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Minho knows the moment she gets into the back of Han Jisung’s 2009 Honda Accord that this hook-up could go one of two ways.
One: he has awful stroke game, finishes in under two minutes, and plays with her clit (if he can even find it) like a Nintendo 64 joystick for a solid thirty seconds before asking if she came.
Or, two: the rumors are true, and Jisung ruins her chances of enjoying sex with anyone else ever again.
The parts of her thighs not covered by her skirt stick to the leather seats, making the awkward shuffle to the center even more awkward. Jisung tells her to hang tight real quick and leaves the door hanging open, walking around to open the driver-side door and duck inside to put the keys in the ignition. The AC rattles on, cranked to the max and blowing stale air into the back. He bumps his head standing back up, fucking jogging back around to return to standing between Minho and her only viable exit.
She gives him her best unamused look, even going as far as to examining her nails. Jisung’s grinning down at her when she finally looks back up, hands wringing together excitedly. She doesn’t say anything, and neither does he. Minho’s the one to break with a dull, “Yes?”
Jisung stands up taller, at attention. He gestures towards her, to the backseat. “Can I join you?”
It takes everything in her not to scoff, not to roll her eyes. “This is literally your car,” she reminds him, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, but.” Jisung’s a big talker with his hands, it seems. Not exactly something Minho’s bothered to pick up on in the handful of weeks she’s known him from their shared economics class. She’s only here for one thing anyways. “It’d still be rude to assume,” he explains, eyes bright behind his circle frames, prescription lenses making his boba eyes look even bigger. Minho stares blankly at him. “I need explicit consent,” Jisung insists.
Minho does sigh this time, drumming her acrylics over her knee. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Jisung doesn’t look happy with that response. She bites the tip of her tongue, crossing her arms across her chest. Hopefully her foundation hides the blush she can feel warming her cheeks. “Would you just get in here and put your dick in me already? You’re wasting cold air.”
He looks like he still wants to argue, but that’s as close as Minho is getting to saying please fuck me . Lee Minho does not beg. Jisung finally relents and crawls into the backseat with her, shutting the door behind him. The front seats have already been pushed up as far as they can go — in preparation for Minho, or maybe this guy really does get tons of bitches — but there’s now a noticeable lack of distance between them that has Minho leaning back by habit.
That seems to hurt his feelings a bit, big eyes and pouty lips making her feel like she just kicked his puppy. She rolls her eyes and pulls him in by the collar of his faded band tee, leaving a whisper of space between their lips that has him straining to close the gap. She swipes her tongue over her bottom lip and watches Jisung’s stupid front teeth dig into the plush of his own.
Jisung makes this little pleading noise that has Minho closing the distance, pressing her mouth to his own parted one. He surges into it with a groan like she expected him to. She forces him into a pace that seems to frustrate him, tongue brushing at the seam of her lips with increasing insistence. It takes one hand in his hair and the other gripping his jaw to get Jisung to ease up.
He starts getting handsy, palming at her waist beneath her shirt. Minho lets him, rocking forward until he has no choice but to fall back, creating space for her to swing a leg over to straddle his lap. His actions get more frenzied, more firm, gripping her waist tighter; sweeping hands over her bra but not breaching them. Jisung’s stopped nipping demandingly at her mouth, tongue only coming into play when Minho’s breaches the space between them, but the heat building between Minho’s thighs has objections to that. Touch me more.
It’s Minho’s turn to get frustrated now, licking into his mouth with a renewed vigor, hoping he’ll get it. Get on with it . But of course he doesn’t, because Minho’s already learned that Jisung doesn’t do things without explicit permission. She almost wishes he was meaner, pushier; it would be easier, maybe, if Jisung would just rip her thong to the side and put it in already. No condom, no checking if she was ready. Minho suppresses a shiver at the thought.
But Jisung isn’t like that. Jisung is the quiet, dorky kid that she only recently started paying attention to. All it took was a handful of girls passing him in the hallway and giggling to each other, a knowing look in their eyes. A secret that Minho’s not in on. He has something that you want, Minho’s devious little brain had hissed. And so what if some of this was fueled by a particularly long dry spell? She can just blame it on stress. Midterms are fast approaching, her rent got increased again.
