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"So what was it like?"
"Shit," Changbin curses under his breath as his character on screen is eliminated for the rest of the round, tossing the controller aside in frustration. He was close to ranking higher than he'd ever been—"high" being top twenty, which most would argue isn't high at all—when an enemy team popped up from behind a building and took him out, depleting all of his shield and health points in an instant.
He'd bet Chan ten bucks that he could beat his record of miraculously placing ninth, figuring if Chan could do it, so could he, but it's proven to be a difficult journey so far.
He really should stop betting on stupid shit.
He belatedly registers Jisung's question, turning to look at the younger where he sits on the other end of Changbin's couch, picking at his nails. "Sorry, what?" Changbin asks, reaching over to grab his bag of chips from where they rest against Jisung's leg and stuff some in his mouth.
"What was it like?" Jisung inquires a second time. "Y'know, with Minho."
Changbin scoffs around his mouthful of chips, figuring this question was coming sooner or later ever since he revealed to Jisung a few days ago that he used to fool around with his friend’s crush (and since Jisung then proceeded to bet fifty bucks that he could get into Minho's pants before the end of the semester). He had reveled in the shock and jealousy that crossed Jisung's face at first, but now he's starting to think it may not have been worth it if Jisung is going to pester him for all the dirty details.
"It was fine," he answers shortly.
"Fine?" Jisung gawks. "You slept with someone who looks like that and all you have to say is fine?"
Changbin shrugs. "Okay. It was good."
It's not a lie; it was good, but frankly, he's not too keen on reliving the experiences in order to recount them to Jisung. For his own sake and the embarrassment of rejection, partially, but it also almost feels unfair to Hyunjin in a way, even though he knows the thought is irrational.
(It's probably just lingering guilt for jumping into something with Hyunjin back when Changbin used to harbor feelings for Minho. Luckily, they weren't anything major and were pretty easy to get over, especially when he found himself falling for Hyunjin ten times harder.)
"C'mon, I'm serious!" Jisung whines, prodding Changbin's leg with his foot.
"I said it was good!" Changbin cries, slapping Jisung's foot away. "What do you want from me?"
"Details!" Jisung demands. "How'd it happen? Where'd you meet? How does he like his eggs in the morning?"
"Do you even know how to cook eggs?"
"Stop changing the subject!"
Changbin sighs, knowing Jisung won't stop pestering him until he has answers. He supposes it's fair; if he'd found out one of his best friends slept with someone he was interested in, he'd be insanely curious, too. He'll indulge Jisung, but only a bit.
"We met at a party," he says.
"And?" Jisung presses.
"And..."
⏪︎
If Changbin is being honest with himself, and he usually is, he's trying to get laid tonight. Casual hook-ups aren't normally his thing; he'd much rather have a relationship, fall in love, all that good stuff. However, he hasn't had any luck lately as far as dating goes, and right now, he's really just craving a warm body pressed against his. He'll take just about anything at this point.
Anything arrives in the form of one insanely gorgeous, alcohol-flushed face belonging to a man who practically flings himself at him.
Well—not practically, literally.
A gasp is the only warning Changbin is given as he whips his head around towards the motion in his peripheral, reflexively opening his arms to catch the person who'd managed to trip and fall just a few stairs away from the bottom of the staircase. Of course, the drink in his hand spills, cold liquid running down the front of his shirt, but he barely registers it as he helps the stranger regain his balance.
"You alright?" Changbin asks, hands gently held under his elbows while he clings to Changbin's arms, wide-eyed as he stares at his wet shirt.
Changbin had seen him earlier that night. It's hard to miss a face that beautiful—catlike eyes, pouty lips, and sinfully tight pants. He hadn't even spared Changbin a glance, understandably preoccupied with the taller, attractive man he was presumably with considering his wandering hands and the other man’s hand around his waist, so Changbin went on his way and enjoyed the party with hardly another thought about him.
What he didn't realize without the man's usual round glasses and fluffy sweater combo is that he's the one from Changbin's literature class—the one he'd overheard some other classmates murmuring amongst themselves about like overgrown middle schoolers, but he can't recall his name.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he rushes out. "I—Thank you, I'm sorry, shit."
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Changbin soothes. "Stairs aren't easy when you're drunk."
