off into the wilderness.
“It!” Jisung says when he finds his voice again. “How… how hard is it. Driving. How hard is… actually lets just… Phew, it’s kinda warm in here! Can we turn the air-con on? What time is it? Hey wow look at that tree isn’t it cool haha I’m… d-do you want a sour gummy?”
Minho reels from the breakneck speed he changes topics without taking a breath. Jisung doesn’t look back at him, just winds his own window down the whole way while stuffing his face with so many sugar coated sweets that he couldn’t get another word out if he tried, twisting his face when the sharp tang hits his tongue.
Meanwhile Minho is still trying to hear any thoughts that might be happening in his own head behind the screeching static and his bladder screaming to be emptied.
*
Minho is tempted again to just stop the car. He’s really considering it. He thinks he might actually burst if he doesn’t.
Jisung stretches himself back in his seat, feet pushing against the floor while his hands pull the front of his seatbelt, breathing hard. His face is so red that he’s making the painted sunset look pale in comparison.
He whines, “Hyunggg,” knees rubbing back and forth together where he bounces them.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” He expects a glare, but Jisung just screws up his eyes in concentration, pushing the belt a little further away. “Just hurry up and get there.”
Minho’s eyes flick between the road ahead and where Jisung’s legs have begun to visibly tremble where they’re pressed hard together. He reaches over to peel Jisung’s hands from the belt, making it snap back tightly onto his stomach.
“Don’t pull it out like that,” Minho tells him. “It’s not safe.”
Jisung makes a soft, pained noise, and the twitch between Minho’s own legs almost makes him hit the breaks. He realizes he’s going a little too fast and slows down again.
“No, please,” Jisung whimpers next to him. Minho’s hands grip the wheel so hard he hears the leather creeks under his palms. “Please, hyung. Are we nearly there?”
“I don’t…” Minho shakes his head. Swallows. Wets his lips. “Not yet. Not yet, baby. Hold on just a little longer for me, yeah?”
Jisung makes another small sound of distress, both hands grasping frantically at his dick through his pants as if to hold the piss from coming out, but he still nods his head. There’s tears starting to shine in his eyes, not quite enough for them to fall, but enough to shimmer where it clings onto his lashes.
It takes all of Minho’s power to snap himself out of it before he loses focus completely, and he forces himself to face directly forwards.
The concentration needed to keep control of the car while clenching to hold it in is quickly getting too much to handle. On top of that, he’s been at least semi-hard since Jisung’s little slip-up. He refuses to look down to see if it’s obvious, because he’s pretty sure his pants are a light enough gray that it will be and he’d rather live in denial than confirm it.
He does breathing exercises through it, the same ones he uses in the gym while pushing himself through the last stretch of a strenuous endurance session.
Somehow this feels more difficult.
A wave of pain makes him tense up and the car does a bit of a jerk as he accidentally presses just a little more on the accelerator than he means to. He regains control immediately, but that was all the warning from the universe that he needed.
“I can’t—fuck. Fuck, Sung! I… I can’t do it. I can’t fucking drive like this!”
“Pull over!”
He slows down, but there is nowhere to pull over. There are trees immediately on either side of the road. There are no other cars on their route that they can see right now, but it’s getting dark now and the turns are bendy enough that if someone does come up fast behind them, they might not see them in time to stop.
Jisung must read his mind. He unclips his belt and turns in his seat, muttering something about ‘don’t worry, hyung! I have an idea,’ while reaching to the back seat. Minho tries to tell him to sit back down, but the effort of even speaking is forcing his muscles to contract around his middle and squeeze his bladder.
He slows even further, the vehicle moving at a crawl just to keep it going while he watches in the mirrors carefully for any approaching lights.
He can feel it coming, just a drop at the tip, and he has to bite his lip hard. He’s going to burst. Panting, he gasps something out. He’s not even sure what he says, maybe just Jisung’s name, but Jisung keeps throwing trash around the seats in search of something.
“I just need to find—aha! Here, hyung-ah,” he turns to sit back down and holds out the jumbo sized crushed ice drink cup. “Use this.”
“I’m not pissing in a cup, Jisung!”
Jisung goes to toss it back into the backseat. “Oh my god, fine—!”
Minho feels dampness against his pants, drops leaking out.
“Fuck, no. Wait, just…”
He reaches a hand out, waving wildly in the air while he tries to take the cup from him before he can fling it again. Jisung puts it into his flailing hand.
God, he’s never going to live this down.
He struggles to open his pants with one hand while holding the cup, the other still on the wheel. The stress and desperation makes him shake and fumble with his zipper until he manages to switch his brain on just enough to think to hold the edge of the cup with his teeth instead.
Jisung, still on his knees on his own seat, watches with rapt attention, as if just witnessing Minho relieve himself will make him feel better too. He faces Minho, still not sat down properly with his belt on, but there’s a bit of a straight stretch on the road where they are right now, so Minho flicks on the hazard lights and gives himself a minute to focus on his own situation.
