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Practiced moans poured into the quiet room. Jisung cleared his throat, shifting just enough to hide the chub he was sporting. The actors moved in tandem, something close to a dance. Though, it felt too rehearsed. No real emotion, love—not that Jisung expected it from a movie. And still, he was growing harder and harder by the second.
But his boner had nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with the warmth emanating from the other side of the bed, the promise of having his wet dream fulfilled. Jisung scooted towards the center. He momentarily sank into the mattress, then shuffled closer, until their legs touched. He was impatient.
“Hyung,” Jisung said, barely above a whisper. It wasn't audible, not with the actor's moans growing in volume, and he huffed.
Despite his hunger, he was nervous—almost embarrassed. His heart clanked, came close to bruising his rib cage, and his palms started to dampen. Jisung bawled his hands into fist, trying to squeeze every bit of nerves out of his system.
He was the one who wanted this, the one who went the extra mile and refrained from penetrative sex to make it better—more real. And Minho, his perfect and loving boyfriend, was happy to play his role, feed into all of Jisung's fantasies.
Jisung inhaled. His lips parted to exhale, and before he could let go, Minho looked at him and stole his breath.
“What's wrong, Sungie?” His faux concern almost pulled a whine out of Jisung. “Getting embarrassed watching a sex scene with hyung?”
“‘M not—” Jisung licked his lips. “‘M not embarrassed.”
Minho smiled at him. Mean and condescending, and Jisung swallowed a whimper.
“Why do you keep moving so much?” Minho cocked a brow. He glanced at Jisung's crotch, and his wicked smile grew as Jisung scrambled to hide himself. “This,” Minho gestured towards the forgotten movie, “was enough to get you hard?”
Jisung tore his gaze, pursing his lips. The bed dipped, and he swayed into it, falling just short of smacking his face into Minho's chest. He stared at it, breaths coming quicker.
A cool touch glided along his jaw, then stopped at his chin. One second Jisung was burning holes into Minho's shirt, and the next he was gaping at Minho.
“Do you want me to help you?” Minho asked.
Jisung's eyes widened. “What?”
“It'd be uncomfortable to stay hard,” Minho said, eyes dipping to Jisung's mouth. “I can help you.”
“But—” Jisung blinked rapidly. Heat crawled across his nape, his cheeks. “But we're best friends, hyung.”
Minho smirked. “Is there a problem with giving your best friend a helping hand?”
“It won't…” Jisung pushed past the embarrassment creeping up on him. “It won't be weird?”
“It doesn't have to be,” Minho said, voice soft and careful, like he knew Jisung was seconds from burrowing under the blanket. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Jisung's mouth. “What do you say, Jisungie? Want hyung to help you get off?”
Jisung shuddered. “Please.”
Minho sat up properly, then pulled Jisung into his arms. Jisung yelped in surprise, tensing for a moment before relaxing. He became putty as Minho manhandled him into the position he wanted: Jisung sitting between his legs, back pressed against his chest.
Jisung gasped as Minho cupped him through his sweats. His legs instinctively clamped shut.
“We can't have that,” Minho tutted, breath fanning over the shell of Jisung's ear. He pulled Jisung's legs apart, then pressed a kiss just below his ear. Jisung's legs twitched, and he wanted to bring them together again, but he stopped himself. “There we go. Good boy.”
“Hyung,” Jisung gasped.
Minho hummed. He pressed the heel of his palm to Jisung's groin, and Jisung whimpered. He bucked up into the touch, already desperate for more.
“So eager, Jisungie,” Minho murmured. He eased the pressure and ran a finger over Jisung's shaft. Jisung jerked, head falling back to Minho's shoulder. “When's the last time you got off?”
“A—a month ago,” Jisung answered, fingers digging into Minho's thighs.
It had been a long, onerous month. They had still fooled around, never ones to keep their hands away from each other for too long. But Jisung never let himself come, and sometimes, he didn't let Minho touch him at all.
All to get like this. Sensitive and on the verge of imploding from the lightest brush of skin.
Minho trailed open-mouthed kisses along his neck. He grabbed Jisung's cock through his sweats and chuckled as Jisung vibrated against him. “You're so sensitive, Sungie,” he said, pushing down against Jisung's cockhead. “Think you can come like this?”
