Archive of Our Own ^beta

The text message comes in on Seungmin’s phone sometime around a quarter to midnight while he’s still got part of his brain focused on the half-written essay on his laptop screen. Seungmin wipes his face with the flat of his palms, elbows resting on the solid table of his desk. He blinks a few times, the dozen or so articles on literary theory swimming in his eyes. Always one to try and stay ahead of the curve, Seungmin decided he would get a jump on this new essay for class that’s due in two weeks. His phone pings again with another text, the sound of a dog’s bark filling up the room. He laughs just a little to himself, sipping from his water bottle placed on a coaster. Jisung changed his text tone to that months ago and Seungmin has simply been too busy to figure out how to switch it back. It’s also really cute, but he tries not to think about it.

He peeks over at his phone to see—lo and behold—Han Jisung hovering over his very basic and neutral sunset lockscreen. Several messages follow in quick succession, and where Seungmin might have simply ignored the first three or four in favor of working on his paper, the alarming fifteen encroaching on twenty makes him abandon his assignment in favor of opening his phone. Jisung rarely ever texts him this much in such a short amount of time, as he knows Seungmin much prefers it if he calls, so he finds himself unlocking his phone quickly, wondering if Jisung has somehow managed to throw himself off the nearest cliff by accident.

Seungmin is greeted with four rows of various key smashes, each uglier than the last, with the most recent message being SEUNGMIN DONT SCROLL UP AAAHHHHHHH JUST DONT SCROLL UP BRO PLEASE AAAAHHHHH.

Which, of course—well.

Seungmin scrolls up.

There’s a ton of other key smashes, various links to random musical instrument equipment off coupang, before he gets to the oh shit NOOOOOOOOO and a message right above it saying so you like what you see? ;)

Seungmin is not stupid, actually. Quite frankly, he thinks he’s really smart. It takes him about two seconds to realize just exactly what Jisung was trying to cover up with his array of text messages as he continues to scroll up in their chat to reveal a photo of Jisung taken in front of the mirror in his dorm, shirt hanging off his shoulder and showing his collarbones. He’s on his knees in front of the mirror, body framed in the low light, fingers wrapped tightly around what looks like his half hard cock, leaking at the tip. His tanned thighs are on display in the photo, as is his small waist and a very unsubtle smirk on his face.

The sound that escapes out of Seungmin’s lips is embarrassing, to say the least, as is the little bit of drool that falls out of the corner of his mouth and onto his phone screen. That seems to shake him back to awareness, wiping the screen and the corner of his mouth with his hand. Jesus Christ. He looks around his apartment, as if Minho is going to pop out from behind the corner and point and laugh at him, before he remembers that Minho’s spending the night at Chan’s place this evening, and breathes a sigh of relief.

In his haste to wipe his drool off his phone, Seungmin realizes he has accidentally liked the nude that Jisung sent. Before he can un-like the picture, his phone starts vibrating with a second round of messages, bringing him back to the bottom of the chat where Jisung is sending more equally distressing key smashes and links to various instant ramens.

Seungmin stares at Jisung’s message for a few minutes, unable to get the image of his half-hard cock cupped in his hand out of his mind. It actually starts to make Seungmin feel lightheaded, thinking about the way Jisung was probably sending that to someone else in an effort to get off together, entice them, taunt them, or whatever the fuck else Jisung gets up to at—Lord above, half past midnight. Very briefly, Seungmin feels a pang of something he isn’t quite ready to admit as jealousy strike through his system. Jisung is one of his best friends. Seungmin has no right to tell him he can or can’t send people nudes. But he does have a right to be just a little bit miffed that he isn’t the person in question.

Seungmin looks at the photo again, carefully studying the slope of Jisung’s jawline. God, even Minho gets to see this? Not like Seungmin wants to be pulled into the foray of whatever relationship the two of them get up to, but it would be nice for once if Jisung just maybe, sort of considered him. Just once.

The text typing bubble pops up a few times as Seungmin contemplates his avenue of response. He’s definitely not telling Jisung he thinks it’s hot—thinks he’s hot. That is just too big of a can of worms for Seungmin to deal with this late at night and at this point in the semester, when midterms are encroaching and he has a paper that simply refuses to be written.

Besides, the rush of endorphins to his head might make Jisung’s ego explode, and Seungmin isn’t really in the mood to deal with his specific brand of cockiness when people find him attractive. Even if the people in question are just him, Kim Seungmin.

It was alright 👍 is what he settles on, hitting send before he erases the message and word vomits something extremely embarrassing, like how Jisung’s cock must be so little if his hand covers almost all of it, and how Seungmin’s hand would engulf his dick if he had the chance to hold it, or how Seungmin actually might spend too much time thinking about one of his best friend’s dick sizes by comparing their hands in his head.

It’s a great photo, he adds in another text. The lighting is really well done. Cock looks good. 👍

Seungmin puts his phone facing the screen down and throws his head in his hands. This essay is not going to get finished tonight, even though that had been his carefully maintained plan all week long. He’s thinking about Jisung’s dick again, wondering how it’d feel pressed against the inside of his cheek, wondering the type of long drawn out moans and whines he could get Jisung to make while fingering him, and wondering, albeit very briefly, who the original recipient of this nude was supposed to be.

Because Seungmin isn’t jealous. No, not at all. He just wants to know who the lucky guy was, so he can maybe have Hyunjin look him up on all his various social media accounts he uses to stalk boys on. Purely for research purposes and nothing else.

Seungmin’s phone pings again, and he reaches for it with lightning quick reflexes.

Seungmin chokes on his fucking spit. He puts his phone down again, rubbing at his eyes until he starts to see stars floating in front of them, and realizes that actually just needs to go the fuck to bed. He closes his laptop with a small thunk, content to finish this essay over the weekend. His analysis of Kim Sowol’s works will simply have to wait, because Seungmin’s in no frame of mind to wax theoretically about pentameter and form and poetic evocation when he can’t stop imagining Jisung’s stupid hands, covered in his own cum, his dumb little mouth hopelessly gasping for air as he orgasms.

Seungmin feels his own dick twitch in his pants. Yeah. He seriously has bigger problems to worry about right now.

He sighs, picking up his phone, still staring at Jisung’s last message. It feels rude to leave him on read, but Seungmin isn’t ready to say half the things running through his brain.

Jisung, he types, you do look very pretty posed like that.

When backed into a corner, Seungmin will always choose honesty. Jisung does look pretty. Hopelessly, achingly, ridiculously pretty. Seungmin might also really want to fuck him, possibly make him cry, and do a laundry list of other untoward, and un-best friend like things to Jisung—but those are thoughts for him to contemplate at a much later time. He’s compartmentalized it for this long, he knows how to keep himself in check.

Seungmin’s traitorous dick twitches in his pants again, as he tries to recite the periodic table of elements in elemental order to calm himself down. His phone barks.

He scoffs. Of course Jisung can’t even be bothered to spell half his messages correctly.

Seungmin laughs at Jisung’s ridiculous messages, before getting up off his chair and laying on his bed. He leaves his cell phone plugged in at the desk, phone silenced and alarm on. He pulls his blanket up over himself, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. He counts backwards from one hundred again and gets to around seventy before he says, “Aw, fuck it,” and shoves a hand down his pants, wrapping his fingers around his dick, working himself up to full hardness in his sweats.

Seungmin has a brief moment of lucidity to feel truly bad for jerking off to his best friend’s nudes, before the after image of Jisung’s small wet mouth and sharp collar bones pops back into his head. The lucidity is suddenly gone, replaced by the white hot need to see his own dick stuffed in Jisung’s stupid mouth, his lovely face covered in ropes of Seungmin’s cum. He wants to feel the Jisung’s throat would flex around his cock, how he’d gag, possibly cry as Seungmin fucked his face. God, Seungmin thinks to himself, I’ve spent way too much thinking about this.

He cums to the thought of Jisung’s mouth open, tongue sticking out, just begging for it.

Seungmin grabs a tissue from the nightstand before getting up to change his pants and wash his hands.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m so screwed.

📱📱📱

“Well, good morning to you,” Minho says.

