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Jisung isn’t really one to complain about his period.
Really, it’s just something that happens every month, and in all seriousness, he doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s painful and miserable and if he’s being really honest with himself, it’s gross.
So he doesn’t say anything. Even when it’s bad, and his cramps are twisting his insides into some sort of fucked up knot and he curls up and cries into his pillow willing the ibuprofen to just work already, he keeps to himself.
It’s actually easier when they’re busy. When he’s rushing from the dorm to a schedule and then the studio, and he hardly has time to eat and shower and sleep, it’s easier to forget. The distraction keeps his mind off it, unable to let his thoughts linger on the mess that’s constantly spilling out of him all day.
But he’s not busy today. In fact, he has exactly nothing to do and nowhere to be. Normally, it’s a blessing, as he prefers to stay home and relax on his days off anyway, but today he dreads it, because he knows he’ll just roll around in his bed feeling sorry for himself most of the day.
Alone and cranky and in pain.
Except nothing ever goes the way Jisung expects. Sometime in the early afternoon, there’s a soft knock on his door and then it’s cracking open before he has the chance to lift his head and respond.
It’s Chan’s head that pokes in, eyes immediately landing on where Jisung is still wrapped in his duvet, curled into a little ball with his phone in his hand.
“Can I come in?” he asks, voice quiet and warm.
Jisung nods with a little pout, biting back the urge to say something along the lines of you already opened the door, might as well.
Chan sits at the edge of Jisung’s bed, not touching him but close enough that Jisung could stick his leg out and kick him if he wanted to.
“I just wanted to check on you. Hyunjin said you haven’t left your room all day, so I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
And fuck that, Jisung thinks as his eyes sting with the threat of tears. God, he hates being so emotional. Sometimes he hates how nice Chan is too, and how observant Hyunjin is. Or maybe he’s not observant; maybe they’re just all so attuned to one another that he couldn’t help but notice Jisung’s absence throughout the day.
Unsure how to respond, Jisung just gives Chan a little half-shrug, eyes still glued to his phone even though he’s not really seeing anything on the screen.
“Have you eaten?” Chan presses on.
Jisung debates lying. He’s known for hoarding snacks and food in his room for the express purpose of not having to leave his room on their days off, so he’s sure Chan would believe him, but something about lying to him in this moment when he’s just trying to check on him feels particularly scummy.
So despite dreading the scolding, he decides on the truth and shakes his head no. Chan sighs but surprisingly doesn’t scold him. He just shifts, turning to sit further up on the bed and pat Jisung's calf under the blanket. “Okay, talk to me. What’s up? Are you feeling okay?”
Jisung freezes. He doesn’t look at Chan. Instead he just chews on his lip, debating what to say. A noncommittal oh, I’m not feeling well won’t solve anything. It’ll just make Chan worry more, and it won’t make Jisung feel any better.
But will talking about it do anything other than embarrass him? Or make him focus on how miserable it all is? It’s not like Chan doesn’t know he gets a period. None of them have ever made him feel excluded or different just for having a uterus. But it’s different to talk about it, especially when it’s such a big insecurity for Jisung.
He must take too long to respond. Chan is leaning into his eyeline now, face pinched in concern. “Jisung? You don’t have to talk to me about it, you know, but you’re starting to worry me. If you’re really sick, or if you need a break, you can tell me. We’ll work it out. You don’t need to wo—”
“I’m on my period, hyung,” Jisung blurts out, cutting Chan off before they spiral into a conversation that doesn’t need to happen.
Chan is left mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. Then he says “ah” really softly and presses his lips into a thin line, like he’s trying to think of something to say.
Jisung just stares at him, waiting. “Say something,” he finally says, kicking his leg out to hit Chan gently.
Chan holds up his hands to placate him and makes a face that’s honestly a little funny despite the slight tension in the air. “I— uh, well, I can’t relate obviously, but I know it sucks—” Jisung rolls his eyes into the back of his head. “Hey, I’m trying, okay? I don’t get a period, so I can’t say I know how you feel, but if you need anything, I’m here.”
Jisung looks up at him with suspicion in his eyes. “Even if I want to bitch and moan about it?”
Chan nods. “Even then.”
“Even if I want to have a serious conversation about how it makes me feel gross and gives me dysphoria?” he presses, quieter this time.
“Especially then,” Chan says firmly, fierce determination in his eyes and not an ounce of hesitation in his words.
“Alright,” Jisung says, pushing himself upright for the first time in hours. He leans back against his headboard and sets his phone on his nightstand. Moving makes his cramps kick back in almost immediately and his eyebrows pitch together as he winces in pain.
“Is it that bad?” Chan asks with a frown, hand hovering like he wants to do something to help but doesn’t want to touch Jisung and make it worse.
Jisung nods. “I usually get cramps like this for a day or two. Sometimes they’re not this bad and sometimes they are, but this is the worst it gets for me. I don’t know if there’s another level for some people but this one makes me want to curl into a ball and die.” Jisung hugs his knees to his chest with one arm and sneaks the other down to press on his abdomen to help alleviate some of the pain. It doesn’t help much.
“Is there anything that usually helps with the pain?” Chan asks.
Jisung shakes his head. “Not really. I took some ibuprofen and sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t. They say moving around helps, but I can never really force myself to get up and do stuff.” He mumbles toward the end, not super proud of his lack of mental fortitude when it comes to this kind of thing.
“That’s okay,” Chan says kindly. “Maybe once we’re done talking you can at least walk around the kitchen with me and we’ll get you something to eat?” he suggests.