Jisung whined. “Minho.”
“Or do you need more?” Minho slid a finger under the waistband of Jisung's sweats. He stretched the fabric, then let it snap back against Jisung. “Hm? What do you need?”
“More—I need more,” Jisung said, a little too breathless. “Please, hyung.”
“Raise your hips for me, baby,” Minho said, patting Jisung's inner thigh.
Jisung was quick to listen, quicker to help Minho yank his sweats and boxers down to his mid thighs. His cock smacked against his shirt, smearing precum against the fabric before settling. Jisung hissed. He reached for himself, then opted to cover himself with his hands, just like he did their first time together.
Precum leaked from his cockhead, and Jisung groaned. He liked this more than he thought he would.
“There's no need to be shy, Jisung-ah.” Minho's hands enveloped his. He peeled them away, brought one to his mouth, and bit Jisung's palm. “It's just hyung.”
Jisung whined, pressing back into Minho's chest. He felt the thrumming in his chest, his cock filling out. Minho liked this as much as him, maybe more.
Minho traced the vein under his cock. A feather light touch that would have tickled if it were anywhere else. Instead, goosebumps spread across Jisung's skin, and he could only thrash in Minho's arms.
“You're so wet,” Minho breathed. He thumbed at Jisung's cockhead, gathering precum before sliding his hand down Jisung's shaft. “Should I even bother getting lube?”
Jisung shivered, marking crescent moons into Minho's legs. He was dripping, but it wasn't enough. He liked it sloppy, excessive. He wanted the squelching to echo in the room, to make him cry from embarrassment.
“Need it,” Jisung panted, turning to meet Minho. His eyes were dark, laced with a want so palpable Jisung could only whine. “Need the lube.”
Minho raised a brow. On his next upstroke he pushed down on Jisung's slit, and Jisung felt another drop of precum pooling at his head. “Are you sure?”
Jisung nodded his head, leaning forward. “Yes, yes,” he whimpered. “Please, hyung. Want—want to be soaked for you.”
“Fuck—Jisung.”
Minho's hand jumped to his jaw. He coaxed Jisung's mouth open, then kissed him. All tongue and teeth and hunger, and nothing like their first kiss together. Jisung moaned, matching every bit of Minho's fervor.
“Hyung,” Jisung keened. His thighs trembled, fast and harsh, like waves in a storm. Heat settled in his lower stomach, threatened to snap the tight coils. “‘M close—so close.”
Minho squeezed the base of his cock, just hard enough to stop his impending orgasm. Jisung wailed. He planted his feet into the mattress and tried to bridge his hips up. But he couldn't budge, not even a centimeter.
The simmering heat settled, then cooled all together. Jisung wanted to cry.
“Why?” He croaked, blinking away his tears. “I—I was…close.”
“Didn't you want me to get the lube?” Minho smiled. He kissed Jisung's temple, then his cheekbone, and reached behind their pillows. “Besides,” he continued, popping the lube's cap open, “we can't dirty your pretty shirt.”
Jisung looked at his plain t-shirt. It was a faded pink and had a permanent stain from their laundry softener, nothing special—at least to anyone else. Jisung refused to part with it because it was the first shirt he had stolen from Minho. That in itself made it special, and if it were up to Jisung, he'd be buried in it—stains and all.
“Then, what do I—” Jisung sharply inhaled, shooting Minho a glare he didn't mean. He tensed as the cold lube dribbled down his shaft, his balls, and even spread to his inner thighs.
“Look at you,” Minho sighed, taking Jisung's length in his hand again. Unhurriedly, like time was all they had, he stroked Jisung. “All nice and wet for me, baby.”
Jisung's breath hitched. His cheeks burned from just how obscene it sounded when Minho wasn't even trying. It got the ball rolling again, hurling him towards his orgasm.
“Minho-hyung,” Jisung heaved, pushing back against Minho's warm chest. He needed to be closer, to burrow into Minho's chest, right next to his heart. “Cl—close.”
“Already?” Minho chuckled, mean and perfect.