After battling with the elastic of his underwear and finally pulling himself out of the confines of his clothes, he realizes that this is going to be a lot more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. He struggles to hold both his dick and the cup with one hand while keeping control of the vehicle with the other and trying not to let the bottom of his shirt get in the way or the top of his boxers snap back up—all while he leaks another dribble of piss onto his own hand.
Humiliatingly, he is definitely still hard. Even harder than he was before. It would be difficult enough to do this if he was completely soft, but at this rate he’s going to piss in his own face.
And Jisung is staring with eyes so wide it would be comical to Minho if he wasn’t half sure he’s about to literally break at the seams in all possible ways.
It’s too much to do all at once; driving a car (though the thing is barely rolling along by now) while attempting to use one thumb force his rock solid cock to point down into a stupid fucking paper cup that he can only hold between two fingers because it’s too wide for him to grip around, all while he’s shaking and feeling the pressure of being watched.
He makes the mistake of looking at Jisung again, sees him on his knees with his whole body still facing Minho, slack-jawed and gripping the headrest like his life depends on it with the other hand shoved down his pants.
Minho fumbles and drops the cup. The automatic lurch forward he makes for the cup to catch it before it falls jolts his body just more than he can handle, and he feels the first real spurt of piss warm on his chest as it releases up the front of his shirt, leaving a wet streak that clings to him.
He abandons the failed grab for the cup to wrap his hand around his dick, squeezing tight with his fingers, thumb over the head in a desperate effort to manually hold it in. As though he could actually block it. The tip of his thumb digs into the slit, but that only sends sparks right through him that make him jerk his hips into it.
Once the floodgates are open, it’s kind of hard to stop. He puts all his strength into clenching the muscles to stop it, but still leaks around the pad of his thumb, dripping through his fingers and down to wet the waistband of his pants. It runs down between thighs, soaking into the seat. He can’t stop it.
“Can I—” Jisung’s voice is so deep, so rough, it comes out croaky. He tries again, but it doesn’t come out any smoother. “I mean, do you want me to help?”
Minho can’t even force out a ‘yes’ to respond, just jerks his head in one stiff nod and hopes Jisung had managed to pay more attention than him to where the cup had fallen.
It seems he did, thankfully, because he retrieves it swiftly from the floor under Minho’s seat. Instead of handing it over like Minho expects him to do though, he shoves Minho’s wet hand out of the way and replaces it with his own to take over.
Minho lets him. Doesn’t try at all to stop him. He’s out of fucking patience to give a shit about how future Minho is going to think of it. The need to piss is all that matters.
Whatever Jisung is saying to him, Minho doesn’t even hear it. All he can focus on is how he’s held it for so long now—how he’s so hard, so tense from the hours of driving, how Jisung’s hand is wrapped in a tight little fist around his dick, holding it pointed into a fucking paper cup so he doesn’t have to—that he can’t relax enough for it to flow freely. It comes out in strained little squirts, hitting the cup way too loudly and splashing once it starts to fill up.
The tree line pulls back on Minho’s side, the road widening for a short strip. He doesn’t bother wondering why—literally nothing could be less important to him right now—he just pulls in and stamps on the break.
They were already barely moving so it’s not going fast enough for the sudden stop to be a danger. However, Jisung is balanced so precariously, leaning over between the seats with both hands too occupied to hold his weight up front, his whole body teetering on just his knees. The jerky motion bounces him off balance and he falls forward with a short cry, fortunate only for Minho’s arms braced so stiffly on the wheel that he lands against them instead of falling face first into his crotch.
That doesn’t stop Jisung’s hands from moving though, momentarily losing aim and getting hit up the arm with it himself instead.
The motion of the slick wet hand on him drags a stifled groan out of Minho, right into Jisung’s ear before he manages to steady himself again.
“Sorry,” Jisung gasps, as if it wasn’t Minho who caused it to happen.
Minho doesn’t even answer. He drops his head forward onto the back of his hands where they still grip the wheel with white knuckles. The position gives Jisung a little difficulty seeing what he’s doing, but the compression on his bladder forces it to empty faster.
When he finally forces himself to relax and lets it go, he moans out loud. Doesn’t even care how embarrassing it’s going to be to remember it back later.
It feels so good. So fucking good.
He closes his eyes and just lets himself feel it, panting hard like he just had the toughest dance practice of his life. He’s pretty sure he can feel himself deflating inside, even as the last drops are forced out with every hard exhale, his cock jumping against Jisung’s grip.
Jisung doesn’t let go right away when it stops, hand making slow, short little movements up and down. Not a real movement, no strokes long and fast like he needs them; just enough to be able to use the excuse that he’s still helping. Making sure hyung is all nice and emptied.
What a good boy. Being so helpful.
When he does stop, when it’s definitely over, he releases Minho’s dick to hold instead onto his thigh for support, his fingers digging in with a painful grip.
