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“I need someone to take me to bed.”
That’s what Jisung had said just a week ago while venting to Felix, his best friend since childhood, sprawled across his bed in a dramatic fit of desperation.
Ever since he’d broken up with his asshole of an ex, Jisung hadn’t exactly had the chance—or the mental space—to have fun again. His thoughts were occupied, almost obsessively, by one particular boy from their university: Lee Minho.
Popular, absurdly hot, and with thighs that looked strong enough to crush a watermelon—strong enough to make Jisung fantasize about grinding down on them, trembling as he came undone. The kind of thighs that haunted dreams and made lectures unbearable.
The problem? They’d barely spoken. And every time they had , it was Minho who had initiated the conversation. Because Jisung? He was a shy, submissive mess who wouldn’t dare strike up a conversation out of nowhere. The mere idea of annoying Minho—or worse, making a fool of himself—made his stomach twist.
“That someone is obviously Minho,” Felix had said with an eye-roll so hard Jisung was surprised they didn’t get stuck that way. He was beyond tired of hearing about Minho and how much Jisung wanted to get railed bent over a random unused desk on campus. If nothing else, at least the boy had imagination.
That talk had ended with Felix giving Jisung the same advice he’d given him a hundred times before: stop being so shy and go for it . Try seducing him. Take a damn risk.
And what better place to be bold and flirty than a party?
Alcohol, music, dancing—
The holy trinity for bad decisions and unforgettable nights.
Or, in Jisung’s case, hopefully the unforgettable night he’d been craving for far too long.
There was just one small issue: Jisung didn’t really want Minho just for a hookup. Not really. Somewhere along the line, in between the stolen glances and the filthy fantasies, he’d managed to catch real feelings.
His heart twitched when he saw him on campus. (And, well—so did his dick.)
~
On Tuesday, Jisung was walking across campus after his morning classes, ready to meet up with Felix and head to the cafeteria for lunch.
That was the plan, at least. Until he caught sight of him .
From a distance, Jisung’s steps slowed, and then stopped completely. His eyes were locked on Minho, like they had a magnetic pull. The boy had just left the building—same time as always—and Jisung knew exactly what came next.
He’d memorized Minho’s post-class routine without really meaning to. It just… happened. Minho would stroll casually through the central courtyard, stop by the stone path near the art building, and feed a stray cat that had basically become the university’s unofficial mascot. Then, he’d settle on one of the benches, put in his earbuds, and zone out to music for a good ten or fifteen minutes. After that, he’d head to the campus café and grab his usual lunch: a meat sandwich and tiramisu for dessert.
Okay, sure—Jisung sounded like a stalker. But it wasn’t like he tried to keep tabs on all this. It was more like… observation through exposure. He’d just seen Minho so often, at different times and on different days, that eventually his routine etched itself into Jisung’s brain like a familiar playlist on repeat.
But this Tuesday, something was off.
Minho didn’t head toward the stray cat. He didn’t sit on his favorite bench or even pause to reach for his earbuds.
Instead, he walked straight toward the cafeteria.
Jisung blinked, confused—and weirdly anxious.
“You’re creepy,” Felix’s voice broke through from behind him. Jisung jumped.
Felix gave him a once-over and added, “Actually, no—you’re a full-on maniac.”
“If I don’t give him a blowjob soon, I might actually die,” Jisung whispered dramatically.
“Oh, okay, Mr. ‘I’m totally not in love with the hottest guy on campus’. ”
“I’m not in love,” Jisung sighed. “I have a crush. And a severe, possibly life-threatening case of horniness.”
Felix just gave him a knowing look. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
They started walking toward the cafeteria together, but Jisung’s legs felt like lead when they stepped through the door. His stomach flipped. There he was—Minho—already at the buffet table, casually putting some food on his tray like he wasn’t a walking sex fantasy with perfect cheekbones.
Jisung immediately froze. “I can’t go over there yet. Not while he’s still in line.”
But Felix had no patience for that. He grabbed Jisung by the arm and dragged him forward.
And then Minho turned and spoke to Felix .
Of course. They shared the same English class. Of course they knew each other.
“Oh, hey Yongbok,” Minho said, smiling as he added a couple slices of bread to his tray.
“You’re eating in the cafeteria today?” Felix asked, clearly unfazed.
“Yeah,” Minho shrugged. “I wanted a change. Got sick of the same old sandwich every day.”
Felix elbowed Jisung—hard.
Jisung let out a startled breath and stared wide-eyed at his best friend, who mouthed the words t alk to him. Like it wasn’t the scariest command in the world.
Jisung exhaled shakily, steeling himself.
“H-hey Minho.” He raised a hand in a small wave, already wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow him whole.
Minho looked up, and smiled—soft and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey Jisung. You good?”
Jisung loved the way Minho said his name. He didn’t love the sudden rush of heat it sent straight to his lower stomach.
“Y-yeah! All gay—I mean! All ‘kay! I’m okay!”
Felix slapped a hand over his face, shaking his head in sheer disappointment.
Minho laughed—actually laughed. And somehow that made everything worse.
Jisung wanted to run.
No, he wanted to teleport to another country.
