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Jisung saves himself the three thousand Won that he usually forks over in exchange for an iced Americano.
Is it because he makes himself one at home? No. The last time he tried, the fancy espresso machine that Seungmin, his roommate, lugged into their dorm after Christmas started smoking, and Jisung was promptly banned from even looking at it for too long.
Is it because he finally goes to the café with Hyunjin, who owes him one after he covered for the both of them last time when he left his wallet at the library? Also, no.
Jisung doesn’t spend any money on iced coffee today, because the shock he receives upon opening what he thought was his backpack to grab his laptop, only to instead find a pair of handcuffs, a ten ounce bottle of lube, and what he estimates to be a nine inch—very realistic looking—strap-on staring right back at him in the middle of his ten o’clock lecture, is enough to nearly make his heart give out.
Drinking any more caffeine after that would be overkill, or a quick trip to the emergency room.
Not only does he not have his laptop, Jisung now has a backpack full of sex toys that he’s desperately hoping the people sitting around him didn’t see anything of when he’d opened it. There’s no way he would ever be able to show his face again if they did. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, except this class was unfortunately very mandatory for his major, and his professor was the type that refused to upload any of his class materials online. Jisung would rather not have to retake this class, so completely disappearing off the face of the earth out of shame for the rest of the semester wasn’t an option for him here.
He doesn’t give himself the chance to figure out if they had, though, because his fight or flight response kicks in, and he’s immediately booking it out of class just minutes after it started. Even if he tried to stick it out and ask around for a pencil and piece of paper to at least take notes with, Jisung can’t guarantee that he’ll walk out of class with anything valuable written down. There's no way he’d be able to focus enough to do so all while knowing that inside of the backpack he’d mistakenly picked up and now tucked between his feet, are a couple of not-safe-for-work items that he hopes Jeongin uses on him one day. Preferably soon.
Jisung had been in such a panicked rush this morning to be on time to said class too. He slept through his five alarms and then upon waking up, realized he left his backpack over in Jeongin’s room at the dorm across campus from his own that he shares with Felix when they went out for dinner after getting some work done. As a result, Jisung spent the first half of his morning running back and forth across campus, rushing past a sleepy Jeongin on his way out to his first class of the day, and then leaving just as quickly with a tight hug from an equally tired Felix.
He’d made himself out of breath and sweaty for nothing, because he’s now power walking right back to his dorm with a heavy flush taking over his face.
Jisung’s only saving grace is that his own roommate is nowhere to be found. Seungmin’s probably sitting through his own classes like Jisung should be doing, not sitting on his bed with a raging hard on. He tries to somewhat redeem himself, to will it away by forcing himself to think about literally anything else.
It’s really hard though—pun fully intended. It’s hard because he’s still got Jeongin’s backpack full of all his sex toys that he probably uses on other people, or lets other people use on him, and Jisung is horribly smitten with him in a way that’s absolutely humiliating. A way that causes him to act in ways that he normally wouldn’t. A way that had him ditching class, and now reaching into Jeongin’s bag for his bottle of lube to spill a more than necessary amount of it all over his trembling fingers.
He shouldn’t be doing this. Sure, he and Jeongin have this intense-unspoken-secret-third-thing going on between them right now that they've both been slowly toeing the line of the more time they spend together. However, it doesn’t completely justify this: what he’s doing right now with Jeongin’s lube because with all the feelings he has for him clouding his senses, he swears that if he closes his eyes, he can imagine that it’s Jeongin stretching him open on two fingers and jerking him off with his other hand.
Strawberry scented, is what it would smell like if Jeongin was here, prepping him for his cock. Strawberry flavored, is what Jeongin would make him. So sweet and irresistible that he would just have to lean in, have a taste of him, and hopefully even more than that. Jisung would let him. He’s so, so eager for it, he would even beg if it’s what he wanted.
Jeongin knows this, has seen this eagerness of his firsthand when they’ve hung out with Felix at their place, doing their best to get some of their course work done but repeatedly getting off track. It literally happened yesterday when he welcomed himself into their shared dorm under the guise of getting a head start on his research paper.
He got as far as creating the Word document, and then looked across the table to find Jeongin’s gaze also wandering away from the pages on his textbook laid out in front of him full of colorful diagrams that Jisung couldn't even begin to decipher the meaning of. They locked eyes, and Jeongin slightly raised his brow, asking silently: what the hell do you want?
There’s a lot of things Jisung wants when Jeongin is involved. Most of them involving the both of them, alone, in either of the bedrooms with fewer clothes on. Preferably none.
At that moment, though, he decided that his attention is what he wanted the most. So Jisung propped his elbow on the table, rested his cheek into the palm of his hand, and blew a kiss at him.
Immediately, Jeongin’s bored expression shifted to one that Jisung was very familiar with: cringe, exasperation, and an annoyed eye roll.
“Ew, gross. Stop fucking around, hyung.”
“I’m never messing around when it comes to wanting a kiss from you, baby.”
From behind his laptop, Felix contributed in a monotone voice, evidence that his coding assignment was starting to take a toll on his usually sunshine bright spirit. “If you guys do finally kiss each other, please make sure you do it somewhere I can see it at least.”
Jeongin groaned at that, and told Felix to stop encouraging Jisung’s ridiculous antics.
“Innie, we all know that he’s going to flirt with you regardless. I don’t have to encourage him to do anything.”
Which is true. Again, it’s a part of the whole intensely homoerotic, unspoken third thing they have going on. Jisung makes a fool of himself by shamelessly flirting with Jeongin, who in turn shoves Jisung off when he tries to cling to his side to give him a kiss and pretends to hate the attention he’s given.
Pretends, because even though he covers his face with his hands, they don’t quite hide the way he's flushed to his ears. Even if he pushes Jisung away, he never leaves his side, and every now and then, when Jisung gets him real good with a pickup line he comes up with on the spot, Jeongin will give him a reminder that his interest in him isn’t one-sided. Nothing too crazy, just a little tease, a little bit of flirting back, but even that is enough to get Jisung by until the next time.
It doesn’t bother Jisung that Jeongin is going about it this way. Playing with his food, as Seungmin had put it when he called him over to his room for advice one day while he was laying face down on his unmade bed, second guessing whether Jeongin actually liked him or if it was all in his head. In fact, it excites him, makes Jisung want Jeongin even more: his attention, approval, all his love and affection.
Felix had noted the shift in their dynamic—from just friends to whatever they’re doing right now could be classified as—the second time he’d witnessed it in person. Who, after some light teasing, had then told Jisung: you’re really lucky, though. You’re exactly Innie’s type.
And what type is that?
Oh, you know. Cute, eager to please, kind of a loser—
Hey! I’m not a loser!
Chill, it’s not a bad thing—
How is that not a bad thing!
Don’t worry, Jisungie. You’ll get it eventually.
While at the moment that hadn’t answered his question in the slightest, Felix’s cryptic words continued to haunt him nonetheless. Even if he never figured it out for himself, the one thing Jisung understood—the only thing that mattered—was that he was just Jeongin’s type.
As time went on, though, Jisung started to make more sense of it.
Through the way Jeongin doted on him, made Jisung feel smaller. Jeongin is just that kind of guy with the people that he cares about and trusts enough. He’s the youngest of all their friends, but with the way he makes sure to always take care of them, you’d never know it.
So of course—it’s only inevitable really—that Jisung would melt for him, as he often tends to be on the receiving end of Jeongin’s consideration. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he liked being taken care of when Jisung made sure none of their friends, even those that already graduated and moved off of campus onto their adult jobs, ever forgot through regular reminders of the fact.
Jeongin never really needed the reminder, though. Being nurturing was in his nature, just another trait to his character. His hair was dyed a soft coppery red, he inhaled his food in a way that left everyone concerned for his digestive system, and if he was in company, Jisung could rest easy knowing that Jeongin would be attentively watching over them all. Yeah, he would tease Jisung about it, but he was never genuinely mean about it.
Even if he was, Jisung thinks he’d probably end up liking it anyway.
He entertains the idea now, because why the hell not. Jisung figures he’s already going down for using Jeongin’s expensive looking strawberry-flavored lube instead of doing the right thing and returning his things completely untouched. If there’s no redeeming himself after this, then he might as well stoop as low as he can and really make it worth his while, right?
Jisung thinks about the way Jeongin would make fun of him for being scatterbrained enough to get their bags mixed up. How he’d laugh himself breathless in that cute way he always does when he finds out that he’d opened it in class and gotten so embarrassed about it, he was practically tripping over himself trying to get out of that situation as fast as possible.
He’d make Jisung feel so small, in a way that was unlike how he feels when Jeongin was wiping a streak of sauce on his cheek, or lifting the strap of his bag back onto his shoulder when he notices it starting to slip down his shoulder. Jeongin would break him down, make him feel just as pathetic as his massive crush on him was, pin him to the wall—or in this case his bed—and leave him completely defenseless while fixing his sharp gaze onto him as he closes in.
Playing with his food, he remembers Seungmin’s words, before going in for the kill. Jisung doesn’t find himself hating it either. The more he thinks about it, the warmer the arousal builds in his groin. He really does like being at the center of his attention, regardless of the circumstance. Even if Jeongin is looking down at him like he’s the most pathetic thing in the world, he’s still looking at him. And if he sees the pitiful state he’s in, Jeongin wouldn’t just leave him like that, he’d take care of him—like he always does.
What’s going on here, huh? You seriously skipped class to do this? Just how desperate are you that you couldn’t even wait until class was over to fuck yourself?
Jisung shakes his head to no one but the Jeongin in his imagination that looms over him in his twin sized bed. No, I’m not—I’m not desperate, he tries to say, but his defense falls flat once the series of events that led him here were taken into account. He really couldn’t wait, couldn’t help himself, couldn’t force himself to scrounge up a single ounce of pride or mental fortitude to sit through an hour-long lecture. Trying to fight back and say that he wasn’t pathetically horny for him would just make him look so much worse.
It’s kind of cute, really. You just want me so bad, don’t you, hyung? Maybe if you admit it I’ll decide to be nice and help you out. Maybe.
When Jisung comes, it’s to the thought of Jeongin replacing the fingers inside himself with his own, telling him with a condescending tone that makes a delicious shiver run down his back: I don’t think your fingers are long enough, hyung, let me take care of that for you, and make sure you’re really prepared for me to fuck you the way you need me to.
He didn’t even get to the good part yet, is the excuse Jisung gives to himself when he reaches for the bottle of lube, and pours out a bit more for him to continue getting himself off with.
By the time he’s too tired to keep going at it, there’s a significant amount missing from the bottle that Jeongin is sure to notice when Jisung returns his bag. Something that he knows Jeongin will tease him for, and that Jisung will have to try his hardest to not come in his pants about, lest he give Jeongin another thing to tease him about.
Jisung expects Felix to answer the door and ask him: what are you doing back here already? Did you forget something else?
What he does not expect is for his own roommate to answer the door instead, wearing a hoodie that looks suspiciously like the one he let Felix steal from his closet because he decided it suited his frame way better than it ever could him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks Jisung.
“What am I doing here? I should be asking you that. I thought you were in class?”
“It got cancelled,” Seungmin shrugs, “and when I told Yongbok about it, he asked me to come over. So I did.”
Jisung doesn’t ask for any more details. There’s really no need to, when Seungmin’s attire—Felix’s borrowed hoodie and boxer shorts peeking out underneath—clearly thrown on as an afterthought, says it all. The neckline of the hoodie is askew enough to reveal the strip of leather around his neck with what Jisung knows is a silver tag hanging from it with Felix’s name engraved across the front, and even though Seungmin is supporting himself with one hand gripping the door frame, it isn’t enough to keep his skinny legs from trembling.
Yeah, Jisung really doesn't need to know any more than what he already deduced from some simple observation.
“Getting tugged around on a leash at nine thirty in the morning on a Monday is crazy work Seung.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes at Jisung, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? You know, I heard all about how you were freaking out earlier because you left your stuff here. Couldn’t be me. I don’t know how you forget your computer of all things.”