His shirt and underwear mostly fall back into place without any hands there to hold them away, covering over his cock but still doing nothing to hide it where the damp material sticks. The waistband of his boxers is a teasing pressure on it, but nowhere near enough.
Looking down between his arms, Minho sees that the cup isn’t even half full. He shouldn’t be surprised, there had to have been almost two liters in there when he bought it and it’s probably not humanly possible to hold that much in one person, but it’s oddly disappointing. It had felt like he was holding a bucket’s worth of liquid inside him.
“H-hyung,” Jisung drops a little. “I’m—oh, nonono—”
Minho lifts his head to look at him and feels something primal clawing up from deep inside him. Jisung is so flushed, cheeks wet under his eyes, lip quivering with a quiet sob as he has to hold his weight with one arm resting against Minho’s leg, still holding the cup in that hand, so he can reach between his legs with the other and hold it so he won’t wet himself right there on his seat.
“I can’t stop it,” he cries, rocking his hips down against his hand like the extra pressure will do anything to help. He closes his eyes. Shuts them tight, squeezing another tear drop out. “I can’t… hyung, no—I can’t stop. I’m sorry! I can’t—”
Even through the fading light, Minho sees a spot darken Jisung’s pants. And then another, Jisung gasping out tiny noises that sound just on the threshold of pain and something better.
“Hyung!”
And then he just thinks… fuck it.
He flicks the lights on inside the car and reaches under his own chair for the lever, yanking it up and making it jerk right back away from the wheel. Jisung is taken so off guard by this that he lets out a short scream as his arm slips from Minho’s lap and he falls forward. Minho catches him under the chest, but not in time to stop him spilling a little from the cup, the motion making it slosh up out of the cup and soaking down one of Minho’s legs.
He ignores that, just takes the cup from Jisung and tosses the contents out the open window. The empty cup gets thrown into the back with everything else, and with both hands free now he drags Jisung across from his own seat and onto his lap.
“No—w-wait!” Jisung panics. He tries to squeeze his legs together again, but they’re held apart with his knees on either side of Minho’s thighs. His voice climbs frantic. There’s a dark patch blooming on his crotch. “Hyung! Hyung, I really can’t hold it!”
Minho holds Jisung’s face between his hands, his fingers curling round behind his ears to pull him in.
“I don’t care.”
Jisung resists only for a second out of surprise, and then he just lets himself be dragged forward into the kiss with a startled gasp that only spurs Minho on more.
Minho kisses him hard. Desperate. He’s imagined all the ways he could kiss Jisung for the first time, but he knows now that it’s obvious this is the only way it ever could have gone; desperate for him—starving for him.
From the moment their lips touch he’s destroyed and put back together by it.
Jisung still tastes like tangy sugar and fake fruit flavoring. Minho licks it from him messily while warmth spreads over his lap where he’s still rock hard and aching. Jisung’s entire body shakes violently—practically vibrating against him, legs squeezing again like he’s still forcing himself to make one last helpless effort to hold it in.
Minho’s hand slips around to properly cup the back of Jisung’s head, and he wraps the other around Jisung’s waist, tugging him in closer. It’s so hot and wet. He can feel where the stream of piss is rushing from his cock, coming through his pants and soaking the both of them.
Whining noisily, Jisung gives his head the tiniest shake, only what he can do without breaking the kiss, and tries to lift his hips away. As though that would make him piss on Minho any less, but it only makes it so they can better see how it leaks from him. How it splashes through the fabric and down onto his hyung’s lap.
“It’s okay, jagi,” Minho says, breathless. He tugs again, presses Jisung down tighter to him, and slips his hand up the back of Jisung’s shirt to press a palm there. Skin on bare skin. “Just let it out. Let it out for me.”
Jisung shakes his head once more, but he so quickly loses his will to fight it. Little noises of despair turn into short, panting sighs of relief—and then into noises that make Minho’s own needs bubble up again so urgently.
“Hyung… hyung…”
“Shit,” Minho moans into his mouth when he ruts his hips up against him and feels it really flooding freely from Jisung’s cock now. It’s dripping down Minho’s legs, his balls, pooling on his seat under his ass so that every movement down after he thrusts up makes a little sound like slapping water. There has to be even more than what had come out of Minho.
But Jisung is panting, whining high and loud and fucking down on Minho like pissing himself right now is the best thing he’s ever felt. Who could ever give a fuck about the damn car when Jisung’s eyes are rolling back like that?
He licks into Jisung’s mouth, swallows down every little whimper and moan he can get out of him.
It’s so wet on his cock where he fucks up against Jisung’s, where he feels him also hard and rubbing down on him. He feels Jisung’s cock jump against him when he sucks on his tongue and holds him tighter, tighter, pressing him down where he needs him. So it rubs him just right, sopping fabrics between them clinging to everything.