Jisung mewled, jerking his head forward. “Yes, yes. ‘M gonna—”
“Not yet,” Minho hummed, slowing his hand again. “We still have to do something about your shirt, jagi.”
Jisung whined, squirming against Minho. Tears filled his eyes again, and Jisung flailed harder. It felt fatuous to get so overwhelmed, especially because he knew he would get to come and it'd probably be one of his best orgasms, but Jisung couldn't help it. He needed to come now.
“What—” Jisung took a deep breath. He shifted to face Minho again. He batted his eyes, made them a little bigger, just how Minho adored. “What do I do so I can come? Please tell me, hyung. Wanna come for you. Please.”
Minho licked his lips, gaze heavy. “Do you get like this with any guy that touches you? That tries to fuck you?”
“Wha—” Jisung screeched. He shivered as the chill air danced across his stomach. “Hyung?”
“We don't want to stain your shirt, remember?” Minho said, and from his tone alone, Jisung knew he was grinning from ear to ear. He pulled the shirt higher, past Jisung's sternum and his hardening nipples. He held the hem to Jisung's mouth, tapped a finger against his lips. “Open up, baby.”
Jisung's jaw went slack, and he took the cotton fabric between his teeth. He slumped into Minho, letting his stomach rise and fall with each breath. He looked at the pink gem nestled into his skin, just above his belly button, then the three hearts connected to the barbell. The dangling hearts moved in time with his breathing, matched the pink blooming across his chest.
Minho took Jisung in his hand again, then used the other to tease his nipples. The shirt did little to stifle Jisung's moans, and he could feel saliva starting to drip from the corners of his mouth. Minho's hand gained momentum, thumb swirling his cockhead every upstroke.
“What's this, Jisungie?” Minho asked, fingertips gliding down Jisung's stomach. He stopped at the belly button piercing, stroking Jisung faster as he toyed with the pink, shining hearts. “A piercing?”
Jisung moaned. His teeth clenched around his shirt as he frantically reached for Minho's thighs again. He'd have clawed at Minho's legs if it weren't for the thick sweats, maybe draw blood and leave a scar to accompany the memory.
“Since when,” Minho took the last heart between his fingers, “did you have this pretty thing?”
Jisung whimpered, and Minho tugged on the charm. Not too hard, but just enough to churn the heat in Jisung's stomach. He let his shirt fall past his lips and settle just under his chin.
He swallowed, pushed past the dessert in his throat as he parted his lips, “Eight months ago.”
“Why did you get it?” Minho pulled the dangling piercing again and grinded against Jisung's back. “Wanted to drive whoever was going to fuck you crazy?”
“I've never…No one has fucked me,” Jisung cried.
Minho's cock twitched against Jisung's back, and he groaned. “My Jisungie's a virgin?”
Jisung came with Minho's name on his tongue, coating his hand in cum. He trembled in his arms as the pleasure rolled off him in waves.
“Fuck,” Minho grunted, easing his hand. “You came so much, baby.”
“Fuck me,” Jisung breathed, leaning back into him. He angled his head to mouth at Minho's neck, and he sucked a mark onto the flushed skin. “Want you—want hyung to be my first.”
“Jisung—”
“Please, Minho-hyung,” Jisung said, detaching himself from Minho. He missed the warmth, wanted nothing more than to stay close, to melt into him. He twisted, then climbed into Minho's lap. “Will you…will you take my virginity, hyung?”
“Yeah,” Minho grunted, connecting their lips. He pulled Jisung against his chest, smearing a mix of lube and cum as he kneaded Jisung's ass. “Hyung will take your virginity, jagi.”
They moved in tandem, stealing kisses and purposeful touches until they discarded every layer keeping them apart, until Jisung was atop Minho again. And still, with a finger circling his rim, his thighs clamped around Minho's, his hands mapping every inch of skin, it wasn't enough. It never could be. Not when it came to Minho. Jisung always wanted more—more, more, more.
Minho dipped a finger inside, and Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. It had been too long.
“Relax, Jisungie,” Minho murmured. He nosed at Jisung's earlobe, took the sensitive skin between his teeth. “I'll make it good for you.”
“Minho,” Jisung shuddered. Any remaining tension slipped away, and he welcomed the familiar sting as Minho eased a finger in and out of him.