Seungmin hears him make his way into the kitchen, the sound of his duffle bag hitting the floor at their feet. Seungmin is currently face down against the kitchen table, coffee cup in front of him.

“Morning,” his voice is muffled against the wood. He pushes the coffee towards Minho, a silent offering of peace. If Seungmin knows anything about Jisung, it’s that he confides about ninety-six percent of his life to Minho. And if he knows anything about Minho, he knows that Minho is about to—

“So, did you like that picture you received last night or what?” His voice is a barely contained laugh, and Seungmin doesn’t have to lift his head from off the table to imagine the type of mocking smile Minho is currently sporting on his face. Minho pulls the other chair out from the table, scraping the legs against the floor, sitting himself down across from Seungmin who is hellbent on studying the wood grains in front of his eyes. He takes one obnoxiously loud sip of his iced coffee, the suction noise oppressive in the otherwise silent dining area of their apartment.

Seungmin wonders why he didn’t live with literally any of their other friends.

“It’s because everyone else is a disgusting boy,” Minho chimes in, fingers patting against Seungmin’s inner wrist gracefully. Oh. Seungmin must have said that last part out loud. Great. When he woke up this morning in just a new pair of boxers and no sweats, his life was good for all of ten seconds before the humiliating rush of jerking off to Jisung came back to the forefront of his mind.

Seungmin opened up their chat, undisturbed from last night, and scrolled through the media tab to stare at the photo a while longer, content to burn the picture into the back of his retinas. He may or may not have jerked one out this morning before making Minho his coffee, his fifteen minute i’m almost home warning text the only thing to get Seungmin to pull his hand off his own dick long enough to get out of bed.

Really, it’s just Jisung.

He shouldn’t be affected this much.

Minho coughs and Seungmin finally looks up, meeting his eyes for a moment before bursting into a peel of raucous laughter. He claps his hand together like a stupid seal, his eyes going into crescents as he continues to laugh at Seungmin right to his face.

“I take it you really like that photo then,” he says, wiping the tears away. Seungmin wants to throw something at him, but instead settles for a mild groan.

“It was… interesting,” he settles on, reclining back in the chair and trying his damndest to not radiate i’ve just jerked myself off to our best friend vibes. “Jisung sent me thirty coupang links after the photo to try and convince me to ignore it.”

“Did it work?”

“Of course not. I scrolled up anyway.”

“Attaboy,” Minho snorts, playing with the straw on his iced coffee cup. “He seemed pretty distressed last night when he was talking to me, until what I’m assuming is when you replied.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agrees, “he was a little off his shit for a second there.”

“So,” Minho prods, “what did you say? Jisungie wouldn’t tell me.”

“About what?”

Minho makes a pfft sound at him, “About the fucking weather?! Yah, don’t be like that. You know what. He sent you a nude by accident and then wouldn’t tell me what your thoughts are! Well, I wanna know.”

“You two are so fucking weird,” he rubs the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Seungmin sighs. “Why do you have to know what I thought about his dick?”

Clearly the wrong thing for Seungmin to say. Minho’s gaze narrows on him, smirk on his face, smile in his eyes. “So you were thinking about his dick.”

“It was right in front of me! What part of ‘Jisung sent me a fucking nude’ are you not getting? Hyung, I think something’s wrong with your hearing.”

Minho reaches over and flicks him on the nose. Seungmin opens his mouth and tries to nip at his fingers like a dog, which makes Minho let out an ungodly high pitched little shriek. They both settle back against the chairs. Seungmin makes eye contact with Minho one more time before they both burst into a fit of giggles.

It is pretty funny, Seungmin won’t lie. And sharing a genuine laugh with Minho—someone who gets Jisung’s antics—does seem to make the sort of downward spiral Seungmin was heading towards disappear. If only it could make the outrageously horny spiral go the wayside too, but Seungmin supposes he just has to choose one battle at a time.

“Alright, then,” Minho relents, “so what did you say?”

Seungmin shrugs. “I don’t know? I told him it was a good cock. Nice picture. Then I closed my phone and went to bed.”

“Yah!” Minho shouts, before placing his head on the table and taking one long, deep breath. He looks back up at Seungmin. “Please tell me you didn’t include like, a thumbs up emoji in that message.”

“Well…” Seungmin scratches the back of his neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Minho rubs his forehead. “I bet you made him feel like a million won with that.” He gets up from the table and picks his duffle off the ground, heading towards his bedroom.

“Well, what was I supposed to say?!”

“Anything else!” Minho is exasperated, “You could’ve said you wanted to suck his dick or something, or fondle his balls—I don’t know. Jisung’s easy. And your crush is so achingly pathetic it haunts me.”

“Wait—what? Hey, you’re not supposed to know about that—”

“I know things, Kim Seungmin,” Minho huffs, “things you’d probably hate for anyone else to find out.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” He scoffs, “It’s not gonna work. What the hell am I going to do with Jisung’s nudes besides look at—erm—”

Minho’s smiling at him like a cat with a mouse trapped between its teeth.

“Staring at them, huh?”

“What can I do to make you forget the last five minutes? Lee Minho, hyung whom I love the most—”

“Yah, shut up. Just don’t break Jisung’s heart or whatever. Changbin-hyung can throw a mean punch.”

Seungmin rests his forehead on the table, trying to gather his wits. He seriously hates his friends. Minho ruffles his hair as he walks by to get to his room, too much pep in his step.

Seungmin groans against the table, a sad pathetic sound.

📱📱📱

Seungmin curses at his phone. Fucking hell. Jisung’s latest photo is more artful than the first, showing that he definitely put a lot more thought into how to take it. Seungmin can almost imagine Jisung in his bedroom, thinking about the direction of the sunlight through his blinds, measuring how it would look against his skin. He’s tanned and golden in the picture, his face completely visible. Seungmin finds his eyes drawn to Jisung’s sharp mouth, open and shaped like a little o, while his black hair is messy and curling around the backs of his ears. He has an enticing, painstakingly innocent expression on his face that makes Seungmin want to shove his dick down Jisung’s throat to see how much he could take, to see how much he would cry.

It’s maddening, it’s awful, and Seungmin is only a man.

Jisung is on his knees, shirt tight and rucked up to his hips, the full line of his leaking cock and balls on display. Seungmin wipes the drool off his mouth before it falls on the phone screen. Before he loses his nerve, he clicks on the photo and saves it to his phone gallery. It’s not as if Jisung will know, but Seungmin hides it in the hidden folder just to be safe.

The typing bubble pops up a few times while Seungmin tries to memorize the contours of the vein on the underside of Jisung’s dick—fully zoomed into the photo, no shame—before he realizes he should probably say something back. It would be terribly rude to leave him hanging.

Seungmin hits send again before he can think twice about it. It feels silly to say, because it’s all he said the last time. But he doesn’t know what else Jisung wants from him. You look so fucking good in this pic but you’d look better bouncing on my fucking dick sounds insane even to own sleep deprived essay-addled brain. It’s fucking uncouth. He needs to at least keep up a semblance of respect for his fellow friend.

He sighs, long suffering.

Seungmin waits a moment but doesn’t see Jisung type up anything else so he decides that must be the end of it. He puts his phone down and turns back to his laptop, trying to get his brain back into academia mode.

He still has to finish this fucking essay.

📱📱📱

Jisung spends the next three nights sending Seungmin increasingly more beautiful and stylistic nudes—most of them with him bent down, on his knees, or sitting on his thighs posed in front of his floor mirror, biting the bottom of his shirt between his cute little teeth, or taken from over the shoulder so that his perky little ass is on display.

Against his better judgment, Seungmin saves every single one to his phone, locked away in that hidden folder, only opened in the dead of night, or sometimes in the early morning—or on one eventful day, in the middle of the afternoon when he was bored—but that is neither here nor there. His masturbation habits notwithstanding, Seungmin thinks he’s gotten a pretty good handle on the Jisung situation, as he has decided to refer to it in his brain.

Changbin kept looking at him weirdly over lunch between classes earlier, the way Seungmin tried to block his phone screen from his view.

“Do you have a secret girlfriend or something?” Changbin snorted, trying to see what Seungmin was looking at over his shoulder. Seungmin locked his phone so quickly, with reflexes he didn’t even know he possessed.

