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Jisung leans back against the kitchen counter, smug satisfaction radiating from him as he finishes drying off a glass. He glances at Minho, who's still scrubbing away at the last few plates, his face as neutral as ever. Jisung can't resist—he needs to share his latest triumph.
"So, last night," he starts, grinning as Minho gives him a side-eye of annoyance, "I met this guy at the club. Super hot, totally my type. We had a few drinks, danced a bit, you know, usual stuff. And then… let's just say, he wasn't disappointed by the time the night ended."
Minho raises an eyebrow, barely sparing him a glance. "Oh yeah? That's what, the third time this week you've come home all smug?"
"Fifth, actually," Jisung corrects, still grinning. He waits for a reaction, but Minho just rolls his eyes and reaches for another plate. "I'm telling you, the guy was practically on his knees thanking me afterward. He couldn't stop talking about it. Said I was the best he'd ever had."
Minho snorts, unimpressed, though there's a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Right. Sure he did. Like I'm supposed to believe that you're some… some kind of oral prodigy or whatever you're implying here."
Jisung gasps in mock offence, clutching his chest. "Excuse you, it's not just implied, it's a fact. I'm a legend." He leans in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, though it's just the two of them in the kitchen. "I've got techniques, hyung. Pressure control, rhythm, all of it. I've perfected the art."
Minho just gives him a deadpan look, folding his arms. "You're really proud of yourself, huh?"
"Yes," Jisung replies emphatically, as if it"s the most obvious thing in the world. "And I should be. I've been honing these skills for years, my friend. Eye contact? Mastered. The perfect amount of pressure? Immaculate. I'm basically a magician."
Minho rolls his eyes so hard Jisung thinks they might get stuck. "Right, and I suppose you're expecting me to just… take your word for it? Based on, what, your inflated ego?"
"Multiple people have confirmed it," Jisung argues, voice rising in indignation. "You really think everyone I hook up with is just lying to me? Come on, hyung. You know I'm good at what I do."
"Or," Minho says slowly, drying his hands on the dish towel with an insufferable little smirk, "maybe you're just good at believing what you want to hear."
Jisung narrows his eyes, feeling the competitive spark flare up in his chest. He hates how unfazed Minho is. No matter what he says, Minho just brushes him off with that annoyingly calm attitude. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Minho shrugs, not even bothering to look at him. "Not really, no."
Jisung huffs, crossing his arms. "Well, I could prove it to you."
That gets Minho's attention. He turns, giving Jisung a look that's half-amused, half-disbelieving. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying," Jisung insists, his voice dropping into something almost teasing, "I could prove it, right here and now. It's not like it'd mean anything. I'd just be showing you that I'm right. And then you'd have to admit that I'm the best."
Minho stares at him, clearly caught between laughter and horror. "You're actually serious," he says flatly, as if he's confirming to himself just how ridiculous this conversation has become.
"Completely serious," Jisung replies, stepping closer, eyes shining with mischief. "What, are you scared? Afraid you might enjoy it?"
Minho looks at him like he's grown a second head. "Mhm. I'm not scared, I just have this thing called self-preservation, and also I'm not—" He waves a hand, clearly struggling to comprehend how they got here. "Jisung, this is… what the fuck?"
But Jisung can't let it go now. He's already committed. He sinks to his knees, looking up at Minho with a grin that's half-challenge, half-flirtation. "See? Eye contact. Engagement. It's all part of the experience."
Minho flinches back, actually looking alarmed now, holding his hands up defensively. "Nope. Nope, we're done. This is weird—no, it's beyond weird. Get up, Jisung."
Jisung doesn't move, stubbornly holding his ground. "I'm just saying, if I wanted to, I could blow your mind right now. You'd be thanking me by the end of it."
"Uh-huh. And if you want to keep your teeth, you'll get up right now," Minho says, though there's a faint blush creeping up his neck. Jisung smirks, noting it with satisfaction. Finally, he's cracked that calm, unbothered exterior.
"Admit it," Jisung presses, "you're curious."