“Gonna come. Fuck, Jisung, I’m gonna come,” he says. He takes Jisung’s plush bottom lip between his teeth and tugs to get an answering whine. Jisung rocks his hips down harder, with more purpose, and drops his head down to Minho’s shoulder, lips finding his neck. “So good, baby. Jisung… Jis—fuck. Oh fuck.”
Jisung opens his mouth, latching onto his neck, and sucks hard. Minho feels his teeth scraping the skin, a delicious threat more than a real bite, but he would let him if he did.
Minho lets his eyes fall closed, mouth falling open with a long groan as he rolls his hips up once more, his cock pulsing over and over, spurting sticky cum into his wet clothes.
He hugs Jisung to him in a crushing grip, grinding up slowly to draw it out, but Jisung doesn’t even slow down. Becoming more frantic, his hips move erratically, chasing his own orgasm. He disconnects his mouth from Minho’s neck, seemingly only because he’s too distracted by the feeling of rutting down on him.
“You getting close?” Minho asks. He slides both hands up Jisung’s shirt, roving over his back, his shoulders, feeling the damp sweat on his skin and the heat that rises off of it. His thumbs brush over Jisung’s nipples on the way back down to squeeze his tiny waist, making him jerk with a whine. “Answer me, baby. Are you?”
Jisung doesn’t speak. It seems he can’t. The only sounds he’s able to make are the tiny gasping ‘ah ahh’s that come with every jerky forward push of his cock against Minho’s lap, but he tucks his head down on Minho’s chest to nod. He doesn’t duck away fast enough to hide that there are more tears spilling over his lashes.
Both hands scrunching fistfuls of the fabric harshly, he grips onto the front of Minho’s shirt while he desperately grinds down. A sob scrapes out his throat, raw and overwhelmed.
“It’s not enough, is it, baby?” Minho’s heart is still galloping, but he’s shifts his focus. Gives Jisung his whole attention.
“Nnnnhg,” Jisung shakes his head, but his hold on Minho’s shirt tightens, and he presses his whole body closer. Like he’s afraid Minho is going to make him stop—afraid he’s going to take this away from him before he can reach the climax he’s inching towards.
Minho holds his hips, grips them hard, and lifts Jisung from his lap. It’s only partially to be mean, only partially to see the way Jisung panics. The way he practically wails in distress at the loss of friction and tries to keep jerking his clothed cock against the air, arms trying to pull himself back like he really thinks he has any chance of fighting against Minho’s strength.
“Fuck, jagi. You’re so pretty like this,” he says. “Always so pretty, but so… so fucking pretty like this.”
Sobs wrack Jisung’s whole body. Minho watches his cock jump in his pants, twitching against the dripping mess he’s left there, precum seeping through where it’s already saturated.
“Hyung, please… hyung, oh f-fuck… please please please—I need you, please, hyung, please—!”
He’s too sweet to say no to.
Minho rearranges his position first, easily maneuvering him to where he wants him on one leg, even as Jisung struggles against it before he realizes what he’s doing. When Minho lets him sit again, the change in pressure shows immediately on Jisung’s face. His eyes roll closed, head tipping back in an open mouthed moan as his cock presses down on Minho’s thigh and he moves faster, humping it in earnest.
“That’s it, baby,” Minho says. He presses his leg up, flexing the muscle, hands helping Jisung to pull his hips down harder with a punishing grip. “Use hyung, make yourself feel good.”
Jisung rushes in for another messy kiss, all lips and tongue and teeth. His fists are trembling on Minho’s chest, and it takes a little prying for Minho to get them to release the bunched up fabric of his shirt so he can wrap them around behind his neck so Jisung can hold on to his shoulders instead.
“Good boy. Gonna get yourself off on hyung’s leg?” He asks, smirking into the kiss at the way Jisung keens at it, whole body jolting. “Oh?” He laughs. “You really like that, huh?”
“Sh-shut—!” Jisung starts to complain, voice higher than usual, but he thinks better of it and decides to try to shut him up himself, pressing their lips harder into the kiss.
Minho can feel the heat from his face. From all over him. He’s burning red.
Jisung reaches down with one hand, scrambling blindly to grab at Minho’s wrist to push it further back around him, placing Minho’s hand on his ass, and then tries to bite away the even bigger smirk that grows on Minho’s lips because of it.
Minho indulges him. Selfishly. He squeezes, pulling Jisung back to him every time his movement draws him away, pressing him closer at the same time he pushes his thigh up for Jisung to drag his cock against harder.
Jisung seems to lose any sense of volume or what noises he’s making, not restraining himself at all. Minho can feel every muscle pressed against him shake with the exertion, Jisung’s energy already spent, only the desperate need to come keeping him going, can’t even kiss Minho properly anymore. He’s crying, his face red and sweating.
He’s so perfect. Minho is so fucking in love with him.
“Come on, baby,” he sighs against Jisung’s lips. “Come for me.”