“No, of course not,” Seungmin sighed, “Jisung is just blowing up my phone. The usual.”

“Like I said,” Changbin rolled his eyes, “a secret girlfriend.”

Seungmin punched at his arm which made Changbin grab him by the neck, effectively ending that conversation in favor of play fighting in the university cafeteria.

The thing is really, as Seungmin steps out of his reverie and settles into a corner booth at the library to try and work on his essay, he is having the most difficult time resisting Jisung. The introduction of these nudes has now taken the ever present attraction from simmering on the back burner to front and center on the stove. He should probably tell Jisung to stop texting him photos of himself half-naked and irresistible, but Seungmin is enjoying it far too much.

And Jisung seems to be no different. He still acts the same as ever around Seungmin, still the terrible jokes, still the ever present sincerity in his words, still the same soft, joyful—albeit cocky—demeanor he has on any given day. He’s making Seungmin’s life exceptionally hard, while he considers in between bouts of poetic existentialism how Jisung would look if he was blindfolded and choking on dick.

Normal thoughts to have about your best friend, obviously.

Seungmin coughs to himself, and it sounds loud in the otherwise quiet library. There are other students in booths, laptops and books spread out in front of them, locked in to whatever task they’ve set on doing. Seungmin boots up his laptop, hopeful to at least tackle some more of this essay. He needs to focus on interiority and poetic design, not about how good Jisung would sound getting off, even if Seungmin knows in his heart it would sound really, really, good.

Just as he’s about to sort through the twelve tabs of JSTOR articles he’s got pulled up, his phone barks. Seungmin reaches for it instantly, knowing exactly what’s on the other side of that message.

“Fuck,” Seungmin says, and three heads of neighboring students turn towards him to glare.

He makes a sorry gesture with his hands, bowing at them for his outburst before he sits back down in his seat, JSTOR articles forgotten and all homework damned.

Seungmin clicks on the photo, and nearly bashes his head against the wall at the photos of Jisung shirtless, little elastic collar on his neck, his eyes wide and open, with a stupid, stupid, lollipop in his mouth, balanced right on his pink tongue. It’s not a nude this time, just a very suggestive selfie taken from the chest up. Seungmin starts thinking of T.S. Eliot to get his dick to calm down. He refuses to get hard in the library. Think of “The Wasteland,” he tells himself. I will show you fear in a handful of Han Jisung’s nudes.

Photo saved to gallery. Moved to hidden. It’s habitual at this point.

I bet you’d taste sweet is what Seungmin types out before deleting it. I can shove something else in your mouth, he writes before hitting backspace. I really need to see you cry on my dick, he almost hits send. Phew. Seungmin stares at the photo so much he’s imprinted it to memory.

Seungmin puts his phone away, staring forlornly at his computer screen. He tables his horny thoughts for later, exhaling out harshly through his mouth.

Fucking, Jisung, he thinks, as he starts writing his essay. A voice in his head that sounds distinctly like Minho’s says wouldn’t you just love to do that before Seungmin can shoo it away.

📱📱📱

It’s midnight and Seungmin has a hand wrapped around his dick, careful not to make any noise. The walls are paper thin and Minho is home and the last thing he needs right now is him banging on his bedroom door telling him to quiet down, that smirk on his face because he knows exactly who Seungmin is jerking off to.

Quite frankly, Seungmin’s dick has never gotten this much action, and he’s pretty sure he’s about to chafe the skin off his cock if Jisung sends even one more fucking photo of himself. He makes quick work of it, getting hard so fast he thinks he loses air in his brain, cock fattening up at the thought of Jisung spread out and below him. Seungmin really thinks he should stop doing this.

However, the Jisung-induced orgasms beg to differ, and Seungmin comes embarrassingly fast at the thought of once again making Jisung choke on his dick. Just once, he thinks, just once is all he needs.

He stares at his cum covered hand and imagines what it’d be like to grab Jisung by the face, hand sticky with cum, or rub it all over his collarbones and wait for it to dry on his skin. This is the third time in the span of fours he spent imagining his cum pooled against the divot on Jisung’s collarbone.

Seungmin’s traitorous dick twitches in interest again and he lets out a loud, long suffering groan.

Minho bangs his fist on the wall, yelling something half incomprehensible into the dead of the night. It’d be better off if he just suffocated me, he thinks, before getting up out of bed to wash his hands, watching the cum spin down the drain, along with the last dregs of his dignity.

📱📱📱

“You are disgusting,” Minho says, wrinkling his nose at Seungmin. He’s got his phone pressed to his ear as he lounges on the couch, half paying attention to whoever is on the other side.

Fear shoots through him, momentarily believing that somehow Minho has developed the ability to read minds, before Seungmin realizes that Minho is staring at his shirt, a dark blue gag gift Hyunjin bought him as a Christmas present last with with the words I’VE GOT A BIG PROBLEM and an arrow pointing down to the crotch printed across the front in bold font.

Seungmin snorts to himself, his laugh sounding insane to his own ears.

“What? This shirt’s comfortable.”

Minho rolls his eyes.

“Dude, you’ve seen my dick. It is a big problem.” Seungmin smirks. There aren't many things he’ll act like a nasty greasy boy about, but his dick is one of them. He will gladly live up to every guy with a big dick stereotype. Seungmin doesn’t care.

“Sheesh, I’m on the phone you fucking animal!”

“With who?”

“Jisung.”

“Oh,” Seungmin shrugs. “Well, why would I care if he hears that? He knows my dick is big. You all have seen it.”

“YAH!” Minho says, pulling the phone away from his ear. Seungmin can faintly hear muffled screaming over the receiver and wonders what Jisung might be yelling about. Surely, he knows this fact about Seungmin. It’s not as if anyone—namely, Hyunjin and Felix—have ever gone a day without making some inappropriate remark that would have Seungmin invoke harassment clauses on literally anyone else.

Minho looks at Seungmin with barely contained glee, before his attention goes back to his phone call. “Well, of course, I’ve seen it, Sung, I live with the guy—”

Seungmin shakes his head before tuning Minho out. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a bowl of kimchi fried rice, plating it from the pot left on the stove. Minho is excellent. Seungmin cannot ever have another roommate for as long as he lives.

He sits down at the table, digging into his food. He finally pulls his phone out of his pocket, catching up on his notifications from the previous night.

The reply comes nearly instantaneously, Felix for sure glued to his phone.

Seungmin thinks about how he’s spent the last four days jacking off to nothing but pictures of Jisung that he’s sent him via text message.

Damn, he thinks. I guess I’ve been having e-sex.

Seungmin looks at Felix’s last message and decides that it is simply too early in the day for him to dignify that with a response. He’s got to get out of the apartment soon and head to class, since he and Jisung are going to meet up for lunch before his afternoon block.

The idea of seeing Jisung soon does make something flutter in Seungmin’s chest, but he decides to attribute that sensation to heartburn and kimchi fried rice.

Minho makes his way into the kitchen shortly after, opening up the fridge and pulling out the other half of what Seungmin knows is his ridiculous breakfast shake concoction.

“Delicious,” Minho says, and this time he doesn’t even make a face.

Seungmin shoves spoonfuls of kimchi fried rice into his mouth. “Yeah, mine tastes good too.”

Minho sits down at the table next to Seungmin, giving him a curious look. “Any new developments with the Jisung thing?”

Seungmin furrows his brows. “What is”—he makes air quotes—”the ‘Jisung thing’?”

“You know. The nude he sent you. Did he send anything else?”

And oh—isn’t that interesting. Jisung and Minho are attached at the hip every day ending in a y. They were just on the phone talking about God knows what, and Seungmin is aware that boundaries just simply don’t exist between them. The fact he hasn’t told Minho that he’s been sending Seungmin more nudes for him to rate is… well, Seungmin isn’t really sure how to feel about that. Minho is Jisung’s go-to confidant despite the fact that he and Jisung had been friends longer. It’s never something that bothered Seungmin in particular, as Jisung and Minho’s particular brand of freaky behavior just seemed to mesh well from the jump.

So the fact he’s keeping the nudes to himself definitely speaks more volumes than anything Jisung could ever say.