Minho glares down at him, expression exasperated but with that hint of something else. Something he's desperately trying to hide. "I'm not curious. I'm just… baffled by your ego, which apparently has no limits."
Jisung raises his hands in mock surrender, but he still doesn't get up. "Just say the word, hyung. One little word. I'll prove it."
"Jisung," Minho says in a tone that's as close to a warning as he's ever given, "get up. Now."
Jisung sighs dramatically but finally rises to his feet, brushing off his jeans. "Fine. But just so you know, you're missing out on a life-changing experience."
"Oh, I'm sure," Minho says, deadpan, patting him on the head with that annoying, dismissive hand ruffle that makes Jisung feel like a misbehaving puppy. "And I'm sure you'll find plenty of other people who'll take your… generous offer. Just not me."
Jisung huffs, crossing his arms, but there's a grin tugging at his lips. "You're going to think about it, though. You'll lie in bed tonight and wonder if I was actually telling the truth."
Minho lets out a short, incredulous laugh. "The only thing I'll be thinking about is how to keep my sanity while living with you." He shakes his head, turning toward his room. "Goodnight, Jisung. Try not to come up with any more bizarre ways to boost your ego."
Jisung watches him go, unable to suppress the small laugh that escapes him. "Goodnight, Minho," he calls after him, dragging out his name playfully.
He stands alone in the kitchen for a moment, still buzzing with the adrenaline from their strange little showdown. Part of him wonders if he might've taken it too far, but the other part of him—the one that knows Minho better than anyone—can’t shake the satisfaction of finally getting under his skin.
As he heads to his room, Jisung chuckles to himself. He might've lost the battle, but he's pretty sure he won the war. Because now, whether Minho likes it or not, the thought is planted. He's definitely going to be thinking about it.
And for Jisung, that's more than enough.
———
Or maybe not.
Jisung lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his own stubbornness pressing down on him. He's been telling himself for the past hour to let this whole thing go, to just get some sleep, but he can't shake it. Every time he tries to close his eyes, Minho's deadpan expression from earlier flashes across his mind, unfazed, unimpressed, and completely convinced that Jisung is just full of himself. The nerve of him.
Jisung huffs, pushing himself up on his elbows. Why does it bother him so much? But he knows the answer. Minho's reaction wasn't just about doubting his skills; it was the way he hadn't taken him seriously at all, brushing off every word as if Jisung was exaggerating. He's pretty sure Minho just thinks he's some cocky kid, but he knows he's good. Really good. And it bothers him to no end that Minho doesn't seem to believe it.
With a groan of frustration, he throws off his blankets and gets out of bed, making his way down the hallway. His feet are quiet against the floor, and he wonders if he's completely lost his mind as he pauses outside Minho's door. There's a moment where he almost turns around, almost talks himself out of this, but his frustration outweighs his hesitation. He knocks, and after a second of silence, there's a soft, tired hum from the other side, a begrudging invitation to enter.
Jisung pushes the door open slowly, peeking in to find Minho sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through his phone. Minho barely glances up, clearly not expecting anything significant, but he does lift an eyebrow, silently asking what now?
Jisung takes a breath, trying to sound more confident than he feels. "I need you to admit it."
Minho sighs, rolling his eyes as he sets his phone down. "Jisung, it's late. You can't seriously still be on this."
"Oh, I'm serious," Jisung says, crossing his arms defiantly. "You really don't believe me? I told you, I know what I'm doing."
Minho gives him a flat look, his tone bordering on exasperation. "I'm not losing sleep over whether or not you think you're some kind of… prodigy." The last word practically drips with sarcasm, and it only fuels Jisung's determination.
He strides over to the bed, plopping down beside Minho, so close their knees almost touch. "I'm not kidding. I know you think I'm just bragging, but I'm good." There's a hint of pleading in his voice, the frustration clear in his eyes. "Just let me show you. It doesn't have to mean anything. Just… let me prove it."