Jisung nods. He can manage that much. And his stomach is starting to hurt in addition to the cramps because he hasn’t eaten, so it’ll definitely be good for him.
They sit in comfortable silence for a moment as Jisung tries to find the words to express why he’s so bothered about his period, and finally, with a bit of wetness in his eyes, he says, “I just hate how it makes me feel.” When Chan doesn’t say anything, he presses on. “It feels so detached, like it’s not part of who I’m supposed to be, and I hate it.” His voice wobbles at the end and he buries his face in his knees, pulling his legs even tighter to his chest.
The bed dips as Chan crawls upward to sit beside Jisung and pull him into his side, wrapping one strong arm around his shoulders. “You’re not supposed to be anyone, Jisung. You’re you. And there’s only one you. Don’t get me wrong. I hear you. And I know it must be frustrating to feel like there are parts of you that don’t fit with the image you have of yourself. But you don’t need to be any certain way.”
“No,” Jisung laments and then sniffles. “I didn’t say it right, I guess. It’s not like I feel like I need to be a certain way. I just— I don’t know how to explain it to you, hyung. I just… I guess I just feel like it’s a wake up call every month.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, you all make me feel like one of you—”
“Because you are, but go on.”
“I mean, I don’t feel any different. And the fans love me and they all find me attractive as a man, and I feel validated and empowered and all sorts of good things. You and Changbin-hyung are always hyping me up in the gym, complimenting my gains, and I feel good. I do. But then this gross mess happens, and I feel like I’ve had ice water dumped on me. Like the universe is reminding me that I’m not the same, and that I never will be.”
The tears finally spill at that and Jisung hates himself even more for just a second before Chan is shushing him and holding him tighter.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, and he’s so close to Jisung’s ear that it feels like his voice is wrapping around him just like his arms, turning into a warm fog that helps him settle.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung says, voice shaking with the effort of trying to stop crying.
“Shh,” Chan hums quietly, “Don’t be sorry. You’re okay. Cry all you need to. Don’t force yourself to talk more. Hyung will talk, you just cry.” With a loud sniffle, Jisung turns to wrap his arms around Chan’s midsection instead of his own knees, burying his face in his hyung’s chest to muffle his crying and be able to hear Chan. “I want you to know that I see you, and I hear you. I know it must be hard for you, and I’m sorry that you feel so alone with it. I will always be here to listen, and I will do whatever I can to help. If you need a day off, if you want a distraction, if you need me to get everyone to leave you alone. I will take care of it.” Jisung nods, wrapping his arms around Chan’s waist to hold him tight.
A new emotion wells up, pushing more tears to fall. It’s love. Fondness, affection, care for the man holding him. “Thank you, hyung.”
Chan presses on, like he didn’t even hear Jisung. “And I know I can’t make the dysphoria go away. But if you ever need someone to validate you, you know we’re all here for you. I know it’s hard sometimes to talk about our feelings, so if you need hyung to pop in, to ask how his manly man is doing—” Jisung can’t help but crack a smile, body shaking as he laughs into Chan’s chest as he slaps at him lightly. “—then I’ll do that too,” Chan says, a little laugh of his own threaded through his last words.
Jisung pulls back, wiping one side of his face with the back of his hand to meet Chan’s kind eyes. “Thank you, Channie-hyung. Really. I mean it.”
“I know you do,” Chan says, giving him the world’s softest smile. Chan’s hand darts down then, pinching at Jisung’s side and making him jerk with a yelp. He glares at him, but Chan just keeps grinning. “Wanna eat now?”
“Actually…” Jisung pauses, trying to push past the embarrassment to just ask for what he wants. “Could we stay here just for a bit? My face feels all puffy from crying, and I just—”
“Sure,” Chan says easily. “You don’t need to explain to me, Jisung.”
“Good.” Jisung wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders and hauls him down with him as he falls back into his pillows.
They lay together just like that, with Chan’s head rested on Jisung’s shoulder as Jisung makes him watch Tiktoks with him, until Chan wiggles his fingers at Jisung’s rib cage, tickling him just enough to pull Jisung’s attention away from his screen to glance down at Chan when he says, “Ready to eat?”
Now that Jisung has calmed down a bit — relaxed in Chan’s too-warm embrace, time passed by giggling at dumb videos and Chan’s even dumber jokes — Jisung feels well and fully distracted from his previous woes. It’s easy now to nod, tucking his phone away as he follows Chan into sitting up.
His cramps are still wreaking havoc on his uterus, and if he thinks about it too hard, he’s sure he could feel it even lower, right into the walls of his hole, but he doesn’t think about it. He ignores the pain in his abdomen in favor of thinking about how good eating will feel.
With Chan’s encouragement, Jisung gets out of bed, standing for the first time in hours, and follows him to the door. Without prompting, Chan picks up some of the trash in Jisung’s room — empty cans, a stray wrapper or two — and ushers him out.
Jisung would normally protest, but instead, he feels his throat lock up from the silent act of love and stays silent instead.
“Hyung,” Jisung says as he passes Chan’s open door. “Can I steal one of your hoodies?”
“Mhm!” Chan calls easily, making his way to the bin in the kitchen. “I just did some laundry so there’s a bunch of clean stuff in the basket.”
Jisung ducks into Chan’s room, ignores the basket in question, and pulls Chan’s favorite hoodie off the back of his desk chair. He strips his own shirt off, and he’s in the middle of finishing tugging the hoodie over his head when he steps into the kitchen and catches Chan grinning at him with a fond expression.