He's standing upright now, eyes making their way to Changbin's face as he smiles gratefully, huffing out a laugh. "I'm not drunk." His eyes are a little red-rimmed, so Changbin assumes he's been smoking, though he can't smell it on him. Maybe an edible. "Just an idiot."
His smile carries a hint of sadness now, with enough conviction in his voice to make Changbin think he's not just talking about his misstep on the stairs.
"Oh, me too," Changbin says, in hopes of lightening his mood, "but my friends usually just call me Changbin."
Changbin feels accomplished when the lame joke earns him a giggle. "I'm Minho," he says. If he recognizes Changbin, he doesn't show it. His eyes flicker down to Changbin's shirt, lingering long enough to make him feel a little hot under the collar. "Can I help you get cleaned up?"
Despite Changbin's half-hearted reassurances that it's fine, Minho manages to wrangle him towards the bathroom anyway. He has some pretty strong suspicions that Minho's hands on his arm and almost mischievous smile are a little more than friendly.
His heart stutters in his chest when Minho shuts the door behind them, and he swallows under the weight of Minho's searching gaze as he approaches. He's close, too close, his front nearly pressing against Changbin's and caging him in against the sink as he reaches around him to grab a towel from the counter with a little smirk on his lips.
He hands it to Changbin, and he takes a hold of it, but Minho doesn't let go. He stays tantalizingly close, tempting Changbin with his pink lips.
"Want me to take care of it for you?"
There's no way Changbin is reading this wrong, and he'd be more than willing to go along with it, but—the image of Minho with the man from earlier flashes in his mind, and he hesitates. People flirt around at parties all the time, of course, but he doesn’t want to take any chances.
"I'm sorry, I just—" He clears his throat, and Minho pulls away to give him space. He decides to get straight to the point. "I saw you with someone earlier. I just need to make sure I'm not, like, being a homewrecker."
Minho's expression darkens at the mention of the man from before. He seemed perfectly fine with him earlier, but Changbin supposes a lot can happen in a few hours, especially in a place like this.
"No." Minho shakes his head, chuckling bitterly. "No, we’re not together. He's a fucking asshole. I'm not the one who cheats." His eyes flicker up to meet Changbin's in surprise, like he didn't mean to let the words slip past his lips.
"Oh, shit," Changbin breathes. "I'm so sorry."
Minho shakes his head again, adamantly, like it's the last thing he wants to think about. Changbin can't blame him. Shit, is that why his eyes are red?
"No, I'm sorry," he sighs, burying his face in his hands. "I'm just—I'm really angry, and I was just going to use you—"
"Hey, it's okay. You don't owe me anything," Changbin says softly, gently gripping Minho's biceps and giving them a comforting squeeze. When Minho peeks at him through his fingers, he adds with a playful smile, "Use me all you want."
"I can't," he despairs, dragging his hands down his face. "You're too nice."
"Well, hey, look at it this way," Changbin says. "I came here to use someone for a quick fuck, so I guess we're in the same boat." Minho scoffs, but he relaxes a bit in Changbin's hold.
Changbin feels an awful pang of sympathy looking at Minho, with his sad smile and eyes downcast, knowing what he's been through tonight. He wants to help, however he can.
"Do you want me to take you home?" he asks. Minho's eyebrows raise and he quickly clarifies. "To your place, I mean. To drop you off, not—I'm not propositioning you. Unless you want me to be. The offer is still open, just so we're clear."
Minho lets out a hearty laugh at that, putting a little light back in his eyes. "Okay," he says, taking the towel hanging limp in Changbin's hand and pressing it into the stain on his stomach that's beyond hope. He crowds Changbin into the counter again until his lips are inches away, making his heart rate pick back up from its relaxed state. Changbin tentatively raises his hands to Minho's hips, subconsciously biting his lip.
"You're sure?" Minho asks softly, long eyelashes fluttering as his gaze jumps from Changbin's lips to his eyes.
It would be all too easy to close the gap between them and answer him with a kiss, but Minho needs to be the one to make that decision. "As long as you're sure."
"Okay," Minho breathes again, the breath fanning over his lips smelling faintly of vodka. "Let's get out of here and get you out of this shirt."
⏩
"So you were a rebound?"