Minho's eyebrows lift, and he stares at Jisung like he's lost his mind. "This is officially the most ridiculous thing you've ever done."
"Maybe," Jisung says with a slight grin, his fingers grazing Minho's thigh without him even realising it. "But you're curious."
Minho's eyes flicker to where Jisung's hand rests on his leg, and for a split second, Jisung sees something there, a hesitation, a crack in the calm exterior. He doesn't miss the tiny flinch, the way Minho's breath catches ever so slightly at the contact.
"Curious?" Minho repeats, his voice soft but wary. "I'm not curious. I just have… self-control. You should try it sometime."
"Self-control, huh?" Jisung's grin widens, and he leans in just a bit, enough that he knows he's pushing boundaries, but Minho hasn't moved away yet. "It's okay if you're interested. I'm just saying, if you let me, I'll change your mind."
Minho opens his mouth to retort, probably to shoot him down, but instead, he sighs, shaking his head in what seems to be a mix of resignation and exasperation. "Fine," he mutters, looking at Jisung with a glare that's more playful than angry. "Just this once. To shut you up."
Jisung's heart skips a beat, and before he knows it, he's sliding off the bed, his knees hitting the floor smoothly. He can't help the thrill that races through him. He didn't actually think Minho would agree. But now, here he is, looking up at him, fingers already slipping toward the waistband of Minho's shorts, barely believing this is actually happening.
Minho watches him with an unreadable expression, his posture tense, his gaze intense as he takes in every movement. Jisung's fingers rest on the waistband, and he pauses, glancing up to make sure he's still okay to go ahead. Minho gives him the smallest nod, his eyes dark and focused, and Jisung doesn't waste any time. He slides the shorts down, and the moment Minho's exposed, Jisung's eyes widen slightly, taking in the sight in front of him.
Oh. Minho is… big. Bigger than he'd expected. And already half-hard? Jisung feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, tempted to tease him, but he bites it back, not wanting to ruin the moment. There's a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement, and he realises just how much he's been waiting for this.
Jisung starts slow, savouring every single second. His fingers wrap around the base of Minho's cock, thumb brushing ever so gently over the tip. He doesn't go in right away, no, he has a plan. He lets his thumb tease, barely grazing the sensitive skin, watching Minho for any flicker of reaction. He knows Minho is trying to keep his expression neutral, trying to look completely unaffected, but Jisung catches the slight tension in his jaw, the way his breath hitches just a fraction.
He grins to himself, feeling a thrill of satisfaction. Got him.
Leaning forward, he gives the tip the lightest flick of his tongue, a small, barely-there touch that's just enough to make Minho's breath catch. Jisung feels a surge of confidence, so he takes it further, flattening his tongue and running it slowly along the length, from base to tip, savouring every inch. Finally, after a few more teasing licks, he wraps his lips around the head, applying just a little bit of pressure, letting Minho feel him.
Jisung glances up, locking eyes with Minho as he starts to take him deeper, going as far as he can. He can't fit all of it, but he's determined to do his best, to prove he's not all talk. Minho's breathing deepens, and Jisung feels a sense of victory, knowing he's finally chipping away at that calm exterior.
Slowly, he starts bobbing his head, establishing a steady rhythm. His hand moves where his mouth can't reach, working in sync to keep the pressure consistent, just like he's been perfecting over the years. Every so often, he pauses, pulling back just enough to focus on the head, sucking lightly, letting his tongue swirl over it. The taste of pre-cum is already there, salty and slick, and Jisung feels a surge of pride knowing he's affecting Minho this much.
He watches Minho closely, catching the little signs of his resolve slipping. Minho's fingers twitch where they're gripping the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white with the strain of holding himself back. There's a faint tremble in his arms, his chest rising and falling a little faster, and Jisung realises with satisfaction that Minho's probably fighting the urge to grab his hair. It's a thought that sends an unexpected shiver down Jisung's spine.
Jisung doesn't ease up, though. He's too committed now. He pushes himself, taking Minho as deep as he can manage, the stretch almost too much, but he's focused, refusing to give in. Minho's eyes are half-lidded, his breathing uneven, and there's this soft, barely restrained groan that slips from his lips.