“Noodles? We have some mild ones…” Chan says, flipping the package over to read the back.
“Yeah, that sounds fine,” Jisung says, pulling the sleeves of Chan’s hoodie over his hands and moving to sit.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Chan says, catching him by the elbow before he can reach the chair. “You said moving around helps, right?” Jisung groans. “So at least stand with me, yeah? Don’t curl up into a shrimp pose and be miserable.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right, but Jisung pouts at him anyway. Instead, he leans against the counter as he watches Chan fill the pot with water and set it on the stove. Chan turns to face him, mirroring Jisung’s pose — slightly slouched with his arms folded over his stomach — and then pointedly straightens his spine with a smile.
Jisung untucks his hand from the crook of his elbow to flip him off, but fixes his posture nonetheless.
They chat idly, with Chan asking Jisung if he wants to take it easy for schedules, but Jisung waves him off and explains how having something to do is often better. Being around the others can help too. “But sometimes I don’t want people to touch me much or say the wrong thing or… I don’t know. It’s hard, hyung.” Jisung sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be sensitive and irritable but I just… am sometimes.”
Chan shakes the packet of seasoning before tearing it open with his teeth and dumping it into the boiling water. “Well, you let me know. I can do all the talking for you — let everyone know when to ease up, leave you out of the roughhousing, or to dial back the teasing, stuff like that.” He says it so casually, not even looking up from his task. Like it’s simple. And maybe it is, to him.
“Thanks, hyung,” Jisung says, peering over Chan’s shoulder as he places the noodles into the pot. He paces a bit, walking behind Chan as he occasionally stirs, using the couple minutes it takes to move around, like he’d promised he would try to do.
He stops the second Chan pulls the noodles off the stove, because Jisung is suddenly ravenous, and he can feel saliva flood his mouth as he thinks about eating. Chan puts his noodles into a bowl, even though Jisung is more than happy to eat them straight from the pot, and sets him up at the table with a glass of water, slipping into the seat across from him as Jisung takes the offered pair of chopsticks.
“Careful,” Chan says, but Jisung ignores him, lifting noodles up with his chopsticks to let them cool just enough before shoveling them into his mouth. “Aish, look at you. You would have withered away in there, huh?” Chan says, but it’s more fond than it is scolding, and the way he kicks Jisung’s shin under the table is more of a loving nudge. Jisung nudges him back.
After the first few bites, Jisung feels less desperate to fill his stomach and manages to slow down enough to wipe soup off his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.
It’s then that Chan regards him and says, “So what else helps?”
“Hm?” Jisung asks, eyebrows pinching in confusion.
“What else? I know you said moving around, and I’ve seen like… heat pads — I could go get you one of those? But is there anything else that helps?” Ah, Jisung thinks. He must have triggered Chan’s problem solving mode.
As he’s often apt to do, Jisung says the first thing that comes to mind: “Coming.” He gives a little shrug when he says it, looking down into his bowl.
“Huh?” It’s Chan’s turn to tilt his head in confusion.
“Having an orgasm,” Jisung clarifies, and then slurps another mouthful of noodles.
“Oh,” Chan says, and Jisung takes a particular delight in watching the tips of his ears turn cherry red. “Well, uh… I guess I will be sure to knock before I walk into your room.”
At that, Jisung laughs. “No, it’s okay. I, uhh… I really think the mess is gross, and it triggers me, so I don’t… you know.” Karma is swift, because Jisung can immediately feel the heat in his own face.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you have a— you know, uh…” When Jisung doesn’t fill in the rest of Chan’s sentence, he starts waving his hands around, and even though he does nothing with them that makes it any clearer, somehow Jisung catches on.
“A vibrator?” he says, voice raising with incredulity that Chan of all people is seriously asking if he owns a sex toy.
At least he looks rightfully shamed when he says, “Yeah.”
But it’s just Chan. So Jisung answers truthfully. “No.”
“Oh. How come?”
Jisung shrugs, licking his lips as he pulls one foot up to rest on the seat of his chair. “I dunno. Got all anxious about ordering something like that to the dorm, I guess.”
“I’d order one for you, if you want,” Chan says. Like it’s so obvious. Jisung gapes at him, a laugh bubbling up out of his throat. “What?” Chan says, grinning. “I would!”
“I know you would,” Jisung says, shaking his head.
“Well, even without one, can’t you just… I dunno, use a tampon and then—”
“Ew, hyung!” Jisung shouts, desperately wishing he had something to throw at him across the table. “That’s too specific!” And yet Jisung can’t stop laughing as he scolds him.
Chan just laughs along with him, shoulders pitched up to his ears. “Well, I don’t know!”
They just laugh for a moment, before Jisung shrugs again, more animated this time as he throws his hands up. “I don’t know! I guess I could but—” He cuts himself off. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost said that out loud. This is humiliating.” He covers his face with his hands.
“What?” Chan says, nudging him under the table with his foot again. “Come on, tell me. It’s just hyung.”
Jisung peeks through his fingers. Chan is looking at him with his big, earnest, puppy boy eyes, and Jisung is weak. He’s right. It is just him. Jisung’s rock.
Jisung sighs, dropping his hands but not meeting Chan’s eyes when he says, “It’s just— well. I like to, you know— finger myself when I get off.” He rushes through that part, spitting the words out quick like it’ll make them disappear faster. “And I guess I could just— you know— touch my dick, but— ahh, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Jisung groans, pinching his eyes shut.