Figuring it wasn't his place to tell, Changbin had left out the cheating bit in his recount, just mentioning that Minho had recently gone through a breakup. But with the way Jisung's lips purse in concealed laughter, he's starting to think he should've left it out entirely, or not humored him at all.
"Well, I mean, yeah, but it's not like I didn't know what I was getting into—"
"I knew there had to be a catch!" Jisung laughs, all too delighted by the revelation.
"You don't know shit!" Changbin retorts indignantly, grabbing a pillow from his side to fling it at Jisung. "It doesn't change the fact that we fucked. More than once, might I add." Jisung narrows his eyes at him, so he keeps pressing his buttons. "And you know what? He's great in bed."
"What happened to 'it was fine?'"
"I was sparing your feelings."
"Whatever," Jisung grumbles, half-heartedly tossing the pillow back at him and folding his arms, pouting like a petulant toddler.
"Ooh, you're so jealous," Changbin teases, leaning over to poke at his cheek.
"Yeah, if it wasn't obvious!" Jisung huffs, batting his hand away before he rests his head against the back of the couch, staring wistfully up at the ceiling. "Why do good things happen to bad people?"
Changbin rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Okay, drama queen. That's the last time I indulge you and your nosy questions."
"Wait, I wasn't done!" Jisung whines, scooting closer to grab Changbin's arm and shake him. "I didn't mean it. You're the handsomest guy I've ever seen, seriously. Oh, your arms, so strong—" He grips the muscle more firmly and Changbin shoves him off, laughing (and secretly preening at the praise, even if it was just Jisung being stupid and over the top).
"Yeah, yeah. Save the sweet talk for Minho."
"Is he into that?" Jisung asks eagerly, eyes wide.
"Why don't you try it and find out?" Changbin counters.
"Why don't you just tell me so I have an idea of what I'm doing?" Jisung pleads. "C'mon, there's gotta be something. Throw me a bone here."
"Honestly, man, I don't know what to tell you," Changbin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "He's hard to read. I never really understood him."
"You slept with him multiple times and you can't tell me anything he likes," Jisung says, deadpan.
"Outside of bed? Not really, no."
"Okay, so in bed." Jisung turns fully towards him now, crossing his legs and looking at him expectantly. "Did you, like... go all the way?"
"Yes," Changbin sighs, exasperated.
"And did he..." Jisung forms a circle with his left thumb and pointer finger, using his right pointer finger to crudely penetrate the circle, then presenting the two symbols as options, eyebrows raised in a question.
Changbin plays dumb, blinking in faux confusion, more for Jisung's benefit than anything else. He won't get anywhere with Minho—or anyone—if he can't even say it.
Jisung scowls, seeing right through Changbin. "Okay. Did you take it up the ass or did he?"
Not the exact wording Changbin was hoping for, but okay.
⏪
Changbin has acquired a taste for Minho's lips, to say the least. They'd made out in the bathroom back at the party but stopped before it went too far lest they be stuck riding in Changbin's truck with uncomfortable boners. The ride still felt agonizingly long with the promise of those lips back on his when they arrived at Minho's place, and now that they're here, Changbin is desperate to feel all of him, everywhere.
So he helps Minho out, slowly but surely making his way through the buttons on his shirt before slipping his hands in to press his fingers into Minho's waist, skin hot under his touch. He slides them up to his pecs, brushing his thumbs over Minho's nipples, pleasantly surprised at the responsive reaction of Minho moaning softly into his mouth and grinding down on his growing bulge.
Several minutes pass with kissing and grinding and Minho's pretty little sounds and the gradual removal of most of their clothes, and before long Changbin is left with a lapful of Minho in nothing but his underwear and a flush that reaches down to his chest.
"You're gorgeous," Changbin finds himself saying as his hands rest on Minho's hips, thumbs stroking his soft skin.
Minho smiles with lips swollen and glistening from their kisses, a small hand sliding up Changbin's torso to the middle of his chest where he pushes down until Changbin gives, lying back against the mattress.
"You're hot," Minho compliments in return as he dips down to kiss down Changbin's neck, his fingers teasingly slipping under the waistband of his boxers. Changbin's heart hammers in anticipation as Minho's hand disappears into his underwear and emerges with his length, giving it a few tentative pumps.