He’s so close, Minho can feel it in the way he moves. Can see it in the glassy, far away look in his teary eyes.
“H-hyung… hyung, I’m—hha… nnnngh—”
“Yeah,” Minho says. He kisses Jisung’s lips again, even if he can’t kiss back, then moves his lips lower, whispers against his jaw, “Yeah, that’s it, honey. You’re doing so well. You’re so beautiful.”
He trails kisses down Jisung’s Adam’s apple, scrapes his teeth on it in more of a tease than a bite and feels the shivers that take over Jisung’s whole body. He doesn’t bother trying to ask Jisung to speak again—he knows he couldn’t right now if he wanted to—just presses kisses higher again, back up the side of his neck. Feels Jisung’s pulse fluttering wildly under his lips.
He sucks on the spot under Jisung’s ear, works it with his lips and his tongue and his teeth. Jisung keens, crying out, cock jerking where it’s trapped between them in piss soaked pants.
“So lovely for me,” Minho says, nipping at his skin. “Such a good boy for hyung.”
Jisung is loud when he comes; throws his head back with beautiful cries that Minho knows must carry so well and far out here in the quiet. Better than any song, any performance they’ve ever given, and it’s just for him. If he hadn’t come already, he thinks he could just from seeing this. His perfect baby feeling so good.
With a final shuddering moan, Jisung drops back down against Minho’s chest, face tucked away while ragged breaths wrack his whole body in tremors. Minho tugs Jisung’s leg out from between his own so he can properly straddle his lap more comfortably again, and Jisung just goes limp. Just allows himself to be moved around like a doll, pressed chest to chest so Minho can feel how hard his heart thumps through it.
He wonders if Jisung can feel his too, or if he’s too far gone to notice how it slams back against his in the same spot on his ribcage.
“You okay there?” He asks.
It takes Jisung a couple seconds, still panting heavily, before he nods.
Minho rubs his back slowly, giving him a moment to come down from it. Jisung is soaked everywhere, sweat and tears covering what his bladder didn’t get.
It’s fully dark now. The lights inside the car and total lack of them outside giving the allusion that there’s nothing even to see out there. That they’re all that exists. When Jisung pushes himself back up and looks down at Minho, he’s the only other person in the whole world. The only thing at all. Everything.
He’s still so red. Minho wants to see him like this forever. The tears have stopped but only just now by the looks of it, his cheeks a little puffy from it. Jisung only stares at him, looking more than a little out of it.
He brushes back Jisung’s damp hair where it clings to his forehead, wipes under his eyes for him with his thumbs. Those doe eyes. Those pretty, pretty eyes.
Minho exhales, “Shit… you’re fucking gorgeous.”
What would be the point in holding back now? Minho wants him. He wants him, and he wants him to know it.
Embarrassed, Jisung tries to look away, biting his bottom lip when Minho won’t let him. He goes so easily though when Minho pulls him back into a slow kiss, so willingly. Lets his eyes fall closed again and just leans into it, unhurried, arms slipping over Minho’s shoulders so he can curl shaky fingers into his hair.
They’re so alone out here, given space from the world. Minho half wishes they could never leave.
The other half of him, however, aches awfully from the cramped space and hours of driving. Also the various bodily fluids that are cooling, growing sticky and uncomfortable in their clothes.
“Hey,” he says. Just a breath. Soft, not wanting to break the calm that’s settled over the car. He lets Jisung press one more kiss to his lips before he puts a hand on his chest and gently presses him back away. He goes, but with a pout.
Minho feels himself break into a smile before he realizes he’s going to.
“Hey,” he says again. Jisung doesn’t answer, but he waits. Minho lets go of his face, staving off the temptation to kiss keep kissing him otherwise they’re never going to get out of here. He rubs his hands instead down Jisung’s thighs. Notes that they’re damp right down to at least the knees. He grins. “Let me see.”
Jisung doesn’t move right away. He opens his mouth—probably to ask ‘see what?’—and then shuts it again.
Shyly, avoiding Minho’s eyes, he leans back a little and tucks his thumbs into his pants, pealing them down to show Minho inside.
He peers down at the mess. Jisung is smaller than him and now flaccid, cum smeared on his stomach, his cock, between his thighs. Freshly waxed too, he can’t help noticing.
Minho hums. “Cute.”
The thump of Jisung’s fist on his shoulder has no power behind it, his energy completely spent, but it surprises Minho enough to make him giggle at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.
The second jab for laughing is even weaker than first, Jisung’s wrist limp as he flops the barely curled fist against his chest. Minho expects him to whine at him to cut it out, to stop teasing, but instead Jisung nods pointedly down at him. And then again before he can make himself say, “Now you.”
“Hm? Now me what?”
Jisung levels him with a flat glare, refusing to play along. Minho knows he could make him, he could tease him until he either gives up or has to say it, but he’s feeling so lenient right now. He presses against the chair to lean back, as much as he can in the space at least, and pretends to himself like he can’t feel heat stinging his ears as he copies the action to show his own mess.