Jisung really doesn’t have the time to get carried away and rage baited by him right now. “Look, I’ve had a long morning, would you just let me in already? I don’t exactly want to have this conversation out here in the hall—”
“Hold on,” Seungmin’s nose wrinkles, and he leans in closer while taking a few sniffs. “Why do you smell like that? Since when do you smoke?”
“What? I don’t smoke, and I don’t smell like anything!”
“Dude, you smell just like those fruity vapes that Hyunjin smoked for a semester during our second year. How are you not smelling it on yourself? It’s like…cherry? Or wait, no, it’s definitely strawberry—”
Oh no, Jisung knows exactly what Seungmin is talking about now, but there’s no way he’s about to correct him. Actually Seungmin, what you’re smelling right now is Jeongin’s lube that I used, and I apparently didn’t clean out of myself as thoroughly as I thought I did. Yeah, no, Jisung would rather die than have to go through the humiliation ritual of admitting this out loud. He really needs to go inside, drop Jeongin’s backpack off, grab his own—for real this time—and immediately throw himself into an hour-long scalding hot shower.
A deep, lazy voice comes from somewhere inside the unit. “What’s taking you so long, puppy?” Seungmin’s eyes widen, and his face immediately goes bright red. Serves him right Jisung thinks to himself. That’s for making fun of me earlier. “Who’s at the door keeping you away from me—oh!” Felix’s smiley face and messy, bleached hair pops up from behind Seungmin’s shoulder. “Hi Jisungie! Not that I don’t like seeing you, but why are you here? I thought you had class?”
For someone who hates Monday’s, Felix sure looks like the happiest guy on earth right now. Jisung wishes he could say the same.
“No time to explain, could you guys just please let me in so I can exchange this.” Jisung brandishes the bag in his hands forward, and Felix’s eyes go wide in recognition and disbelief.
“Jisung, no way. There’s no way you—Minnie, step back, give him some space so he can come in.” Felix tugs Seungmin away from the door frame, and he goes a little too easily. With his legs unsteady like a newborn deer, he almost sends them crashing into the wall behind them. The couple laugh it off, though, and Jisung takes his chance to finally get himself out of the hallway and into the privacy of the dorm. “Of all things you could have grabbed, you really went ahead and picked that?! Oh my God, no wonder you came running back here looking as freaked out as you do right now.”
“Dude it was so bad, I opened it in class and—wait a minute…how do you know what this is?”
“Uh, have you forgotten that I literally live with Jeongin?”
Felix walks over to a couch pressed up against a wall to their left, with Seungmin following closely behind by the metaphorical leash Felix still his him on. Jisung notices that he doesn’t sit unless explicitly instructed to do so by Felix. He definitely doesn’t think about Jeongin having the same level of control over him.
“Also, I’m the one that bought that bag for him so that it was less obvious what he was about to do when he was walking across campus to go ‘hang out’ with Beomgyu and his boyfriend last year.”
Jisung does his best to ignore the way this makes his heart sting. He has no right to get jealous over this, it was before they became more exclusive and started this whole thing between them. Hell, with how affectionate their close-knit friend group is with each other, Jisung knows that Jeongin has slept around with a few of their friends on random occasions, the two in front of him included.
All except for him, which Jisung swears he’s fine with and definitely not feeling left out over. He’ll be the one to lock him down, *it’s fine.
If he survives this conversation, that is.
“I think I got him something a little too discreet, though. Since it blended in so well you thought it was yours. I’m still confused on how that even happened to you, by the way. I know that they’re they’re same color and all, but I don’t think they look that alike. Anyway, he’s so lucky I intervened. The drawstring bag he used to keep his stuff in was so bad at concealing the shape of his massive co—”
“Felix, stop. Please.” Jisung groans and rubs at his temples. “I can’t think about this again.”
“What do you mean again?” he asks Jisung with a pointed look that slowly morphs into one full of mischief.
Shit. Felix knows. He’s spoken too much and Felix has seen right through him. This is why he wanted to make this trip as short as possible, so there were fewer chances of him making this exact mistake.
“Oh, did I say that? Are you sure? You must have misheard me because I didn’t—” He really needs to stop talking, but he can’t. The words spray out of his mouth like water from a burst pipe. “I mean I did say something but not—”
“Jisungie, hey. Breathe, it’s fine. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. You don't have to answer.”
“But it’s not fine! I used like, so much of Jeongin’s fancy strawberry lube, he’s definitely going to notice the next time he goes looking for it, and he’ll know that I was the one responsible for it because I was the last person who had his bag and-and—”
Seungmin snorts, “So that’s why you smelled like strawberries when you walked in here.” Not helping the situation whatsoever. Felix gives him a pointed look, and it’s all it takes to get him to shut up.
“Han Jisung. You need to breathe before you start hyperventilating.” Felix speaks to him with a firm tone. “Look, like I said to you before: you’re fine, you’re okay. We can talk more about this later. Jeongin won’t know unless either of us tells him, and we aren't going to so—”
A new voice cuts in. “What are you guys not supposed to tell me?”
In the midst of his anxious babbling, Jisung hadn’t heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened. Maybe if he’d stopped to catch his breath like Felix had been trying to get him to do, he would’ve heard the exact moment that Jeongin came back to the dorm, and spared himself the horrific embarrassment he feels now.
Jisung must’ve gotten hexed, there’s no way he’s actually this unlucky. He turns around to face Jeongin, sealing his unfortunate fate. Jeongin who looks unfairly hot in his usual uniform that consists of a pair of baggy pants and a t-shirt. The hoodie that Jisung saw him in this morning is slung over his left elbow, and when his eyes reluctantly make their way up to his face, he sees that Jeongin is already looking at the bag—his bag—that he’s still holding onto.
“Hyung…is that.” Jeongin pauses and points at his hands. “Why do you have my stuff…?”
Jisung really can’t stay here anymore, he needs to leave now.
Pacing stiffly, he walks up to Jeongin and presses the bag against his chest. Once he takes it, and the matter is out of his hands—literally now—Jisung steps around Jeongin’s form without sparing anyone else in the room another glance.
Before he dashes out the door, and only after running inside Jeongin’s room to snatch his bag up from where he’d left it on the floor, he stumbles through announcing his departure, “Bye—have fun—or don’t—I mean, do whatever you want! I’m leaving!”
He also tells them all to not contact him, or in Seungmin’s case perceive him in their shared dorm, for the next week or so. An instruction that none of them follow.
Between attending his classes or buying himself enough food to get him by for the next couple of days, Jisung makes his presence on campus otherwise scarce. He closes himself off in his room, and tries his best to avoid his nosy roommate.
Seungmin makes doing this extremely difficult.
While he can skirt around texting Felix and Jeongin back, there’s no way that Jisung can avoid Seungmin’s presence forever.
Especially when he doesn’t hesitate to knock on Jisung’s door, and call out to him from the outside with another rendition of, “Are you done rotting in your bed yet? Come on, let’s go out for barbecue together with the others.”
Attempting to lure Jisung out with delicious food is devious, and it nearly gets him to cave every time. After a straight week and a half of instant ramyeon and whatever other bullshit he can scrounge up into something edible using their microwave, he’d do anything for some good quality grilled meat.
Anything except leave the sanctuary of his room, and walk with Seungmin to their local spot where he knows that the others, most likely a combination of Felix, Hyunjin, or Jeongin and maybe even all three of them at once, will be waiting for them. So Jisung rejects every invite that Seungmin shoves through the space between his door and the flooring, even though his stomach angrily protests this by reminding him of how starved he’s been of an actual, and nutritional, meal.
When food proves to not be enough of a motivator to get Jisung to crawl out of his room, Seungmin goes straight for the emotional manipulation. Because of course he does, Jisung should’ve already known that this would be coming his way.
“At least text Felix back. He misses you.” Seungmin says to him through the door one afternoon.
Jisung is so deep in his own thoughts as he reads through some of Changbin’s old notes Hyunjin had passed down to him at the beginning of the semester when he found out he was enrolled in the level of math he just narrowly escaped from, that he’s startled by the sound of his roommates voice.
“Don’t make him sad or else I’m shoving my foot up your ass the first time I catch you coming out of this damn room.”
“You won’t.”
“Try me, Han. Come on, open the door and say it to my face.”
Jisung, doesn’t do that. He knows better than to underestimate the lengths that Seungmin would go for Felix.
So he does text him back, just a quick, I’m alive and an I’m sorry for not texting back. Because he really is sorry about suddenly going radio silent, and Jisung knows that he’s a coward for running away from his problems like this.
Hannie I've missed you T_T it’s not the same without you, is the first thing that Felix texts back. Jisung feels like the worst friend on the planet. He’s still not ready to face everyone after what happened, but his will to continue stewing in his room has been wrung dry after spending nearly two weeks isolating himself from everyone. Jisung wasn’t built to endure so much time alone with his own thoughts.
I’ll hang out with everyone soon, promise. I just need a little more time.
At the same time that Jisung sends his text back, a new one from Felix comes flying in, and then he hits him with a nonstop stream of texts after that.
Out of everyone, though, Innie misses you the most.
Don't tell him I told you this btw
He tries to act all nonchalant or whatever
and he says he wants to respect you needing your space right now but
Innie is not fooling any of us
he looks like a sad wet cat
like how Minho-hyung’s babies looked when he gave them all a bath
specifically Soonie, since they both have matching hair right now LMAO
Anyway! Please hang out with us soon, okay?
It really isn’t the same without you
and if you’re spiraling in your room thinking that Innie is mad at you
or thinks your weird or whatever other really negative thing you’re imaging
Just know that none if it is true at all!
I can’t say too much because I’m sworn to secrecy
and you two really should talk it out yourselves, face to face
but Innie’s feelings about you haven’t changed
you know how loyal he is
Jisung stares at the text messages that fill the screen of his phone until they grow fuzzy and fade into indistinguishable blobs, until he’s sure Felix’s words have burned into his retinas. Innie’s feelings about you haven’t changed, you know how loyal he is, Jisung sees this truth even when he shifts his eyes from his phone to look at his computer instead. Changbin’s notes, scanned and saved as a PDF file, become something else for a moment. The numbers and equations replaced by Jeongin and his unyielding devoutness.
He’s very familiar with Jeongin’s loyalty. Like his consideration, it exists on the long list of things that makes Jisung brain whir static in his ears, flustering him to the point his OS shuts down like the laptop he had freshman year he knocked over a full cup of iced Americano on. The screen struggling to stay lit, teetering between too dim and sudden sparks of full brightness. Just thinking about Jeongin excites him so much the pent-up energy inside of him flickers.
Felix wasn’t too far off the nose with his assumption that Jisung had been spiraling. Somewhere between the sixth and seventh day that he’d spent quarantined in his room, once his embarrassment subsided enough to allow Jisung to experience any other emotion, he managed to fully convince himself that what he’d done had been enough to permanently give Jeongin the ick. That the second he opened the unread message thread between the both of them, or saw him in person, Jisung would be met with the unfortunate end to their intensely homoerotic, secret third thing they’ve been stoking the flames of for the past few months. Jeongin effectively dumping a bucketful of ice-cold water onto it all.
Jisung wouldn’t have even blamed him for it. He would understand and accept his decision, and maybe in ten years it wouldn’t hurt anymore to think about how he massively fumbled a chance with Jeongin. Maybe they could laugh about it even.
Finding out from Felix that what he feared would happen was not the case, and in fact, the polar opposite to it was occurring, does make him feel a lot better about himself. It even has Jisung daring to ponder about all the what ifs—what if he texted Jeongin back right now, what if he went out for lunch with them tomorrow, what if he showed up at his door—instead of curling up in a ball and allowing a festering anxiety eat away at his spirit.
He still needs time, but Jisung’s outlook on the near future isn’t so bleak.
Thanks Lix, he responds back. I seriously needed that. Next week if you guys go out, I’ll see how I feel.
Also, I missed you too. I'm sorry again for ghosting everyone like that.
…and do you mean it?
Felix’s response comes in swiftly, mean what? :)
What you said about Innie
I said a lot about him, Felix types, you’ll have to be more specific than that.