“No,” Seungmin lies, “he hasn’t sent me anything since that first one last week. Unless you count the fourteen links to different guitar picks and amps from coupang—then it’s been business as usual.”

“Huh,” Minho says, scratching his chin. “I told him…” His voice trails off, staring at Seungmin. He does his level best to meet Minho’s gaze head-on, betraying nothing. He doesn’t know why Jisung is keeping this a secret, but Seungmin refuses to be the person who lets it escape.

Minho breaks eye contact first, then shakes his head. He mumbles something under his breath that Seungmin doesn’t quite catch before he clears his throat, breakfast smoothie concoction finished.

Seungmin laughs under his breath, glad that Minho is none the wiser, before bringing his bowl and Minho’s smoothie cup to the sink and cleaning both, leaving them on the rack to air dry.

“I’m going to meet up with Jisung for late lunch though,” he adds on as an afterthought. “We might go for burgers or something.”

“You should take him to get seollangtang,” Minho suggests, “he wouldn’t stop talking about it on the phone.”

Seungmin sighs. Minho unfortunately knows just how weak he can be when it comes to making Jisung even a little bit happy. “Noted,” he grumbles, going to his room to change out of his pajamas and grab his book bag for school. Seungmin throws on a pair of nice slacks and a polo shirt, coat tucked under his arm and labradoodle socks on his feet. He is about halfway out the door before Minho calls him to attention.

“I’ll be heading over to Channie-hyung’s place again tonight,” he says, in the same tone of voice someone uses to discuss the weather.

“You’re there every night,” Seungmin snorts, rolling his eyes. And just because he loves to see Minho flustered, he adds, “The dick can’t be that good.”

Minho shakes his fists at him, which Seungmin definitely counts as a win. He barks out a laugh and his ears flush red. “Shut up,” he grumbles.

Seungmin doesn’t even bother to contain his own laugh in reply, slipping his heel into his shoes, and double checking he’s got his phone and wallet in his pockets before he leaves.

Minho clears his throat. “Have a good day at class,” he says softly.

Seungmin feels a gentle rush of affection for Minho at the sweet little gesture. He opens his mouth to reply in thanks before Minho adds on, “And yes, quite frankly, it is that good.”

Seungmin slams the door shut behind him, ignoring the peal of laughter Minho lets loose.

Asshole.

📱📱📱

“So basically—my professor wanted to know if we know how to use Python, which, do I look like a fucking idiot, of course I know how to use Python, I might as well have invented the software—” Jisung grumbles on over a giant bowl of seollangtang. Seungmin lets his complaints about his intro computer science professor wash over him, totally enraptured by the way that Jisung’s mouth forms words. Has it always been shaped like a little heart? His cupid’s bow a soft little curve? Has his mouth always looked so perfect? His lips always so supple? Seungmin is wracking his brain, deliriously trying to remember the last time he allowed himself to stare so openly at Jisung.

“And then they had the audacity to see if anyone knew what Java Script was. I was encoding HTML on web pages and auto-playing music on naverblogs in middle school before Professor Yoo figured out how to rotate a fucking PDF. Like this man thinks I’m stupid—”

“You’re not stupid at all,” Seungmin nods his head, interrupting Jisung’s tirade.

“Exactly,” Jisung huffs, “this guy still leaves the cursor on the screen during PowerPoint presentations and he thinks he can tell me that I’m using Python wrong—”

“God, you’re so smart,” Seungmin sort of blurts out in a heap of words. He doesn’t realize he’s said anything out loud until he notices that Jisung has fully stopped speaking, cutting his own tirade off mid-sentence to stare at Seungmin as if he’s grown a second head.

He blinks several times, mouth hanging open, and spoon balanced precariously in his fingers.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?” Seungmin asks, feeling a little self-conscious at how Jisung hasn’t so much as breathed in response.

“N-No, no, haha—Seungmo, no that wasn’t wrong at all. Just caught me off guard.”

“What did?” Seungmin narrows his eyes at Jisung. “Me calling you smart?”

Jisung’s intake of breath is so loud in the quiet little corner booth they’ve secured in the restaurant. “Y-Yeah,” he says softly.

“Why would it be?” Seungmin asks genuinely. “I really do think you’re smart, y’know. You’re a genius to me.”

“Seungminnie,” Jisung mumbles, voice cracking halfway through his name. “S-Stop it, haha, c’mon.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “You are so very strange,” he says, “but I like you, so I think it’s completely fine.”

The sound Jisung makes in the aftermath of that admission is enough to fuel Seungmin’s perverted fantasies of Jisung choking on his dick for at least the next several weeks.

“Is it really so hard to accept compliments from me?”

“N-No,” Jisung says, playing with the edge of his napkin on the table. He puts the spoon back down onto the holder, and avoids making eye contact with Seungmin. It’s really cute how flustered he’s become at such a simple sentiment. “It’s just different, y’know. ‘Cause you mean everything you say. Like… with honesty and all.”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I don’t know how to be any way but honest.” He doesn’t really get where Jisung is coming from, but squeezes his hand across the table nonetheless. His own hand engulfs Jisung’s small one, fingers crushed between Seungmin’s tight grip. When he lets go of Jisung’s hand, there’s a slight tinge to his face, the red coming through his tanned skin. Seungmin wonders briefly if Jisung blushes everywhere else, and then immediately tables that contemplation for later. He refuses to get hard across the lunch table over his best friend.

Seungmin picks up his own spoon and goes back to his food. He carefully eyes Jisung, who still seems to be lost in his own head, clearly mulling something over.

Jisung stares at him so intently, his deep, brown eyes, a piercing gaze. “I’m grateful for that,” he says after a long beat of silence, “you know. Your honesty. When it matters. I’m glad.”

Seungmin wants to say something, anything, to alleviate the thick tension he feels building between them, but before he can open his mouth, the restaurant ahjumma comes back with more banchan and the moment is broken.

Jisung picks up a bit of pickled radish and places it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Seungmin shakes his head and goes back to staring at Jisung’s face, the conversation from earlier picking up once again, as if nothing in between happened at all.

📱📱📱

Later that evening, when Seungmin is still forcing himself to claw his way through his essay, his phone pings three times in succession. He doesn’t have to wonder who the messages are from, because there’s no one else who would be texting him at a quarter to eleven in the evening.

Definitely not the messages that Seungmin was anticipating to receive, but any message from Jisung is a joy nonetheless. Seungmin shakes his head, already accepting giving up on adding any more words to his paper.

Seungmin hangs his head in slight shame, the bro staring back at him like a grenade. Spending the last five-and-a-half days polishing the bat over one of his best friends is starting to give him a guilt complex, and Seungmin is feeling all sorts of bad at being a horrible friend when Jisung is clearly distressed about something that he’s missed.

He laughs at the message, Jisung’s ability to turn a conversation a smooth 180 degrees being an impeccable skill. Seungmin clicks on the photo and nearly drops his phone, breath coming out in quick, short huffs as he takes in the latest picture. This is the first photo on a bed, not in front of the mirror, and Jisung is completely, fully, naked. He’s laying on his side, head bunched up on his pillow—with the Spiderman themed case on it—his legs crossed at the ankle so his thighs flex, while his cock is hard and leaking, resting against his hip. The miles of tanned smooth skin stand out beautifully, as the gentle glow of sunlight through the blinds highlights every facet of Jisung’s face—eyes closed and mouth open in ecstasy. Seungmin wonders how Jisung managed to take the picture, since he can see both of his hands in frame, before spotting a small remote in Jisung’s hands.

Seungmin decides to accept the probable truth that Jisung had his phone propped up on a stand and took the photo with the remote. Because the next horrific thought to appear in his head is that the remote wasn’t for taking the photo, but in fact for something much more devious, and he can’t let himself even consider the alternative for a moment lest he come in his fucking pants like a horny teenager.

Without missing a beat, Seungmin presses the heel of his palm against his already fattening cock, reaching that point of shame where the shame doesn’t exist anymore at all. His Pavlovian response to seeing Jisung’s nudes should probably make him feel embarrassed, but his dick is so hard in his pants, and his best friend is so hot that it takes genuinely no time at all to shove his shorts down under his balls and grip himself in hand, using his precum to ease the slide.