Minho all but rips her mouth away from his, grabbing him by the throat when he goes to chase her. His eyes get big with surprise, puffy mouth parted in what Minho might even go as far as to call awe . She cocks an eyebrow. Jisung’s eyelashes flutter and he grins. “Something bothering you?” he asks. There’s enough sincerity in there that Minho almost believes it. The undercurrent of smugness makes her want to tear his jugular out with her teeth.
“I’m still dressed,” she says, a statement and a reminder all in one. Jisung hums, amused. Minho tightens her fingers a fraction, feeling his pulse flutter against her thumb.
Jisung leans into the touch, grazing his teeth over her jawline. “Gotta tell me what you want,” he tells her, playing with the hem of her skirt, hands framing her thighs. Minho hates to admit that feeling his hands inching closer to where she wants it is making her wet.
“Stop groping me like we’re in middle school and touch me like you mean it, Han Jisung.”
Her shirt goes first, rucked up her body until Minho lifts her arms to ease it the rest of the way off. It gets tossed off to the side, crumpled in a sad little pile of fabric that she can only hope isn’t too wrinkled when they’re finished. Jisung’s hands return to cupping her breasts over her bra, giving them a squeeze before traveling to the center of her back, plucking at the clasps with an ease that Minho finds a little hot. Her bra is shucked off to join her shirt, leaving her upper half exposed while Jisung is still fully clothed, staring at her body like he’s starved. Minho feels her pussy throb.
No time is wasted now that Minho has kicked him into gear, fingers tweaking at her pierced nipples and pulling embarrassing little sighs from her lips. She settles more firmly in his lap, inching her hips closer in the hopes of getting a feel for what will be inside her soon. Jisung doesn’t stop her, even going as far as to guide her with hands on her waist while he mouths hotly at her throat. The bump of his clothed cock, hard in his pants, has Minho squeezing his hips with her thighs, breathing out a noise into his hair.
Jisung’s teeth scrape over her collarbone, applying enough pressure to have Minho yanking him back by the hair, ignoring his pained hiss. “No marks,” she says, fixing him with a glare when he rolls his eyes. She readjusts her hold, tugging on it again until he groans and nods.
She drops her hands into his lap, working on the button and fly with manicured fingers. Jisung, the absolute bastard, is too busy fondling her tits to be of much help, playing with the jeweled hearts on either side of her barbells. He doesn’t even lift his hips when she gets the waistband of his pants and underwear in both hands, tugging with purpose. Minho shoots him a frown that would usually get her partners scrambling to follow her lead, but Jisung just tilts his head with a little smirk on his stupid — plush, kissable — mouth.
Minho tries to get his pants down his hips again with no further progress, sighing in irritation. “I will walk out of here and leave you to pathetically jerk your dick if you don’t get your pants off in the next two minutes.”
Jisung hums, palming at the widest part of her thighs. “Desperate?” he wonders, hands brushing up smooth, hairless skin to thumb at her thong’s sad excuse of a waistband. “I was hoping to eat you out first.”
“I didn’t come here for foreplay in your cramped backseat.” It’s actually fairly spacious back here, but Minho’s knees are starting to ache a bit and she’s not really interested in finding out if Jisung can eat pussy too. “We’ve been over this. Get your cock out and put it in me.”
“Pretty demanding for someone who pulled my number off the student portal for the sole reason of getting fucked in my quote-unquote ‘cramped backseat’.” He even goes as far as to take his hands off of her to make air quotes, lips pursed.
Minho wants to punch him. “You fucking suck,” she spits, reaching past the band of his underwear to wrap a cold hand around his shaft. It makes him grunt, hips instinctively pushing up into her touch. Easing his dick out, she inspects it with interest, thumbing over the leaking head, tracing over the thick vein running down the underside. He’s a decent length, girthier than she expected, and — dammit, she might even call his dick pretty . She fully expected him to be hairy too, but the trimmed patch of hair at the base tells her that Han Jisung actually has decent hygienic habits. Maybe she’ll suck his dick later.