… Does he really miss me? Jisung feels his heart leap into his throat once he presses send.
Oh! That! Sorry but you’re not getting any more information out of me!
_If you really want to know, you should ask him ^
Jisung deflates, he figured that Felix would respond in that way. Fine. I will soon. Felix responds a heart, and a blurry photo of Jeongin standing in front of a display of chips in a convenience store.
Sneaked this photo for you, Sungie. Take it as a little incentive, if you will.
It’s an incentive alright. Even if it's too blurry to really make out Jeongin’s face, Jisung is more than capable of filling in the blanks. He’s been there in Felix’s place before enough times to know that Jeongin is pouting as he narrows down which bag of chips to take from the shelf.
If Jisung were there, his hand would already be making contact with his cheek, pinching the softness of it, and telling Jeongin he might just kiss him right there in the middle of the aisle if he doesn’t quit being so cute.
Except he’s not there. He’s still sitting in his room, smiling down at his phone like an idiot. If he’d just gotten over himself, he could be there in person.
He’ll get there soon. Jisung looks back at the photo Felix sent him, and he eyes the veins on Jeongin’s arm, fuzzy from the poor quality of the photo but the shadows still prominent against his pale skin.
Very soon.
Before Jisung goes to sleep, he lies awake for a while in bed with his phone burning a hole in his chest. He can hear Seungmin talking on the phone with Chan in the other room, asking him for advice on something academic related. It’s a bit muffled, so Jisung only manages to catch bits and pieces of the conversation, but it helps him feel less alone as he mulls over the decision to open all the unread messages he has from Jeongin or not.
He remembers his conversation with Felix from a few hours ago, the photo he sent him of Jeongin, thinks to himself, fuck it, and holds his breath as he picks up his phone.
Upon opening the private message thread he has with Jeongin, Jisung is met with all the texts he was sent since the day he went AWOL. That Monday alone he was sent quite a few less than an hour after he left his and Felix’s dorm running, all of them being different ways of Jeongin reassuring Jisung that he wasn’t mad. That he understands why he’s embarrassed, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the world.
There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting me, hyung. Especially because I want you too. I’m flattered, really.
After that, it turns into Jeongin giving Jisung updates through the day. Some are about their friends, a lot of them specifically involving Felix, given that they live together. At some point in the week he visits Chan and Minho. Jisung figures it’s safe to assume so since Jeongin had sent him a selfie he took from their couch with Dori curled up in a ball on his lap.
Besides that, most of the updates Jeongin sent are about himself: his classes, what he had for lunch, the animals he runs into—mostly squirrels, and the occasional stray cat—while on his walks across campus.
Then, Jisung comes across the gym updates. Supplemented with photos and videos. Jisung almost goes out into the other room to ask Seungmin if the offer for shoving his foot up his ass is still on the table.
He can’t believe he just left those sitting unread in his phone. Several full-course meals that consist of Jeongin working out his arms and chest, and then showing off the post workout pump of his muscles after, all sitting untouched on the table. Jisung only has himself to blame.
Seeing them all at once is overwhelming in the best way. In the first few photos Jeongin sent he’s in a plain, baggy t-shirt. Nothing too crazy yet. However, as the days go on, the material of the shirt he decides to go to the gym in gradually becomes thinner, the sleeves shorter. His sweat soaks through them easier, making them stick to all the curves and contours of his torso. His face isn’t always in them, but when it is, Jeongin’s cheeks and mouth are the same shade of pink. One in particular has his rosy lips parted and a bead of sweat clinging to the dip of his cupid’s bow. Binnie-hyung pushed me hard today, I got sooo sweaty.
It’s diabolical, and so unfair.
Even more so are the videos.
Jisung presses play on the first one and isn’t prepared at all to hear Jeongin groaning his way through some bench presses. The audio is a little too loud, and Jisung scrambles for his headphones that he left on his nightstand before Seungmin comes knocking on his door to ask if he’s watching porn on full blast.
Solving one problem present’s Jisung with another, though, because now he has Jeongin moaning and cursing under his breath looping loud and clear through his fancy noise-cancelling headphones. Jeongin’s gym selfies left him with a semi, and all it took was listening to a few seconds of one video to get his dick fully hard.
He doesn’t touch himself yet, though. There’s still three other videos he has to get through after all.
The next one isn’t so bad, just a short clip of Changbin and Jeongin flexing in a mirror. The one after that isn’t shot from the best angle, so Jisung can’t see him from the neck up as he does pull-ups. He does, however, get to see Jeongin’s shirt riding up to reveal a small strip of his stomach as he does so. He’s already so turned on, Jisung finds even the brief flashes of his underarms attractive, something that he hadn’t ever considered until now.
(He regrets ever making fun of Felix for his armpit fetish. Because he gets it now, he sees the appeal.)
It’s the most recent video Jeongin sent him, which just so happened to be yesterday, that leaves Jisung winded.
He already knows that he’s in for a ride when in just the first second of the video he hears Jeongin complaining, “Minho-hyung do you really have to hold the phone this close? Are you sure about this?”
“I know what I’m doing, Jeongin-ah.” Minho’s voice comes from behind the camera. “You’re planning on sending this to Jisungie, right? Trust me, he’s going to love this.”
Another whine from Jeongin. “Okay, hyung. If you say so.”
So Changbin and Minho were out to get him. Cool. Noted.
Jisung would remember this, or not, because in the next second, the camera is focused right on Jeongin’s chest as he works out on a pec deck. Jisung’s left eye twitches, every press of his arms forward on the machine emphasizes the cleavage he’s got in between the swell of his muscles. He’d been hitting his chest hard at the gym since the day it was deemed healed enough to do so, and now two years later in this video where he’s wearing a white tank top Jisung’s never seen him in before, the neckline of it riding dangerously low, is the result of all the hours of hard work Jeongin put in on full display.
Jisung’s hand is already down his pants, and he’s kicked his bedsheets down to his knees before he can think twice about it.
Minho really knows him too well. He keeps the camera steady, steps in to correct Jeongin’s form when he needs to, or when he notices that when he holds his arms at a specific angle it makes his chest look more defined.
It’s so evil of him. Jisung eats it up anyway, because again, his hyung knows him, knows all of them really, way too well for their own good sometimes.
It takes so very little to get himself worked up to the point he feels like he’s seconds away from coming all over his stomach. A soft moan plays in his ears, Jeongin’s chest turns a soft pink as he starts to sweat, and Jisung has to force himself to tear his hand away from his cock, dig his blunt nails into his thighs so that he doesn’t come too fast.
He edges himself like this a few times, biting back every noise that veers on the edge of being a little too loud for the thin walls of his room hard enough for him to taste blood, until finally, Jeongin does his last rep on the machine and stands up off of the seat. Jisung foolishly thinks that this is it, the video will cut, and he’ll finally catch a damn break.
He couldn’t have been more wrong even if he tried.
The video doesn't stop there, it continues rolling, and Minho takes a few steps back so that more of Jeongin’s body comes into the frame. It’s because of this that he fully captures the exact moment in which he tucks his hand underneath his shirt to then bring the bottom hem of it up to the right side of his face. In the pursuit of wiping off the sweat from his jaw, Jeongin exposes most if not all of his abdomen to the camera.
“Woah, you’re going to give Jisungie a strip show too? You’re so generous, Innie.” Minho follows this by chanting for Jeongin to take it off.
“What?! I’m not—” Jeongin notices the camera that’s still filming him, and his eyes widen. “Hyung! Oh my god—shut up! You’re being too loud!”
Minho doesn’t stop, he just lowers his voice slightly. Jeongin, still wiping his face with his own shirt swipes his free hand out in an attempt to snatch Minho’s phone from his hands. Unfortunately for him, Minho’s cat-like reflexes kick in, and he swiftly dodges all his attempts, and Jeongin’s natural clumsiness hinders him to the point he's tripping over his own feet.
“Hyung—seriously—you’re so embarrassing!” Jeongin shifts his efforts to covering his reddened cheeks with his hands, too tired out from his workout to continue darting after Minho.
Jisung notes that his shirt doesn’t slip back all the way into place, that the hem lingers around his waist and keeps his lower stomach on display, the v-line that tapers down under the waistband of his shorts. He gets whiplash from the juxtaposition that is Jeongin’s sweet, pretty face when he’s shy and pretending to hate the attention he gets from his hyung's even though his wide smile completely gives him away, to the hard planes of his body that Jisung always finds himself drooling over. Whether it be in person when they’re at the gym together or as he’s bent over on his bed, face shoved into the pillow and three fingers stroking his prostate, he’s weak in the knees all the same.
That inclination doesn’t stop now, and Jisung feels like a massive pervert. His hand is still on his thigh, but his cock throbs as if he were still stroking the length of it, makes a sticky mess all over his stomach. Jeongin whines in the video—hyung, please—and Jisung thinks about him saying those same words, his voice using that exact, desperate cadence, in a different scenario—a different position. Jisung knows he’s getting ahead of himself, but he can’t stop, he’s past the point of no return, and now he’s thinking of Jeongin sitting on his face, of Jeongin using him—
“Hey, don’t hide your face. Why are you getting all shy now? Don’t you want Jisung to see you?”
“Because—you—”
Finally, Jeongin doesn’t quite grab his phone, but he does take hold of Minho’s forearm. The video quickly descends into chaos, with Minho giggling maniacally while Jeongin wrestles him around. It’s a wild blur of limbs, with the occasional shot of the floor or a corner of the ceiling.
“Yah, Jeongin-ah you’re being so rough. Is this you showing off for Jisung too? Are you going to throw him around like this too? You have to be more gentle—actually. Maybe not, he’s into being choked so—”
“Minho-hyung!”
The video cuts. Jisung tosses his phone to the side and wraps his hand around his cock again, the other going straight for his throat. He imagines Jeongin hovering above him, the pressure around his throat being from his larger hands instead of his own. His long fingers pressing into the carotid arteries.
Jisung’s thumb teases the head of his cock, he’s nearly there now. He bites his lip to muffle his moans of pleasure growing louder the closer he gets to coming, and as his lids flutter shut, Jisung thinks of the lack of blood flow to his brain being a result of Jeongin’s thighs closing in around his face.
It only takes two upward strokes of his hand after that to get him to finish, making an even bigger mess than he already has on his stomach. Jisung’s whole body trembles with it, a consequence of the however many times he edged his orgasm.
He has to take a few good, long moments to catch his breath. His headphones had slipped off his ears at some point, and Jisung can hear just how wrecked he is, gasping for each breath as if his head had been submerged underwater.
As Jisung comes down from an unexpectedly intense orgasm, the sound of Seungmin moving stuff around in the other room filters back into his brain. He isn't talking to Chan on the phone anymore, and is instead playing music to fill the silence. Something alternative, guitar heavy, Jisung finds himself enjoying it. If he remembers about it in the morning, he’ll ask Seungmin for the name of the artist.
For now, his post-nut fatigue hits him hard and Jisung’s eyelids heavily droop over his eyes. All of his limbs are loosened up and jelly-like, he can hardly keep himself upright as he wipes himself down with the shirt he’s in and throws his dirty clothes in the laundry. His foot gets caught in the clean pair of underwear he’s trying to put on and Jisung barely manages to catch himself on the edge of his bed to prevent himself from slamming his knees into the floor.
Slipping back under the covers, Jisung aimlessly grabs around his bed looking for his phone that he’d tossed aside earlier. He finds it tucked underneath his pillow, and turns on the screen to check the time.
What he finds underneath the analog display is a text message sent from Jeongin, just two minutes prior.
Don’t stay up too late, okay?
Jeongin sends him a selfie. He’s in bed with the duvet pulled up over his chest, and with the area around his collarbones completely exposed, Jisung figures that it’s safe to assume he’s shirtless. The lighting in his room is low, it makes the photo feel a lot more intimate.
I’m in bed now because I have a doctor’s appointment early in the morning.
Good night, hyung.
Jisung waits for a few minutes, but Jeongin doesn’t send him anything else after that. He stares at the cursor blinking in his text box, debating over whether he should say something. Saying good night back to him doesn’t feel like it’s enough, especially since it would be the first thing he’s said to him in nearly two weeks. He feels like he should give him something more than that.