"Fuck, Jisung…"
The sound of his own name in that tone, that low and wrecked, sends an involuntary shiver down Jisung's spine, and, to his horror, he feels his own body react. His cock twitches, and he curses himself internally, trying to ignore the rush of heat flooding his own system. He can't let Minho see how much this is affecting him. He's got to stay focused.
Still, there's a traitorous part of him that wishes Minho would just give in, grab his hair, and guide him, showing Jisung exactly what he wants, what feels best. He knows Minho would be gentle, probably even careful, and oh no, his mind is wandering. He mentally shakes himself, pulling his focus back to the task at hand.
He starts to move faster, increasing his rhythm, feeling the tension build as Minho's breathing becomes rougher, more laboured. Minho's head tips back, his eyes closing as he lets out a soft moan, and Jisung's almost stunned at how hot that sound is. He didn't expect to be this affected by it, but he pushes the thought down, refusing to let it show.
Instead, he just keeps going, feeling Minho's body tense even more, his hips instinctively jerking forward, nearly taking Jisung by surprise. But Jisung is prepared, steadying himself, keeping his rhythm consistent as he feels Minho getting closer, the tension building to a breaking point.
Finally, with a strangled moan, Minho comes, his release filling Jisung's mouth. Jisung doesn't pull back, swallowing everything, determined to finish what he started. He keeps his gaze locked on Minho, watching as he tries to regain his breath, his eyes half-lidded and dazed.
Jisung pulls back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he leans back on his heels, letting himself fall onto his butt on the floor. He grins up at Minho, feeling the rush of victory, fully expecting some kind of acknowledgement, some admission that, yes, he's every bit as good as he said he was.
Minho is still catching his breath, looking slightly wrecked, his chest rising and falling, his gaze a little unfocused. There's a pause, long enough for Jisung to feel a thrill of anticipation.
Finally, Minho clears his throat, blinking a few times to regain his composure. He takes a deep breath, glancing down at Jisung with a carefully neutral expression before saying, "It was… okay."
Okay?
Jisung stares at him, completely floored.
———
A few days later, Jisung finds himself in the bathroom, his lips firmly attached to Minho's cock once again. After only getting an "okay" last time, he's made it his personal mission to get more than that. He's certain Minho was lying through his teeth, and if he has to put in the work to prove his point, then he'll do it. Besides, he's starting to realise he actually likes getting Minho all hot and bothered. Maybe more than he should. So, here he is, kneeling between Minho's legs, mid-blowjob, fully committed to the task.
Minho's sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his legs spread wide, trying his best to keep that stoic expression that drives Jisung insane. But Jisung can tell he's breaking through, he can hear it in the way Minho's breath comes out a little faster, a little rougher, and in the occasional strained groan that escapes him. Even better, he can hear Minho breathe out his name, low and wrecked, and he feels his own pulse race every time. But he pushes the thought away, too focused on his mission to worry about that.
Jisung moves with intent, his hands gripping the base while his lips work their way down as far as he can go. He knows he's pushing Minho's limits when he feels a hand slide into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, and the unexpected sensation makes him freeze for just a split second. Minho's hand tightens in his hair, sending a shock down Jisung's spine, and in that moment, he knows two things with complete clarity:
One, Minho is finally going to admit Jisung's skills after this.
And two, he is hard. Like, embarrassingly hard.
He lets out an involuntary moan around Minho's cock, and the vibrations must be something, because Minho's breath hitches. The moment is almost surreal, and Jisung looks up to lock eyes with him, trying to gauge his reaction. And oh god, the way Minho's looking at him—dark eyes, lips parted, a mix of surprise and want—sends Jisung's mind spinning.
Barely thinking, Jisung removes one hand from Minho's cock and brings it down to press against the obvious problem in his own pants, a soft, frustrated moan slipping past his lips. He has to pull back for a second, gasping for breath, but he lets the tip of Minho's cock rest on his tongue, darted out in a sort of silent, accidental tease. He glances up, breathless, and sees Minho looking at him, confused, his brows knit together, until he notices exactly where Jisung's other hand is.
