Chapter Text
“Your first time,” Jisung hiccuped. Leaned in, if only to catch Minho’s cologne. It’s expensive — he remembered smelling it in the morning, dizzy and intoxicated. “How was it?”
Minho’s brows rose slowly. “All of a sudden?”
“‘M curious.” Jisung slurred, blushing under the heavy weight of Minho’s eyes. “Dunno anything. Hyung’s gonna have to teach me.”
Minho breathed in. “Jisung-ah.”
“Won’t hyung teach me?” Jisung asked, a bit more emboldened with the certainty that they won’t do anything about it. Because it’s all just a game.
“Dunno,” Minho whispered, with a look that’s far too focused for a game. Jisung"s throat tightened. “You’ll have to be good.”
“Okay,” Jisung whispered back.
“Okay,” Jisung says, whines, really — ready to agree with whatever Minho says, ready to take him. “Okay. Daddy’s gonna — gonna fuck me.”
“So good,” Minho whispers, like he’s in awe. Like Jisung is something worth fawning over. It tightens the coil in his stomach. He almost opens his mouth to whine again, just for the sake of keeping Minho’s attention.
“Good for you.” Jisung manages to get out. Even amidst the tight grasp of Minho’s palm, there’s a softness to his actions that he knows is only for him. “Only good for you.”
Minho blinks, dazed. “Yeah. Fuck. Jisung-ah.”
Jisung keens.
“Call me — call me —”
“What, baby?” He murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching as he spares a glance at Jisung’s cock, red and aching. “What should daddy call you?”
“Dunno,” Jisung whines, tightening his hole against nothing, second syllable breaking into air. “Be mean, be — nngh.”
“Be mean?” Minho asks, smirking. Still, there’s a roughness to his voice. The gravel scrapes into Jisung’s skin, callous and overwhelming. Like he’s affected. “Thought you wanted to be good.”
That’s the problem, Jisung tries to say. He does. He wants to be good. He wants to be bad, too, and feel the way Minho’s biting words sink into his stomach. He wants to be made good. Made bad. He wants to be good when Minho comes home, and even when he isn"t. He wants, wants, wants.
A little bit of everything, Jisung thinks, is only fair when it comes to Lee Minho.
“Only one,” Jisung whimpers instead, like that’s supposed to tell him anything. He feels the way Minho’s dick rests heavily on his thigh and groans. Shudders. “Only one for you. Good. Bad.”
Minho chuckles. He chuckles.
“Hyung.” Jisung pouts.
“Mmm,” he hums, like it’s a response, then leans over to press his lips on the shell of Jisung’s ear. “Baby’s so greedy.”
He burns with shame. Because it’s true. He’s greedy. He doesn’t know where this’ll take them tomorrow. He doesn’t know where this’ll take them next week. Next month. Next year. Sue him if he’s a little greedy; if he wants to take a bite out of every fruit on the tree, when he doesn’t know how long until the axe breaks into the wood.
“Mmh,” Jisung garbles, rutting his cock desperately against Minho’s crotch. He hears the slap before he feels it — a sharp, ringing sound that echoes in his large hotel room before the sting spreads across his thigh, and Jisung moans .
“Don’t,” Minho rasps against Jisung’s hair, grabbing a handful of muscle before slapping his thigh again. It burns, and Jisung whines greedily because of it. “Don’t move until I tell you to.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jisung whimpers, “Sungie’s sorry.”
He’s dizzy with the way Minho alternates from gentle to rough, from soft to mind-bending. He thinks if he experiences everything at once tonight, he can be content with nothing else for the rest of his life.
(That’s a lie, and he knows it.)
“Sungie’s always fucking sorry,” Minho spits, lifting Jisung’s shirt up to expose his hardened nipples to the cool air. “When’s Sungie gonna be fucking good?”
He knows he’s indulging him. He knows he’s tugging at the threads of Jisung’s request to be mean, mean, mean. But there’s confidence in his words, like Minho was always made to take him this way. Like he was made to shroud Jisung in his control, at least for tonight.
That’s it, he wants to moan out. Let me know every side of you.
Greedy, greedy, greedy. Juice dribbles down his chin, akin to ichor, as he moves onto the next branch of the tree.
“‘M good, good, I am,” he whines, sobbing pathetically into the juncture between Minho’s jaw and shoulder. He lifts his arms wordlessly to slip out of his shirt, Minho groaning at how pliant he is.
“We’ll see.” Jisung feels the words on his skin, and he sniffles as his cock thrums between them. “Can Sungie be useful and pull daddy’s cock out, or am I gonna have to do everything myself?”