He deliberates over it some more, and then, before he can overthink himself out of it, Jisung opens up his front facing camera to take a few selfies of his own. His hair is a mess, but at least it’s dark enough in his room to hide the way his face is still flushed from getting himself off earlier. It’s not as…provocative as the photo Jeongin had sent him, but he’s on his stomach with his head propped up in his other hand. At the very least he hopes that he finds it cute. Selecting the best one out of the pile, Jisung holds his breath as he hits send.
Jisung doesn’t expect Jeongin to read it right away. Expects it even less when his reply comes through just moments later.
What a pretty boy, lucky me
He texts back, takes one to know one, and then shoves his face into his pillow to muffle the delighted, nonsensical noises he makes as the words Jeongin sent him replay over and over in his head.
Soon ends up being three days later.
The day before that, Jisung declined Felix’s invite to go get dinner with him, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Seungmin. However, he did actually have a good reason to say no this time. His classmate Woohyun asked him if he started the assignment for their stats class that was due at midnight, to which Jisung then responded with a very unfortunate question of his own: what do you mean we had an assignment? His entire afternoon is overhauled to complete it, and with the help of his classmate, Jisung just barely managed to submit it mere seconds before the deadline.
All that being said, he still feels really guilty about having to decline the invite when Felix sends him a photo of a sad cat in response. His friends are understanding of his decision, and while Jisung is grateful for that, he can’t help but feel that he’s undeserving of it this time.
Well…most of them are understanding about it.
It’s Friday afternoon, and Jisung wakes up from a nap to his doorknob rattling rather loudly. He’s half asleep and extremely confused by the noise and what could be causing it, until he hears some very familiar voices bleeding through the walls.
“If you break the doorknob you’re paying for it, Hyunjin.”
“And I already told you that I’m not going to. I’m basically a pro at this.”
“Who taught you how to pick locks again?” It’s Changbin who speaks this time.
“Minho-hyung did.”
What the hell—why were they even here? And what a funny coincidence for them to be talking about picking locks when Hyunjin was messing with his doorknob. The one he’s kept locked for the most part these past two weeks. There couldn’t possibly be a connection, right?
Jisung’s brain doesn’t catch up in time, so he’s completely defenseless and still groggily splayed out on his bed when his door flies open to reveal Hyunjin on his knees with some slender metal tool in his hand, and Changbin and Seungmin standing right behind him. He looks at the three of them with his jaw on floor, equal parts horrified and impressed by how quickly Hyunjin was able to unlock his door.
Hyunjin stands up and pockets whatever he used to pick his lock with as he does so, brushing the dust off of his knees when he’s fully upright. Jisung still doesn’t move, mostly because he has nowhere left to go with his doorway blocked by his three friends. He’s outnumbered, and Jisung’s heart falls into the pit in his stomach when he gets a good look at Hyunjin’s face and sees just how pissed he is.
“Hi guys,” Jisung laughs nervously, “long time no see. Did you dye your hair again, Hyunjin? It looks great—”
The man in question stalks forward, and Jisung clams up immediately. Once he’s within reach, Hyunjin grabs Jisung by the arm and pulls him away from the center of his bed. “I’ve held back because Innie asked me to, but it’s been two weeks, Jisung. Enough is enough.”
Jisung isn’t shocked that Hyunjin is here, he’s more surprised at the fact that he didn’t show up sooner. Hyunjin is particularly protective of Jeongin, and if what he said was true, then Jeongin most likely had to ask him multiple times not to get involved.
If Hyunjin is here, that means his patience has completely run dry, and there’s no amount of begging or negotiating that Jeongin could possibly do to restrain him any longer.
“Hey, hey—you’re pulling my arm too hard!”
“I’m not doing it hard enough.”
Behind them, Changbin fails to stifle a laugh, and Seungmin is looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep himself together.
“What are you two laughing about, huh? Is this funny to you? Is Jisung making Jeongin sad funny to you guys?”
“Babe, I was with Innie at the gym yesterday and he looked fine. He was actually in a really good mood—”
Hyunjin cuts his boyfriend off. “So what I’m hearing is that you want to be next after I’m done handling Jisung?”
“No! That’s not—actually… I don’t think I would mind that at all.”
“Whatever, I’ll deal with you later. You, on the other hand,” Hyunjin gets his hands under Jisung’s armpits and lifts him right off the bed. “Are going to shower, change, and get on your hands and knees in front of Jeongin’s door to beg him to forgive you while the rest of us go out. This all better be resolved by tomorrow or else, and trust me, I don’t think you want to find out Jisung.” He starts nudging Jisung in the direction of his closet while going on about how he needs to make sure he looks good enough to be in Jeongin’s presence.
“But what if he’s busy?” Jisung pushes back. “Or…what if he doesn’t want to see me? Have you considered that?”
“Have you considered that you have thirty minutes before I get Channie-hyung involved?”
Chan would come over and look at Jisung with disappointment, hell, he’d probably even tell him just how unhappy he was with him: This is really unfortunate, I expected better from you, Jisung-ah. This was arguably so much worse than whatever Hyunjin had planned for him.
He could not let Hyunjin involve Chan.
“Please don’t.” Jisung begs.
“Then stop talking nonsense, and let me decide what you’re going to wear.”
With an outfit picked out by Hyunjin, and then approved by Changbin and Seungmin, Jisung is subsequently kicked out of his own dorm. He’s got nothing but his wallet and cellphone in the pockets of a pair of jeans Hyunjin specifically chose because: your ass looks the best in these, Jeongin told me so himself.
Taking a route he hasn’t gone on in two weeks, Jisung walks over to where Jeongin is unknowingly waiting for him. Apparently he got suspicious when Felix mentioned that he was going to be out for the night and then refused to elaborate where or with who he would be with. Thankfully, said suspicions were eventually dismissed when Felix promised him several times that he was going to be safe with people he was comfortable with. He doesn’t know that Felix was going to be with all of their friends at the same noraebang, and that Jisung was on his way, just around the corner from his building.
As he gets closer, Jisung thinks about all the different ways that Jeongin could react to seeing him for the first time in two weeks. Standing outside his door, presented as an offering, in an outfit perfectly catered to his own desires, scented around his throat and hips with the bottle of Dior Sauavge that he didn’t order takeout for a whole month in order to afford, and moisturizer smeared all over his face to make him look a little more alive. Would Jeongin accept this, or would he close the door in Jisung’s face?
He’s about to find out soon enough.
There’s a couple of people that Jisung comes across as he makes his way to the stairs, and then a few more when he walks down the hall, but none of them hold Jisung back from approaching Felix and Jeongin’s dorm. If anything, they all seem especially eager to get the hell out of the building so they can start their weekends anywhere else but here.
Before long, Jisung makes it to the door of their dorm. He raises his hand, and takes one last deep breath in before knocking.
There’s no turning back now that he’s announced his presence. All that’s left for Jisung to do is wait and see what happens next.
Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t keep him waiting long.
After some faint shuffling behind the door, Jisung hears the twisting of the lock, and then the door is slowly pulled in. Jeongin peeks over the edge and his entire body stalls.
“Jisung?” Jeongin blinks, he sounds unconvinced that what he’s seeing before his eyes is real. “What are you doing here?”
“Um, I’m here to—”
The door opens further and Jeongin’s full body steps into view. Jisung’s eyes are immediately drawn to the exposed few inches of his lower abdomen that his homemade with a pair of Hyunjin’s fabric scissors, cropped shirt reveals. Jisung gaze trails down further, his sweatpants are riding low enough on his hips to show the top half of the waistband of his boxers, and he immediately forgets the next thing that was supposed to come out of his mouth.
“I’m here because—because I need, um.”
Jeongin crosses his arm, and leans against the door frame, not looking the least bit impressed as he raises a brow at Jisung. Go on, he communicates with his gesture, but Jisung’s brain is beyond fried, the useless lump of tissue charred to an absolute crisp. He fucked himself over not seeing Jeongin in person for two weeks. This tolerance break has his heart reeling now, and Jisung is painfully aware of how much of a fool he’s making of himself. He’s red up to his ears and sweaty under his armpits. Meanwhile, Jeongin is still standing there, effortlessly hot and seemingly unbothered as he waits for Jisung to stop stuttering through each failed attempt to articulate himself.
The plan, stick to the fucking plan, Jisung wracks the charred remains of what’s left in his head around in hopes that they somehow stick. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears, he wants to apologize to Jeongin for wasting his time by making him witness the floundering mess that he’s become in his presence, and that’s when Jisung remembers something that Hyunjin had said to him earlier.
“Hyung, are you okay?” Jeongin actually looks concerned now. Jisung doesn’t know how to take it. “You’re starting to freak me out.”
No! That’s the last thing Jisung wanted to do to him. For a moment it looks like Jeongin is going to reach out to touch him, but before he can even lay a single finger anywhere on Jisung’s body, he’s already going down.
“Hyung?!”
Jisung’s knees hit the floor first. His palms next, and then he’s lurching himself forward until his forehead is millimeters from touching the threshold of the door.
“I’m sorry!” Jisung exclaims. “Jeongin-ah, I know I haven’t been good to you, not just as your hyung, but I also really like you and I haven’t been acting like I do so for that I’m so, so sorry. Even while I was being a massive idiot, you were still reaching out and texting me every day. Believe me, when I finally opened them all the other night I couldn’t understand why you didn’t tell me to fuck off instead. I really don’t deserve you Jeongin-ah so if you don’t want me anymore I honestly get it, and I’m not even going to ask you to let me down gently either because I definitely don’t deserve that—”
“Oh my god—hyung, Jisung.” Jeongin hisses. “Get off of the floor you don’t need to this.”
“But I do need to! Haven’t I been the worst? I need to—please, Jeongin, let hyung make it up to you.”
Behind Jisung, two girls walk by, and because Jeongin is too flustered to speak, they both hear when one of them say to the other, rather loudly, “Wow. It’s so refreshing to see a guy that knows his place.”
“Unnie! Don’t be so loud! They might hear you.”
“What? It’s true, though. Plus, don’t think I didn’t catch you staring at his ass…”
For the second time that day, Jisung finds himself lifted by his underarms. However, instead of being dragged off his bed, this time he’s brought to his feet and into the dorm. The door slams shut, and Jisung releases a soft gasp as he’s pushed against it. He adjusts the angle of his head to look Jeongin right in the eyes and oh.
Jeongin’s got both of his hands wrapped around each of his biceps and his eyes are eclipsed by something that he’s only seen a few times before.
The last time being a month ago, in a bar that all their friends decided to take a short detour into after dinner. Jisung was waiting for his drink when a guy, who’s face he doesn’t even remember now, strolled up right next to him. In slightly accented Korean, he’d told him that he saw the tattoo on his waist from across the bar, asked him if it stretched further across his skin.
Jisung’s lightweight self was already one shot in of something Changbin ordered a round of for them, so he’s too slow to catch the vibe this guy was trying to throw, or his hand that’s heading for the part his torso his shirt doesn’t cover.
Jeongin, thankfully, was not. Before the guy could get his hand on Jisung’s waist, Jeongin’s own shielded him from his advances. Tucked safely under Jeongin’s shoulder, he remembered hearing him ruthlessly tear into the guy. He was mean, you thought I was going to let you touch my hyung? You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as him. Get fucking lost, asshole. Chan intervened before things could get too nasty, and through it all, Jisung never left Jeongin’s side. The arm around his waist tightened, and Jeongin murmured right against his ear, stay next to me, hyung. I don’t want anyone else thinking that they can bother you.
The way Jeongin had looked at him when Jisung turned to face him then is the same way he looks at him now: protective and possessive. That single comment from one of the girls that walked by was enough to spark his notorious jealousy Jisung loved dearly.
Jeongin looking like this now tells Jisung one thing: that Jeongin still wants him. Maybe.
He wants to tease him, make up for lost time and pinch Jeongin’s cheek while he coos at him, aww baby, did that make you jealous? Except his brain hasn’t recovered from that first glance of Jeongin after two weeks.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Jeongin beats him to the punch, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it—I really like you.” Jisung finally says. Then, he asks, “Do you?”