“I could do it.”
Now, that is something Jisung can’t believe someone said. His eyes snap back open, and the silence that stretches the eternity of half a second thuds loudly in his ears.
“Wait,” Chan says, waving his hands in front of his face, like he could swat away the odd tension between them. “Sorry, forget I—”
“Are you serious?” Jisung blurts. “Would you actually? Even though I’m— you know.”
Chan stills. Swallows. “Yes.”
“And you wouldn’t be grossed out?” Jisung has to ask, has to because his brain is saying this is a thing that he can’t have. This thing that boys used to whisper about and shame girls for in middle school. He knows grown men who won’t dare to touch an unopened tampon.
Chan’s face turns even redder as he clears his throat, shaking his head. “No. Actually… I think it’s hot,” he says, glancing at Jisung and then away again.
Jisung feels the color in his own face spread to his neck, and suddenly he feels the burning urge to rip the hoodie off over his head. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Uhm… Can I finish eating this first?” Jisung asks, pointing at his bowl of noodles.
“Yeah, of course!” Chan says, maybe too loud, too enthusiastic. “I mean, whatever you want— and you don’t have to— we don’t— we—”
“Hyung,” Jisung cuts, raising his voice to cut off his bumbling need to be overly accommodating. “I want you to. Yeah?”
“Yeah, okay,” Chan says. This time, when he smiles, it seems just a bit more relaxed. Just enough for Jisung to smile back at him.
“Okay, now change the subject while I eat, or it’ll be weird,” Jisung says, leaning over his bowl to suck up another mouthful of noodles.
Chan laughs, leaning back in his chair as he immediately derails into a story about Changbin at the gym that makes Jisung laugh through his nose while he chews.
Everything with Chan is always easy. It’s just how he is.
They take their time, getting up and taking a few minutes to clean up in the kitchen before Chan leads the way down the hall. He asks quietly if Jisung still wants to, and Jisung assures him that he does and that he doesn’t need to keep asking. But as Chan strides down the hall toward Jisung’s bedroom, Jisung reaches out to catch him by the back of his shirt.
“Could we go to your room instead?” he asks when Chan turns to look at him over his shoulder.
To which, as expected, Chan says, “Yeah, of course.” He redirects, gesturing for Jisung to lead the way, but Jisung side steps him instead.
“I just have to go to the bathroom first,” Jisung says, entirely unwilling to elaborate on that statement. Chan nods in understanding, and Jisung darts down the hall to duck into the bathroom he shares with Hyunjin.
He tries not to think about it too hard as he tugs his boxers back up after pointedly not replacing his tampon. He’ll have to remember to run the laundry later.
Self-consciousness makes him stop and check himself in the mirror, and he forces himself to adjust his posture when he catches sight of the way his shoulders are curled inward. He tries to remind himself to stand straight and proud, but it’s hard to fight the urge to do what he can to hide his tits. He leans forward, brow furrowing as he prods at the red splotches under his eyes from crying earlier.
He tries to remind himself that Chan doesn’t care what he looks like.
After sucking in a deep breath, Jisung flashes his reflection a smile, gives himself a thumbs up, and exits the bathroom.
When Jisung enters Chan’s bedroom, he finds Chan sitting on the edge of his neatly-made bed. There’s a black towel laying beside him. God, that’s embarrassing. Jisung feels heat in his cheeks as Chan looks up and offers him a smile.
They make prolonged eye contact.
“How do you—”
“Can we—”
They laugh. Some of the tension melts away, and Jisung moves to stand before Chan. He looks good from this angle, with his chin tilting up to gaze at Jisung from below, his handsome features clear in the harsh brightness of the room.
“Can it be darker in here somehow? I know it’s the middle of the day but…”
“For sure!” Chan says, moving to stand. He side steps Jisung with a hand on his hip and then sets about drawing the curtains and fiddling with his goofy LEDs.
Jisung busies himself by tugging his bottoms off, unable to stand the feeling of free-bleeding into his underwear any longer, and adjusting the towel on Chan’s bed so he can sit down and lean back against the pillows.
He tugs the bottom of Chan’s hoodie down just enough and keeps his legs closed so his whole business isn’t out to the room, and watches as Chan paces back to the entryway to flick the overhead light off.
He turns to face Jisung with a flourish. “Tah-dah! …Oh.” He comes up short when he spots Jisung’s bare legs. Jisung’s eyes fixate on the muscles in Chan’s neck as he swallows thickly and looks away, eyes flickering over the ceiling as he fidgets with his shorts and clears his throat.
Jisung laughs lightly. “You can look, hyung…” The speed at which Chan’s eyes snap back to him makes Jisung laugh again. “Come here. It’s weird with you so far away,” Jisung says, patting Chan’s bed beside him.
Chan sets his knee into the bed first, and then follows with his hand, easing himself around Jisung to half-lay in the space beside him. He’s so careful about it that it makes Jisung press his lips together in amusement.
With his weight leaned into his left elbow and his right hand hovering above Jisung’s knee, he looks at Jisung and asks, “Can I touch you?”
There’s something in his eyes. It’s something that not many people see, but Jisung knows intimately. It makes him feel warm, starting in his chest and curling through his body in a way that makes him feel seen. Not in a way that’s scary, but in a way that’s comforting.
Jisung nods, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of Chan’s hoodie.