No— another planet . Maybe even bury himself under several kilometers of concrete and never be seen again.
Of course, despite Jisung’s very obvious discomfort, Felix didn’t let him off the hook—not even for a second.
“Wanna eat with us?” Felix asked Minho casually, as if he hadn’t just thrown Jisung into a social panic spiral.
And Jisung, in that exact moment, sent a silent prayer to every known deity, hoping Minho would politely decline. Say he had plans. Say he needed to call his mom. Say he forgot his wallet— literally anything .
But fate, apparently, hated him.
“Sure,” Minho replied with a soft smile. “Why not?”
And that’s how Jisung found himself sitting across from Minho in the cafeteria, heart racing, hands sweating, and stomach doing backflips. He barely remembered picking up his tray. Somehow, his body had gone into autopilot. And now he was sitting at the same table as the guy he’d been crushing on for months .
Felix, of course, looked way too pleased with himself.
They settled into their seats, and for a moment, there was silence. Jisung stared down at his tray like it held the secrets of the universe. Minho was already unwrapping his cutlery, cool and calm, like this wasn’t a major life event for someone at the table.
“So,” Felix began, taking a bite of his pasta, “Minho, did you do that essay for English Lit or are you planning to charm the professor again with your tragic backstory about your cat pissing on your laptop?”
Minho chuckled. “First of all, that story was true. And second, I actually finished it last night. Miracles happen.”
Jisung laughed—except it came out more like a nervous snort. A weird, high-pitched sound that made everyone pause.
Minho looked at him, amused. “You good?”
Jisung went rigid. “Y-yeah! I just—sorry, I remembered a meme. Like. A really funny meme. With a cat. In a hat. It—it rhymed.”
Felix slowly turned his head toward him with the expression of someone watching a person fall off a cliff in slow motion.
Minho laughed again. “A cat in a hat meme, huh? Gotta love the internet.”
Jisung wanted to die . Or at least teleport into the trash bin nearby and stay there forever. But it only got worse.
Because just as he was trying to calm himself, his hand knocked over his water bottle—and it rolled straight across the table, hit Minho’s tray, and tipped his tiramisu slightly off the edge.
“Oh my God—I’m so sorry—your dessert—your precious dessert—”
Minho caught the plastic cup with ninja reflexes and laughed, amused but not annoyed. “Relax, it survived. Tiramisu’s tough like that.”
Felix leaned back in his seat and muttered, “You’re not.”
Jisung groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“Can someone just smother me with a napkin? Please?”
Minho smiled, shaking his head as he took a bite of the dessert. “You’re funny, Jisung.”
Jisung peeked through his fingers. “Funny as in ‘cute and charming’ or funny as in ‘circus clown?’”
Minho looked at him thoughtfully for a second. “Both.”
Jisung short-circuited on the spot.
Felix, for his part, was already texting someone under the table: It’s happening. He’s malfunctioning. Call a medic.
Lunch, despite Jisung’s inner meltdown, continued more or less normally.
At least, as normal as it could be when your long-time crush was sitting across from you looking like he’d stepped straight out of a thirst trap fantasy. Every time Minho spoke to him—even just to ask something innocent like “So, how are exams going for you?”—Jisung could feel his soul trying to flee his body.
How were exams going? Terrible. Because every time I try to study, I imagine you bent over my desk. Shirt half off. Sweat on your neck. Okay, STOP.
He managed to stammer out a half-decent response and even laughed at a couple of Felix’s jokes—though he didn’t really hear them. His brain was too busy screaming: MINHO IS TALKING TO ME. HIS VOICE IS SO NICE. HIS JAWLINE COULD CUT ME AND I’D SAY THANK YOU.
And then, just when Jisung thought he might survive the meal without dying of secondhand embarrassment, Felix opened his mouth and dropped a casual bomb.
“So… you guys heard about the party the seniors are throwing this Friday?”
Jisung froze mid-bite. Oh no. Oh no no no . He knew exactly where this was going.
Minho perked up a little. “Oh yeah? You two going?”
He looked at both of them, but Jisung swore his eyes lingered on him for just a second longer. Or maybe that was just wishful, horny thinking. Hard to tell these days.
Felix leaned in, voice dropping like he was sharing classified intel.
“Well, I’ve got someone to go with—my boyfriend’s gonna be there,” he said with a smirk, then gestured vaguely toward Jisung, “but this guy ? Completely date-less.”
“Felix.” Jisung shot him a side-eye so sharp it could’ve taken down a building.
Felix ignored him completely and slapped a hand over Jisung’s mouth.
“You and Jisung could totally go together,” he said, now directly to Minho. “We’ll meet you there later.”
Jisung wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He fully expected Minho to laugh awkwardly, say no, or worse—just get weirded out and leave.
But instead, Minho smiled.
“I’m cool with that… if Jisung’s okay with it.”
Felix slowly removed his hand from Jisung’s face.
And Jisung, smiling like a malfunctioning NPC, somehow managed to mumble, “Y-yeah! Sure! That sounds… great!”
The moment they were out of earshot and walking down the path toward the dorms, Jisung punched Felix in the arm—not hard, but definitely with emotion .