“Yeah,” Jeongin breathes out, Jisung feels the softness of it brush against his own mouth, “I do.”
Jisung relaxes.
“Even if you did practically use up all my lube.”
“Jeongin.” He whines. “Please don’t.”
With a tilt of his head and a mischievous smile, he asks, “Why not? You didn’t let me ask you about it last time, you left before I could, remember? Also, didn’t you just practically beg to make it up to me? What if this is how I want you to do it?”
“Okay fine! What do you want to know, huh? Isn’t it already obvious enough what happened? What else is there for you to ask about?”
“Oh, there are plenty of things I can ask you, and you’re going to give me what I want.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” Jisung challenges.
“Seriously? You act like I don’t know you.” Jeongin leans in closer. Their foreheads are nearly touching now, his ginger fringe tickles Jisung’s skin. Like this, Jeongin’s form blocks the light coming from somewhere inside the dorm, but even so, the sparkle that Jisung sees in his eyes never dulls. “You’ll do it for me. You’ll give me what I ask for, because you’re a good boy, right hyung?”
One of Jeongin’s hands slides down to take hold of his waist. Jisung’s knees go weak.
“Right?” he repeats.
“I’m—” it’s embarrassing how wrecked his voice already sounds. Nothing’s even happened yet, they’re just talking, and yet here Jisung is needing to clear his throat of the want that was foaming up his esophagus. He wants to hide, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Jeongin even more than that, so he keeps his head upright even if it leaves every inch of him burning with shame. It’s not like he hates the way the heat makes him melt.
“You’re right. I’m… a good boy.”
“There we go, was that so hard?” He leans in even closer, Jisung can feel each breath that Jeongin takes as his exhales curve around his ear. “Now tell me: what did you do with my lube?”
“I… I used it.”
“I know you used it, but there was just so much missing. I would’ve though you dumped it down the drain if I didn’t know any better. Tell me exactly what you did with it.”
Jisung bites his lip. He can’t possibly be expecting him to say it out loud.
“Now, Jisung. I don’t want to have to repeat myself. You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”
His voice is quiet when he answers, “I used it to touch myself.”
“What was that? I’m not sure if I heard you.”
“Hyung.” It slips out as he whines. Jisung is about to apologize for the mix-up and correct himself until he hears Jeongin cursing under his breath. His other hand grips the other side of his waist now, all of his fingers digging into the soft skin and muscle there.
“So I’m your hyung now? Okay. I’m down for that. Doesn’t mean I’m going to be nice to you, though. Come on, Jisung-ah,” he goads, “Don’t you want to be my good boy? Tell your hyung what you did.”
“I used hyung’s lube to touch myself—fuck myself. A lot.” Jisung finally blurts it out, and although he’s embarrassed, it’s oddly relieving to finally admit it. A massive weight off of his chest. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad at you. Stop apologizing, you don’t need to do that anymore.” Jeongin pauses. Every millisecond of his silence feels like it stretches for hours. Jisung hears him lick at his mouth, he wishes to be the one doing that for him instead. “Did you use anything else?”
“No, but I—” Jisung stops himself, but it’s too late.
Jeongin’s already asking him, “But what?”
“I didn’t use any more of your stuff, but I thought of you using them on me.”
“And you fucked yourself while you did.” Jeongin says it more as a statement than as him asking for clarification.
“Thought of you doing whatever you wanted to me. Using me however you want.”
“Fuck, Jisung—”
“I jerked off to your gym videos too.”
“You—you know what, I don’t even know why I’m surprised.” He groans, pulls Jisung’s body away from the door and flush against his own. “I guess that makes me feel better about getting off to the photo of yourself that you sent me the other night. I couldn’t help myself either, I missed seeing your pretty face.”
Jisung’s already heard it from all of their friends, but he really needed to hear it from Jeongin himself. “Really? You missed me?”
“Of course I missed you. I really like you, Jisung. It’s been fun messing around and teasing you, and I don’t want that to change, but if you’re going to be my boyfriend you can’t run away and hide from me for two weeks when you get too embarrassed about how bad you want me.”
“Boyfriend?! You want me to be your boyfriend?”
“Why the hell are you so shocked? You’re mine—you’ve been mine for the past few months.”
Something warm and wet hits the juncture between Jisung’s neck and shoulder. It doesn’t take him long to realize that it’s Jeongin’s tongue running across his jugular, the sharp edge of his jaw. Jisung shivers as air hits the spot on his skin that’s slick with spit.
“I’m not letting you go. Do you think you can handle that?”
Jisung thinks he was born prepared for the intensity that Jeongin tried his best to hide away from the rest of the world.
“Don’t let me go, then.” There’s a faint tremor in Jisung’s voice as he speaks. Every last bit of him trembling from the effort it’s taken to hold himself back, from knowing that soon he won’t need to anymore. “Keep me. Please.”
Jeongin bites him. Jisung has to cover his own mouth with his hand to muffle the loud yelp he releases upon feeling his incisors bruising his skin. A mark of his jealous streak, his possessiveness, now on his skin for at least the next few days. He staggers, but lucky for him, he’s got Jeongin’s hands holding his waist. His grip readjusts to compensate for Jisung’s lack of steadiness on his feet; however, he ends up tilting his hips forward and there’s no way either of them can ignore how hard Jisung is when his erection is pressed right against Jeongin’s thigh. Or the muffled whimper Jisung lets out when Jeongin purposely repeats his movements so that he’s grinding against him.
Jisung continues to speak garbled nonsense into the palm of his hand until Jeongin decides he’s had enough of being left out. He grabs his wrist, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lace their fingers together instead, and presses their joined hands against the door above Jisung’s head. With his mouth now free, Jeongin meets the eager upward tilt of his head and kisses him breathless.
If Jisung had known that Jeongin was this good of a kisser, that kissing him would have him nearly coming in his pants from the way he thoroughly savored his mouth, he would’ve tried ten times harder to kiss him earlier. All those flirtatious attempts that never went anywhere, Jisung had no idea what he was even asking for then. He knows now, though, and feels like the luckiest boy in the world now that Jeongin is finally his.
In the brief moments their mouths separate, Jisung breathes, “Innie—hyung—I want—”
Jeongin pulls himself back, “What is it, Jisungie?” His eyes dart across Jisung’s face. He wonders what he looks like to him. Would Jeongin still call him pretty? He knows that he would, call Jeongin pretty, that is. He’s so lovely when he blushes, even more so when it’s because of Jisung. “Tell your hyung what you want.”
It’s a need not a want. Jisung rides his thigh, moans pitifully and then, “Hyung, need you to fuck me—oh.”
Jisung’s head spins, he goes from humping Jeongin’s thigh to suddenly nothing at all as he’s dragged into the hall. He’s tripping over his feet and holding on tight to Jeongin’s hand as he leads the both of them into his bedroom without even bothering to close the door. He’s too busy backing up and then pushing Jisung onto his bed to care.
“Help me out by taking your clothes off while I go grab some things.”
Jeongin leaves him with a chaste kiss on his mouth and then goes around to the foot of his bed. Jisung’s already down to his underwear and socks when Jeongin throws his backpack on his bed. The very same one that started off the domino effect of events falling into place leading them to the moment they’re in now: Jeongin now in a similar state of undress, reaching into his bag and pulling out that bottle of strawberry flavored lube.
“I would try to use the same amount that you did, but I don’t think you left me with enough to make that possible.”
“Oh fuck off. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Jisung scoots back a bit to make room for Jeongin to crawl onto the bed in between his legs. There’s only so much room on his double bed with the both of them in it.
“Nope.” He quips, smirk on his face and dimples on display. He’s so attractive it pisses Jisung off and also turns him on just as much. “Now stop complaining and open your legs. You said you needed me to fuck you, or do you not need it anymore?”
“You just want to hear me beg for your dick.” He parts his legs for him anyway, let’s Jeongin spread his thighs as wide as he needs, lets him pull off his briefs and get a good eyeful of his dick.
“And you will once I get my hands on you, or in this case inside of you.” He finally takes Jisung’s length into his hands, gets a good feel of the velvety skin against his now slick with lube palm. In a low voice, he says to him, “I knew you'd be pretty down here too.”
Jisung starts off by saying that he will not be doing such a thing, but by the time Jeongin has him stretched around three of his fingers, he’s quickly taking it back. Months of fantasizing about his hands could never compare to the way it feels to finally get the real thing.
He’s already edged him twice after he warned Jeongin he was getting dangerously close to coming, and Jisung can’t take any more of this, he needs to feel Jeongin inside of him, and not just his hands.
“Hyung.” he sniffles. “Please, no more. I’m prepped enough, I can take it.”
“Oh my god, are you about to cry?”
Jeongin looks and sounds way too excited about this development. Jisung is about to retort that no, he is not going to cry, but then sure enough, a single tear escapes and rolls down the side of his face. Jeongin’s eyes follow it as it drips off of his face and somewhere onto the bed beneath Jisung’s head, completely entranced.
“You like seeing me cry that much? You’re such a freak.”
Jeongin pulls his fingers out of him, and leans in to lick the tear track off of his face, “You don’t even know the worst of it, Hannie.”
Jisung pretends to hate it, whines about how gross Jeongin is, but they both notice it when his dick leaks more precum, adding to the mess that’s already on his stomach.
“Give me a second while I something else.”
That “something else” is exactly what Jisung hoped it would be; however, it looks a bit different from what he swore he saw two weeks ago. There’s a significant lack of parts, Jisung remembers there being straps of a harness tangled up in a mass beside the approximated nine-inch attachment.
The look on his face must say it all, because when Jeongin returns with what he retrieved from his backpack in his left hand, he almost looks a little shy.
“It came in the mail last week. I haven’t tested it out on anyone but myself yet. The shorter side goes in me, and the whole thing can, uh, vibrate if I want it to, or if you do, and we’ll both feel it. Together.”
All of this information hits him like a punch in the gut with the way it leaves him winded by the time Jeongin is done relaying it.
“Jeongin.”
“Yes…?”
“I think you might kill me with your upgraded dick,” Jisung speaks slowly, ensures that he’s looking Jeongin in the eye as he does, “and I’m definitely going to let you.”
Jeongin sputters, “Jisung what—I’m not going to kill you.”
“Why not?!” he pouts. “Do you hate me? Be honest.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“I was given too much unrestricted internet access in my formative years.” Jisung tells him straight up. “I might have daddy issues too, but I haven’t had time to fully unpack that yet. Anyway, do you still want to fuck me?”
Jeongin blinks. He’s completely silent for a few moments, then, “So that’s where you calling me ‘hyung’ came from. Got it.”
“Wow, is that really all you have to say about that? I just gave you some top tier blackmail material.”
“Jisung, it’s starting to sound like you want me to humiliate you.” He narrows his eyes at him suspiciously. Jisung shivers beneath the weight of his gaze on the bed. He’s sure that Jeongin noticed, it would be hard not to with the way he’s completely focused on him. “Seriously? Is that what you want? If I bully you, will you calm down? Or are you going to come all over yourself if I do?”
And because Jisung just can’t help himself, and having Jeongin one article of clothing away from being fully nude right in front of him nullifies his brain to mouth filter, he answers bluntly: “If you keep talking I actually might. I can already feel myself getting there. You’ll have to be meaner to me, though, but not too mean, okay? You can slap me around and call me a slut, but, if you tell me you hate me or that I’m ugly, I’ll cry, and not in the sexy way that you like.”
“Don’t worry, Hannie, I won’t hurt you in ways that you don’t want me to. If I make you cry, it’ll be because I’m making you feel really good.”
Jeongin’s promise makes Jisung feel all warm and softened up inside. He lifts his arms off the bed, makes grabbing motions with his hands—come here, hyung, I want a kiss—and Jeongin gives him a dozen, tells him how sweet he thinks he is.
Honestly, Jisung could do this all night, but Jeongin reminds him of the other plans he has set aside for the both of them when his hands wander down his body. He assumes he’s going to start jerking him off again, but then Jeongin’s hand comes off of his body, and he’s reaching back to dig his thumb under the waistband of his black briefs instead.