“Good boy,” Minho hummed, pressing sweet kisses across Jisung's face. A second finger prodded at Jisung's entrance, then slipped inside before Jisung could beg for it. “Taking my fingers so well, baby.”
“I can—I can take more,” Jisung moaned. He reached for Minho's slick cock. “I can take this. Want it, hyung. Please.”
“Just a little more,” Minho groaned, reconnecting their lips. He added a third finger, timed his thrusts with Jisung's messy strokes. “Need to stretch you out more, sweet thing.”
Jisung keened. He struggled to work his hand, too lost in the haze. He probably was jerking Minho off like a virgin would—hesitant, no real rhythm—but each low moan he swallowed from Minho only egged him on.
Minho grazed his prostate, and Jisung's hand tightened. “Again,” Jisung gasped. “Please do that again.”
Minho obliged. He alternated between spreading his fingers and massaging Jisung's prostate. Jisung wriggled in his arms, felt a searing heat pool in his stomach.
“‘M ready.” Jisung looked down at Minho, tracing the curve of his lips, the fire in his eyes. “Please, hyung. I can take it—want it.”
“I don't know, Jisungie,” Minho sighed, a saccharine smile spreading across his swollen lips. He curled his fingers, hit every nerve that made Jisung dizzy—desperate. “It might still not be enough for your first time. It could hurt—”
“I want it to,” Jisung whined. Though, he knew it wouldn't, not in a way he didn't like. “Please, Minho-hyung. Wanna feel you,” he took Minho's hand, held it against his piercing, “right here.”
“So eager to be filled,” Minho chuckled. He tapped a finger against the first heart, eyes shifting between the pink gem and Jisung. “Think you can ride hyung for your first time? Hm, Jisungie?”
Jisung nodded, making himself a little dizzy from how fast he moved. “Yes, yes,” he said, bumping his nose with Minho's. “I can do anything for hyung.”
Minho kissed him. “Go ahead, sweet thing.”
Jisung winced as Minho pulled his fingers out, and his hole clenched around nothing. He felt empty, distant, like a valley bloomed between them. His chest ached.
“‘M right here, jagi,” Minho whispered, pulling Jisung down into a sweet kiss.
Jisung sighed, turning more and more pliant as the kiss grew heated. They kissed and kissed and kissed, licking and biting and pulling moan after moan from each other. Jisung didn't want to stop. But once he felt their cocks twitching against each other, begging for release, Jisung's need to be filled outweighed every other desire.
He drew back with a shaky breath, then positioned himself to hover over Minho. He was met with a familiar sting, and Jisung thought he could burst already. He had only taken Minho's tip.
“So pretty,” Minho said, hands rubbing up and down Jisung's waist. “You look so pretty like this, baby.”
Jisung whimpered. His legs trembled as he sank further down Minho's cock. It burned—in all the ways Jisung loved, in all the ways he craved. “So big.”
Minho cooed. “You still have so much more to go, jagi.”
Jisung cried.
“Do you want hyung to help you?” Minho kissed his cheekbone, his closed eyes. “Does my Jisungie need help?”
“Yes,” Jisung breathed. He snaked a hand between their bodies, wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock. “Need hyungie's help.”
Minho gripped Jisung's waist harder and thrusted into him. Jisung wailed, head tipping back as jolts of pleasure surged through him. He felt it everywhere—in the tip of his toes, his spine, his teeth. He would have came if it weren't for the hand secured around himself.
“Full—‘M so full,” Jisung babbled. He closed the distance between them, caught Minho's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. “So full, hyung.”
“Fuck,” Minho moaned. “You're so tight.”
Jisung drew back, panting against Minho's mouth. He looked down, wanting to map how they were finally connected, and a choked moan slipped past his lips. All he could see was his belly button piercing, how it glided across his bulging belly.
Jisung moaned again. Louder, a little pathetic. “Hyung.”
Minho followed his line of sight and groaned. His thumb pushed against the dangling piercing, making the pink hearts push into Jisung's protruding stomach. “You were made for this, jagi,” he murmured, then pressed harder, like he wanted to brand tiny hearts onto Jisung's skin. “Made to take my cock.”