The chat bubble pops up while Seungmin is staring at the photo, and the crash back to reality, that Jisung is waiting for a honest response while Seungmin is hand-to-gland at his desk, should make his dick shrivel up on itself, but instead it just makes him harder, just makes him hornier, just turns the temperature up another thousand fuckin degrees.

Seungmin groans, head thrown back as he fully gets into it, hand rocking up and down his cock as he chases after his orgasm. He can see it in his mind again, the image of Jisung on the bed, ankles crossed and mouth open, uselessly begging for cock as Seungmin fucks him sideways from behind. Jisung would be so cute, Seungmin thinks, so cute and perfect as Seungmin stretched him out, held him down, and thrusted his cock in and out of Jisung’s tight little hole like it was built for him.

Seungmin fumbles with his thumb over the chat box, trying to hit a response. He throws his head back again in a moan, imagining how whiny and petulant Jisung would be if Seungmin had him underneath him.

“This fucking guy,” Seungmin groans, eyes closed and thinking about the photo again, “‘just great?’ he says, just great’”? I’d fuck you if I had the chance,” Seungmin moans, cellphone in his hand now forgotten.

He imagines Jisung in his head, in a different position this time, on top of his lap, bouncing and moaning for it, gagging for it, the prettiest sounds escaping out of his spit slick mouth as Seungmin ruts up into his tight body, hands on his waist, dick pistoning in and out of Jisung like both their lives depended on it.

“Fuck yes, baby,” Seungmin moans to imaginary Jisung, “tell me how bad you want this dick. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you—oh, fuck, Jisung—It’s so nice, isn’t it? How stuffed you are.”

Seungmin recalls lunch earlier, and that choked off sound Jisung made plays on loop in his head as his gut tightens, spiraling faster and faster until he cums, spunk covering his fingers as he shoots his load all over his hand. He looks down and jacks himself off through the aftershocks, rutting up into his fist as he imagines it’s Jisung’s body instead.

He lets go of himself, letting out a harsh breath before he looks down at his lap, amazed at the fact he managed to hold onto his phone for so long. He hits the unlock button, glad to see he managed to avoid getting cum on his phone, before a cold, horrible chill runs up his spine.

“Oh no,” Seungmin says, post-orgasmic high completely gone.

He looks at the timestamp of his message, and sees it was sent over five minutes ago. Jisung is just as glued to his phone as Felix is, which means the likelihood of him seeing this message is very high. Something awful inside Seungmin’s stomach burns, the fact that Jisung didn’t reply, even in his usual joking manner, and has instead decided to leave him on read. The worst case scenarios start to float through Seungmin’s head, starting off with Jisung being disgusted at him for jerking off to his pictures and ending with him screenshotting the text and laughing about it with any of their other friends. Seungmin tightens his fist in his hand to get a hold of himself, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palm as he calms his breathing.

No, he thinks, Jisung wouldn’t do any of that. He exhales out of his mouth. He won’t reply at all, won’t even pretend he didn’t accidentally send that text, but what Seungmin will do is go the fuck to sleep. He closes the lid of his laptop, only the glow of his bedside lamp illuminating the room. He takes off his soiled shorts and underwear, heading towards the bathroom to wash his hands and himself off before slipping a clean pair of boxers on. Seungmin refuses to let the negative thoughts ruminate, instead focusing his mind on his essay that he still needs to write. What did Kim Sowol mean when he wrote about “Golden Grass?” Or “Evocation?” And why is Seungmin’s mind focused on the golden skin of Jisung’s thigh, or the type of breathy moans he could pull from his throat instead of his fucking homework?

His phone pings on the nightstand, and Seungmin has half a mind to just ignore it. This is what got him into this mess a week ago, and he is not in the mood to dig himself further into a hole. Unless of course, that hole is Ji—

His phone pings again, three in succession.

He grabs it off the nightstand, anticipating the worst, but is met with a profile photo of Soonie and a sprawl of text messages from Minho instead.

Seungmin looks up at the ceiling, eyes focused on the way the paint is uneven shades of white. No one else would probably be able to tell, but Seungmin has been staring up at the ceiling for quite a long time, and can spot the difference between eggshell and cream.

He can’t fucking believe Jisung called Minho of all people, at half past one in the morning, but he also isn’t surprised in the slightest.

He lets out an impossible sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Jisung is apparently coming over. Jisung is coming over. It shouldn’t hit Seungmin as hard as it does, but he starts to feel butterflies in his stomach, at the idea of seeing Jisung in the aftermath of the worst accidental voice-typed text message in the world.

Not even a few minutes later does Seungmin hear a rapid set of knocks on the front door. He has to give it to Minho, truly, his timing is impeccable.

Seungmin gets up out of bed, and meanders out of his room, almost like he’s worried a Jisung-shaped boogeyman is going to jump out and grab him by the neck or something. He settles for taking three calming breaths, standing in front of the door and closing his eyes, ready to face the inevitable. Jisung knocks again, this time much more hurried, like he’s afraid Seungmin won’t answer it. Minho’s threats float back into his mind, ones he’s sure that Minho would follow through on, but the sad, devastated face of Jisung standing on the other side of the door is what makes Seungmin cave.

He pulls the door open to see him, hair curled around his ears, fringe sticking to his forehead, in a long brown trench coat held together in front with his hands. He lets go of the coat and it falls open, revealing a set of kangaroo themed pajamas that Chan got him for his birthday last year.

Jisung’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his mouth open and tongue licking his bottom lip as he tries to catch his breath. “Did you mean it?”

Seungmin shakes his head, still trying to process the sight of Jisung, winded and vulnerable and terribly sexy in front of him. “What?”

“S-Seungmo,” he says, swallowing his words. Seungmin tracks the movement of his Adam's apple with his eyes. “Did you mean it? What you said.”

“Oh,” falls out of Seungmin’s mouth. He stands there at the entryway, staring at Jisung, who has not moved a muscle. Seungmin twists his face, brow furrowed, pursing his lips in thought. There’s so many ways this could go, he thinks, so many different scenarios he could take. He could tell Jisung that it was an accident, and he didn’t mean to send that to him at all, could lie—and say that no, he actually doesn’t mean that, and it was just a joke.

But then he thinks about their conversation from lunch. About how Jisung said that he values Seungmin’s honesty above all else. And while it would be so easy to lie to Jisung, to save his own face and put this embarrassing moment behind them both, Seungmin knows better than to do that to his friend. A best friend. And quite frankly, someone he really, truly cares about. Ugh, he thinks, Fuck it.

“Yes,” Seungmin says, watching the mix of surprise-awe-fear-delight cross Jisung’s features. “I meant every word that was sent. I want to fuck you. These, uh, nudes you’ve been sending are killing me,” Seungmin rubs the back of his neck, pink tinge to his cheeks. “Uh, bro,” he adds on for tact, cringing internally at how stupid it all sounds and feels to have a heart to heart conversation in the hallway of his apartment complex at ass o’ clock in the morning.

Jisung blinks rapidly—three times, not like Seungmin is counting—before he opens his mouth and says, “W-Wait, sorry, haha, I blacked out thinking about you jerking off to my pictures. Could you say that again?”

“Jisung!”

“P-Please,” he chuckles, voice thin, “I didn’t—hmmph—hear you.”

“I said I want to fuck you,” Seungmin deadpans, breath harsh through his teeth. “Alright? There you go.”

Jisung opens and closes his mouth again, taking a shaky breath. Seungmin can see the shape of his cute front teeth peeking out from under his upper lip. His tongue grazes over his cupid’s bow, before resting against the corner of his mouth. He clears his throat.

“So, um,” Jisung says, “are you going to invite me in?”

“What?!” Seungmin is still standing in the doorway, arm across the threshold, in nothing but a pair of boxers with a dog saying I BITE all over it. Jisung’s eyes look down towards his crotch, his tongue licks over his lips and oh—it all makes sense now.

“Ah,” he says, like he’s just finally realized the missing piece to the most confusing puzzle. He looks at Jisung, who meets his gaze. “You want me to fuck you,” Seungmin says, a bark of laughter falling out of his mouth. “Oh… oh, you really want me to fuck you.”

“Seungminnnnnnnnn,” Jisung whines, in that exact timbre of voice that he’s been dreaming about for days. “Let me in.”