“Do you think you could help me out a bit?”
The black elastic goes down Jeongin’s thighs, there are so many inches of his skin on display, some parts paler than the rest of his body from the lack of sunlight.
In a daze, Jisung nods, “Sure. Just tell me what to do.”
He laughs at him, “You look like your head is about to explode,” because it is, Jisung thinks but doesn’t say out loud, “here, give me your hand.”
Jisung does as he’s told. Jeongin grabs his wrist and starts pulling his hand down, past his stomach, until it disappears from his view in between his legs. His eyes widen, he picks up on what Jeongin wants him to do, and then he feels his fingers brush across something warm and wet. They both gasp, Jeongin does so a bit louder, and his arm that’s holding his body up on the bed quivers.
“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone else touch me down there. I usually do this part myself, but I trust you, and…”
“And, what?”
Jeongin looks off to the side, “… I’ve seen all the videos you’ve posted on Instagram of you playing guitar, your hands always look nice. Thought they’d probably feel even nicer if I ever got them inside of me.”
“They will.” He assures. “I’ll make it feel good for you, hyung. Whatever you want. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m a fast learner.”
“We’ll see about that, Hannie.”
Eager. Jisung is so, so eager for him, and it isn’t just for show either. It doesn’t take long, or much direction from Jeongin, for him to figure out how to pump his fingers at the same time the heel of his hand rubs over his clit. His entire palm is coated in the wetness that leaks out from around his fingers.
Jisung pulls away his mouth off the mark he was sucking into Jeongin’s collarbone. “Shit. Hyung, you’re so hard. Am I doing okay? Does it feel good?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, “I think—fuck—right there, baby.” Jeongin shoves his face back in Jisung’s neck, and he pants raggedly over the spot he left bruised in the shape of his teeth. “Keep going, you’re such a good boy Jisung, my good boy who’s going to make me come—”
His sentence is cut off by a load moan, and Jisung can feel him squeezing his fingers tightly as he rides out his orgasm. He doesn’t stop the motion of his hand until Jeongin lets out an overstimulated whimper and stops it for him.
“God,” Jeongin giggles, “that was so—who the hell taught you how to do that?”
This feels like a trap, and still, Jisung opens his damn mouth, “Um. I think it was—”
“Don’t answer that.” He immediately cuts him off before he can actually answer. He’s no longer laughing, and glaring at Jisung. “If you tell me who and I end up running into them on campus, you might end up seeing me on the news.”
“Maybe I should tell you. So you know how I feel every time I run into Beomgyu and Soobin.”
“Oh my god that was so long ago.” Jeongin groans. He slowly pulls Jisung’s fingers out of himself, wincing at the sudden emptiness. “It only happened a few times, and I had to stop hooking up with them after I accidentally called Beomgyu your name, by the way. He knew by that point I liked you too much, and just felt bad for me. Told me to actually do something about my feelings for you, or find a different coping mechanism.”
“Damn. Well sorry for being the reason you couldn’t regularly have a threesome anymore.” Jisung says this, but in actuality, he isn’t the least bit sorry. In fact, he’s actively trying to make sure that he doesn’t look too excited.
Jeongin lightly smacks him on the shoulder, “I just told you that I was so obsessed with you, I couldn’t think of anyone else even while I was actively fucking two other guys at the same time, and that’s the only thing you take from it?”
“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents, and I did offer you my condolences!”
“Which were so convincing.” he rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, I guess. I’m gonna go grab some tissues real quick.”
“For what?” he asks.
Jeongin gestures at his right hand. “So you can clean yourself up?”
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just.” Jisung brings his hand that’s still covered in Jeongin’s cum up to his mouth. Before the latter can get a word in otherwise, his tongue is already lapping at the stickiness on his palm. Jeongin chokes and gets completely red in the face.
“You. Are such a dog.”
“Are you going to put me on a leash and ask me to bark too? I don’t think I’ll be as into it as Seungmin is, but that’s what I also said about Lix’s armpit fetish until I saw yours in that video you sent me of you doing pull-ups.”
“Oh great,” he sighs, “not you too.” Jeongin entertains him by lifting one of his arms. “Does this do it for you then? Are you liking what you’re seeing?”
Up close and in person now, Jisung confirms that yes, he’s still very much into this. Jeongin’s arms are bigger than his now, and in the old, warm toned lighting that’s in all the units of this building that cast deeper shadows on his body, his form is twice as alluring. He looks at the inward curve of his underarm, the faintest hint of thin hair on his body, how it all leads Jisung to looking at his chest and his long since healed over scars.
He kind of wants to shove his face in there and go to town, maybe if he begged enough Jeongin would let him but maybe another day. Jisung feels like he’s pushed his luck enough today.
“Yeah, that’s still pretty erotic.”
Jeongin scoffs at him, and lowers his arm. A little voice in Jisung’s head goes no! Tell him to let you look for a little longer! But he shoves it down.
Another time, he assuages, we can circle back to this after he’s fucked my brains out. If I can even remember.
“Is that all you have to say about that? Look what you’ve done to me Innie! Why do you have to be so hot? It’s making me develop new fetishes.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault that you’re such a pervert?”
“It’s exactly your fault! You have to take responsibility for corrupting someone so sweet and innocent like me.”
“I’ll take responsibility alright.” Jeongin reaches for his fancy new strap he set aside on the bed when he had Jisung finger him. He watches as he presses the shorter end inside himself, his other hand curling on the bedsheets as he adjusts to the feeling. It takes him less than a minute, and then he’s grabbing the bottle of lube again, even more of that saccharine artificial strawberry scent filling the room as he pours a good amount into his palm and starts lubing up the toy.
If he weren’t about to fuck him right now, he’d ask if Jeongin could shove his cock down his throat. Instead, Jisung feels himself getting closer to drooling out of his open mouth the longer he watches Jeongin fuck into his fist.
Once he’s satisfied, Jeongin wipes his hand on his sheets and starts getting himself back into position between Jisung’s legs.
Or at least he has every intention to until Jisung interrupts him, “Wait, what about the…”
“What is it?” Jeongin raises a brow, and Jisung looks over to his backpack that’s on the end of the bed.
“I have a lot of stuff in there, so you have to be specific about what you want me to get for you.”
Jisung whines. “The handcuffs. Please.” He adds, in a quieter voice, “I haven't been able to stop thinking about them since I first saw them.”
“Oh,” briefly returns to his backpack, “these things?” Jeongin pulls out the pair of black, fuzzy handcuffs that Jisung was referring to and brandishes them in front of his face. “I haven’t used these yet, you know? Minho got them for me for my birthday last year, and I almost pulled them out of his gift bag in front of my parents because he didn’t think to warn me beforehand. I didn’t use them out of spite.”
“But you kept them.”
“Well, I was planning on getting a pair eventually.” Jeongin takes Jisung’s right hand, opens one of the cuffs, and closes it around his wrist. A perfect fit. “I’ve always wanted to handcuff a pretty boy to my bed.”
Without him needing to ask, Jisung holds out his other wrist, offering himself completely. Jeongin takes it, the color in his cheeks rising when he notices the lack of resistance when he lifts his arms and pins them above his head.
“Sweet and innocent? Yeah, right. You’re so easy…” Jeongin says. “You really want this, don’t you?”
Jisung burns. “I need it—need you, hyung.”
“I can see that.” He leans in, hovering over Jisung’s body once more. “Move up on the bed a little, you’re too far away.”
“Huh? O-Okay.” Jisung is about to ask from what, until he looks up and notices the headboard of Jeongin’s bed, and the vertically spaced out spindles within the metal frame.
“Did you buy this bed just to be able to do this?”
“No.” Jeongin talks to him as he works on threading the other cuff around the nearest spindle. “I bought this one because it was the one they had at IKEA that seemed the easiest to build. The fact that it’s perfect for other things is purely coincidental.”
“A coincidence, sure. No, I totally believe you.”
“You're exactly the brat you try to convince us all of that you’re not. Acting like this when you’re the one that’s tied down to the bed is a choice. Which, speaking of, you better let me know the second you want out of them.”
“I won’t.” He insists. However, Jeongin does not look the least bit pleased by this.
“Jisung. Have some self-preservation, please. I don’t care how much of a masochist you think you are. Promise you’ll tell me when being restrained like this starts to freak you out instead of make you feel good.”
He’s serious about this, his expression firm with no hint of humor whatsoever, and Jisung thinks about how much Jeongin has always taken care of him and protected him since they’ve met. Introduced to them all when Jisung was in his second year by Felix as his recently acquired, cute little Dongsaeng that he’s been helping out with his English assignments. Sitting around a barbecue grill, Jisung was in the middle of picking up a strip of pork belly Chan had cooked when Jeongin’s hand suddenly shot out. He froze completely as his fingers began to tug the sleeve of his hoodie up until it was fitted tight around his upper forearm. Sorry, hyung, I just noticed it was about to go into the sauce.
Then later, for dessert, Jisung got ice cream wiped off his mouth for him, and Jeongin teasing him for being such a messy eater—at your big age, really? He’d thought that Jeongin was just putting on an act to impress them all, until they spent nearly every day together, got to know one another better, and Jisung came to see that no, this was not an act: Jeongin was his reverence. This was not something fabricated.
“Okay, I will. I promise.”
Jeongin smiles at him again, Jisung feels safe admiring the dimples on his cheek. “There’s my good boy.”
This time, when Jeongin positions himself, Jisung doesn’t stop him. He has his legs pulled around his hips, the tip of his lubed strap ready to breach him. One hand holds his waist, while the other is wrapped around the base of his cock, Jisung begs for him to just put it in already.
“Please, hyung. I can’t wait anymore, please—” he tries to reach for Jeongin, get his hands on the first thing they come into contact to so he can pull him in closer, until his wrists dig into the soft, black fur of the handcuffs keeping his hands secured to the headboard. The chains jingle as they collide with the metal spindle, and the chime that resounds in the room feels like a mockery. One that Jeongin doesn’t hesitate to partake in.
“You poor thing,” His tone isn’t cold, but it’s condescending, and that sends a line of electricity down Jisung’s spine. “So needy yet so helpless. It looks good on you, Jisungie. Maybe I should keep you like this for a bit longer, I quite enjoy the view.”
No, anything but that. Jisung sniffles, “Hyung, don’t be mean.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted, though? You want your hyung to be mean to you, asked me specifically to be meaner, because apparently I wasn’t doing enough, and a greedy slut like you just can’t help but need more.” As his words start to have more of a bite to them, so does his grip on his waist. He digs his blunt nails into his skin, and Jisung hopes that he bruises him with their crescent shape. “Isn’t that right?”
Jisung is so hard, it's bordering on painful. Earlier, Jeongin had edged him and left him hanging. It had been sweet torture then, and it's even more so now being on the cusp of getting everything he's ever wanted.
“Okay, you're right. So please—don't you want me? Hyung—”
Finally, Jeongin pushes into him. The intrusion causes him to gasp and forget the rest of his sentence.
“Of course I want you. And don't you ever think otherwise.”
It’s been a while since Jisung’s had anything other than his own fingers inside himself, but Jeongin was thorough with his prep. The sudden increase of pressure in between his legs, the sensation of being filled by something of this girth, makes it hard to breathe. Jeongin notices and immediately slows down, holds Jisung’s chin in his hand, whispers: it’s okay, baby, breathe. You can take it, come on.
His vision is too blurred by his own tears to see anything clearly, but Jisung trusts Jeongin more than anything. He relaxes, takes a slow breath in and then exhales slower than that when Jeongin tells him to. Until he’s no longer on the verge of hyperventilating, and Jeongin’s hips are flush with the back of his thighs.
“There we go. You’re so good, Jisungie. Took hyung’s cock so well, just like I knew you would.”
“I’m good, I’m so good.” Jisung babbles, both agreeing with what Jeongin said and articulating the way he feels the best he can.
“You are.” Jeongin kisses the corner of his mouth. “My good boy.”