Later? Later? Minho busies herself with stroking up and down the length of him, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and has a mini meltdown. They haven’t even gotten to the main event and she’s already thinking about later . It’s been way too long since she last got any action, surely that’s why.
“Condom,” she demands, giving his cock a squeeze to emphasize the urgency. Jisung taps her on the hip, guiding her back to settle more on his thighs than his crotch so he can reach behind her to the center console. Minho looks over her shoulder, nosy as ever — and gawks at the audacity of storing an entire box of condoms in his car, a bottle of travel lube hanging out next to it that Jisung pointedly doesn’t grab. She scoffs, turning back around to stare at him. “Really? Not even gonna bother?”
“Don’t think I need it.”
Minho rolls her eyes. “I’m not even wet.”
Jisung drops the foil on the seat next to them, bringing a hand up her skirt and between her thighs to — “ Ah ,” she huffs, grinding down into his touch. “Fucker,” comes out of her mouth next, breathier than she’d like to admit.
He finds her clit through the thin material of her thong, rolling it between thumb and forefinger in a move that has Minho biting down on the inside of her cheek, cunt clenching around nothing. “You’re soaked,” he says, like she isn’t fully aware of it sticking to her inner thighs. Minho tries her best to glare at him, digging mean fingers into his shoulders that he doesn’t react to.
Minho bats his hand away and pulls on his pants and underwear for a third time. Jisung finally lifts his hips up this time, clothing pushed down to his knees. He gets the condom rolled on and Minho’s practically vibrating with the need to sink down.
One hand rests on her hip while the other steadies his cock at the base, giving himself a couple strokes. “Go ahead,” he says, gesturing to his dick with a nod of his head.
She still wants to punch him a little. Minho spreads her legs, holding her thong to the side with one hand. Her unoccupied hand uses his shoulder for leverage as she starts to lower herself, lips parting at the initial pressure of the blunt head breaching her. Minho bites her tongue lest she says something stupid that’ll surely inflate his ego, working her hips down the length of him until she’s to the hilt.
Fuck.
Minho clenches around him experimentally, barely registering her own whimper when it gets a deep groan from Jisung. He holds her by the thighs, preventing her from moving just yet, and his mouth seeks out one of her nipples. Minho’s hips quiver and she tries not to moan.
Okay, so his cock feels, like, kind of good. Like, really good. She had a feeling when looking at it that she might have a Jisung-shaped problem in her near future, but actually having it inside of her is another story. He’s not that long, something she’s grateful for after that one exchange student all but bruised her cervix in a not-sexy way, but he’s thick , nudging up against all the right places.
The small, considerate part of her says to check in with him, maybe joke that she doesn’t want to move in case he busts a nut before they even begin, but the bigger, hornier part of her has her lifting up until just the head rests inside her. Now that she’s had a taste of his girth filling her up, it takes great patience to slowly lower herself back down instead of giving in to the desire to all but impale herself back on his dick. Her clit bumps against his abdomen, making her inhale sharply.
Jisung detaches himself from mouthing at her nipples when Minho starts rocking her hips, looking up at her with this look on his face that has Minho pulling him back in to resume kissing her chest. Anything to keep him from looking at her like that , like she’s some religious figure that’s blessed him with her pussy or whatever. He goes easily, squeezing her thighs encouragingly.
Picking up the pace, Minho starts to bounce in his lap a bit, panting quietly to herself. She rakes fingers through his hair, grabbing fistfuls when his cock bumps up against just the right places and shoots pleasure up her spine. Jisung grazes teeth over a nipple, making her clench up around his cock and whine.
Unfortunately, her knees were already starting to hurt before she even got his dick inside, and the constant rise and fall is starting to making her hamstrings scream in protest. Minho doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Jisung catches onto her faltering rhythm, readjusting his hands to support the backs of her thighs. Her nipple slips out of his mouth with a wet pop . “Getting tired?” he asks, staring up at her attentively.