Seungmin removes his hand off the door jamb, and grabs the front of Jisung’s pajama shirt, yanking him forward into the apartment before slamming the door shut behind them both. He presses Jisung up against the door, while he flips the lock, and gets the wonderful sound of Jisung’s moan right in his ear. Better men would probably be kinder to him, Seungmin thinks, would probably be gentle, take their time—but not Seungmin. He’s too curious, to see how this goes, to see the kinds of sounds Jisung could make.

He’s also achingly fucking desperate to fuck his best friend, his dick is already half hard in his boxers.

“Did you take a taxi in this outfit?” Seungmin asks, hands touching over the thin fabric of his pajamas.

“Y-Yeah,” Jisung admits, “‘s why I wore the coat. To cover up.”

“Hot.” Seungmin snorts. He pushes the trench coat out of the way, and cups Jisung’s cock over his pajama shorts, hand rubbing him through the fabric. “No underwear?” Seungmin asks, rubbing his palm. “You’re so dirty, Jisung.”

“H-Hey,” he breathes out, the back of his head hitting the wooden door, “you’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“Sure,” Seungmin says, squeezing Jisung’s dick in his hands over the fabric, a thrill racing up and down his spine. Jisung really does fit perfectly in his palm. “But I don’t really think you want me to be nice.” He chuckles, and can already feel the wet spot Jisung is leaving on his shorts.

“T-Tell me what you were thinking about,” he breathes out, arching into Seungmin’s touch, “when you were looking at my pictures.”

Seungmin tilts his head, gets one of his knees between Jisung’s spread legs. He has an arm braced against the door near his head, and looks at Jisung’s perfectly pouty, needy face. “My cock,” Seungmin says, “stuffed in this mouth of yours,” he traces over Jisung’s bottom lip, pushing two of his fingers in, resting them against his tongue, “pressed up against your cheek,” he hooks them against the side of Jisung’s mouth and pulls, much like a fish hook. “Just wondered if you could take all of it, y’know. Been thinking about it.”

“I c-could,” Jisung gulps, coughing, like he’s racing to inhale as much air into his lungs as possible. “I could f-fit it all.”

“It would be so fun,” Seungmin says, “to see you choke.”

“W-What the fuck—Seungmin—what the fuck—” Jisung knocks his head back against the door, rapidly blinking while staring at him, as if his entire worldview has shifted. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, and Seungmin can almost imagine the static-y sound of a computer booting up to work playing on loop in Jisung’s head. It’s endearing.

“What?” Seungmin says, “you can’t believe I’m like this?”

“N-No,” Jisung says, “you never say things like this. Just give me a moment to rewrite the way I see you in my brain. Hold on.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I'm always thinking it though," he admits. Is me being horny really what’s freaking you out right now?”

“No, of course not,” Jisung is quick to reply, “it’s just that you’re saying things I’ve spent years dreaming about so I’m having hard—hah, get it—time adjusting—”

“Wait,” Seungmin interrupts him, “years?”

“Oh, um,” Jisung chuckles and Seungmin watches the way a flush rushes up through his skin, “so basically, um… years…”

“Jisung.”

“Look, okay, it’s not my fault that you’re extremely hot and I’m pretty pathetic about it!”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?! My hand is literally on your dick right now.”

“Have you ever considered that I’m baby? Have you ever—”

“Oh my God,” Seungmin groans, squeezing Jisung’s dick in his hand again. It truly is a testament to both of them that not only has Jisung’s dick not softened once, but Seungmin is somehow even more turned on after finding out how stupid his best friend is. “It’s been years for me too! This is why hyung thinks we’re fucking hopeless.”

“Oh, wow,” Jisung breathes. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Years.”

Jisung touches Seungmin’s face with his hand, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the bridge of Seungmin’s nose. It does something crazy to Seungmin’s insides, the tender gesture getting him harder faster than anything else Jisung’s sent the last week.

“The first photo wasn’t for you,” Jisung admits. Seungmin nods, if the rampant text message key smashes and confirmation from Felix were anything to go by. “But every other photo after it was.”

“Wait—you mean—?”

“Yeah,” Jisung licks his lips softly, Seungmin watches the movement with his eyes. “I just figured… you wouldn’t mind seeing them.”

“I saved every photo,” he admits, “they’re in my hidden album.”

“God, that’s so hot.” Jisung tugs on his hair at the base of his neck just a little bit. “You’re so hot.”

“You too,” Seungmin says, “You get me so worked up. It’s hard to focus whenever you text me.”

“Please—just, anything—” Jisung sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes are saucers, his pupils dilated.

“God, this is gonna ruin my essay,” Seungmin says, grabbing Jisung by the hand and dragging him to his room. He flips the light switch on and bathes them both in low orange light.

“What essay?” Jisung flops onto the bed, shrugging off his coat and pajamas and leaving it on the floor. Seungmin picks it up and hangs it over his desk chair, while Jisung settles onto his bed stark naked.

“My essay that’s due in three days.”

“Are you thinking about homework while I’m naked? On your fucking bed?”

“Of course I’m thinking about homework!” Seungmin says, exasperated, “I’ve been trying to write this essay for almost a week and your nudes have consistently derailed every one of my efforts!”

“Oh,” Jisung says, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it up over his lap. “So, um. Does that mean no dick?” he asks softly.

Seungmin lets out a bark of laughter, and cannot believe this is his life. “Not a chance in hell,” he says, before removing his own clothes and folding them into a neat pile on his desk and jumping onto the bed, body balanced right on top of Jisung.

Every part of where their skin touches sends electroshocks through Seungmin’s body, the skin to skin contact too much and yet not enough. He stares at Jisung under him for a while, and thinks about the periodic table of elements once more to calm himself down.

“Hi,” Jisung says, voice tiny. “I’m at element number twenty-two.”

“Hi,” Seungmin replies, rubbing his hands over Jisung’s thighs. “Titanium. You were counting along with me?”

“‘Course I was,” Jisung shrugs, “helps me to calm down, too.”

“Jeez,” he breathes out, fingers tracing over Jisung’s nipples, “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Well,” Jisung spreads his legs apart on the bed, “I did half the work for you already. Hurry up.”

Seungmin looks at him in awe, fingers running over Jisung’s hole which is wet with lube. “Wow… you’re a fucking genius.”

“Ahh,” he moans, unable to help himself.

“You like that, don’t you? The praise?”

“N-No, haha, why would you even say that?”

Seungmin tweaks one of Jisung’s nipples, the skin pebbling between his fingers before he sucks a mark on the side of Jisung’s neck. Jisung moans loud and wantonly, voice pitching up an octave over the sound of the air conditioning.

“F-Fuck you, man, okay I do like it. Just a little bit.”

“You’re so pretty, Hannie.”

Jisung actually whimpers.

“Alright. I like it a lot. Don’t say anything.”

Seungmin shrugs, a smile on his face, reaching into his bedside drawer to pull out the small bottle of lube he keeps in there. He gets some of it on his hand, warming it up between his fingers before he brings them to Jisung’s hole, pushing two in with ease. Jisung makes the loveliest moan as Seungmin starts to finger him open, rubbing against his prostate on the fifth or sixth thrust of his hand.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeek,” Jisung whines, sucking in air. His hands are loosely on the bed, gripping the sheets. He rocks up against Seungmin’s hand, biting his lip, unable to keep still, squirming on the bed.

“You make the craziest sounds,” Seungmin says, curling his fingers again. He pushes a third finger into Jisung and watches the way his hole clenches around them. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

“W-What part?” Jisung grits out.

Seungmin shrugs. “Shoving my dick down your throat, seeing the outline.”

“Waaahhhhhhhhh,” his cock jumps at the words, precum dribbling down the tip and all over his skin.

“Damn, hyung was right. You are easy.”

“Please don’t talk about Minho-hyung while your fingers are inside me.” Jisung rocks up against his hand, chasing after the feeling.

“Noted.” Seungmin removes his hand and wipes the lube on Jisung’s lower belly, eyes focused on how he tenses under the movement. He reaches over to the bedside table, knowing he’s got to have a condom somewhere in the drawer before Jisung grabs his wrist with his fingers, stopping his movements.