The first touch of Chan’s hand against his knee is less hesitant than Jisung expected. His hand is warm, fingers a pale contrast to Jisung’s flesh, and Jisung stares as his hand skims over the expanse of his thigh, tickling at the hairs there. His fingertips press firmer at the inside of his thigh, and Jisung finds himself spreading his legs just a bit with very little coaxing.
It’s at the second pass of Chan’s hand, up to his knee and then back down again, that Jisung freezes up. “Wait,” he says, clamping his legs back together so Chan’s fingers are trapped between them. “Could we, maybe— I dunno, kiss?” he asks, glancing to the side to gauge Chan’s reaction.
“Is that what you want?” Chan asks. Jisung shrugs, despite knowing the answer. “You can say it with your chest, Jisung. It’s okay,” he says, half-teasing maybe, with the goofy smile he has on when he leans further into Jisung’s space.
Jisung lifts his right hand to hit the back of it against Chan’s chest half-heartedly. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not,” Chan says. “I want to kiss you. I’m not afraid to say that.”
Jisung glares at him. Him — Chan. Stupid, dumb, perfect Chan.
“Then just kiss me already.”
Kissing Chan is just as good as Jisung — and probably fifty million other people — imagined it to be. He’s sweet about it, letting Jisung lead as he kisses him. His lips are plump and pretty, and he tastes like lip balm. He kisses in a way that makes Jisung want more, makes him shift his hips so he can twist, reaching with his left hand to cup Chan’s jaw and pull him closer for a deeper kiss.
The movement leaves his legs spread, and Jisung tries not to cringe at the feeling of blood moving inside him, dribbling out. Chan’s thumb strokes over his thigh soothingly, and he opens his mouth under the press of Jisung’s tongue at just the right time to distract him from the feeling.
They kiss for a few minutes, until the sound of their tongues and lips smacking together makes Jisung crazy, until it feels like Chan’s hand is burning a hole into his leg, and Jisung pulls back to look at Chan, who is fighting back a smile. His cheeks are red, but Jisung can tell he’s not embarrassed.
“You’re a good kisser,” Chan says, grinning.
Jisung tugs on his earlobe. “You’re teasing me again,” he pouts.
“I’m not, really!” Chan says, but he’s laughing and Jisung can’t fight the smile that overtakes him. Chan’s joy is infectious, always has been. Chan licks his lips, and Jisung tracks the movement before Chan speaks again. “Do you want to tell me what you normally do when you get off?”
Jisung gapes at him, appalled. “No! That’s so embarrassing, oh my god!” he wails.
Chan laughs, shoulders shaking with the movement as he lets his head fall forward. “I just mean, like— whatever you need, I’ll do. Think of me like the vibrator you don’t have.”
Jisung shoves Chan at the shoulder hard enough for him to fall onto his back, hand flying off Jisung’s leg to splay dramatically over the far side of the bed. He’s quick to get back up and lean into Jisung’s space even as Jisung whines at him. “You’re so cringey, hyung.”
“I’m just trying to help!”
With a sigh, Jisung flops back onto the pillows behind himself. He stares at the ceiling, even though he can still feel Chan’s eyes on him, and says, “Well, I normally like to… work myself up? I don’t know. I watch porn a lot—”
“Well, I know that much.”
“Shut up, or I won’t let you touch me at all!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Chan is quick to say it, and it boosts Jisung’s ego just a bit to think that maybe Chan really is just as eager to touch him as he is to be touched.
“I…” Jisung tugs the sleeves of the hoodie down over his fingers to worry the fabric between them. He’s normally not shy to talk about sex, but it’s a little different being sat in your homie’s bed with your pussy out, waiting to be fingered. “I touch myself a lot, but like… in other places? Like not my dick or hole… I don’t know. I just like getting really turned on and I like when it’s—” He cuts himself off, covering his eyes with the sleeve on one hand. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing!” Chan’s hand lands on his thigh again, rubbing back and forth as he waits for Jisung to finish. “I like when I get really wet. Obviously, I don’t need to get wet like that now, because— well. But yeah.”
The silence stretches between them long enough for Jisung to peek out from over his hand. He watches as Chan shifts his hips, using one hand to tug at his shorts, and Jisung covers his smile with his sleeve.
“You’re hard over that? Really?”
“Not just that!” Chan argues, and this time, the redness in his cheeks spreads to his ears, and it’s definitely because he’s embarrassed.
“That and some kissing, then. Right.” Jisung can’t help but tease him, not when he knows Chan would do the same if the roles were reversed.
Chan pokes his tongue into the inside of his lip, nodding. “I see how it is,” he says, and Jisung laughs lightly. “We’ll see who’s more embarrassed by the end of this.”
Jisung has no doubt that it’ll be him, already mortified at just the thought that he’s going to let Chan touch him while he’s bleeding. But it doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is the way Chan’s fingers ghost over his leg, the further one, Chan’s arm caging him in as Chan leans in to kiss his neck.
Jisung shivers, hand coming up on instinct to clutch at Chan. He meets the fabric of his shirt and frowns. “Wait, could you take this off at least?” he asks, suddenly thinking too hard about how his pussy is bare to the world, but Chan is still fully clothed.
Chan doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask questions; he just sits up to tug his shirt off and toss it toward the laundry basket in the far corner of the room. His chest has some of the same flush that’s on his face, and Jisung finds his eyes trailing over his muscles as they shift under his skin as he moves back to Jisung’s side.