“Are you insane ? I was dying in there! You ambushed me like a damn reality show host!”
Felix just laughed. “You’ll thank me later. Probably while naked.”
“FELIX!”
“Oh come on,” Felix rolled his eyes. “Minho literally agreed without hesitation. He could’ve said no. Could’ve played it off. But he didn’t. He wants to go with you , dummy.”
Jisung groaned into his hands. “He was just being polite. That’s what nice people do. I’m gonna show up and he’s gonna pretend to have food poisoning or, like, spontaneously combust.”
Felix gave him a sideways look. “Okay, but real talk? You’re hot. And you know it.”
“I—wait—what?”
“I mean it. And Minho’s not blind. Do you know how many people would kill to go to that party with him? And he just agreed to go with the guy who snorted over a cat meme and nearly murdered his tiramisu.”
“…God, don’t remind me.”
Felix grinned wickedly. “Look. When Friday comes, you need to make a move.”
“What kind of move?”
“The kind that starts with grinding on him to bad music and ends with you getting railed in someone’s upstairs bedroom. Maybe the laundry room if you’re desperate.”
Jisung nearly choked on his own breath. “FELIX.”
“I’m just saying,” Felix said, holding up his hands. “He said yes. He looked at you like he wouldn’t mind seeing what’s under that oversized hoodie. And Minho’s a flirt. A confident one. If you give him any opening, he’ll take it.”
Jisung’s face turned cherry red. “You think… he’d actually be into it?”
“I think if you showed up at that party wearing something tight and let your hands linger a little too long on his arm, he’d absolutely not mind. And probably drag you into the nearest closet.”
Jisung stopped walking and just stared into space. “Okay, I need to… I don’t know. Sit down. Scream into a pillow. Shave my entire body.”
Felix snorted. “You’re such a virgin.”
“And you’re evil.”
“Maybe. But I’m getting you laid on Friday. You’re welcome.”
~
The days leading up to Friday nearly killed Jisung.
His brain was in overdrive, his heart pulsing with a mix of excitement and pure panic. Because honestly… how the hell was he supposed to handle any of this?
Especially when the truth was: he was basically a virgin.
Sure, he’d had sex—twice. With his ex. Who had probably been even more clueless than he was. Neither time had been remotely enjoyable. No orgasms. No fireworks. Just awkward, rushed movements and the creeping realization that this couldn’t possibly be what everyone was so obsessed with.
Honestly, he felt more pleasure when he was alone. When he used his fingers, or—God help him—that ridiculous Bluetooth dildo Felix had given him for his birthday. The kind you control from a phone app.
It was pink. It vibrated in patterns. And it had definitely made him scream once or twice.
Should I bring that? he wondered, staring at the box in the back of his drawer. No. Absolutely not. That’s insane. Unless…?
By 3 PM on Friday, Felix barged into his dorm room with a bag of “options”—which, knowing Felix, meant chaos.
“Okay slut, get naked. We’re making you look fuckable tonight,” Felix declared, already tossing clothes on Jisung’s bed like he was filming a makeover montage.
Jisung groaned. “Do we have to go full thirst trap? Can’t I just be cute?”
Felix gave him a look. “You’re always cute. That’s the problem. Tonight you need to be hot. You’re trying to seduce Minho, not adopt a puppy.”
After some trial and error—and a heated debate over how much skin was “too much”—they landed on the outfit .
Black ripped jeans , tight and just low enough to show a hint of his hipbones. A mesh shirt , sheer and clinging to his skin, revealing the curve of his collarbone and the faint outline of his chest. And over that, a short cropped bomber jacket , black and silver, just enough to look cool without hiding too much.
“No one’s going to be looking at your face,” Felix said proudly, hands on his hips. “In the best way possible.”
Jisung looked at himself in the mirror and barely recognized the guy staring back.
Holy shit, he thought. I’d kiss me.
Then Felix, ever the menace, flopped onto Jisung’s bed and sighed dramatically. “Okay, listen. If you do end up getting railed tonight—which, by the way, you better—you need to loosen up.”
Jisung narrowed his eyes. “You’re not seriously going to start talking about sex toys now—”
“ Too late. ” Felix cut him off. “You still have that Bluetooth dildo I gave you?”
Jisung turned red. “Maybe.”
“Did you use it this week? Because if you didn’t do some prep, honey, you are not walking tomorrow.”
“Felix!”
“I’m just saying! Stretch a little, hydrate, breathe through it. And maybe pack the lube in your bag. Just in case.”
Jisung grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
Felix laughed, ruffling his hair. “You’re going to be fine. He likes you. I know he does.”
“You think he does.”
“No,” Felix said, standing and grabbing his coat. “I know he does. The way he looked at you at lunch? If he doesn’t want to kiss you tonight, I’ll eat my own shoe.”
Jisung chuckled weakly. “Thanks for being the most chaotic support system ever.”
Felix grinned. “It’s what I do best. Now go get your man. And if you end up handcuffed to someone’s headboard tonight, send me a thumbs-up emoji.”
And with that, he was gone.
Now alone in his dorm, Jisung sat on the edge of his bed. He checked the time. Minho was supposed to pick him up in twenty minutes.