Jisung mumbles, "Sorry, hyung," the words coming out muffled with Minho still halfway in his mouth. He's not even sure what he's apologising for. For getting distracted? For getting turned on? But whatever it is, the apology dissolves into a low, needy moan as he presses down harder on his own arousal, desperate for some kind of relief.
Minho curses softly, his head falling back as his fingers tighten even more in Jisung's hair. Well, okay then. Jisung takes that as a cue to get back to work, bobbing his head with renewed energy, his mouth moving faster, his hand returning to the base to keep the rhythm steady. It's hard to ignore his own arousal, the ache getting worse with each moan that slips from Minho's lips. Jisung's pretty sure he's flushed from head to toe, and his heart's racing like he's about to lose his mind, but he's determined to see this through.
When Minho finally comes, Jisung doesn't hesitate. He swallows all of it, keeping his focus sharp despite the fact that he's throbbing with frustration himself. He pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he settles back on his heels, looking up at Minho with a smug smile. He's waiting, fully expecting some kind of acknowledgement that this time, he's more than just "okay."
But Minho's gaze shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Jisung, and then, with an eyebrow raised, he asks, "Jisung, did you just get turned on by this?"
Jisung feels his face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. He can practically feel his entire body heating up, and he's scrambling for an answer that won't make him sound like an absolute mess. "I mean…" he starts, but his voice is weak, trailing off as he realises there's no way he can deny it. His face must be betraying him, because Minho smirks, clearly amused by Jisung's flustered reaction.
"Really?" Minho continues, his tone half-teasing, half-sceptical. "You're actually into this? I thought this was just about proving a point."
"It is!" Jisung insists, though even he can hear the lack of conviction in his own voice. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, but with the way Minho's looking at him, half-amused and half-intrigued, it's impossible to pretend he's unaffected.
"Oh, is that right?" Minho's smirk deepens, and he leans forward, his gaze intense. "Because it doesn't look like it's just about proving a point to me. Looks like you're enjoying yourself a little too much for that."
Jisung's mouth goes dry, his heart racing as Minho's words sink in. He knows Minho's right, knows he's completely called out. But something in him refuses to back down. He squares his shoulders, lifting his chin slightly. "Maybe I am," he says, barely managing to keep the tremor out of his voice. "What about it?"
Minho chuckles, low and a little rough. He leans in closer, until Jisung can feel his breath against his face, and whispers, "Then maybe you should let me return the favour."
Next thing Jisung knows, he's sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and somehow it's Minho who's on his knees in front of him now. Jisung's brain is struggling to keep up with how they even got here, but it's hard to think when Minho's mouth is… right there. All thoughts of rivalry, all pride and ego, are melting away under the heat of Minho's touch.
And it's good. Too good, actually. Better than it has any right to be, especially considering this is Minho—his best friend—who's got his cock halfway down his throat. But it's happening, and Jisung is way too far gone to question it now. His head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, his hand resting loosely in Minho's hair, fingers curling slightly without even realising it. He's trying so hard to play it cool, to keep from making too much noise, but it's almost impossible when Minho is… well, really good at this.
Jisung hadn't expected that. At all. He thought he'd be the one showing off, proving he's got the upper hand here. But Minho, as it turns out, is annoyingly talented, each movement deliberate, controlled, and somehow knowing exactly what'll make Jisung lose his mind. He feels a shiver of pleasure travel through him, making his toes curl inside his socks.
Just as he's getting used to the sensation, letting himself sink into it, he suddenly feels Minho's fingers—slick from the pre-cum that's been pooling at the tip—moving downward, past his length, past his balls, further back until they brush against his entrance. Jisung's whole body tenses at the unexpected sensation, his breath hitching in surprise as Minho's fingers tease, poking and circling gently, testing the waters.