Jisung lifts himself up, reaching out to paw at Minho’s boxers before finding the garter and yanking it down, mouth immediately watering at the way Minho’s hard cock jumps out and slaps against the fabric of his shirt. It’s curled and red at the tip, achingly hard, bigger than anything Jisung’s ever taken before.
“Sung,” Minho calls out, his voice rough. “Be good.”
“Need —” Jisung mutters, “ — mouth. In my mouth.”
Minho chuckles, and Jisung blinks up at him as if out of a daze. “Next time, baby. Daddy needs to fuck you now, okay?”
“Mhm, mmm,” Jisung hums, leaning back against the bed and making himself comfortable, clenching his hole as Minho takes his cock in his hands. Jisung shudders at the thought of it being inside of him, finally, and it takes all of his willpower to not be a brat and use his legs to pull Minho closer, letting him take his time.
He holds out his other hand. “Spit.”
Jisung moans, dribbling pathetically into Minho’s palm as he smiles. “Good boy.”
He watches, enraptured, as he takes Jisung’s spit to rub at his cock, lathering the head with a low hiss. Minho grins, lopsided, as he catches him staring. “Ready, baby?”
“Please,” Jisung whines. He can’t take it anymore. “Please, please, daddy, pl —”
Then he chokes out a moan as Minho leans forward to cage Jisung’s head between his arms, pushing himself into Jisung’s hole, the head of his cock getting swallowed into Jisung’s warmth. There’s a feeling of wild panic as all the air gets punched out of him from how full he suddenly feels, wild and grasping at the bedsheets in fear of scratching Minho’s back.
“‘S not —” Jisung slurs, already cockdrunk from the feeling of the tip breaching the ring of muscle. “‘S not gonna fit. M’ too tight for you, daddy — ohh. Fuck.”
“It’s gonna fit,” Minho grunts, and Jisung tightens around his cock. “Daddy’s gonna make it fit, and my good little slut’s gonna take it. Right, baby?”
“Mmm —” Jisung whines. “Can’t, can’t. Too much,” even as he’s pushing himself deeper onto Minho’s dick.
“Too much but you’re — fuck — still taking it,” Minho’s voice is strained, and it sends a wave of arousal that manifests as Jisung’s dick twitching between their stomachs. “So fucking good for me.”
“‘M good,” Jisung says, babbles, moans — hitches a breath and chokes on his groan when Minho bottoms out. “‘M sooo good for daddy — so so good for him, Sungie wants to be good, please.”
“Jesus,” Minho growls, taking a shuddery breath when Jisung tightens around him. “You’re killing me, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot.”
“Gimme a minute,” Jisung whines out, blinking as he pants from the intrusion. The burn travels up his spine and his neck tenses, sending a haze of delirium through his veins. “So big. So so fucking b — ah!”
“Sorry,” Minho hisses as he jerks involuntarily. “Just — fuck. So tight. Sung. Fuck. I’m breaking you in.”
He tugs at the hem of Minho’s shirt, pawing dumbly at his chest even as he whines from moving ever so slightly. If he focuses, he can feel the way Minho’s cock throbs inside of him. “Off. Off, please. Please. Need to see you.”
“Needy baby,” Minho chuckles, more breathy than before. He pulls the shirt over his head in one quick move, discarding it somewhere in the mess of the rest of their clothes. Jisung’s mouth goes dry, drinking him all in.
“Hyung’s so pretty,” Jisung says, forgetting himself. He reaches out, the pad of his thumb brushing against the healed-over white skin lining Minho’s scar, savoring the way Minho shudders under his touch.
“Distracted already, Sung?” Minho says, something restrained in the timbre of his voice. Jisung smiles cheekily, a little shaky with the throbbing ache that rests on the small of his back as he adjusts to Minho’s size. “Focus, baby.”
“I am,” Jisung says, a little softer than intended. “Focusing. At all of you. Every single thing.”
Because this’ll only be for tonight. Jisung leaves out, throat closing up at the bitterness that blankets him. Somehow, the hidden meaning doesn’t get past Minho. He frowns as he stares Jisung down, gentle with his next words amidst skin on skin on skin on skin.
“We have time for that,” Minho says — promises. Jisung aches as he swallows the message behind the words. We have forever, if you’ll have me.
“We do,” Jisung confirms, says yes to his promise, more raw and vulnerable than any confession he could’ve prepared for. I will.
The moment fades as Minho experimentally rolls forward, both moaning at the wave of electricity that sparks between their skin. Still, the remnants settle underneath bone and muscle, resting in the comfort of certainty.