His leg bounced nervously. He stood, then sat again. Fixed his hair. Changed his mind and tousled it a little. Sprayed more cologne—then panicked that it was too much.
He checked himself in the mirror. Adjusted his jeans. His mesh shirt clung perfectly now, showing the slight definition of his chest. His skin was glowing just a bit, thanks to the body oil Felix had insisted on rubbing into his collarbones “for effect.”
He looked… good. Better than good.
But still, his heart was racing. Because Minho wasn’t just hot—he was Minho . The guy who lived rent-free in his brain and his late-night fantasies.
What if he doesn’t like the outfit? What if he thinks I’m trying too hard? What if I say something dumb again? What if he kisses me and I faint like an idiot?
Jisung flopped backward onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
“I’m gonna combust,” he whispered.
And then his phone buzzed.
[Minho 🐾 ]: Outside. You ready? :)
Jisung sat up so fast he nearly dislocated something.
He grabbed his phone, took a deep breath, and smiled.
[You]: Be right down. :)
It was time.
Jisung grabbed his bag and did a final check.
Phone? Check.
Wallet? Check.
Tiny bottle of lube he bought months ago just in case he ever got lucky at a party? Also check.
It had been sitting untouched in his drawer since that night, when nothing had happened. But tonight… maybe it wouldn’t go to waste.
He wasn’t expecting anything. But he wasn’t not expecting anything either.
With a deep breath, he slipped the bag over his shoulder and headed toward the door. His boots clicked softly against the hallway floor as he made his way down to the dorm entrance, heart thudding against his ribcage like a war drum.
As he neared the front glass doors, he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection. His mesh shirt shimmered subtly in the low light. His jaw looked sharp. His eyes—determined.
You are sexy. You are confident. He wants you. He’s already halfway gone for you, he told himself.
Make him beg.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the evening air. And there he was— Minho , leaning casually against the driver’s side of his car, black leather jacket on, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other lazily scrolling through his phone.
When he looked up and saw Jisung, he smiled. That slow, unreadable smile that made Jisung’s knees feel like they could bend the wrong way.
“Hey,” Minho said, pushing off the car. “Damn… you clean up nice.”
Jisung laughed, trying not to sound like he’d just swallowed his own tongue. “Thanks. You too. I mean—you always look good. Not that I’ve been… noticing. Constantly. Or anything.”
Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Uh huh. Should I be flattered or scared?”
“Hopefully flattered,” Jisung muttered, cheeks pink. “I tried not to look too desperate.”
“You failed,” Minho teased with a wink, then opened the passenger door for him. “Get in.”
Inside the car , the air was cool, the scent of Minho’s cologne lingering softly. Something earthy, musky, and unfairly distracting.
Jisung buckled up, then realized his thigh was barely a few inches from Minho’s.
If I slide my hand just a little to the left… no. Behave. For now.
“So,” Minho said, pulling onto the main road, “are you ready for this party? Or do you secretly hate dancing?”
“I’m ready,” Jisung replied, lips curving into a smirk. “I mean, depends who I’m dancing with .”
Minho glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.” Jisung looked out the window, then back at Minho, letting his gaze linger just a second too long. “If the right person asks… I might even dance on them.”
Minho let out a low laugh. “Damn. You’re bolder than I thought.”
“Just a little. It’s Friday night. I’m allowed to flirt irresponsibly.”
“Flirt irresponsibly,” Minho repeated, clearly enjoying this. “Is that a warning?”
“Depends,” Jisung said, fingers toying with the zipper of his bomber jacket. “Would it be a problem if I turned up the heat a little?”
Minho leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other casually dropping to his thigh. “I think I could handle it.”
Oh, Jisung thought. We’re really doing this.
His heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from nerves anymore. It was adrenaline. Lust. The promise of something just out of reach but getting closer by the second.
If we keep this up, he thought, I wouldn’t mind pulling him into an alley, shoving him in the backseat, and riding him like a damn prize.
He bit his lip.
Minho shifted gears, and the car glided forward smoothly. “You look like you’re thinking something dangerous.”
Jisung tilted his head, letting his lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Maybe I am.”
After that they arrived at the party and Minho had just opened the passenger door for him and placed a hand at the small of his back as they walked across the garden toward the house.
No more fantasy. Not yet.
They paused at the open patio doors. Jisung took a deep breath, breath tasting like mint and nerves.
Minho leaned in, brushing lips nearly against his ear. “Ready?”
Jisung swallowed, tipped his chin up, and nodded. “Absolutely.”
Hand in hand, they stepped into the night—into the party, into possibility, and into something very… promising.
They pulled into the driveway of a massive, mansion‑like house—belonging to one of the senior rich kids.
Even before they got out, Jisung’s body hummed with adrenaline and something darker. Consumption-level excitement.
Minho killed the engine. With a smile that flickered between playful and electric, he reached over and slid his hand into Jisung’s. Jisung’s breath hitched.
“I’ll get us a drink,” Minho said softly—but firmly—and squeezed his hand before leading him toward the front door.