Jisung probably doesn’t even notice the redness of him blushing, too busy staring down. He swallows hard. Then does it again, a loud gulp that fills the air in the car.
“O-oh,” he says, and nothing else.
He swallows again.
Before Minho has the chance to respond with anything smug, the window on Jisung’s side lights up and a car rushes loudly past them, making them both jump like they just touched a live wire, Minho barking out a jumble of swear words while Jisung makes a loud shrieking noise and bounces up, near hitting his head on the roof of the car.
A second of silence follows, and then they both burst into cackles of surprised laughter.
Jisung clutches his chest dramatically. “I think I actually died for a second there.”
Minho swears again under his breath, head knocking back. He can’t get the stupid smile off his face.
“Okay,” he says, sighing with resignation, “pull up the map for me, jagi, and lets see where we are, because I have no idea.”
Jisung snorts another laugh, but instead of taking the opportunity to rub it in Minho’s face, he slips off his lap back onto the passenger seat and picks up his phone. Minho regrets not kissing him again before he let him go, but Jisung is already busy on the app trying to get their location with the shaky rural service.
Minho shifts in his wet seat, getting colder and more uncomfortable very quickly now that he doesn’t have a pretty distraction on his lips. He grimaces to himself when he realizes he’s going to have to take the car for a professional cleaning, and probably not for a few days unless he wants to cut their trip down to a single night.
Actually, he would rather literally just have to buy a whole new car.
“Ha!” Jisung barks out a laugh, eyes lighting up. He bounces excitedly in his seat and shoves the screen under Minho’s nose. “Hyung, hyung! Oh my god, look. You didn’t get us lost after all.”
Minho blinks down at the map, the marker telling him that they’re practically there. Just a short eight minute drive from the check-in office where they’ll get the keys and directions to their hired cabin.
He notices, as he turns off the interior lights and actually looks out of his window at where they’ve parked, that they’re at a bus stop. Fortunately one that doesn’t seem to have anything running this late—or they just happened to manage to catch a window between buses.
Hopefully no poor souls caught the show.
*
It feels like they’ve barely gotten moving when they pass a welcome signpost baring the name of the cabin rental company. Moments later Jisung points out what at first glance looks like a single tolling station on the end of a longer cabin covered in posters on the outside walls.
Minho laughs at his own luck as they pull up at the office window; a drive-thru one, because they’ve just managed to be late enough by around ten minutes to miss the main reception hours. He might’ve died of shame if he had to walk into the actual building, filled with staff and potentially other vacationing customers, looking the way he does right now.
A bored looking security guard sipping at a very large iced coffee takes their name and reference number. She hands them an envelope that she tells them contains a guide to get to their designated cabin, a few leaflets advertising evening entertainment in the nearest village—this one prompting Jisung to mutter something under his breath about why anyone would take a trip out here just to go back to people again every night—and the key code to unlock their door.
It feels a little surreal to Minho while he pulls out the cutely designed map of the area, their destination marked with a circle in pen, that they’re just… carrying on as normal. The only weird feelings as Jisung takes the map from him to get a closer look are the way his clothes cling grossly to his thighs and his back cries to get out of this damn seat.
He flashes an irritating smirk at Jisung. “Told you I knew where I was going.”
Jisung gives him a side-eyed look, exasperated, but doesn’t bite the bait. He lets him have that one without comment, however—
“I still won though.”
Minho blinks. He stares at him, searching his own memories for a thread of conversation that he’s somehow forgotten.
“You won… what?”
Jisung rolls his eyes like Minho is being deliberately obtuse.
“No, really,” Minho laughs, confused.
“Ugh. The… you know—” He looks down pointedly at Minho’s lap, and then gestures to his own. His lips push out in that adorable pout. “You stopped.”
Minho takes another second before it clicks, and then he laughs again. “What? No! No way. I won that.”
“Ummm, no?”
“No I mean, I did though.”
“But… you—” Jisung splutters. “But you pulled over!”
“Yeah, because you asked me to.”
“Because you needed to go first.”
Minho doesn’t even try to fight or hide his own amusement, even as he argues back, “You still asked me to stop the car first. That was the rule, not who needed to go first.”
“No one even set any rules!”
“Then how can you win?”
“Uh, duh! Because I held it the longest?” Jisung raises his eyebrows like he just threw back some gotcha that can’t be argued back with. Minho would pinch his cheeks if he wasn’t busy driving. “You had to go first, so I win.”
“Hm, I managed to wait until I had something to use to go in though.”
“Doesn’t change that you gave up and started peeing first!”
“Baby, you literally pissed your pants,” he says.
The way it makes Jisung fluster angrily is so cute he’s tempted to stop the car again right now and drag him back onto his lap.
“You—yeah, w-well that’s not even—I mean, if you hadn’t… And anyway, that was your fault!”