“Seungmo,” he says softly, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Seungmin falters, looking down at Jisung’s pretty face, eyes wide and mouth red. “Oh, wow,” he says, “I’m gonna need to hear you ask for it, though.”

“Nooooooooo,” he whines, “don’t make me say it.”

“I am perfectly fine just fingering you,” Seungmin teases, tracing Jisung’s rim with his finger. “I could even suck your dick, or lick you right here.”

“AAHhahaahahha,” Jisung screeches, sounding like an unhinged little bird, “fine, fine, fine. Fuck me raw. Please.”

Seungmin snorts, pouring lube onto his hand and coating it over his dick. He jacks himself off for a moment, making sure to spread it all over. He can feel Jisung staring at him, and looks up to meet his gaze. He’s got his mouth open in that cute little o and Seungmin envisions once again shoving his cock down Jisung’s throat.

“Wow, it really is a big problem,” he says, before throwing a hand over his eyes and groaning, embarrassed. “This is so not sexy,” he groans, “we keep acting stupid.”

“This is plenty sexy to me,” Seungmin murmurs, pushing his cock against Jisung’s rim, “you’re under me, you’re hot, and you make the dumbest fucking sounds. I don’t need anything else.”

Jisung takes a sharp inhale of breath when Seungmin pushes past in, his muscles a vice grip on Seungmin’s cock. He starts breathing shallowly through his mouth, legs kicked up and balanced high on Seungmin’s waist, eyes screwed shut. Seungmin stares at the shape of Jisung’s eyes, the contour of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and begs himself to commit all of this to memory. To commit the feel of Jisung wrapped tight and hot around his dick to the ‘permanent spank bank material’ vault forever. Jisung twists his mouth, cute little teeth biting into the skin of his lips. “Grab me,” Seungmin grits out, and Jisung’s hands immediately fly from off the bed to Seungmin’s shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin.

Seungmin is all the way to the hilt, their hips flush together, when it feels like Jisung finally lets out the breath he’s been holding. “How do you feel?” he asks, desperate to move.

“Like a stuffed pepper, not gonna lie.”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you—” Seungmin groans, resting his forehead on Jisung’s shoulder. “And why am I so into it?!”

“Hehe,” Jisung wheezes, tightening his legs around Seungmin’s waist. “P-Please move, he begs, fingers curling into the short hair at his nape, “please.”

Seungmin takes a moment to reflect on every aspect of his life in the past week that led him to this moment before he thinks, ah, fuck it, and starts fucking into Jisung with reckless abandon. He plants his hands on either side of Jisung’s hips to give himself leverage on his thrusts, but also to keep Jisung pinned in place. A delicious thrill races through Seungmin as he fucks him, the way Jisung’s body stretches around him, the way he lets out all the silliest moans and whines, the way his fingers can’t stop tugging on Seungmin’s hair begging for more more more.

Jisung’s legs are like clamps around the both of them, keeping them as close together as possible while Seungmin relentlessly thrusts into his body. He’s glad he came earlier, as that is definitely helping to keep the edge off and prevent him from being a minute man. He's gotta last more than five minutes fucking Jisung. Or he'd never hear the end of it.

“Seungmo,” Jisung whines, hands moving to cup his face, “s-slow down, please. I-I want—” he licks his lips and Seungmin watches the movement of his tongue, slowing down his thrusts so that Jisung can relax around him, legs slowly unwrapping themselves from around Seungmin’s waist.

“Kiss me, please,” his voice is small and soft, begging. Seungmin lets go of his hip to brush his thumb over Jisung’s eyebrow, bending down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re so pretty, Jisung-ah,” he says softly. Jisung sucks in a shaky breath. Seungmin doesn’t have to look closely to see the tears in the corner of his eyes. He licks them off his skin before moving to Jisung’s lips, pressing their mouths together softly. Seungmin continues a gentle rocking motion of his hips, nothing too crazy or outlandish, just simply matching the speed of his tongue in Jisung’s mouth. He licks over his lips, his teeth, presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. They kiss softly, slowly, like they have all the time in the world. Jisung’s fingers scratch against Seungmin’s scalp and he moans into his mouth. There is spit pooling on their faces, messy and gross, with no finesse at all.

It’s perfect. It’s wonderful. It feels like everything the two of them should be.

Jisung makes a loud sucking sound before turning his mouth to the side, breathing in lungfuls of air. Seungmin licks his own spit off the side of Jisung’s cheek before grabbing him by the chin and forcing his mouth open. He doesn’t even think before he does it, because something tells him Jisung would enjoy it.

“Say ahh,” Seungmin laughs, before spitting in his mouth, right on his tongue. Jisung stares up at him with that perfect pleading face, closes his mouth, and swallows it all down.

A strange thrill races through Seungmin, the way the tension in Jisung’s body has melted into the bedsheets below. He might let Seungmin do anything to him, whatever he likes, however he wants. It makes his own heart beat triple time in his chest, Jisung giving himself like this, malleable and tender. His fingers tug on Seungmin’s hair again, his lips pursed up towards him, asking for another kiss. It’s the implicit trust passed between them, without a word, that makes Seungmin feel reckless, hopeful, and so deeply in love.

He kisses Jisung again, with everything he can muster, while steadily picking up the speed on his thrusts. It’s not as harsh as before but Seungmin doesn’t think either of them need it, that fire burning in his gut starting to twist and climb higher with every little moan that Jisung lets slip out.

“Ah, ah, ah—” he cries out, legs hooked around Seungmin’s waist, eyes screwed shut and lips pinched between his teeth. Seungmin sneaks a hand between their bodies, grabbing Jisung’s dick and jerking him off in time with his own thrusts, his movements becoming messy and erratic as he chases after his own release.

Jisung cums first, with a loud shout, body taunt and legs clamping, his knees digging into the tender flesh of Seungmin’s sides. Jisung coats Seungmin’s hand with his spunk, twitching and moaning against the sheets as he continues to jerk him off through the aftershocks. Even when Jisung starts whining Seungmin keeps going, listening to the way his breath quickens and thins from the overstimulation. It isn’t until Jisung kicks at his chest that Seungmin lets go, laughing at the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He pulls out from Jisung and grabs his dick in his hand, jerking himself off so he can cum all over Jisung’s lower belly.

“N-No,” Jisung moans, getting a hand on Seungmin’s dick. “C’mere, up here, on my—ah—face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Seungmin groans, scooting up the bed so he’s hovering over Jisung’s head. He gets his hands around Seungmin’s cock and starts jerking him off.

“Your hands are so fucking little on my dick,” he blurts out, “It’s doing things to me.”

“My hands are normal sized!” Jisung huffs, “Your dick is just too fucking big.”

He pushes the hair off of Jisung’s face so he can see the sharp, almost glazed look of concentration on his features. It isn’t going to take much more to get Seungmin there, and he watches in awe as Jisung tilts his chin up and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out.

“Ah, fuck,” Seungmin moans, cumming in white ropes over Jisung’s face. They never break eye contact, Jisung staring up at Seungmin as he cums all over his cheeks, nose, and mouth. The sight is hotter than anything Seungmin’s perverted mind could have ever conjured up.

Jisung continues to jerk him off through the aftermath, Seungmin thrusting in his grip like a deranged man. Once Jisung lets his cock slip out of his hands Seungmin maneuvers himself on the bed, lowering down so he’s still tangled up with Jisung on top of the sheets.

Jisung takes his cum coated fingers and sucks them right into his mouth, swirling his tongue over them while he stares at Seungmin with a devious glint to his eyes. “Do you like that?” he asks, smirking, letting his fingers go.

Seungmin lets out a harsh breath, before wiping the cum off Jisung’s face with his hand faster than Jisung can move. He shoves his own fingers into Jisung’s mouth, pressing against his tongue. “I don’t know,” he says, thoughtfully, three fingers stuffed into Jisung’s mouth, hooked onto his lower jaw. “You tell me.”

Jisung’s eyes seem to roll in the back of his head as Seungmin fucks his mouth with his hand. He takes his other hand and grabs Jisung’s soft, overworked cock in his fist, squeezing him and rubbing him as Jisung tries to jerk away from the movements, the overstimulation becoming just a bit too much.