Inside, the foyer exploded with music and chatter. A sea of bodies, flashing lights, and that pulsing energy you only get when a ton of twenty-year-olds decide to party hard. Jisung tried scanning for Felix… but already, he was lost somewhere in the crowd.
So maybe Felix was right, Jisung thought, his pulse racing. Minho is a flirt. And if he’s flirting with me… maybe he could really want me.
Minho steered him toward the kitchen, where the lights were dimmer and a small bar had been set up on the counter. He grabbed two tall, colorful cocktails and handed one to Jisung.
“Here,” he said close to his ear. “Something to loosen you up.”
Jisung accepted it with shaky fingers. The herb‑sweet scent of the drink mixed with Minho’s cologne and made his head spin.
Their proximity was intoxicating. Minho’s hand slid from his to linger on the small of his back as he guided him closer to a counter corner out of the way of the crowd.
“So,” Minho said, voice low and teasing, “you’re doing okay?”
Jisung’s throat had suddenly gone dry. “Better now,” he managed, voice husky.
Minho’s eyes flicked to his lips. “That mesh shirt… looks even better in here.”
God, Jisung thought. He noticed. His heartbeat hammered in his ears.
It was Minho’s turn to flirt, and damn—he was good at it. Like Felix had predicted, this boy knew how to work it. Jisung felt heat flood his skin and suddenly understood what Felix meant.
Maybe… this could actually happen.
They stayed silent after that, letting the music and warmth guide them toward the back garden.
The house itself was enormous: glittering lights, palm trees, rooms overflowing with people. But Jisung was fixated on two things: Minho’s hand still curled around his, and the slow thrum in his groin that told him he was dangerously, deliciously turned on.
The way he drove me here… those glances in the car… the way he absolutely noticed me biting my lip to stop myself from jumping him. Jisung’s mind raced with what could’ve been—a car ride gone wild. The feel of the upholstery, Minho’s hand around his waist as he rode him hard, the sheer thrill of sex in that cramped backseat… Jisung even fantasized about accidentally honking the horn with his ass, both of them bursting into laughter mid‑fuck.
Boy, he’d love to test that theory sometime.
The moment they stepped into the garden, the music faded into a pulsing background hum, letting the warmth of the summer night settle around them. The backyard was lit with soft string lights hung across tall trees, casting golden glows over the groups of students scattered on lounge chairs and around high tables.
Jisung barely had time to take it all in before Minho leaned in, voice low and rough near his ear again.
“You always bite your lip like that when you’re thinking dirty?”
Jisung’s heart skipped an entire beat. He didn’t even realize he was doing it again. His teeth had caught his lower lip out of sheer nervous habit. But now—well, now he had Minho’s full attention.
“Maybe,” Jisung replied, his voice steadier than expected. “Or maybe I do it when someone’s staring at my mouth too much.”
Minho smirked, and that smirk could burn through layers of clothing.
“Guilty,” he said. “It’s a nice mouth.”
Jisung chuckled, tongue darting out briefly as he sipped his drink. “You’re kind of dangerous when you flirt.”
Minho stepped closer, and Jisung felt the heat of him instantly. Their arms brushed. Minho’s gaze dropped briefly to Jisung’s chest, where the mesh shirt revealed just enough skin to drive anyone insane. Then his eyes locked back with Jisung’s.
“You haven’t even seen me really flirt yet.”
Jisung raised a brow. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“Oh, it is.”
There was a flicker of tension, like a wire stretched tight between them. Minho took Jisung’s drink and set it down on the edge of a patio table. Then, without asking, he stepped into his space fully, one hand brushing lightly against Jisung’s waist.
His voice was a velvet tease. “I bet you’re one of those guys who likes it when someone takes control.”
Jisung swallowed hard. His voice dropped.
“Depends who’s doing the controlling.”
Minho grinned. “And if it were me?”
Jisung tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Then I’d probably let you get away with a lot.”
Minho’s fingers skimmed the hem of Jisung’s mesh shirt—barely there, but definitely intentional.
“Good,” Minho murmured. “Because I’m thinking about getting away with a few things right now.”
Jisung’s breath hitched. Fuck.
Was it the alcohol? The heat? The low thrum of music? The feeling of being pressed chest-to-chest with the campus’s most perfect man? All he knew was that his thighs felt warm, his stomach was tight, and his jeans were getting uncomfortable.
He stepped closer, erasing the final inch between them. “You should stop talking like that unless you’re gonna follow through.”
Minho didn’t miss a beat. “Who said I wouldn’t?”
A pause.
They were too close now. The kind of close where a kiss was just a breath away. The kind of close where Jisung’s heart threatened to leap out of his chest.
And just when he thought Minho might go for it—
“JISUNG!”
A voice—loud, chaotic, familiar—cut through the moment like a crashing cymbal. Felix, of course.
Jisung blinked, breathless, turning just enough to see his best friend waving dramatically from the house.
Minho leaned back with a deep, sultry laugh, licking his lips. “Saved by the Bok.”
Jisung groaned under his breath. “I’m going to kill him.”
But Minho grabbed Jisung’s wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it, and leaned in one more time.
“Later tonight,” he whispered, brushing his lips just barely against Jisung’s jaw. “We’ll finish this.”