“Aww, is it hyung’s fault, hm? That Jisungie made a big mess of himself?”
He takes one look at the smugness on Minho’s face and throws his head back in frustration, shaking it side to side as he wails, “Oh hyu-uuung!”
“Fine, fine. I tell you what, I’ll let you win,” he says, no less smug. Condescending. “Is that better, honey?”
“But I did though.”
“Mmhm,” Minho nods. “You sure did.”
“Ugh! You’re so annoying,” Jisung says. His face is getting flushed again, practically glowing. He’s so pretty. So damn lovely Minho can’t stand it.
His heart squeezes in his chest.
“I’m in love with you.”
It just kind of slips out. Minho didn’t mean to just blurt that out, not like this. Jisung deserves a real confession, something sweet with all the stops pulled out. He should be romanced! Given his magical romcom movie love scene in the rain or snow or a meteor shower! Or some other equally dramatic phenomenon.
He needs candles and flowers and poetry, or a trail of rose petals to a beach picnic. Something worthy, not them sitting uncomfortably in their wet pants, bickering over who won a dumbass contest that neither of them actually agreed to play in the first place.
He doesn’t take it back though.
Jisung huffs and sinks down in his seat, hiding his rapidly reddening face behind the map like that’ll stop Minho from seeing how his cheeks rise up. His voice is small and shy when he mumbles, “You um. You need to turn here.”
Minho hums in acknowledgement and turns the wheel, pretending to them both like he’s not sick to his stomach that he might have, with one little sentence, spectacularly fucked everything up.
He wasn’t rejected yet though, so that’s something.
They pull up outside their home for the weekend, and Minho immediately wishes they’d booked the whole week. Maybe they still can, if it’s not already booked for someone else right after them. He hasn’t even finished turning off the engine before he’s already decided that he’ll at least ask. In the morning. If Jisung isn’t mad at him or something.
Lanterns light up the outdoor dining and campfire areas ready for them, just bright enough to be cozy. There’s a cute little porch with a sofa and with the car now silent Minho can hear a quiet symphony of night animals and the bubbling of gently running water not too far away.
Most importantly of all right now, there’s a shower and a bath inside.
Unbuckling his seatbelt, he begins to ask, “Do you want to—” but he’s yanked sideways by the collar towards the passenger seat. Towards Jisung who pulls him into a kiss before he can finish the question.
“Hyung. Minho. I love you,” Jisung speaks between kisses. He doesn’t give Minho a second to let that one finish sending him mentally cartwheeling into space before he’s already delivering another brain melting blow. “I want you. Please. Fuck me, hyung. I want it so bad.”
What Minho should and intends to say, with an imaginary version of himself in his head currently screaming at the top of it’s lungs and jumping up and down while it fist pumps the air triumphantly, is an earnest and resoundingly enthusiastic ‘HELL yes, abso-fucking-lutely!’
What comes out of his mouth instead, where it’s still pressed to Jisung’s perfectly edible lips, is a very unfortunately sensible, “But we don’t,” another kiss, “we don’t have any lube.”
Jisung waves that away, barely breaking the kiss to say, “I brought plenty.”
Minho kisses him harder, slides his fingers into Jisung’s hair to hold while he tilts his head, and then realizes what Jisung just said.
He pulls back, confusion making him frown.
“Wait. Hold on,” he says. He has to lean away a little when Jisung’s mouth chases his before he realizes Minho has stopped on purpose. He whines, but Minho just really has to ask first. “Why did you bring ‘plenty’ of lube on our weekend away?”
Jisung scoffs. “Why didn’t you bring any at all?”
“I kind of thought I might be too busy, you know, spending time with you to be hunkered away jerking it for three days?”
Jisung blinks. He stares silently at Minho like he just said something bizarre. After a slow few seconds pass, Jisung leans back a little more, eyes narrowing incredulously.
“Did you not bring me out here to finally fuck me?”
Finally?
Finally??
Minho can feel the shock on his own face, how wide his eyes are. He blinks at him. He does that several times for way too long, and no asteroid comes from the sky to save him.
“Yes,” he eventually says. His ears hurt. “Yes of course I did absolutely that’s why I brought you out here.”
Jisung doesn’t buy it for a second. “You seriously got us this romantic ass cabin in the woods with a hot tub and didn’t even expect to get laid?”
Minho is going to dry the whole car out at this rate with the heat he can feel pouring off his body.
“You… never said you wanted to?”
“I’ve been telling everyone and their mother that you’re my boyfriend. I said it on TV!”
“…The cameras weren’t on yet.” He’s definitely focusing on the wrong part of that here, but maybe he’s in shock and coping. Honestly he thinks right now he might have straw for brains, so it’ll have to be excused.
Jisung rolls his eyes so hard Minho wonders how it doesn’t hurt. “Okay, fine, then I said it to an audience of like a hundred people. Minho, we live together.”