He starts them off slow. Jisung isn’t the only one with something to get used to. While he gets acquainted with taking Jeongin’s length in its entirety, Jeongin gradually figures out what Jisung likes, the specific movements and angles that leave him breathless, begging more, again, please hyung. He does this until Jisung means something different when he asks Jeongin for more.
“Stop holding back, I can tell that you’re doing it, and it’s starting to piss me off.”
“You’re pissed off, huh?” Jeongin stops moving completely. The opposite of what Jisung wanted him to do. “You were being so sweet to me just a second ago, what happened to that?”
“Maybe if you did your job right I’d still be.”
Jeongin’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t take the bait. “It’s so obvious what you’re trying to do, you know.”
“Okay well, if it’s so obvious to you then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you? What are you in such a rush for? I’m trying to treat you nice, and be a good hyung here.”
“That’s—That’s not—ugh!” Again, Jisung tries to reach out his hands to retaliate in some way but is immediately held down in place by the handcuffs that dig into his wrists. “Hyung!” he cries out in absolute frustration. If he weren’t so worked up, he’d be embarrassed by how spoiled he sounds.
“Hyung.” Jeongin mocks him, repeats what he said in higher pitched tone than he had, and matches him in his petulance. “You hear that? How pathetic you sound?”
“I’m not—”
“You are. The way you’re acting right now just further proves it. You want me to fuck you so bad, but that’s not for you to decide? Is it? Helpless, needy little things like you need someone else to do that for you. That’s why you asked for this,” Jeongin tugs at one of his bound wrists, “and told me all about how you fantasized about your hyung using you.”
Jisung can’t argue against this, so he says nothing.
“Naughty boy, whoring yourself out for your hyung. Say it, and maybe I’ll give you what you want, Jisungie.”
It’s that single prospect, one Jeongin doesn’t even phrase as a certainty—a maybe—that has Jisung once again folding. That, and the fact that he’s been essentially backed into a corner. He can continue to go back and forth with Jeongin, who has shown that he’s more than happy to entertain his banter, and put even more time between him getting fucked the way he wants. However, Jisung doesn’t want, nor does he think he can handle, having this pleasure withheld any longer. He wants to be doused in it, to get swept up in the current until Jeongin decides to pull him out, so he lets himself go. Acts the part Jeongin thrusts onto him.
He’s playing with his food.
“You're right. I… I’m a slut for you, hyung—”
Before going in for the kill.
“And I need you to fuck me like one.”
Jeongin starts to pull out. Jisung panics, his eyes and the back of his throat burning with tears and words dusted with sugar to sweeten up his hyung’s displeasure, and then Jeongin’s hands encircle his waist, that firm grip returning and bringing with it a reassurance. He gets the briefest glimpse of one of the corners of Jeongin’s mouth curling up before he drives his hips forward, filling him back up in one thrust, before his head involuntarily falls back and Jisung’s eyes are squeezing shut. With his hands restricted, there’s nothing to muffle the loud hyung he yells out into the room.
“There’s my sweet boy again.” Jeongin breathes. “As long as you don’t hold yourself back, then neither will I.”
Jisung feels his voice against his jaw, and when he opens his eyes again, all he sees is Jeongin and his messy hair sticking up and to his forehead. His eyes, heavy and glazed over, darting back and forth between Jisung’s own and his mouth that struggles to form a single word. There’s so much he wants to say, but then Jeongin follows through on his promise, and it all starts to spill from his mouth whether he wants to or not. Whether his words are conveyed eloquently, or toeing the line of being a strung out mess of incoherent nonsense.
Regardless, Jeongin rewards him for his efforts. He fucks Jisung the way he asked for, the way he threw a fit and put himself on the line to get humiliated for. If his hands weren’t tied to the bed, he’d be clawing at the sheets or leaving lines of welts all along Jeongin’s back because god, his stroke game is too good to be true. Every thrust into him knocks the metal frame of the bed into the wall, and has Jisung crying out, hyung, don’t stop, please, please, please.
He’s hardly broken a sweat too, meanwhile Jisung’s pretty sure he’s been ruined for anyone else. No one’s ever overwhelmed him in such a way that has Jisung drenching the sheets in his sweat, his scent, and probably a piece of his soul. And no one ever will, nor get the chance to even attempt to outdo what Jeongin has done to him. They’d have to get through the man himself, and Jeongin has made it abundantly clear that he’ll make doing so next to impossible. Even if anyone ever did manage to do so, Jisung would never look in anyone else’s direction.
Especially now that he knows how lovely Jeongin looks as he’s admiring the effect he has on him. He radiates so much confidence, there’s no way Jeongin doesn’t know how he’s permanently altered Jisung.
One hand stays on his waist while the other wanders across his torso. “You get so red, did you know that? I can see it go from here,” Jeongin’s hand starts at the center of his abdomen, “to here.” He gets a handful of Jisung’s pec and squeezes, rubs his thumb back and forth over his tanned nipple and draws the lewdest little noises he’s ever heard come from his own mouth. Jisung doesn’t even need to tell Jeongin about how sensitive his chest is, he’s having a great time finding that out for himself in real time.
“Innie, that’s—ah!” He pinches his now puffy nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, and Jisung’s back arches right off the bed. Jeongin evens it out by pinching his other nipple that had been left untouched up until this point. Tears begin to sting his eyes. With Jeongin fucking him the way he is and teasing his chest at the same time, Jisung doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last much longer.
And then Jeongin’s hand grabs his chin. “All the way up to your pretty face.”
Sparks drip from his ears. His hand is so close, if Jeongin only slides his palm down a few centimeters, curls his fingers—it’s the hairpin trigger straight to his orgasm. Jisung wants this—needs this—more than anything, but he knows that Jeongin won’t make it easy for him to get it.
As long as you don’t hold yourself back, then neither will I.
“Hyung, I—hng—I need—” Jisung struggles to get his words out. Jeongin isn’t giving him any respite, his pace just as fervid, and his heavy gaze never straying from his face. Dare he say that Jeongin’s utterly mesmerized by the disarray he’s fucked him into.
“What is it? What do you need?” His thumb pets Jisung’s face close to the corner of his parted, gasping mouth. “Come on, tell hyung what you need. You can do it for me, I know you can.”
“Need—your hand on—” Jisung clenches his teeth and whimpers at a well-calculated thrust over his prostate, “your hand on m-my throat. Please, hyung, I need it. Please?”
“Oh, so Minho-hyung really wasn’t lying.” Jeongin’s hand drags down to lightly clamp down on his throat, giving Jisung exactly what he pleaded desperately for. “You like this, huh?” His fingers give a tentative press into the sides of his neck. Jisung immediately moans, and grows limp under his grasp. All the tension in his body completely melting away. “There we go, loosen up baby.” Carefully, Jeongin tightens his grip and reduces the circulation of blood and oxygen to his brain little by little. It’s the best Jisung has probably ever felt in his life, eyes rolling back into his skull, sparkling and dizzy drunk from the high that only Jeongin could put him under the influence of. “Of course a slut like you gets off on being choked by your hyung.”
Jeongin releases his grip, giving Jisung a toe curling head rush as he gulps down a full breath of air, and then he’s coming all over his stomach. Yelling Jeongin’s name for the entire floor to hear.
He thinks it’s over, but no, Jeongin continues to fuck him through his orgasm, and then he reaches down between where their bodies are connected. He smirks at Jisung, drives his cock back inside of him down to the hilt, and that’s all the warning he gets for the vibrations that start to stimulate his post orgasm, hypersensitive self. The chain of the handcuffs rattles noisily against the metal spindles of the frame, but it’s hardly audible over the sounds coming out of Jisung’s mouth. He can hardly recognize himself. Never has anyone had him crying on their cock like this: drool and snot and tears running down his face, soaking into the bedsheets beneath him.
“Innie—hyung—oh my god.” He’d been fucking around when he said that Jeongin would kill him, but the joke is really on him. Right now, Jisung doesn’t know if he’ll survive this.
“I know, baby, I know—fuck. You can give me one more, right? One more, come on.”
“Hyungie,” Jisung whines, “t-touch me, I can’t—if you don’t, I can’t, I—” uselessly, he pulls at his restraints.
“You poor thing,” Jeongin touches him then, decides to take pity on him, “Hyung will take care of it, don’t worry.”
His hand wrapping around his cock is as relieving as it is electrifying. He leans down to kiss him sloppily, and with Jeongin’s tongue licking past his teeth is how he comes for the second time, just minutes after his previous orgasm, all over his fist. Soaked to the bone with pleasure and affection. His soul detached from his body and hanging on by the thinnest tether. Jeongin’s hand continues to milk his cock until there’s nothing left, and Jisung weakly tells him that he’s tapping out.
It takes Jisung a good while to come back to himself. Around him, he vaguely registers Jeongin turning off the vibrations, pulling out, tossing his strap to the side, and reaching over for something that ends up being Jisung’s shirt to wipe his body down with.
With a look of playful fondness, and the most careful touch of his thumb, he wipes the tears off of the swell of his cheeks for him, “you’re so cute, Hannie. Are you feeling okay? Was it… good for you?”
The audacity of Jeongin to get a little shy now. “You’re… fucking insane, Jeongin. I’m literally still shaking, and I’m pretty sure you got me pregnant.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Should I take that as a ‘yes’ then?”
Jisung tries to knee him, but his muscles aren’t quite fully recovered yet so all he ends up doing is gently nudging Jeongin with his thigh. “Obviously it’s a yes, what the fuck? I was already obsessed with you, and this is going to make me so much worse. Your dick rewired my brain chemistry. I hope you’re ready for that.”
“Good. You’re not allowed to be obsessed with anyone else. Remember, you’re my boyfriend now.”
“Yeah… I’m Yang Jeongin’s boyfriend.” Being able to say that, and out loud too, makes Jisung giggle.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t wear it out so early into our relationship.”
“Don’t be like that, you love it. I know you do—look! You’re blushing!” He isn’t just saying it to get a rise out of the other either, his face and the tips of his ears really are flushed. His cute,
“No I’m not!” he whines.
“Aww, Innie-hyung you like me so much.” Jisung coos, “that’s so cute.”
“Shut up!”
“Make me.”
“I’m going to suffocate you with one of my pillows I swear to—”
“I’d rather you suffocate me by sitting on my face instead.”
“Wha—Jisung!” Jeongin gets even redder in the face. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to form a response. He looks at Jisung suspiciously, almost as if he expects him to tack on a—haha just kidding!—or an—I got you really good there, didn’t I?—but Jisung doesn’t do any of the sort.
Instead, he asks: “You didn’t come yet, right?” Jeongin doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks for itself. So Jisung continues, “Come on, hyung. Use me. I want you to.”
“… Seriously?”
Jisung nods. “I’m so serious about this. Please, hyung?”
“O-Okay. But you seriously have to tell me if you need a break, and I should probably get you out of the cuffs—”
“No! Please don’t!” he protests.
“But—Jisung, how are you supposed to tell me if something’s wrong? I don’t want to hurt you, I’ve never done this before.”
“Here, if I need a break I’ll just,” Jisung knocks his fist back, and it hits the wall directly behind Jeongin’s bed. “Hit the wall twice. That work for you?”
“Yes, it does.” Jeongin’s hands rest on each side of his rib cage. With his fingers splayed out like they are now, they cover so much surface area. Jisung thinks about them holding onto his torso in a different context, and promptly stops his train of thought before he gets too carried away. “Do not let me suffocate you. I want us to go on a proper date sometime later this week.”
“You won’t, I promise. Now get over here already. I’ve been wanting this for months.”
“So needy.” Jeongin teases, but nonetheless gets up on his knees and starts to crawl closer to where Jisung’s head rests on his pillows.
He’s overly cautious of every move he makes, and when he finally gets his thighs around his face Jeongin hesitates. His palms are pressed against the wall, and his forehead goes in the space between them as he looks down at Jisung. The only visible part of his face being from his eyes up.
Jeongin is so close, but not close enough. Jisung can see how aroused he is down past the bush of unruly hair leading to his clit, and his labia glistening with his own slickness. So, so enticing. Jisung’s mouth waters from how desperate he is to finally get his mouth on Jeongin.