Minho and Jisung followed the soft glow of string lights and laughter to where Felix stood beside his boyfriend, Chan, near a small drink table. Felix was halfway through a colorful cocktail—and two sheets to the wind.
“Jisung! Minho!” he slurred cheerfully, waving them over. Chan offered a friendly wave too. “You made it!”
Minho handed Jisung’s drink to Chan. “Good to see you, Felix. Thanks.”
Felix squinted, pointing a finger at Jisung. “Hey! You brought the lube, huh?” His grin widened like a Cheshire cat. “Smart move, dude. Always be prepared.”
Jisung flushed, face bright red. “Shut—Felix!” he hissed. But the alcohol-fuzzed crowd barely noticed, whether out of consideration or because they were too drunk to care.
Minho, though, just chuckled quietly, his gaze sliding from Jisung’s cheeks to the bulge in Jisung’s jeans. “Thoughtful,” he murmured, tone low enough that only Jisung could hear. “You really think ahead.”
Felix laughed loudly, nearly spitting out Chan’s drink. “He’s a good planner. Thumb me a pic later, Jisung. Context is context.”
Jisung elbowed him. “Felix!” His tone was playful, but there was a spark of menace. Felix just laughed and wrapped an arm around Chan as Jisung and Minho excused themselves.
They slipped away from the group, arms linked, cutting back through the fragrant summer night toward the quieter part of the garden. Music and laughter drifted behind them like heat waves.
Minho paused under an overhead string of fairy lights, staring at Jisung with an intensity that made his heart thud. The night air felt suddenly heavy with anticipation.
“Where were we?” Minho whispered, stepping in close enough that Jisung could feel the warm brush of his thighs between his own legs.
Jisung swallowed, voice husky. “You were… saying you wanted to get away with a few things.”
Minho’s hand came up, sliding into Jisung’s hair, tilting his head so their lips hovered inches apart. “And I still want to.”
He pressed his forehead to Jisung’s, and exhaled slowly, as if savoring the tension. Then he kissed Jisung—slow, teasing. Tongue brushing lightly across the seam of his lips. It was deliberate. It was focused. It sent heat surging down into Jisung’s core.
Jisung’s breath caught. He felt Minho’s body press forward, hand braced against the tree behind him, trapping him in place. Jisung slipped his arms around Minho’s waist, pressing closer, responding to the hunger in Minho’s kiss.
It deepened then. Tongues exploring, searching. Jisung tasted slightly of mint and anxiety, and it was intoxicating. Minho’s other hand slid down, skin brushing over the front of Jisung’s jeans, lingering.
Jisung moaned softly, tilting his head back. His own hand found Minho’s belt loop, fingers trailing encouragement.
Minho pulled back just a fraction. His voice was a low growl. “You taste like fuck.”
“Then keep going,” Jisung whispered, voice trembling with want.
Minho wasted no time. He captured Jisung’s mouth again, harder this time, one hand traveling under the mesh shirt to press against warm skin. Sparks flew from the touch.
Jisung’s mind went blank. Body felt electric, everything else faded—Felix’s drunken antics, the glow of the party, all gone but for the sensation of Minho’s skin, his mouth, his hand brushing lower.
Their kiss broke only when the night air and the distant pounding music pressed in again. They stayed close, foreheads touching.
Minho’s breath was hot. “Ready to see what I can really do… in private?”
Jisung didn’t hesitate. His voice was a whisper and a promise. “More than ready.”
Minho smiled, dark and wicked under the fairy lights. “Then come with me.”
They stood there for a moment, tucked into the shadows of the garden, barely lit by flickering party lights. Jisung’s heart thudded in his chest, not just from the kiss—but from the unspoken words burning in the back of his throat.
He bit his lip, eyes flicking up to Minho’s. “Can I tell you something kind of… insane?”
Minho arched a brow, still close enough that his breath warmed Jisung’s cheek. “You just made out with me under a tree in front of half the senior class. I think I can handle insane.”
Jisung swallowed, then leaned in a little, voice low and breathless. “I… I’ve fantasized about riding you in your car.”
Minho froze.
His breath caught in his throat—visibly. The playful glint in his eyes turned molten. His jaw clenched slightly, and he blinked once, slowly. Then he let out a long, shaky exhale like someone trying to hold onto the last threads of their control.
“…Fuck.”
That one word—heavy, strained—spoke volumes.
Jisung didn’t move, didn’t dare speak. He could practically feel the tension crackle between them.
Minho licked his lips, eyes raking over Jisung like he was something edible. “You’ve… actually thought about that?”
Jisung nodded slowly. “More than once. Like… you driving while I’m in your lap. Or parked, in the back seat. Either way.”
Minho swore under his breath again and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”
He looked back at the house, then back at Jisung. “Come on.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not going to let that fantasy stay just a fantasy.”
He grabbed Jisung’s hand with a firm grip and started guiding him back around the garden path, far from the noise and the lights. They moved fast, staying out of sight, adrenaline pumping in their veins. Jisung could barely keep up with the rush of heat in his body and the thought of what was about to happen.
They slipped out through a side gate and across the quiet street where Minho’s car was parked under a tree, shadowed and secluded.