Jisung pants as Minho leans to hover over him again, hands planted firmly on either side of the mattress as the shift moves him deeper, Jisung’s tongue lolling out on pure instinct as if he’s so full that he needs to open himself up as much as possible to live. To survive. “Full. Full. Daddy, hurts so good. Mmmph.”
“You like this?” Minho strains to say. A small bead of sweat trickles down to the tip of his cupid’s bow. “You like being stuffed with cock, baby?”
“Just yours,” Jisung says naturally. Minho whines lowly. It’s a testament to how Jisung affects him just as much, and the vulnerability of this truth sends an ache into Jisung’s chest that burns with warmth, with fondness.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I never do.” Jisung sighs. Tries for a smile. Of course he means it, but that’s not something to get into with Minho’s dick up his ass. “Move, now.”
“Telling me what to do?” Minho tuts disapprovingly, and the tension in his shoulders seems to fade. Jisung pouts.
“Move, please?” Jisung tries again. Then, he adds as he tightens around Minho’s cock, “daddy?”
Minho groans. He presses his face into Jisung’s neck, breathing in deeply. “I won’t go easy on you.”
“Don’t want you to,” Jisung whispers back. Minho chuckles against his skin, the low rumble almost dizzying.
Then, just as the moment teeters into a second too long of silence, Minho drags his cock out of him slowly before slamming back inside with one smooth snap of his hips. Jisung reacts instantly, hands jerking out to grasp onto Minho’s bare back, a moan ripping through his chest.
The rhythm is steady, achingly perfect, with Jisung mewling at each thrust as Minho groans in tandem. He’s sure he’s making noises that he never thought were even possible to make, baring his neck to Minho’s imposing stare as if he was an animal in heat, ready to be claimed.
“Hyung, hyung, hyung,” Jisung chants, throaty and whiny, pressing indentations of his nails into Minho’s skin. The older shudders as if the pain makes it better. “Daddy, fuck, please, oh, god —”
“So fucking tight,” Minho grunts. “Fucked yourself on your fingers, stretched yourself out for me and you’re still so fucking tight.”
“Open me up,” Jisung moans back, canting his hips upwards and chasing Minho’s cock, like he needs to be full of Minho, Minho, Minho no matter what. “‘Til — ‘til only daddy’s cock can fit.”
“Jesus — fucking hell,” Minho whines, hips stuttering in their rhythm. “Jisung.”
He says Jisung’s name like a prayer. The melody of each syllable presses into the expanse of the skin of his throat as Minho mouths along his jaw, and Jisung can’t help but preen at the feeling.
“Need to fuck you like this all the time,” Minho says, his words muffled against Jisung’s collarbone. “Need to take you like this. Like you’re mine.”
“I am,” Jisung gasps out, legs locking around Minho’s waist. “Yours. I’m yours.”
“I know. My baby,” he coos, but there’s something deeper than fondness underneath — relief, almost, if Jisung allows himself to think so. Relief that Jisung’s his. “My good boy.”
He punctuates this with a thrust, and Jisung’s moan pitches upward, tightening from the way the words wash over him. “‘M good?”
“So good,” Minho sighs, heavy with arousal. “So, so, fuck, so fucking good. God.”
He presses a kiss, featherlight, just below Jisung’s ear, before whispering, “Hold onto the bed, Sung-ah.”
“Wh —” Jisung garbles, blinking confusedly as he reaches back for the bedposts behind him, hands loosely wrapping around the wood at the same time Minho pushes himself up and takes ahold of Jisung’s hips. “Like th — nngh, fuck!”
Minho squeezes his sides, grip tightening to the point where Jisung can’t ignore it, palms burning against the skin of Jisung’s waist as Minho fucks him onto his cock over and over again. The angle is new, barely a hint of a difference yet it drives Jisung crazy, mewling incoherently as —
Minho’s cock brushes against his prostate, and his skin lights on fire. His stomach clenches as his spine goes rigid, a squeal ripping out of his chest as the pressure starts to build and build and build.
“Hyung, oh god, oh god, daddy, fuck,” Jisung whines. His cock, red and throbbing and untouched, leaks as it bounces against his stomach. There’s nothing left for him to do except go limp, letting Minho take over as each thrust tightens the coil threatening to snap in his abdomen. “Mm, fuck, you’re — everywhere, you’re everywhere, daddy, please —”
His eyes roll to the back of his head and Minho groans, loud and low, fingers pressing bruises into his sides. The stretch burns dryly with only Minho’s precome coating his walls as the spit dries out. It hurts, hurts, hurts, and it hurts so good, heavy and fully and too much and not enough at the same time. He wants more, he wants a second to breathe, he wants to feel nothing but Minho, he wants air, he wants his lungs to collapse from being kissed breathless. He wants, he wants, he wants.