"Fuck," Changbin hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Which way do you want this to go?" Minho asks.
"Um—fuck." It's hard to contemplate his options with the deft movements of Minho's hand curled around him, but he tries. "Whatever you want."
"I spilled your drink on you, so you get to choose."
"You're still on that?"
"Yes," he answers, detaching his lips from Changbin's collarbone to pull back and look at him. "I have to make it up to you somehow."
"You really don't," Changbin chuckles.
Minho fixes him with a glare, his tightening grip making Changbin keen. "Okay. I'm going to suck your soul out through your dick and ride you, then, unless you have any objections."
Changbin splutters, eyes wide as Minho trails his lips down his body and yanks his underwear down. Minho has to be some kind of incubus or other supernatural being; there's simply no reasonable explanation for someone this hot to exist. Still, whether it's at the risk of all his energy being drained out through his dick or not, Changbin wants more.
"N-No, that's okay," he manages to respond. "Fine with me."
Minho flashes him a catlike smile and puts his pretty mouth to work.
⏩
"Both," Changbin answers Jisung's burning question. "Mostly him, though." Jisung nods slowly, eyes wide as he stares at Changbin's bag of chips contemplatively, like they hold all the answers. Or maybe just a portal to a vault full of Jisung's wildest fantasies.
Changbin shudders at the thought.
He slaps Jisung's arm lightly, startling him. "Hey, rein in the dirty thoughts, lover boy. If you pop a boner in front of me I'm kicking you in the balls."
"I'm not!" he snaps. "Christ, it was one time. Let it go."
Changbin cackles at the memory of Jisung waking up on his couch, blanket falling away to reveal an unfortunate case of morning (afternoon, really) wood through his sweatpants that he didn't even seem to realize he had until Changbin looked down and snorted, as mature adults do. Jisung had flushed redder than a tomato, yanking the blanket back up to his chest and yelling at Changbin for laughing. The memory shouldn't make Changbin fond, of all things, but it does.
Changbin picks up his phone to check the time and is greeted by a handful of text messages from Hyunjin—which he prays are safe for work so he doesn't end up making a hypocrite out of himself after he just told Jisung not to get hard in front of him—a question from a classmate about an assignment, and a meme from Chan. He figures the conversation is over now that he's satiated Jisung's curiosity and given him enough to mull over, but Jisung breaks the silence again after just a few minutes.
"So is there, like—like… What else is he into?" he asks.
"He likes cats," Changbin answers. "And he dances, but I never got to see it."
"I already know that!" Jisung complains. "I meant like—Is he... y'know?"
"Is he what?" Changbin groans, exasperated as he clicks his phone off and lets it fall onto the couch next to him.
Jisung lowers his voice and leans in to ask conspiratorially, "Is he freaky?"
Changbin feels his cheeks warm immediately at the memory that comes rushing back to him. It must show on his face, because Jisung leans in even farther with a sharp intake of breath and eyes as wide as saucers.
"What?" he asks, impatient.
"Well, it was just that one time, but―"
⏪
Minho has Changbin's wrists pinned to the bed above him, and while Changbin figures he could break out of his hold if he wanted to, he likes the feeling of Minho's surprisingly strong grip and how good it feels to be held down by him while he positions himself above Changbin, wet and ready.
Changbin is close to pleading as Minho teases him around his entrance, but Minho speaks up first.
"You like being tied up?"
"Huh?" Changbin gawks, taken completely off-guard.
Minho huffs out a laugh and returns to his task. "Never mind."
"No, wait," Changbin says before he can stop himself. He doesn't do this sort of thing often, let alone with near-strangers, and it's not the smartest of his decisions, but in the heat of the moment he thinks that he would like that. Very much. "What are we talking here, like―"
"Just your hands," Minho says. Then he rushes out, "Only if you're into it. Obviously we don't have to; it was just a thought."
Changbin sucks his lower lip between his teeth and nods. "I want to."
Minho's pleased smile alone is worth it as he utters an "okay" and dismounts Changbin to reach in the back of his drawer, hand emerging with a small reel of blood red rope. Changbin swallows thickly as he presents his hands to Minho, admires his features while he works, expertly weaving the material around his wrists and tying it loosely.