“Hyunjin and Changbin moved in together before we did.”
“Yeah, hyung, because they’re fucking!”
Minho blanks. He doesn’t have an argument for this one. He does have a lot more questions though. Like sure, they’ve pushed the line of friendship well beyond the boarders of normal, in public and even more so in private, but they’ve never even kissed before today.
“Everyone else thought that’s what was going on,” Jisung mumbles, like he’s reading the thoughts right out of Minho’s head. He starts fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.
Minho has to physically hold himself back from jumping him again to kiss the pout off his face and strip the clothes off his body right here in the car. He has a severe and slightly rabid case of wanting to eat Jisung up while he’s looking all nervous and vulnerable, but he valiantly keeps a leash on it for now.
“I already know that you know they all think that. So I just thought. Well. If you weren’t correcting them. Or me,” Jisung shrugs, embarrassed. “I don’t know. I thought you were waiting for the perfect moment to make a move. So I was… I was waiting too. For…”
Waiting for the romance and the magic, just like what he should have gotten.
Minho reaches out, tucks Jisung’s hair behind his ear.
“Yeah, well. I might be an idiot, have any of you considered that?”
Jisung laughs. It’s like the world lights up again.
“Come on,” he sighs, climbing out of the car before Minho can decide if he’s just going to drag him back onto his lap after all, “lets go see inside.”
Minho follows him out, groaning when he gets to stand and his aching muscles protest after the prolonged hours in the cramped space. His clothes feel so uncomfortable, drying stiff and sticking to him. He stretches, and he swears he can hear his bones creak even over Jisung laughing at him again. Minho gets him back by pinning him to the side of the car and sucking and biting at his neck until his knees are shaking.
“We should stay here forever,” Jisung says.
Minho wants to agree.
“I think there are a few people who would never forgive me for that,” he says, mumbles it into Jisung’s shoulder. He feels a shiver of pleasure when Jisung run fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly.
“STAY would forgive you.”
Minho hums. They wouldn’t, but he lets it slide. Eventually he just says, “Channie hyung wouldn’t.”
Jisung laughs again. Minho has never once gotten so used to that sound in all the years they’ve known each other that it ever fails to make him feel like there’s a sun shining just for him. He holds him around the waist, and Jisung nudges him with his nose until he gets the hint to kiss him again. Just a peck though. Two pecks. Three.
“Go on,” Minho says when he eventually manages to make himself stop long enough to gather his brain cells again, “go inside. I’ll get the bags.”
Jisung shakes his head. “But I want to help.”
“If you don’t go now then I’m just going to keep kissing you,” Minho says. He cuts across Jisung’s mumbled comment about how he doesn’t see why exactly that would be a problem to add, “and if you make me get hard again before we can clean up, and I have to search through your bags in the dark to find that lube, I’m going to bend you over the hood of this car and then we’re not getting past that front door this side of midnight.”
That’s ignoring the fact that he is already getting hard again, but someone has to make him stop for long enough to get them sorted for the next few days, and it’s clearly not going to be Jisung.
Jisung, going speechless, has a full body jolt reaction, and Minho takes the moment of distraction to press one more kiss to his cheek and then tug him off the car.
“And I’d much rather wait until the sun’s up for that so I can see you when I do it,” he turns him by the shoulders and gently urging him towards the cabin. “You can help by finding the bathroom so we can wash first.”
“If I run a bubble bath will you come in with me?”
“Jisung, I would literally climb into a swamp for you,” he says, patting him on the butt before sending him over there with a little shove. “Now go on, I’ll catch up.”
Walking proves to be even more uncomfortable than sitting in the wet had been, but he tries to ignore that for now, thinking of the hot bath that will be waiting. Imagining getting into the warm soapy water with a naked Jisung doesn’t help with the discomfort of his clothes around his crotch while he’s moving, but he pushes through, going around to the back of the car and pulling it open.
They brought a lot of stuff, considering the few nights they originally planned to stay, but he can leave some of it in there for later. For now he just takes his own clothes bag, smirking to himself as he leaves Jisung’s behind so that he’ll have to borrow Minho’s clothes after their bath.
He also grabs some of their food that will have to be refrigerated and that one big blanket that Jisung loves to snuggle up in. The one that they’re going to have to share because Minho conveniently and maybe on purpose forgot to bring another, and his pure and sweet, innocent, unsuspecting little Jisung wouldn’t even think twice about happily sharing it with him.
When he lifts it out he then stares down at Jisung’s other bag under it, the one that contains his towels, his toiletries and skincare, and probably also his ‘plenty’ of lube.
He lets out a short and slightly deranged feeling laugh at himself before grabbing that one too, and then he follows Jisung inside. He’s definitely going down to the reception in the morning and asking them to extend their stay. Maybe he should get Jisung to come along so he can flash the Bambi eyes at them when he asks. He’s too sweet to say no to.