Chan meets his eye, flashes a charming smile, and leans in to kiss Jisung again, curling over his body as he slides his hand delicately over Jisung’s neck to cup the back of his head as they kiss. Jisung shudders when Chan trails his fingers over his throat, but then his hand moves again, reaching around him to grab Jisung’s ass, pull him closer. His fingers dig into Jisung’s flesh, tugging at his cheek until his fingertips brush close enough to Jisung’s hole for him to gasp into Chan’s mouth.
When Chan slides his hand up, he pauses at the edge of the hoodie, but Jisung just nods, and Chan slips his hand under to squeeze at the cinch of his waist. He goes higher still, until his thumb is brushing under the curve of his tit. Jisung arches his back — involuntarily — pressing closer until Chan drags the rough pad of his thumb over Jisung’s hard nipple.
Jisung moans. It startles him back away from Chan’s hungry mouth, and he licks his lips quickly before apologizing. “I’m sorry,” he says, head hung as he glances up under his lashes at Chan’s face.
“You’re apologizing… for moaning,” Chan says, and Jisung tries to parcel out the emotion in his voice. “While we’re about to have sex.” He narrows his eyes and then tilts his head as he raises an eyebrow.
“Hyung,” Jisung whines, drawing out the word as he raps his knuckles against Chan’s shoulder. “We’re not having sex; you’re helping me with my period. It’s different.”
The teasing expression falls off Chan’s face so fast it leaves Jisung feeling cold. “Oh,” he says, and then he glances to the side, jaw working strangely as he swallows.
“Wait, I—” Jisung backtracks quickly, sliding his hand over Chan’s collarbone soothingly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just shy,” Jisung admits, but hurries to tack on, “Also I don’t want you to put your dick in me.”
Chan cracks a smile at that, thumbing over Jisung’s ribs. “That’s fine. I don’t even have to—”
“Please don’t try to tell me I’m not allowed to get you off…” Jisung can feel how wide and pouty his eyes look, and Chan just shakes his head as he laughs lightly.
“Okay,” he agrees, easily. Maybe it is that easy, to him. Maybe giving Jisung anything he wants is something wired into Chan’s very being.
Maybe that’s what makes it so easy to fall into another kiss. Easy for Chan’s hand to follow the curve of Jisung’s body, down over his abdomen.
Jisung slings his right leg over Chan’s left, leaving himself bare as he shifts to lay mostly flat, pulling Chan with him so they can keep kissing. Chan’s hand settles at Jisung’s hip as he licks into Jisung’s mouth, until Jisung hums, vibrating with arousal when he feels Chan’s erection dig into his thigh.
Jisung uses both hands to guide Chan’s, leading it over his abdomen, through his happy trail, until Chan’s fingers are resting on his mound, so close to his dick that Jisung feels like he might go crazy. “Please,” he says, quiet against Chan’s wet mouth.
The first slide of Chan’s fingers over his clit feels electric, and it’s so, so slick as they slip between his lips to touch softly against his hole. “Fuck, it’s so wet,” Chan says, mumbling the words against Jisung’s jaw.
“Well, yeah,” Jisung says, trying to ignore the heat at the back of his neck. He can’t see Chan’s eyes, but he imagines he’s probably looking at where his fingers glide over his cunt, framing his cock and then pressing into it from either side as he pinches his fingers together.
“Have you ever touched a pussy before?” tumbles out of Jisung’s mouth before he can filter it, but thankfully, Chan laughs in his ear.
“Why? Am I bad at it?” he says, drawing his middle finger over Jisung’s stiff clit in a circle.
Jisung huffs out a breathy laugh, shakes his head, says, “No,” and turns his face into Chan’s throat as Chan toys with his clit. “You can— harder,” he says.
“Thought you liked to get worked up?” Chan teases.
“I am worked up, you jerk,” Jisung grumbles. His hips flex, legs spreading wider so he can push up into Chan’s touch when his fingers slide over his hole.
The sound he makes when Chan slides his finger inside him is guttural and mangled — embarrassing with how uncharacteristically loud it is. “Y’okay?” Chan says, and Jisung nods, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Chan’s shorts. It’s good. Everything is achy and sensitive, but it’s so good when Chan draws back and presses a second finger in alongside the first. “So easy for me,” Chan says, and Jisung feels his eyes roll behind his lids.
He bites his lip to tamper down the urge to moan or beg or cuss Chan out. With a curl of his fingers, Chan digs the tips of them into Jisung’s most sensitive bits, and then draws them back just enough. It makes a loud, sticky shluck, and Jisung feels his face burn with shame at the squelch and the dribbling feeling of liquid when Chan pushes his fingers back inside.
Jisung’s fingers start to ache with how tightly he clings to Chan’s shorts, but he hardly thinks about it. Instead, his focus is on his other hand, pushing at Chan’s knuckles to urge his fingers deeper as he lifts his hips to chase the feeling of being filled.
“Show me,” Chan says, his words damp against Jisung’s jaw. “Show me how you like it.”
Jisung turns his face the other way, bashful as he whines. “Like— yeah, like that,” he gasps, pleasure pulsing inside him as Chan drags his fingers over his g-spot. If it were anything else, Jisung would bicker with him — whine about how he says show me and then moves his fingers expertly, stealing the air from Jisung’s lungs. “Fuck,” Jisung says, and then digs his teeth into Chan’s pillowcase. It smells like his shampoo, and it’s not good for Jisung’s health. It makes a shiver go from the crown of his head to the base of his spine.