“Go on, sit on me. Don’t be shy, hyung.”
“I’m going to, it’s just…” Jeongin bites his lip. “I’m going to be smothering you.”
“Yeah… ? That’s kind of the whole point. I want you to smother me, hyung. So please, sit on my face.”
Jeongin takes a deep breath, and then slowly, he makes Jisung’s wet dreams come true. His mouth is already open in preparation for the first taste of his cunt that hits his tongue. Immediately, his eyes flutter shut to really take it all in. After spending the last couple of months fucking his own hand to the thought of this exact moment, Jisung doesn’t waste any time. His nose rubs against Jeongin’s clit as he works his tongue in between his folds. Jisung gives Jeongin a minute or two to get used to having someone eat him out in this position, and to adjust the placement of his body to wherever yields him the most pleasure. Using him, Jisung’s mind supplies.
Jeongin had been so shy earlier. However, once he’s settles down and Jisung gets him going, all that shame from before goes flying out the window. Those hesitant movements from before turn into an eager, pleasure seeking grind that Jisung receives enthusiastically. His hearing is compromised by Jeongin’s thighs clamping around his head, but it isn’t enough to completely block out the loud thump against the wall that doesn’t come from Jisung needing a breather.
With a few bleary blinks, Jisung takes a peek up at Jeongin, who now has the entire length of his forearm pressed up against the wall and his forehead resting against it. His fist is in a white knuckled grip, the entirety of his face flushed all the way down to his chest. He has his eyes squeezed shut, mouth heaving around aborted breaths and high-pitched noises of all sorts, until he also takes a peek at Jisung, and their eyes lock onto each other.
“Jisung—you’re—” his other hand that had been aimlessly grasping at the air lands on his messy, drenched in sweat, mop of hair. Even when at his wits end, Jeongin still takes the time to brush Jisung’s hair off of his face for him. “You’re so good at this, what the hell? Oh, fuck—” Jisung dips his tongue inside of him—just the tip, ha ha—and Jeongin’s form hunches over, his fist once again colliding with the wall from the jolt of pleasure Jisung sends shooting up his spine. His jaw is low-key starting to ache, but Jeongin’s pleasure comes first. He can handle a little soreness if it keeps his tongue in the perfect position for Jeongin to ride it.
Jisung ends up lucking out, because in the next minute or so, Jeongin’s thighs are violently twitching and the pace he grinds his clit against his nose stutters. His hips jerk once, twice, and then out from Jeongin’s open mouth comes a guttural moan that he doesn’t even bother to muffle. He lets him hear just how mind-blowing of an orgasm he’s given him as he drinks him down. Throughout it all, Jisung never stops working his mouth. No matter how messy his face gets, his tongue never stops licking the cum that trickles down from Jeongin’s hole, sloppy with Jisung’s drool and the slickness that his own body had produced. He keeps going at it until Jeongin tugs him off his cunt by his hair, and lifts himself off and away from his face. Jisung ends up whimpering pitifully from the loss of contact, from the control exercised by Jeongin combined with the pinpricks of pain and pleasure he gets from having his hair pulled.
“Down boy, that’s enough for you tonight. I nearly blacked out for a second there.” Jeongin’s point is emphasized further by the fact that he topples over twice while trying to retrieve the keys to the handcuffs that had somehow ended up by the foot of the bed in the midst of their activities. He takes the time to curse Jisung under his breath every time he face-plants into the bed. “What the hell did you do to me, Han? This is worse than that one night we all got too fucked up in Hongdae and I almost fell into a bush.”
“I may be stupid, but I give great head like my life depends on it.”
“Hey.” Jeongin comes back to him with the key in hand. He leans over Jisung’s body and swiftly releases the lock, freeing him at last. “Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that. You’re not stupid.” Gingerly taking his wrists, Jeongin begins massaging where his skin turned pink from when he had struggled against the cuffs. The entire time, Jeongin is looking at him fondly with his stupidly handsome face. Jisung can’t handle being looked at like that, especially when Jeongin’s post orgasm glow is highlighted by the sheen of sweat on his body.
“Come on, I’m a little stupid sometimes,” Jisung mutters. “You can say it.”
“Nope. Not doing that. How are your wrists feeling? Are you hurting anywhere?”
Jisung lifts his hands up and starts rotating and flexing his wrists. He doesn’t feel any pain, just a bit of soreness that’ll probably be gone by tomorrow along with the redness to his skin there. A small part of him mourns that he wasn’t left with something that was more permanent.
His disappointment must reflect onto his face, because Jeongin asks him, with his own face full of concern: “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt, hyung? Should I go get—”
“I’m fine! I’m not hurt anywhere Innie. I just… wish they left a mark behind. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Jeongin pauses. His concern melts into relief, and then he’s right back to teasing him. “Of course you do. Well, maybe next time. We should clean up, and I really could use a shower right now.”
“Aww, no invite?”
“The invite was implied, genius. Plus, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you shower on your own right now. Can you even stand?”
“Uh… good question.”
Jisung swings his legs off the bed and slowly pushes himself off of it. Jeongin, already standing in front of him, holds his arms out for him, waiting to see what happens. When Jisung puts his full weight on his two feet planted on the carpet, he lasts all of two seconds before his knees buckle. He falls right into Jeongin’s open arms, and the both of them laugh as he struggles to maintain his footing.
“Yeah, you’re coming with me. I don’t want to spend the rest of the night at the hospital because you cracked your head open falling down in my shower.”
And so Jeongin slings Jisung’s arm across his shoulder and helps him walk to short distance to his shower. The stall is barely big enough to accommodate one person, let alone two, but Jisung’s feeling especially clingy tonight, so it works out perfectly. Jeongin pampers him, let’s Jisung rest his head on his chest while he washes his hair. The water is nice and warm, and with the head massage he gets, Jisung thinks he could fall asleep right there standing upright in Jeongin’s shower.
At some point he almost does doze off, his body growing limp and starting to slide off Jeongin’s body. Thankfully, he catches him before he smacks his head on the old, tiled wall to his left, or falls into the shower curtain and straight to the linoleum floor on his right.
“My hero.” Jisung mumbles sleepily.
“I told you that we wouldn’t be spending the rest of the night at the hospital, didn’t I?” Keeping a secure arm around Jisung’s waist now, he reaches for his bottle of body wash with his other hand. “Let me just wash the rest of us off real quick so we can go chill out. Are you hungry, hyung?”
Jisung opens his mouth, but his stomach grumbles loudly, answering Jeongin’s question for him instead. He’s kind of embarrassed about it, but Jeongin finds it funny. He laughs and looks so pretty as he does so with his dimples on full display; Jisung can’t not feel that making a bit of a fool of himself is one hundred percent worth it if it makes Jeongin look this good.
“I’ll see what I can put together for us.” As Jeongin speaks, the both of them take turns washing each other on the parts of their backs that they can’t reach. And when Jisung’s soreness prevents him from bending down for enough to finish scrubbing off his legs, Jeongin nearly gives him a heart attack by getting on his knees and helping him out with that. “Just warning you that it might be boring. Lix and I aren’t going on a grocery run until two days from now, so our inventory is pretty sparse right now.”
“That’s okay, I already know that it’s definitely going to be a thousand times better than anything I could ever attempt to make. You know, Seungmin still hasn’t lifted my ban from the stove or his ridiculously fancy coffee machine yet.”
“And he isn’t wrong for that.” They finish rinsing off the rest of the soap on their bodies, and Jeongin reaches behind himself to twist the tap off. “Don’t worry, though, hyung. I got it. I’ll take care of you.”
“Because I’m your boyfriend now?”
“Because I care about you. I always have, hyung.” Jeongin grins. “Let’s dry ourselves off.”
On the second hand coffee table in the main room of the dorm, there’s a pot of ramyeon sitting on top of a beat up cutting board. There are a few spoonfuls of mild, red liquid left, and the tiniest bits of noodles that neither of them bothered with pulling out of the broth.
An old movie plays on the TV. Something that Jisung had picked out for the both of them to watch simply because the plot intrigued him, and Jeongin had said—sure, why the hell not?—before pressing play. Jisung has been tucked under Jeongin’s arm for the past two hours or so. The two of them glued to each other's sides with a fuzzy, maroon throw blanket across their laps.
No incidents had occurred in the poor excuse of a kitchen that Jeongin had in his dorm, thankfully, and besides Jisung crying at the sad ending of an animated movie they’d watched while they were still working on the ramyeon Jeongin had cooked for them, the rest of their night had been peacefully quiet. Jisung had a stomach full of warm soup, and the warmth of Jeongin’s body pressed flush against his own chest felt heavenly.
The tranquility of the dorm is interrupted by the jarring sound of the lock on the front door being fumbled with. There’s cursing that comes from behind the door, that they both recognize as Felix’s voice, and then the door opens to reveal their friend. Still inebriated and looking a bit disheveled, but nonetheless stylish with his makeup coordinating with his outfit. In his left hand, he has the keys he’d been struggling to get the front door unlocked with, and in his right is a sheet of paper torn from appears to be a quad ruled notebook. A few minutes later, Seungmin appears behind him with both of their jackets slung across his arm looking equally mussed up.
“We got a noise complaint from Hanbin next door.” Felix announced belatedly as he clumsily pulls his shoes off. Nearly falling over himself until Seungmin steps in to help. Once they’re off, he walks over to lean over the back of the couch, looking down at Jeongin and Jisung with a drunk smirk on his face and the paper in his hands. He clears his throat, “‘fuck you and your allegedly’—he underlined this three times in red sharpie by the way—‘big dick, Yang Jeongin. I have an o-chem exam tomorrow. You owe me big time.’” He falls into a fit of giggles, and turns to look back at the couple cuddling on the couch. “Want to tell me what this is all about?”
“Nope.” Jeongin and Jisung answer in unison, their faces matching shades of pink and red. From the entrance to the dorm, Seungmin barks out a laugh.
“Fair enough. Don’t think I won’t ask you about this later, though. You’re lucky I’m all tired out from dancing tonight.” Felix staggers up to a cupboard and pulls a bag of potato chips from it. Seungmin practically materializes next to him. The both of them then lean against a counter while they take turns feeding each other handfuls of chips.
“You two are dating now… right?” Seungmin asks. “Are we all free from your painful situationship?”
Jeongin scrunches his nose. “Ew, don’t call it that, hyung. You know how I feel about those.”
“Well, Innie, you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. You two were exclusively flirting and eye fucking each other for months, what else would you call that then?”
Jisung is too sleepy to argue, and Jeongin keeps his mouth shut, not really having anything substantial to bite back with. He does hear him call Seungmin a little shit under his breath, though.
Felix cheerfully interjects, “Well, semantics aside, congratulations on making it out of the situationship stage you two—”
“Not a situationship, hyung.”
“I can’t wait to see you both become worse about each other!” Felix puts down the bag of chips, and walks off to his room with Seungmin following closely behind, their salty fingers interlocked. “Anyway, we’re going to bed now. Goodnight!”
“Don’t get yourselves another noise complaint.” Is the last dig Seungmin throws at them before Felix’s bedroom door closes.
“He’s one to talk.” Jisung mutters, and then yawns immediately after. “Should we go to bed too?”
His yawn is contagious. Jeongin lets out one of his own right after as he stretches his arms up above his head. “Yeah, I’m getting a little tired too—wait.” He suddenly pauses.
“What?”
Jeongin groans into his hands. “I forgot that we still have to change the sheets. Fuck.”
They end up falling asleep on the couch, which is horrible on Jisung’s already sore back, but they both go out for breakfast together in the morning. Jisung dubs it as their first official date in between sips of iced coffee, and on their walk back to Felix and Jeongin’s place, he gets pulled into an alleyway that’s secluded from the main street so that Jeongin can kiss him until he’s gasping for breath. Afterward, once they’re inside and get some fresh sheets on the bed, Jisung gets the best massage of his life.
His body is deliciously limp, Yang Jeongin is his boyfriend, Jisung’s life has never been better, and this was only the beginning.