“Gonna fuck you ‘til you’re full,” Minho rasps, groaning at the sound of skin against skin echoing in the hotel room. “‘Til you’re leaking all dumbly with my come.”
“Please,” Jisung sobs, and even holding onto the bedposts is too much. He lets go, arms splayed out on the mattress like a ragdoll for Minho to take, and take, and take.
“Want that, baby?” Minho grins wildly, panting, reveling in the way Jisung cries out at each thrust, tightening every time his prostate gets slammed into over and over. “Wanna be full of daddy’s come?”
“Want,” Jisung gasps, toes curling at the way Minho’s voice settles deeply into the pits of Jisung’s stomach, moaning at his words. “So bad. So so bad.”
Minho groans. “Fuck. Let me see you come first, baby. Come on my cock and I’ll give you what you want.”
He feels delirious, almost confused — reward, after reward, is all he hears. Coming on Minho’s dick, being stuffed full of Minho’s come, it’s everything he wants. He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get why Minho wants to see him come so badly, as if it’s something worth watching.
“My pretty baby,” Minho coos as if he can hear Jisung’s thoughts. “Let daddy watch you come. Let me see what you look like falling apart on my cock.”
“Ghh,” Jisung chokes out as a yes, yes, anything for you, anything, and he remembers that he’s his. That Jisung is Minho’s. That he wants him, wants to see him, wants to see all of him.
Jisung reaches for his cock, blindly flailing as he tries to regain control of his limbs. He hears Minho growl before he can so much as brush his fingers against the leaking tip, and Jisung blearily stares at him with knitted brows and parted lips before Minho says,
“Don’t touch yourself.”
Jisung blanches. “Can’t — need to —”
“No,” Minho says roughly. “If you can come from me spanking you, you can come untouched. Like a good boy. Right, baby?”
Jisung wants to argue. He wants to say, No, hyung, I can’t. No, hyung, I was grinding against your lap and wasn’t focused on my stomach tightening from coming because I wanted to be good and count for you. No, hyung, I don’t know how.
But he wants to try even more. He wants to be good. He wants to know what it’s like to unravel from Minho alone, wants to know if it really does feel as good as everyone says.
So he nods, shakily and jerkily. “‘M good. I’ll be good.”
And Minho smiles, all fond and still somehow frenzied, as he tightens his grip on Jisung once more and fucks into him harder, harder, harder. Jisung doesn’t know why he had been so reserved at the idea of coming completely untouched at first, because suddenly that coil is tightening again, all too consuming from the pointed thrusts directly into his prostate, barreling into him at a pace he’s never experienced before, and —
“Fuck,” Jisung moans, clutching the sheets underneath him as he feels all the muscles in his body tighten. “Fuck, fuck, hyung, daddy, ‘m close, ‘m close already, nngh —”
“See?” Minho groans out. “My Sungie’s so so good. Listens so well.”
He feels his legs kick out, spasming as the pressure builds in his stomach, tightening around Minho’s cock as he whines out, “— gonna come, daddy, can I come, please, let Sungie come, pleasepleaseplease —”
“Come, baby,” Minho chuckles, thrusting into him deeper, “and let daddy feel you.”
Jisung’s throat closes up as the coil snaps in his belly, strangled nghs and ahs bubbling on his tongue as he comes the hardest he’s ever came in his life, barely registering the large spurts from his throbbing cock landing on his stomach, on Minho’s hand, on the sheets. He whines out a strangled sound as his orgasm washes over him in full, each wave of something akin to fire punctuated with the slow, deep rolls of Minho’s hips.
It’s everywhere, and he’s everywhere. “Thank you, thank you,” Jisung whimpers, shuddering from the aftershocks as he slowly comes down. “Thank you,” he repeats, mouth dry.
“Good boy,” Minho groans, clearly holding himself back. Jisung frowns, hazy in his fever, reaching at Minho’s neck to tug him back down and tighten his legs around him.
“Use me, now,” Jisung whispers, voice rough with the aftereffects of his orgasm, grinding up into Minho’s cock despite the burn of overstimulation seeping into his spine. “Fill me up, daddy. Please.”