“I’m doing all the hard work over here,” Minho complains, slowing her hips to a stop. Jisung laughs, letting go of her to take his glasses off and toss them somewhere onto the seats next to them. She tries not to dwell too long on how hot he looks without them. “The least you could do is — fuck! ”
He doesn’t let her finish, hands returning to her thighs with a purposeful grip and lifting her up off his lap to meet her halfway with a brutal thrust that takes the words right out of her mouth. Minho reaches out blindly for support, acrylic nails digging meanly into his shoulders. He gives her a moment, something Minho’s begrudgingly thankful for because what the fuck , and even has the wherewithal to look smug, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. Minho glares at him and squeezes around his cock just to make him hiss.
Jisung fucks up into her again, and again, creating a pace that has Minho wondering what the hell she’s gotten herself into. He’s punching little noises out of her with each thrust of his hips, rhythm barely faltering when he guides her to lean back until he can bring her legs up and fit his hands under her knees for better leverage. This way, he’s grinding up against her spot with nearly every thrust, making her throw her head back and sob.
Half-delirious, she wonders when he’s going to stutter and say he’s close. With each passing minute and barely more than a grunt or groan from him, Minho’s realizing not only does Han Jisung have insane stroke game, but he’s also got the stamina to go with it. Fuck. She is so fucked. Minho’s not making it out of this car alive.
She drops her hands to grab his biceps, breathing out an embarrassing noise when she feels bulging muscle. How the fuck was she supposed to know he was secretly ripped under the baggy hoodies he wore every day? Minho gets curious, blames it on the horniness taking over her last remaining handful of brain cells, and gropes his chest. She practically purrs in approval at what she finds there, gets a thrill when Jisung’s hips jolt unevenly into her when she locates a nipple through the fabric.
Jisung taps her hip before he adjusts them again, bringing her back to her original position on her knees, thick thighs framing his. His cock slips out with a mortifying squelching noise. Minho grips him at the base with a threatening squeeze before he can mock her for it. Jisung bites his lip and winks.
Lowering herself back onto him, Minho doesn't start riding him right away, grinding more than anything with a steady rock of her hips to gain better friction on her swollen clit. Jisung lets her, even going as far as gripping her ass in both hands to aid her in a smoother grind that has Minho squirming on his cock.
It was foolish of Minho to think that Jisung wouldn’t get her back for touching him, too lost in mind-numbing pleasure as she feels her orgasm start to creep closer. Minho drapes her arms over his shoulders and moans breathily by his ear, teeth teasing at his pierced lobe.
She doesn’t think anything of it when a hand abandons its duty of squeezing her ass — a pretty nice ass, if Minho has any say in it — until it finds itself between her thighs, giving her barely any time to prepare herself before he’s rubbing his thumb over her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to have her releasing a high-pitched ah, fuck .
Minho’s thighs tremble with the effort it takes to hold herself up, unable to multitask now that the attention’s back on her. She nips at his Adam’s apple, fisting the front of his hoodie. Her hips don’t know what to do now, caught between rutting up into his touch or grinding back onto his cock, and Jisung seems perfectly content to sit here and get her off. A particularly pathetic noise gets pulled from her throat and she feels his dick twitch inside her.
The pleasure that’s been building at the base of her spine starts to spread out across her pelvis, lower abdomen tensing with her impending release. “Fuck, cl — close, I’m close,” she pants, hips working unevenly between the dual sensations. Jisung doesn’t change what he’s doing, thank fucking god, working at her clit until she’s climaxing.
Her orgasm hits her so hard that it has her muffling a yell into his shoulder, clawing at the headrest behind him for purchase. Minho’s distantly aware of him groaning when she clenches up around his cock, having just enough clarity to settle more of her weight in his lap so he can feel all of her pulse and throb around him. “Fucking hell,” he hisses, holding her close by the small of her back. It makes her giggle stupidly into his hair.
There’s only a minute or two before she’s back to fucking herself on his cock, limbs loose and body buzzing with all the good chemicals that come with a good orgasm. She won’t tell him that was one of the best orgasms she’s had in a long time, doesn’t want him to get a big head about it (way too late, by the way), and now she’s feeling greedy. She wants more .