Minho unlocked it with a soft click.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low, holding the door open, but his eyes were already dark with hunger, his body ready to make a liar out of any hesitation.
Jisung didn’t answer right away.
He stepped forward, slid past Minho into the car, and sat down in the passenger seat. Then, slowly, he reached into his bag and held up the little bottle of lube with two fingers and a crooked smile.
“I brought this for a reason.”
Minho stared for half a second, then laughed—deep, breathless—and climbed in after him, slamming the door shut behind them.
The windows steamed up fast.
And neither of them planned to leave until every inch of that fantasy had been lived.
Jisung watched as Minho settled into the seat beside him, legs slightly apart. He bit his lip again, heart pounding, and without hesitation, he straddled Minho, pressing close. Their lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss—Jisung eagerly licking every inch of Minho’s mouth and lips, tasting him like it was the first and last time.
Minho responded immediately, his hands moving to grip Jisung’s hips. Without even realizing it, Minho lifted his hips just enough to press their bodies together, their intimate parts colliding and causing both to let out soft, involuntary moans.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Jisung sighed heavily, breath shaky, fumbling slightly as he tried to undo his pants.
“You wanted me that badly, huh?” Minho murmured, sliding Jisung’s hand away to undo his pants himself. “I’ve always been watching you… how you looked at me on campus… and Felix wouldn’t stop talking about you. Eventually, I got curious.”
Jisung blinked a few times, stunned.
So that was why Felix was so sure Minho liked him.
God, if only he’d had more confidence in himself, maybe this would have happened much sooner.
“What do you want me to do, Jisung?” Minho sighed, his voice low and teasing. “Tell me your fantasies—I’ll make them come true. You want me to fuck you without any warm-up? You like it rough and painful? Or do you want me to take my time, prepare you properly? How many times do you think you can come tonight, huh?”
Jisung was heating up fast. His body buzzed with need, the thought of Minho’s words making his skin tingle. He felt like he could come over and over all night long.
And if Minho kept talking to him like this, he might just come untouched.
Minho’s breath was warm against Jisung’s ear as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “You know, I love it when you bite your lip like that. It’s like you’re begging me to take control.” His fingers trailed lightly down Jisung’s side, sending sparks through his body.
Jisung’s heart hammered, cheeks flushing with heat. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself but failing miserably. “I—I don’t know if I can hold back,” he whispered, his voice trembling.
Minho smirked, eyes dark with desire. “Good. Because I don’t plan on going easy. You’re mine tonight. I want to hear you scream, feel you shiver under me.” He slid a hand possessively over Jisung’s hip, pulling him even closer.
Jisung’s breath hitched. Every word was like fire licking through his veins. The tension between them was electric, and the promise in Minho’s voice made his body ache with need.
“I’m yours,” Jisung breathed, his fingers tangling in Minho’s hair as he closed the distance for another hungry kiss.
This kiss was what would finally lead to the interesting part of the night.
Jisung could feel Minho’s hard cock throbbing through his pants, and his own hardening more and more, so much so that it was starting to hurt.
Jisung stands up slightly and pulls down his pants, remaining only in his boxers and with his shirt that slightly raised to show his torso. Soon Minho’s hands had lifted it and his mouth was leaving streaks of kisses and nips on Jisung’s torso, his tongue licking around his nipples making him tremble, making Minho’s hair clench and pull between his fingers, making his hips push forward in search of friction
“M-minho please” he sighs after the umpteenth bite “fuck me, please I can’t take it anymore”
“Is that what you want?” Minho leaves a kiss on his jaw “how long has it been since you had sex, Jisung?”
“A-almost a year”
Minho takes his face in his hands and kisses him again with passion “I bet you’re so tight, your hole will squeeze me so well that I don’t know how long I can last”
Jisung moans.
Jisung decides it’s time to get his ass fucked good and stop talking, he just wants to hear Minho moaning under him. He wants to ride him all night.
For this reason his hand goes down Minho’s body all the way to the obvious bulge in his pants that makes Jisung sigh “god you’re so big” he mutters
“Do you think you can take it?”
“Fuck yes…”
And those are Jisung’s last words before undoing Minho’s pants and pulling them down along with his boxers enough to have Minho’s cock in his hands.
Long, thick, red tip that was already releasing precum. Jisung runs his thumb over it and Minho gasps, biting his lip.
Then he stands up, finally freeing himself of the only remaining piece of clothing, his boxers. Minho immediately takes advantage of this to squeeze his ass and spread his cheeks, playfully running his thumb over Jisung's hole
"I want to scissor my fingers inside you and make you cum with just those" he says almost moaning before taking Jisung's lips in his once again.
From that moment on, both of them were a mess of uncontrollable moans.
Minho puts his index finger in his mouth, wetting it with saliva "we need the lube for later, we have to save it" he explains
And then, he slides it into Jisung's hole. Its course stiffens for a moment, and Minho immediately stops
"okay?" he asks
It's kind of him to ask. But Jisung is too horny to think about whether it might hurt a little, he doesn't care.
“Yes. Please continue.”