Minho chokes on a moan as he fucks back into Jisung, more reckless this time, rhythm lost to the wind as he chases his own orgasm. Jisung groans, shuddering at the look of the light sheen of sweat that blankets Minho’s figure. In his boldness, he lets his teeth run along the side of Minho’s throat, pressing wet kisses onto the outline of his jaw as Minho whines loudly.
“Gonna come, Sung,” he warns, and Jisung keens at the way Minho looks hysterical, eyes wild as he teeters into his own peak.
He can’t help himself from leaning upwards to press their mouths together, almost hesitant as he remembers this is technically only their second real kiss of the night. As his lips part, Minho growls into his mouth, whining invitingly at the tongue pushing into his own. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was mouthing against one another, shaky and messy from the delirium of Jisung riding another wave of his prolonged orgasm and Minho’s own threatening to crash into him. Still, Jisung groans as his chest starts to tighten with the need to kiss him everyday for the rest of their lives.
He feels Minho’s orgasm as if it was his own, whining into his mouth as Minho spills into him with deep, jerky thrusts. Jisung’s fingers find themselves tangled in Minho’s hair as he tugs and tugs, grinding back onto Minho’s cock as he swallows every strangled moan that comes from his high.
“Fuck,” Minho sighs against his lips, shivering as he slows his hips into a more languid roll, and a second, and a third, until he stops. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Jisung laughs, panting shakily as they barely pull away. Minho rests his forehead onto Jisung’s as he sighs again, blinking slowly.
“You’re perfect,” Minho says, like a confession. Jisung flushes beet red underneath him.
“Don’t say that.”
“I came inside of you with you begging me while calling me daddy,” Minho drawls, eyes crinkling fondly. “But you’re blushing over me calling you perfect.”
Jisung giggles as he pouts, his hand drifting to rest on Minho’s cheek. “It’s different.”
“Is it?” Minho hums, leaning into Jisung’s touch on instinct. “Get used to it. You’re perfect.”
“For you,” he whispers suddenly, grasping at the threads that seem to stray from his fingertips as he tries to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. “Perfect for you.”
Minho’s face breaks out into a tired grin and Jisung pulls away, barely a centimeter apart, to revel in his smile. “Yeah.”
“We should, uh,” Jisung starts, suddenly nervous. He doesn’t want this to end. “We should talk about this.”
Minho chuckles, pressing a light kiss onto the tip of his nose. Somehow, it answers all of Jisung’s questions. “Okay, Sung-ah. But can I pull out first?”
Jisung coughs. Blushes even deeper, which he didn’t know he was capable of doing. “Right. Um. Well. That. Yeah. Let me just, uh, clean up —”
Minho stops him, a gentler squeeze on his waist to bring him back. Jisung blinks owlishly at him. “Let hyung do it.”
Let hyung take care of you. Let hyung be with you. Let hyung stay for a little while longer. For forever.
Jisung’s heart swells, love coalescing with the words that rest on his tongue. “Okay.”
Later that night, Minho will slide out of him, careful in his movements as he presses kiss after kiss after kiss on Jisung’s lips to distract him. Later that night, he’ll take him apart again with his mouth on Jisung’s ass as he coats his tongue with his own come to clean him up, working him through another, slower orgasm. Later that night he’ll brush his thumb against Jisung’s cheekbone before shuffling into the bathroom and letting warm water run under a towelette, slipping back to Jisung’s side as he wipes him down with the gentle hands Jisung’s become familiar with, grinning as Jisung giggles and squirms when it tickles his skin. Later that night he’ll kiss him again, and again, and again, and when Jisung asks him if it means anything, if they mean anything, or if this was just a one time thing, Minho will roll his eyes and kiss him harder.
Then, when they’re curled up in each other’s arms, Minho will nose along the bare skin of Jisung’s collar up to his ear to whisper, “you’ve always meant everything,” and Jisung will have his answer, settling happily into the sureness of forever.
(The next morning, when Jisung limps into Jeongin’s adjacent hotel room with a promise to buy Minho a large Iced Americano during their coffee run he and Jeongin planned after passing an Italian cafe on the way to their concert venue the other day, he’s greeted with the most deadpan stare he’s ever seen from their youngest.
“Good morning?” Jisung asks, then winces as the glare hardens.
“— is what people usually say to others after they wake up,” Jeongin says, tone intimidatingly flat. “Too bad I never got to wake up ‘cause I was up all night listening to two animals in heat. Hyung.”
“I love that song,” Jisung tries to joke.
One beat passes. Then another. Then another, until he’s counting six.
“… Okay. I’ll buy you something.”
More beats of silence pass.
“… Hyung will buy you multiple somethings with no monetary limit.”
“Good start.”)