Chan is grinning. Jisung can feel his lips spread against Jisung’s neck, can feel his breath from his nose against the cord of his throat. His palm mashes against Jisung’s dick when he drives his fingers as deep as they can go, and Jisung groans into the fabric between his teeth.
Jisung keeps his eyes pinched shut as he basks in the feeling of pleasure that’s coiling in his gut, the warmth that’s prickling at the back of his neck. He feels hot and flushed, starved for more and more of Chan’s touch, his voice, the press of his lips to Jisung’s heated flesh.
“Feel good, Jisungie?” Chan asks, and his voice is husky and strained, like it’s being choked out of him. Jisung nods dumbly, shifting his hips, spreading his legs further. His mind reels when Chan’s cock digs into the softness of his thigh, haphazardly strewn over Chan’s lap. Jisung fumbles, wriggles his hand between their bodies to palm him over his shorts. He’s so hard and hot that Jisung can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric, but Chan’s spare hand wraps around Jisung’s wrist all too quickly.
Jisung turns his head back then, eyes seeking out Chan’s to pout at him. “You said—”
But Chan silences him with a kiss. Rests their foreheads together when he says, “Just let me make you come first, yeah?”
And he says it so earnestly, so longingly, like he’s ready to beg if Jisung told him to — that really, Jisung is helpless to deny him. So he doesn’t. He takes Chan by the jaw and kisses him, licks past his teeth to taste him, to let the timbre of his voice shake its way into Chan’s throat as he fucks his fingers into him.
It’s gushy and sloppy, and Jisung is mortified by the sound it makes as he chases the precipice that seems to stretch further and further above him. The plummet will be dizzying, and Jisung can only hope that the landing is gentle to him.
It’s Chan who groans next, as Jisung’s cunt gets wetter and wetter, the sound of Chan’s fingers so loud in the open air of Chan’s room that Jisung would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so focused on coming his brains out.
The knot in his abdomen has long since moved on from pain, and instead the sting of desire wraps around itself tighter and tighter until Jisung can feel his body clenching around Chan’s fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Chan says between their kisses, pulling away to look down the length of Jisung’s body to watching as he presses his fingers in even harder to fight against the tension of Jisung’s body.
Jisung buries his face in Chan’s neck, nails digging into Chan’s smooth, bare thigh. He holds his next breath, trapping air in his lungs until it’s fighting for space with the climax winding itself up in Jisung’s stomach.
“Fuck, ‘m’g’na— hyung, I—“
“Yeah,” Chan groans, shifting more weight onto his elbow so he can reach more easily, fuck his fingers into Jisung’s messy cunt, wrist probably aching with the movement. “Come on, Jisung.”
Jisung is helpless to resist, and his orgasm crashes over him in a fierce torrent, making him gasp for air against Chan’s shoulder. He bites down on whatever he can reach just a moment after, trying to muffle the horrid, broken moan that comes quaking out of his chest.
He can feel the walls of his cunt squeeze around Chan’s fingers, pulsing through the waves of his climax as Chan curls his fingers rhythmically. Jisung feels like his head is underwater as his lashes flutter, and from seemingly far away, he hears Chan let loose a string of curses as slick and cum and blood spill out around Chan’s fingers.
Only after Jisung’s legs have stopped trembling does Chan slip his fingers out. His wrist lays limp against the crevice of Jisung’s thigh and crotch, and Chan turns his head to nuzzle his nose into Jisung’s cheek. Jisung lifts his chin, their cheeks brushing together as Chan presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Jisung takes Chan by the jaw, redirects him just enough so he can slot their lips together. Chan’s breath is loud and deep through his nose, and he shifts closer, forearm pressing into Jisung’s thigh to hold him close.
“Feel good?” Chan says when Jisung finally gives him a moment to breathe.
“Really good,” Jisung says, any shyness driven away as he floats on cloud nine.
“Good,” Chan says, with a charming smile to boot. Jisung wants to suck the soul out of his cock. But before he can say that out loud — or maybe just reach for the hem of Chan’s shorts to avoid embarrassing himself — Chan speaks. “Can I eat you out?” He says it quietly, glancing down and away when Jisung tries to meet his eye. The tips of his ears are bright red with the same heat that fights its way onto Jisung’s face.
Jisung’s suddenly dry throat works around a rough swallow. “If— if you want to,” he says, already imagining Chan’s lips against his cock. He feels his hole throb at the image.
“I do,” Chan says, almost too quickly. But Jisung likes that he’s eager, and there’s something terribly attractive about the way he’s not ashamed of it. A bit shy, maybe, but shameless.
“Okay,” Jisung says, fighting the curl of a smile trying to earn its way onto his lips. There’s sweat clinging to his neck, and he can feel a drop slither down his spine. “Could I take this off first?” he says, tugging at the collar of his hoodie.
Chan nods. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Normally, I don’t—” Jisung pauses, trying to cut himself off before he gets into overexplaining. He doesn’t really like for people to look at his chest, nevermind touch, but— “It’s okay if it’s you,” he says.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Chan says, with a big, toothy smile that Jisung can’t look at too long without bursting at his seams. Instead, he sits up, ignoring the gush of liquid from his core onto the towel, and tugs the hoodie up and off to toss onto Chan’s floor. “Hey!” he scolds, but Jisung is already laughing as he falls back against the pillows, arms resting up against his chest.
“Alright, menace, make room,” Chan says, shifting up onto his knees before getting one leg in between Jisung’s and then the other, carefully moving himself over Jisung’s bare thigh.