Jisung shuddered. He clenched around Minho's cock when he felt a sharp sting on his stomach.
“Say it,” Minho smiled, eyes dark and starved. He pulled on the piercing again.
“Made to—” Jisung gasped, arching into his hands. “Made to take hyung's cock.”
“That's right,” Minho said, massaging circles into Jisung's stomach. He stole a kiss, then another. “Now fuck yourself stupid on hyung's cock, baby.”
Jisung mewled. He planted his feet against the mattress, pushed against the soft cushion, and lifted himself up. He stopped at Minho's tip, then swallowed him whole again. He set a quick pace, made sure that every time he sank on Minho's cock, he'd graze his prostate.
Moans and pleas tumbled out of him. Jisung didn't know what he was begging for—for Minho to toy with his piercing again, to tease him about being a virgin—just that he needed more.
“Doing so good, Jisungie. Are you sure you haven't,” Minho drove his thumb into Jisung's belly again, “done this before? Was my Jisungie lying about being a virgin?”
Jisung wailed, shaking his head. “Only hyung—only hyung has been inside.”
“Oh?” Minho grabbed Jisung's hands, kissed the back of them, then his fingertips. “Not even these fingers?”
“Wanted to—” Jisung shivered, grinding down onto Minho's cock. It was the most he could do, too drunk on the scorching pleasure dancing across his body, on Minho. “Wanted to wait for you. Minho—”
Jisung sputtered as he was raised up, Minho's cock slipping out of him. Before Jisung could register his hole clenching around nothing, the ache that accompanied him when he was empty, his back collided with the bed and he was filled to the brim.
“Feel so perfect around my cock,” Minho grunted, ramming into Jisung. He reached for Jisung's piercing, pushed it into his belly bulge again. “Only I get to see my Jisungie like this.”
Jisung keened. “Only you, only hyung.”
“Just me,” Minho breathed, then sought Jisung's mouth again.
Jisung moaned into every kiss. The knots in his stomach began to uncurl, threads loosening more and more as Minho timed his thrusts with his fingers digging into Jisung's piercing. He was coming undone all because of Minho—always because of Minho.
Jisung scrambled to fist the pillow, the crumbled bedsheets. He just needed to hold something, anything that could ground him. He was so close.
“Come on, jagi.” Minho nosed along Jisung's jaw, taking Jisung's piercings between his fingers again. “Wanna see you make a mess.”
Jisung came with a loud cry. Ropes of cum landed on his stomach, his chest and just under his chin. Through his daze, he felt Minho's fingers dipping into the pools of cum, how he dragged them to Jisung's belly button, his piercing. It was—unsanitary. And still, Jisung's spent cock twitched in interest.
“Hyung,” Jisung whined. “Inside. Come inside, please.”
Minho groaned. With his clean hand, he peeled Jisung's hands from the sheets. He interlocked their fingers, pressed them into the bed, right over Jisung's head, and buried his face in the crook of Jisung's neck. Like this, his moans vibrated against Jisung, turned louder and louder until he was spilling inside Jisung.
“So perfect.” Minho nipped at Jisung's pulse point, then kissed the reddening mark. “My sweet thing, my Jisungie.”
Jisung whined and pulled him closer, until Minho clouded him.
Minho, Minho, Minho.
“Want you to be the virgin next time,” Jisung murmured, nuzzling into Minho's neck. He took a deep breath, welcomed the haze that came with Minho. “Wanna be your first, too.”
“Of course, jagi,” Minho chuckled, pulling Jisung on top of his chest. He kissed Jisung's cheek, the tip of his nose. “Anything for my greedy Jisungie.”
Jisung propped himself up, pursing his lips as he gave Minho his serious look. “And I want you to be so overwhelmed with pleasure that you come the second you're inside me.”
“I can do that,” Minho smiled, stars in his eyes.
Jisung beamed. He listed more fantasies, went into the basics and then some. Minho gave his input for each one, sealed his promises to indulge Jisung with a kiss, and shared his own carnal desires—all while still managing to tease Jisung: I didn't know my Jisungie was such a pervert.
But Jisung loved it—loved Minho.
With Minho, warm and soft and everything sweet, by his side, Jisung welcomed sleep with a smile.