“You can — you wanna take a break?” Jisung asks. Even so, he’s guiding her hips into a rhythm that has them both sighing. “We don’t even have to keep going, y’know? I just wanted to make you cum.”
Minho pulls back enough to glare at him, knows her cheeks are flushed and her mascara is probably running a bit. “Did I say I wanted to stop?” she snips, dropping her weight onto his thighs, cunt taking him to the hilt with a gross noise that would have her gagging in mortification if she wasn’t a little cock-dumb right now. “Keep fucking me.”
He gives her a dorky two-finger salute, even chuckles at himself, before going back to rolling his hips up into her. The need to punch him from earlier sits at the back of her mind. Later, she decides, when she’s done riding him until she chafes.
Pleasure sneaks up on her quicker than before, pent up from all the teasing touches he’d been giving her. Minho bounces in his lap with more enthusiasm, only having the briefest thought to touch herself before he’s beating her to it. His thumb swipes over her clit, wet with her own slick, and Minho clenches up. Pressure builds up in her bladder before she can think twice about what’s about to happen, not even capable of warning him before it hits her.
Minho lifts herself up off his cock in time to squirt, making a mess in his lap and ruining her skirt, head thrown back with a cry. Her legs shake uncontrollably in the aftermath, letting Jisung ragdoll her back onto his dick without a complaint. “Holy fuck,” she hears him groan, a disbelieving laugh in his following exhale. “Should’ve known you had it in you.”
“Fuck me,” she demands, getting her hands under his hoodie and trying to push it up his body. “Get this shit off, fuck .” Jisung laughs again, taking pity on her and pulling it off. His shirt beneath, damp from her mess, joins it on the car floor with her own. Now they’re equally undressed, and Minho’s greedy for contact, clinging to him and sighing at the feeling of warm skin against her hard nipples.
He’s solid muscle beneath all those baggy clothes, a nice set of pecs and endless tanned skin for her to nuzzle into. Jisung moves her up and down on his cock, doing the majority of the work with Minho useless and uncoordinated in his arms. It’s coming again, she can tell, a ball of tension twisting up her insides. She doesn’t tell him that she’s only squirted by her own hands before, doesn’t tell him that she thinks she’s addicted to how he fits inside her.
Minho barely manages to garble out a warning this time, voice pitched high and desperate. “Gonna — I’m…!” Her cunt pushes him out of her with the force of her orgasm, squirt further soaking his lap and her skirt, some of it spilling onto his leather seats. “Oh, ‘s — too much…” she slurs. It’s overwhelming, light-headed in the comedown. Minho squeezes his waist with her quivering knees, making herself small in his arms as she catches her breath.
There isn’t a peep from him as she comes back to her body, just gentle fingers carding through her hair. Minho butts his shoulder with her forehead, glancing up to see him already watching her. She shoves him with a groan, finally taking in the damage she’s done. Her skirt is a goner, that’s for sure. She’s not even sure her thong still exists. Jisung doesn’t look upset with this predicament; looks quite proud of himself, actually. He steadies her with a hand at the small of her back as he leans down to retrieve his hoodie, laying it out over the seat that has the least damage.
She doesn’t think twice about it, crawling out of his lap and sprawling out on top of his hoodie, legs draped over his thighs. She groans, stretching her limbs. His dick nudges against her calf in the process, a reminder that she’s left him high and dry.
Minho considers him, lips pursed in thought. He isn’t pushing her to get him off, looks quite content to sit there and roam his eyes over her body. Feeling cheeky, she wiggles out of her wet skirt and thong, the tips of her ears heating up at the wet thwack they make when they hit the floor. She parts her thighs under the guise of getting comfortable, laying a careful hand over her sore cunt. Jisung’s eyes flick up from her crotch, hovering over her chest longer than the rest of her body.
Maybe she’s feeling bold under his gaze, or maybe she’s finally lost her marbles after he made her cum her brains out. “Wanna cum on my tits?” she asks, framing them with her hands.