Minho slides a second finger inside Jisung and begins to scissoring him open. Jisung holds onto Minho, wrapping his arms around his neck, and lets him work. The more he continues, the faster the pace, the wetter he feels himself, and the more he wants Minho inside him.
“Fuck Minho…god…” Jisung groans as Minho’s fingers rub his prostate “I-I don’t know how long I can last”
“Baby…are you going to cum already?”
“I-I don’t know”
Minho pulls his fingers out of Jisung and Jisung immediately takes advantage of this by getting up on his knees and aligning himself with Minho’s cock, taking it in his hands and rubbing the tip against his hole, rubbing it between the cheeks of his ass.
It’s hot, wet. And Minho seems to like the feeling of his cock rubbing against Jisung in that embarrassing and pornographic way.
“Oh, good god” Minho sighs “Jisung start riding me now, or I don’t know how long I can last if you keep teasing me like this”
Jisung stops, and shortly after begins to slide Minho’s cock inside himself.
He feels his walls widen to make room for him, but badly, slightly. But it doesn't take him long to adjust. Minho's hands squeeze his hips, and with every inch Jisung takes him inside himself, he hears Minho curse under his breath.
"There you are" he caresses his hips when Jisung is finally fully seated and already impatiently swings his hips "go baby, ride me"
Jisung without being told twice rises up on his knees until only the tip is inside him, then lowers himself again, he covers his mouth when he moans in an extremely stupid way, high pitched and desperate. But Minho doesn't even seem to notice, he seems in another world. Eyes half closed and lower lip between his teeth as he moans softly with every movement Jisung makes.
Jisung wants to look at him forever.
He rises and lowers himself again.
And again.
Until he feels his legs shaking and his rhythm becomes so messed up that he whimpers because he can no longer have the right strength to hit the prostate
“Honey, do I need to help you?” Minho kisses him, there are small tears in the corner of Jisung’s eyes
“P-please”
“Don’t even ask”
Minho makes Jisung stand up and when his hole doesn’t fill up he whimpers like a child, he lets Minho guide him, making him bend over on the seat “hands on the window, Sungie”
Jisung groans but obeys.
Soon Minho is rubbing the tip of his cock on Jisung’s hole, Jisung is shaking.
“God… I can’t wait to see my cum slide out of your hole. You’re so wet we didn’t even have to use lube”
Oh. Jisung turns around and sees the tube of lube now forgotten on the floor.
“S-shut up and fuck me”
Minho bends over him and with the help of the hand that isn’t holding Jisung by his belly he slides his cock back in. Jisung’s nails drag on the window and he moans when Minho gets into a perfect rhythm.
Minho fucks him so good, he hits the perfect spots to make Jisung lose his mind.
He’s firm and fast, sometimes he slows down when he realizes Jisung is about to come so as not to ruin the fun right away.
But Jisung won’t last much longer, Jisung needs to come.
“M-minho more…fuck please…”
Minho kisses his shoulder “mh do you want to come already baby? I thought you were going to want to take me all night”
Jisung groans and turns his head to kiss Minho and to hook his arm in his hair and pull it, Minho starts fucking him again good, and Jisung’s vision completely blurs when Minho hits his prostate for the umpteenth time.
“Holy shit…” Jisung sighs and falls forward, while Minho continues to move inside him to make him fully ride out his orgasm, Minho comes inside him shortly after with a strangled moan.
Jisung is still catching his breath bent over, hands still on the window as Minho had instructed him.
“Don’t move baby” Minho sighs and slides out of Jisung “I have to clean you, stay like this”
Jisung nods, but then—
“Oh god—“ Jisung covers his mouth with his hand to keep from moaning when Minho spreads his cheeks with his hands and runs a finger over his hole, where his cum is leaking out.
He feels it running down his thighs, and then, Minho kisses his thighs, then his ass cheeks and then, Minho’s tongue is licking his hole, cleaning it from the cum
“N-no M-minho it’s too much—ah! God…”
“Shh, wait,” Minho murmurs against his skin, voice low and full of control — and apparently it was too much. Because not even five minutes after his orgasm, Jisung is embarrassingly, painfully hard again.
Minho smirks like he’s proud of it, and simply goes back to work, using his mouth like he’s starving for it. Jisung claws at the seat, already trembling. And when Minho adds a hand around his shaft, stroking him in sync with every flick of his tongue, Jisung nearly blacks out.
He doesn’t last more than two minutes before he comes again, this time messily against the car door, with a moan that would’ve woken the dead if the windows weren’t tinted.
Jisung collapses forward, breathless and ruined, his body trembling. Minho pulls him in, kisses his temple, then trails his lips into his damp hair.
“Promise me this isn’t the first and last time?” Minho asks, his voice softer now, intimate.
Jisung laughs breathlessly, burying his face in Minho’s neck. “Minho… I don’t know how I could ever fuck anyone else after you.”
Minho chuckles, smug and satisfied, as if that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.
Still slumped against him, Jisung blindly reaches for his phone and texts Felix.
[you] 👍
A second later, the reply pops up.
[Felix] Was he inside you or just spiritually rebirthing you? Either way: I TOLD YOU SO, slut. 😌🍑💅
Jisung groans and drops the phone on the floor of the car.