“Hyung, Seungminnie-hyung—” he moans around the fingers before the both of them stop in their tracks, freezing in their movements to look at each other.

“Um…” Jisung says, face covered in spit.

“Really?” Seungmin scoffs, removing his fingers from his mouth.

Jisung clears his throat. “It’s not weird?” His voice is just a little hoarse.

“Eh,” Seungmin takes his wet hand and pinches Jisung’s nipples, working them between his fingers. “I kinda wanna do some crazy shit to you. So, no. You calling me hyung is not anywhere close to weird. It’s kinda hot.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jisung says, “we can be freaks together.”

Seungmin rolls on top of him, grabbing Jisung’s face in his hands and kissing all over. He flicks his tongue against Jisung’s nose, before settling to his jaw, and shoulder, sucking marks onto the juncture of Jisung’s neck, leaving indents of his teeth in his wake.

“Ah, oh fuck—give me like thirty minutes and I could go again,” Jisung breathes out, hand braced on the back of Seungmin’s neck.

“I’ve gotta work on my essay, though,” he replies, voice forlorn, as if he really is disappointed to tell Jisung no.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding—”

“Just spend the night,” Seungmin says, flicking Jisung’s forehead. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

Jisung groans. “Oh, you promise?”

“Of course,” Seungmin presses a kiss to Jisung’s lips, just a gentle caress of lips. “Now c’mon. We need to shower. I wanna scrub you down.”

“Ohhhh, kinky,” Jisung laughs, getting up off the bed.

Seungmin grabs him by the arm and leads him to the bathroom, turning on the water and flipping it to the shower head. He grabs it off the hook in his hand and sees Jisung squatting against the wall, studying the array of shampoos and body washes neatly lined up on the floor shelf.

“Hey, Jisung, look here.”

He looks up immediately as Seungmin sprays his face with the shower hose, sputtering and cursing as he falls on his ass, legs knocking over the shelf of bath products, the loud echoing of the plastic bottles hitting the floor like a symphony in the small room.

Suengmin laughs so hard tears start to form in his eyes, shower head falling from his hand as he grabs his abdomen to stave off the cramps. Jisung looks like a half drowned wet cat, teeth pressed against his bottom lip and hands over his own face as he holds back his own laugh.

“Aww,” Seungmin says, “look at you, making such a mess. I guess hyung will have to clean it up.”

“Man,” Jisung sighs, cheeks flaming red, “you’re never gonna let me live that down are you?”

“Not in a million years,” he replies, bending down to fix all the bottles that toppled over. Jisung helps him set them right, putting them back in their appropriate color coordination. Once it’s all fixed they get up off the floor, and share twin smiles.

“This won’t change a thing between us at all, will it?”

“Not for me,” Seungmin says, “you already know I like you so much.”

“Good,” Jisung sighs in relief, grabbing Seungmin’s wrist in his hands. “Because I really love you.”

He doesn’t even give Seungmin a chance to react to that confession before he pushes him against the cold tile wall and shoves his tongue in Seungmin’s mouth. They kiss until they’re both breathless, the bathroom getting hot and humid with the heat of the water. Seungmin’s got a vice grip on Jisung’s hips, that plush skin giving so easily under his hands.

“Now,” Jisung says, “before we shower…” he gets on his knees in front of Seungmin, mouth open and eyes staring up at him. He licks over Seungmin’s thighs, tongue trailing up the supple flesh. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Seungmin knocks his head back against the tile, digging his fingers against Jisung’s scalp, threading his hands through his soft black hair. Jisung starts mouthing at his cock, before stopping his movements and looking up at Seungmin with a pained expression.

“Oh wait,” he says, “you have to do that essay, don’t you?” He smiles up at Seungmin, all teeth, mischievous.

“Fuck my stupid essay,” Seungmin yells, giving in. “Fuck it, please—”

Jisung only laughs before swallowing him down.

📱📱📱

“It’s finally fucking submitted,” Seungmin groans, closing every single tab on his laptop now that his essay is finally turned in. Watching all of the tabs close fills him with euphoria, especially now that he can text his boyfriend—and yes, isn’t that something—that he’s no longer on a contact ban while Seungmin hurried to finish his paper.

It’s not submitted as early as he wanted it to be, but he still did it with a day to spare. Considering how the last week of his life has gone, Seungmin is going to count this as a win.

He knows Jisung’s been chomping at the bit to call him and chat his ear off about class, or music, or anything and everything in between. Seungmin loves the sound of Jisung’s voice, and honestly could probably sit through him reading pages of the phonebook if that’s what he decided to do. It’s like everything changed and nothing changed at all. Now he just gets to see Jisung’s tear streaked orgasm face whenever he wants, and maybe push him around just a little bit harder than before.

It’s all fun, it’s all good. Seungmin can’t stop thinking about him.

He reaches for his phone off his desk, scrolling through his notifications for the day. He sees a message from Changbin—a link to a YouTube essay—and a questionable group chat he’s been added into with Felix and Hyunjin. Seungmin scrolls through the messages briefly, holding in a laugh.

Seungmin laughs at Hyunjin’s last text message, scrolling over to his information to change it from Hwang Hyunjin to Hyunjinnie💫. He takes a screenshot of it and sends it to the group chat, and receives a plethora of heart emojis in return.

Seungmin snorts at the last messages from his friends, honestly expecting no different. Guess he has been the last one to catch up on a lot of things, but that's alright. He switches over to his chat with Jisung, who was definitely a little affronted to find out that Seungmin had his full name stored in his contact list—without any emoji—and changed it immediately to something else the moment he could.

“Well,” Seungmin had asked over breakfast, while Jisung was going through his phone, “what am I saved in your phone, then?”

He expected a silly answer, but Jisung had looked at him sincerely, dressed in Seungmin’s I’VE GOT A BIG PROBLEM shirt and replied, “‘my boycrush’ with a heart emoji at the end.”

“Oh, wow,” Seungmin didn’t have much to say after that, the pitter patter of his heart, and the flush to his cheeks doing all the heavy lifting.

Seungmin grins at the phone screen, going to his media gallery and scrolling to the photos he took of himself earlier. He’s posed in front of the mirror on his closet door, kneeling on the floor with his legs far apart, his favorite shirt on with his hard, leaking cock centered and on full display. Seungmin grips himself in the photo, thumb digging into his slit on the head while his other hand holds his phone half over his face.

It took longer than he’d like to admit to take this picture, and he isn’t sure he’s completely satisfied with it. However, it’s only Jisung that will see this, and Seungmin has a pretty good idea of the reaction it’ll get him.

Seungmin laughs himself hoarse over Jisung’s text messages, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face any longer. Totally worth the hour he spent taking nudes of himself, if he might say so himself. He puts his laptop away and remakes his bed, folding the comforter neatly around the corners. The box of silk ties arrived earlier this morning and are stashed under the bed. Only through sheer force of will did Seungmin manage to complete his essay, with the thought of getting to see Jisung naked and tied up the light at the end of the academic tunnel.

The knock at the door twenty minutes later just continues to make him laugh, doubled over as he leaves his room and opens the door to his apartment.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Jisung says, leaning against the door jamb to catch his breath. “This might be a new record.”

Jisung pushes in with nothing but the shirt on his back, and a pair of mismatched off-white socks stuffed into ugly slides. He whines against Seungmin’s mouth, begging for a kiss. He pulls Seungmin close, pressed up against the wall, hand already snaking it's way between their bodies to grope Seungmin in his pants. Like he's afraid Seungmin might disappear if he doesn't hold him tight.

Seungmin pinches Jisung’s nipples through his shirt, swallowing every breathy moan and whine he lets out. "Baby," he says, just to watch the reaction. Jisung's breath hitches and he almost loses his balance. Ah, Seungmin thinks, wonderful. He grabs Jisung by the waist, pulling him close, whispering again right in his ear: "Baby, baby, my baby."

Jisung whines so beautifully. Seungmin might almost feel bad for wanting to take him apart. “I’m so glad you finished that fucking essay,” Jisung says, squeezing Seungmin's hand between his, grounding them both. “Me too,” Seungmin replies around a laugh, “me fucking too.”