Jisung’s cock twitches. She smirks, letting her legs drop open further. All it takes is a come hither gesture for him to kick himself into gear, getting his pants and underwear the rest of the way off. It’s funny, Minho thinks, that they’d fucked half-clothed for the most part and are only just now fully naked. She squeezes her thighs together at the picture he makes straddling her stomach, condom discarded off to the side with a hand already stroking himself, sack resting against her sternum and dark eyes watching her with an intensity that makes Minho feel small.
He reaches behind himself, fingers dipping between her folds and — Jesus Christ, collecting her slick to touch himself with . Minho bites her lip, wondering if she should’ve just let him keep fucking her, but she doesn’t think she’d be able to make it back home. She’s still not entirely sure of that, considering most of her clothes are all but ruined, but that’s for future Minho to worry about. Current Minho is about to watch Jisung jerk himself off and cum on her tits.
(Clean up’s going to suck later, but again — future Minho problem.)
It’s not hard to let herself think of Jisung as attractive now, watching him play with the head of his cock and thumb over the veins stretching up the length of him. Teeth dig into his lip, making her want to replace it with her own. He touches her chest with his free hand, flicking her nipples and touching himself faster when she squirms and moans. Minho wishes she could reach her pussy right now, clit throbbing despite everything.
His breath hitches, squeezing himself at the base, and his cock visibly throbs in his hand. “I’m close,” Jisung warns. He doesn’t resume touching himself, watching Minho patiently.
Minho blinks. Oh. Really? After all of that?
I need explicit consent.
Right.
She swallows thickly. “You can cum,” she says, throat tight. “Can — you can cum on me. On my tits.”
Jisung shivers, hand returning to its previous pace. He gives one of her breasts a squeeze, pinching meanly at her nipple. Minho whines, back arching up into the touch despite the pain, and that’s apparently what sets him off.
Minho learns that Jisung cums quietly, lips parted and a furrow to his brow as cum stripes across her tits and collarbone. It’s hot, annoyingly attractive, to learn what his ‘O’ face looks like. His hips buck up into his hand, chasing his release until the last of it dribbles over his fingers. Only then does he make noise, sighing shakily as he drops his hand, palm flat between her tits, smearing his cum across her chest. Holy fuck, marking her .
He looks up at her with the first hint of shyness he’s shown all afternoon, of the Jisung she’s come to know since the beginning of the semester. “Wow,” Jisung says, hand flying up to cover his mouth before remembering what he’d just been doing. He rethinks his path, dirtied palm hovering awkwardly between them. Minho offers a sleeve from the hoodie beneath her, her stomach doing a little somersault when his eyes go big in awe and he stutters out a thanks. Oh no.
“I, uh.” Jisung looks at their clothes, grimacing. She knows without looking that the only viable pieces of clothing left are her shirt and bra, and his pants and underwear. “You can borrow my underwear until we get to my place. I’ve got my own washer and dryer.” Minho gets to watch his entire face go red, eyes wide with mortification as his brain catches up with his mouth. “I just — we kinda, um, made a mess. And I’d feel like a total dick if I let you go home like — that .” He gestures to her sad pile of wet clothes. “I don’t live far from campus, and my roommates shouldn’t be home yet. I’ll even pay the fee to Uber you back home.”
Minho hums, pretending to consider her options. There aren’t any other options, really — Jisung will be wearing just his pants (and giving Minho plenty of eye candy on the drive to his place) and Minho will have her top half and his boxers. She’ll be lucky if her thong doesn’t shred to pieces in the wash. At least she’ll have her skirt to get home in. Maybe she can borrow a pair of sweatpants.
“Buy me food and you have yourself a deal.” Jisung clambers off of her to start pulling his pants on, careful as he tucks his soft dick back into place. He helps her clean up the best they can, boxers loose around her waist but just snug enough around her thick thighs that they won’t fall. Jisung crawls over the center console and into the driver’s seat, a humorous sight that has Minho hiding her smile with the shirt she pulls over her head.
She joins him in the front, sparing a glance at his bare chest with an approving hum. Jisung catches her eye, glasses back on his face, and shoots her a stupid thumbs up. “Ready? I was thinking of getting tacos delivered.”
Yeah, she could do this again.