"Hyung!" Jisung half-moans, half-scolds, his voice coming out way more breathless than he intended.
Minho just chuckles around him, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through Jisung's body, and he feels like he might actually die on the spot. He doesn't even have time to scold Minho properly because the next second, Minho's mouth is back in full force, lips and tongue moving expertly, sucking and teasing in ways that make Jisung's head spin.
How is he this good? It's infuriating. And hot. And too much.
Jisung's fingers tighten in Minho's hair, a low, helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it. He's gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard his knuckles are white, trying desperately to keep himself grounded, but Minho is relentless, bobbing his head with a precision that's making Jisung lose all sense of reality. He can feel the heat building, the tension coiling tight in his stomach, and his breaths are coming faster, shallower.
And then, just as he's about to tip over the edge, Minho's tongue does this thing that's both a swirl and a flick, and it's game over. Jisung's back arches slightly, his hips jerking forward, and he lets out a strangled groan as he comes, every nerve in his body lighting up like a firework. Minho doesn't pull back, just keeps going, swallowing everything, and Jisung's mind goes blank as the pleasure crashes over him, intense and consuming.
When he finally comes down, Jisung slumps back against the tile, feeling completely and utterly wrecked. He's breathing hard, his whole body warm and tingling, his mind still trying to process what just happened. Minho pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at Jisung with a thoroughly smug expression that makes Jisung want to both kiss him and punch him.
Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Jisung's dazed state. "Well?" he asks, tilting his head with a look that's far too innocent for what he just did. "I think I was better than you."
Jisung's jaw drops, his post-bliss haze evaporating as the words sink in. "Excuse me?" he splutters, still catching his breath.
"Just calling it like I see it," Minho says with a shrug, but the glint in his eye tells Jisung he's very much enjoying this. "I think it's fair to say I won that round."
Jisung glares at him, though it's hard to muster up any real annoyance when he's still floating somewhere between bliss and disbelief. "You're seriously keeping score?"
Minho grins, unbothered. "You're the one who started this whole 'I'm amazing' campaign, remember?" He stands up, stretching his arms above his head in a way that feels annoyingly victorious. "I was just proving a point."
Jisung feels his competitive spirit flare back up, even as his legs are still shaky. "I don't remember agreeing to a competition," he mutters, crossing his arms as he tries to muster up some dignity. "And besides, you only think you're better because I was… distracted."
"Distracted?" Minho scoffs, his smirk widening. "Right. Sure you were."
"Yes, distracted!" Jisung insists, huffing as he pushes himself off the edge of the tub, his cheeks still warm. "It's hard to focus when you're… doing that." He clears his throat, avoiding Minho's amused gaze. "I was just caught off guard, that's all."
Minho raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a look of mock concern. "Caught off guard? By what, exactly?"
Jisung opens his mouth, but no good answer comes out. By what? The fact that his best friend just gave him the most intense blowjob of his life? That Minho's apparently a natural at this? That he didn't hate it, not even a little bit? All of the above? "Just… stuff," he finally mutters, hoping the vague answer will get him out of this conversation.
Minho snorts, clearly unimpressed. "Right. Well, feel free to 'distract' me anytime, since you're so confident in your skills." He winks, and Jisung's brain short-circuits for what feels like the tenth time that evening.
"Maybe I will," Jisung fires back, though his voice wavers slightly. He hopes he sounds confident, but even he can tell it comes off as more of a bluff than a real threat. What is wrong with him?
Minho smirks, looking Jisung up and down in a way that's half-amused, half-sincere. "I'll hold you to that, legend."
Jisung's face goes bright red, but he's too stubborn to back down. "Fine."
They stand there in silence for a beat, neither one willing to be the first to look away. Jisung's heart is still pounding, his mind racing as he tries to process what just happened, what they're even doing. But somehow, it doesn't feel as weird as it probably should. In fact, he feels a strange sense of relief, like a weight has been lifted, even if it came with Minho's infuriating smirk.
Finally, Minho breaks the silence, his tone softer, more genuine. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Jisung rolls his eyes, though he can't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "No, I guess not."