"Is this okay?" he asks, and Changbin wiggles his wrists, testing. Truthfully, he'd like it to be tighter, but he figures they're pushing enough boundaries as it is, so he nods. Minho leans over him to secure the rope to his headboard, and Changbin's heart pounds at the immediate powerlessness that overcomes him as he tugs lightly at the restraint.
Minho smiles at the shaky breath he lets out. "I'll untie you anytime, okay? Just say the word."
"What's the word?"
"'Please,'" he says with a grin. "Unless you want to use a safe word?"
Changbin has a feeling he'll want to beg Minho to untie him and not mean it at all, so he decides on the latter and blurts the first thing that comes to mind. "Walrus."
"Walrus," Minho repeats flatly.
"I dunno. My friend told me I look like one the other day," Changbin divulges, chuckling at the memory of how hard Jisung had laughed at his own stupid joke. "Guess it's haunting me."
"Your friend's an idiot," Minho tells him, and before Changbin has the chance to agree, Minho is sinking down on him and every other thought in his mind dissipates as he lets out a low moan, instinctively reaching for Minho's hips only to meet the resistance of the rope.
Minho is going to drive him fucking crazy.
⏩
"He, uh, tied my hands to the headboard."
"Oh," Jisung chokes out.
"Just that first time."
"Okay."
"The others were pretty vanilla."
"I see." Jisung looks a bit like his soul has packed its bags and left his body. "Was it not—Did you not like it?"
"No, it was great," Changbin says. "He just didn't bring it up again after that, and I didn't ask."
"So then…" The corners of Jisung's lips twitch into a smile, and Changbin is dreading what will leave his mouth next. "Do you let Hyunjin tie you up now?"
Changbin shakes his head, moving to stand. He has a reputation to protect, damn it. "We're not doing this."
"Wait!" Jisung wails, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around Changbin's waist to keep him in place. "I'll stop, I'll stop." Jisung weighs little and it would be all too easy to just keep going, to drag him across the floor and laugh at him while he clings onto Changbin and whines. But Changbin is a nice person, so he plops back down with a huff.
"You're really pushing your luck today."
"You love me," Jisung declares, grinning with his cheek squished against Changbin's shoulder.
"Unfortunately," Changbin responds dryly.
"And you're also the only person I know who knows Minho," he continues, releasing Changbin and slumping onto the back of the sofa. "I need your wisdom."
Changbin shakes his head, shrugging. "I didn't really know him, y'know? Pretty much everything I can tell you, you already know."
"Well, you said we were the same kind of weird or some shit," Jisung says. "The fuck does that mean?"
"I don't even know," Changbin says unhelpfully. "I don't know how to explain it. I just think you're both weird."
"Give me an example. How is he weird?"
"He's just, like…" Changbin gesticulates, trying to find the words. "Eccentric, I guess? Unpredictable. He's funny, though; I think your humor would mesh well."
"Really?" Jisung puffs out his chest a little. "Well, I am pretty hilarious."
"Yeah, yeah." Changbin can't deny that, but he won't give Jisung the pleasure of confirming it, either. "Oh, and he kept most of his clothes in bundles, and the one time he lent me notes, the margins were filled with a poorly-drawn comic of some ugly little cartoon dude destroying a city or something. That was a little weird."
"He sounds more amazing by the day," Jisung sighs dreamily. "Wait, bundles?"
"Yeah, like, just pieces of cloth tied at the top."
"Huh."
Changbin feels laughter bubbling up in his chest as he recalls another memory. "He never stayed the night, but one time he was super tired so he just stayed for a nap. Drooled all over my pillow and screamed in his sleep."
"What the fuck?" Jisung laughs.
"Yeah, so you might have that to look forward to if you manage to score." Changbin smiles at the thought of Minho screaming into a peacefully sleeping Jisung's ear. Maybe he wants Jisung to win the bet after all.
(Who is he kidding? Of course he wants Jisung to win. Whether he can or not is the question.)
"Noted," Jisung says. He studies Changbin's face for a moment. "You seem like you liked him." Changbin's eyebrows shoot to his hairline, thinking he's been caught, but Jisung quickly waves his hands in front of him. "Not like that! I just meant you seem fond of him. Unless you did like him like that…?"