———
Jisung doesn't know how it's come to this, but here he is, again. Minho is lying back, looking way too comfortable, and Jisung is straddling his legs, Minho's cock in his mouth, bobbing his head like he's got something to prove. He isn't even sure why he's doing it anymore. Minho's stubbornness knows no bounds, and every time, he somehow manages to avoid admitting that Jisung's any good at this. But here they are, doing it again. Which clearly means that neither of them actually cares about who's winning this so-called contest, and they both, apparently, like it.
Jisung keeps moving, his head bobbing up and down with a pace that's both determined and, admittedly, a little exhausting. He grips Minho's thighs to keep himself steady, feeling the heat of Minho's skin under his hands, the faint tremble in his muscles every time Jisung does something he likes. Minho's hand is in his hair, guiding him in this subtle, almost teasing way that's driving Jisung insane, keeping him on edge, making him want to do even better. But honestly, it's a workout in this position. His neck's starting to ache, and he's about five seconds away from asking Minho if he's going to give him any credit this time.
And then, Minho shifts his knee, lifting it just enough to press right against Jisung's painfully hard cock. Jisung freezes, his breath catching, and he's absolutely certain Minho did that on purpose. Minho's fingers tighten in his hair, and Jisung lifts his head, momentarily forgetting all about the whole 'proving his skills' thing as he instinctively grinds down against Minho's knee, a quiet moan slipping from his lips.
It feels so good he does it again, pressing down a little harder, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensation sends sparks up his spine. For a moment, he's completely lost, all thoughts of the competition fading away. He's so distracted he almost forgets what he's supposed to be doing, until he hears Minho say his name, that low, amused tone that makes Jisung's face heat up.
Before Jisung can even process what's happening, Minho's hands are on his shoulders, gently but firmly pulling him up until he's straddling Minho's hips, his body pressed right up against Minho's. The shift brings him face-to-face with Minho, and he feels the unmistakable pressure of Minho's cock pressing against his own, even through their clothes. Jisung stares down at him, confused, his mind still foggy from the feeling of Minho's knee.
"Like this better?" Minho murmurs, his hands sliding to Jisung's hips, pressing him down so their bodies grind together in a way that's far too delicious for Jisung's dignity.
Jisung can't form a coherent reply. His mouth opens, but all that comes out is a desperate, muffled moan as he instinctively rolls his hips, the friction making his mind go blank. What the hell was he even doing a few seconds ago? He can't remember. All he knows is he needs more of that friction, the delicious pressure between them.
He starts grinding down against Minho, his hands bracing themselves on Minho's chest as his head falls forward, burying his face in Minho's neck. Minho's hands shift, sliding down to his butt, squeezing and guiding his movements, pressing him down harder. Jisung's hips rock with a steady rhythm, his body moving without a second thought, completely giving in to the sensation as Minho bucks up into him, meeting his movements, adding to the pressure that's building fast, way faster than he's prepared for.
Everything becomes a blur of sensation, the heat between them, the steady drag of their bodies against each other, the way Minho's hands are keeping him exactly where he wants him, and the low, encouraging murmurs coming from Minho's mouth. Jisung is so far gone he doesn't even realise how close he is until it's too late, until his body tenses and he comes with a soft, choked moan, his hips stuttering against Minho as the pleasure overwhelms him.
And then it hits him. Oh god. He just came. In his pants.
He feels the embarrassment crash over him, his face going bright red as he slumps forward, burying his face even further into Minho's neck to hide his shame. This is, hands down, the most humiliating moment of his life. Not only did he come way too fast, but he did it… like this. In his clothes. His best friend's lap. Perfect.
Minho's body shakes beneath him, and it takes Jisung a second to realise he's laughing. Jisung groans, his face burning, and tries to hide even further, practically curling into Minho to avoid facing him. He's not going to live this down, not in a million years.
Minho wraps his arms around Jisung, holding him close with that smug, infuriating warmth. And then, as if he hasn't already ruined Jisung's life, he has the audacity to say, "You know, I didn't come yet."