Changbin winces, scratching the back of his head. He'd hoped this wouldn't come up, but he can't lie to Jisung. "Honestly? Yeah," he admits, "I did. A little." Jisung blinks at him with his stupid cute little doe eyes and Changbin sighs. "It wasn't anything serious, though. I didn't know him well enough to like him that much, y'know? I think I was just desperate for a relationship."
Jisung hums, picking at a frayed thread in his sweatpants. "Is that why it ended?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
⏪
Changbin doesn't know why he does it.
He doesn't know why he feels compelled to, why he feels this way at all. He knows it's stupid, knows he barely knows Minho, knows this arrangement was explicitly no strings attached from the start. He knows Minho will probably say no, but part of him holds onto the hope that he won't.
The hope that this could be something more.
The hope that spurs his fingers to wrap around Minho's wrist as he stands to leave.
"Minho?"
Minho freezes, turning to meet his eye, expression unreadable as ever. His eyes flicker down to where their hands are joined and back to Changbin's face, an unspoken question and an answer in them that Changbin is sure he won't like.
"Will you stay?" he asks anyway. He's crossing a line, overstepping boundaries they've already set, hoping Minho will step out with him, too.
Minho sighs softly through his nose as he gently pulls his hand from Changbin's grasp. Changbin lets his hand fall to the mattress and Minho places his over it. "I'm sorry," he says, answering both of Changbin's questions at once.
I won't stay. I don't feel the same.
Changbin feels himself nod, withdrawing his hand from the sting of Minho's rejection. Minho watches him with a sympathetic look in his eyes for just a moment before standing to gather his coat and his keys. Just when Changbin thinks he's going to leave without another word, he stops in the center of his room, facing him.
"I think we should stop," Minho says. He lets him down easy, voice as gentle as his features, but it still hurts. Not as badly as Changbin thought it would, but it hurts. Minho gives him a small smile. "You deserve better."
And before Changbin can argue against that or even fully contemplate what Minho meant, he's gone.
⏩
"So we stopped fucking around and haven't spoken since."
"Damn," Jisung mumbles.
"I was a little bummed, but I knew it was for the best." Changbin shrugs. "Especially since I met Hyunjin not long after."
"Yeah." Jisung laughs weakly, gaze distant. "Good timing."
Changbin nudges him gently. "Don't feel weird about it, though. It was just a little fling."
"No, I believe you, I just…" He gnaws on his lip. "What if the same thing happens to me? If I even manage to get that far. Which… That alone would be a miracle. Ugh." He runs his hands down his face, groaning.
"Hey, hey," Changbin starts awkwardly, inching closer to give Jisung's knee a comforting squeeze. "It'll be fine."
"I'm an idiot," he sighs. "And a loser. And he's way out of my league. There's no fucking way―"
"Stop," Changbin says sternly. "You never know. Maybe you're just his type." He pokes at Jisung's ribs, making him flinch and fold in on himself, trying to suppress laughter and bat Changbin's hands away all at once. "Maybe he rejected me because he needed a Han Jisung in his life."
"Stop," he whines, petering off into a laugh. "I know I'm sexy, but he's like—stop—like, a Greek god or some shit."
"It's not all about looks, you know," Changbin says with a light flick to Jisung's forehead that makes him pout. "And with that mindset, you won't get anywhere with anyone."
"Clearly it's not all about looks, since he got with you," Jisung mumbles jokingly under his breath with a smirk, yelping when Changbin rears a fist back like he's going to punch him. "Kidding! I know it's not, it's just… ugh. Y'know?"
"I know." Changbin puts an arm around his shoulders as if it could protect him from the self-doubt. He isn't normally touchy like this with Jisung, but right now he wants to offer comfort and encouragement in whatever way he can, and Jisung has always said he likes his hugs, however rare they may be. "You've got this, though. And hey, even if you don't, it's just another stepping stone to finding your own Hyunjin."
Jisung scrunches his nose up. "Ew. I don't want my own Hyunjin."
"You know what I meant, shithead."
"Yeah, yeah," Jisung sighs, resting his head on Changbin's shoulder. He's silent for a moment, then utters a quiet "Thanks, hyung."
"Of course." Changbin pats his arm fondly.
"I look forward to taking your money," he adds.
"Good luck with that," Changbin scoffs sarcastically.
(He knows that Jisung knows that he secretly means it.)
♠