Jisung feels his entire soul die a little. The embarrassment is too much, and the only response he can muster, muffled against Minho's neck, is, "Like I give a fuck."
Minho chuckles again, his hand coming up to pat Jisung's back, as if he's some misbehaving puppy. "Aw, poor thing," he teases, rubbing gentle circles on Jisung's back, clearly savouring every second of Jisung's humiliation. "Guess you just couldn't help yourself, huh?"
"Shut up," Jisung mutters, the words practically a whimper. He's mortified, his entire body flushed, and Minho's teasing just makes it ten times worse. He's starting to regret everything, wondering how he even got himself into this situation.
Minho's fingers trace lazy patterns along Jisung's spine, his voice turning surprisingly gentle. "Hey, I'm just saying," he murmurs, and Jisung can practically hear the smirk in his tone. "It's cute."
"Cute?" Jisung pulls back just enough to glare at him, though his face is still bright red. "I am not cute."
"Sure you aren't," Minho says, clearly unconvinced. His hand moves to cup Jisung's face, his thumb brushing lightly over his cheek, and Jisung feels his heart do an annoyingly traitorous flip. "But, just for the record, this isn't exactly what I had in mind when you were all bragging about your skills, legend."
Jisung groans again, burying his face back into Minho's shoulder. "Please, please stop talking," he mumbles, praying for the earth to swallow him whole.
Minho laughs, low and warm, and his arms tighten around Jisung, holding him close in a way that feels almost too comforting, too… affectionate. It's the kind of warmth that makes Jisung's embarrassment start to fade, even if he doesn't want to admit it.
They lie there in silence for a moment, Jisung's heart still racing as he tries to calm himself, Minho's hand still stroking soothing patterns on his back. He's surprised by how comfortable it feels, how the awkwardness seems to dissolve in the quiet.
Finally, Minho breaks the silence, his voice softer, more genuine. "You know… you don't have to prove anything to me, right?"
Jisung lifts his head, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Wait, now you're saying that? After all this?"
Minho shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Guess I wanted to see how far you'd go to prove it."
Jisung scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Unbelievable. You're the worst."
"Yeah, but you kind of like me anyway," Minho says, his grin turning soft, almost playful.
Jisung freezes. Minho's words hang in the air, soft but teasing, and for a second, Jisung considers just brushing it off, making some dumb joke to keep things light. But he's tired of skirting around this, tired of pretending he doesn't feel something deeper than he's ever felt for anyone else. So, with a shaky breath, he lets the words tumble out before he can second-guess himself.
"You know, I think I do. Like, actually like like you. Like, more than best friends—"
Minho snorts, cutting him off. "You say the word like way too much."
Jisung glares, cheeks flaming. "Okay, well, I'm in the middle of confessing here, so maybe don't—"
But before he can finish, Minho's hand cups the back of his head, pulling him down, and then Minho's mouth is on his. It's soft at first, gentle, as if Minho's giving him the chance to pull away if he wants to. But Jisung's brain short-circuits, and then he's kissing back, melting into it, and god, it's maybe the best feeling he's ever had in his life.
All his thoughts scatter, the world fading until there's only the warmth of Minho's mouth, the softness of his lips, the gentle press and pull as they fall into a rhythm. Jisung's hand slips up to cup Minho's cheek, feeling the smile that tugs at the corners of Minho's mouth as they deepen the kiss. It's tender but fierce, like it's been a long time coming, like Minho's been waiting for this as much as he has.
They pull apart slightly, foreheads resting together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Jisung opens his eyes, but he doesn't need Minho to say anything. He feels it in the way Minho's hand lingers at the nape of his neck, thumb brushing softly against his skin. He feels it in the gentle look in Minho's eyes, in the warmth radiating between them, in the way they're both trying to catch their breath with shy, almost disbelieving smiles.
And that's when Jisung realises he doesn't need Minho to say it back, because it's already there in the way he holds him.