Jisung meets Chan’s eyes — shifting back and forth over his face. “You can look, hyung,” he says, even though he can feel the tickle of anxiety at the back of his throat. Clothes are safer; his tits are small enough that he can normally hide them well, but here, bare in Chan’s bed, the vulnerability tangles with trust in his heart. If anyone can look, it’s Chan.
“I don’t have to,” Chan says. “I promise I can do it with my eyes shut.”
“Shut up,” Jisung says, laughing through the words. He feels lighter already. “I already told you: it’s okay if it’s you.”
Instead of Chan’s gaze dropping immediately, like Jisung had expected, he leans in for a kiss. His fingers fiddle with the towel beneath Jisung’s hips, and Jisung doesn’t want to think about him having to wipe them off. He focuses all his attention on the way Chan’s tongue feels against his own, the way the hairs at the nape of Chan’s neck tickle Jisung’s palms when he finally convinces himself to pull his hands away from his chest.
Jisung is upright enough that Chan doesn’t have to bear his weight into his hand, and instead he can lean over Jisung, with his clean hand on Jisung’s waist, thumb smoothing over his soft skin. They kiss, just like that — with Chan’s warm palm so sturdy against Jisung’s body, up and down over his rib cage, politely just far enough away from the curve of his breast — until Jisung has no breath left to spare and has to pull away to gasp desperately at the ceiling.
Chan’s lips are soft, plush, damp when they curl over the cut of Jisung’s jaw, glide down his throat, press into the divet of his collarbone. He gets as far as Jisung’s sternum, landing one, precise kiss there, before he moves to pull back.
Heart hammering, Jisung reigns him in by the grip he has on Chan’s hair. “Wait— would you? Uhm—” he starts, but he’s too embarrassed to finish, and instead, he simply tugs Chan closer and arches his back.
“I told you already: anything you want,” Chan says. “You tell me if you want me to stop.” Jisung nods, and then Chan is leaning to press his lips against the gentle swell of Jisung’s left pec.
Jisung shuts his eyes, rests his head back against the headboard, worries his fingers through Chan’s curls. He tries to settle his breath, his fluttering heartbeat, but he can feel his pulse thud in his ears as Chan’s kiss grows even softer when he finally ghosts his mouth over Jisung’s peaked nipple. Jisung hums, letting the feeling wash over him. He tries not to think about the way his flesh bulges where Chan’s thumb digs into his chest. Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Chan’s tongue when he drags it over his nipple.
“Oh!” Jisung gasps, and then promptly bites down on his lips to muffle the rest of the noise into a pathetic whimper. It feels earth-shatteringly good, with electric sparks of pleasure dancing in his veins as he clutches Chan close.
“Has no one ever touched you here?” Chan asks, probably can’t help it, with the way his voice is coated in marvel. He thumbs at Jisung’s wet skin in his mouth’s absence, and then kisses the side of his chest again. Jisung shakes his head quickly, eyes pinched firmly shut. “Feel good?” Jisung nods just as fast, ignoring the heat in his face as he wriggles them closer together yet again.
The next touch of Chan’s mouth is just as wet and hot as the last, and Jisung has to be held in place by Chan’s strong fingers against his rib cage. Chan sucks Jisung’s nipple into his mouth, tongues over it to press the hard tip against the edge of his own teeth, and Jisung shakes underneath him. Arousal thumps in his core, making his cunt throb and his dick twitch with want, and suddenly Jisung is wondering why he’s never let someone do this to him before.
Maybe it’s just Chan. Maybe it’s the way his pretty lips and devilish tongue work over Jisung’s sensitive flesh. Maybe it’s the way he holds Jisung steady but so gently all at once. Maybe it’s the way Chan is always there to catch him, to lean on, to shield him when he needs to cry, to let him rest when he feels he can’t go on.
Chan kisses him sweetly, carefully, right over Jisung’s racing heart, and then across his chest to his other pec where he nips gently before pursing his lips around his nipple. When he thumbs over the other side, smearing spit and making Jisung jerk into the touch.
“Hyung—” Jisung gasps, fisting Chan’s hair even tighter to hold his mouth against his chest. Chan grunts in response, tongue circling over Jisung’s skin. “Fuck, oh my— god— yeah, shit—” Jisung’s hips jerk as pleasure coils in his gut, and his eyes snap open to seek out Chan. He finds him already looking up, his pupils blown and his eyes hooded as he watches pleasure take hold of Jisung’s face. “Fingers— finger me again, please, please I wanna come again,” Jisung says, all shame evaporating in the face of his reckless hunger for more.
When Chan moans, Jisung can feel the hum of it right up against his chest as his fingers slip through the mess between Jisung’s legs to slide back inside him. Jisung clenches down around them right away, pleasure pounding into the walls of his cunt as Chan curls his fingers just right.
“Yeah, fuck, yes— yeah yesyesyes, just like that, hyung, Channie-hyung,” Jisung babbles, his mind fizzing out into a useless mess as he chases his high again.
“Nh-hnh,” Chan grunt again, clearly unwilling to stop the movements of his tongue, but desperate to encourage Jisung to come.
This time, Chan’s fingers really are pushed from his soaking wet cunt with the force of him clenching through his orgasm. “Wait, wait, wait,” Jisung wails, but there’s no time for anything as he squirts all over Chan’s hand. Chan doesn’t need any direction, just digs his fingers back inside, bullies them over Jisung’s throbbing g-spot until he’s squirting again, shaking against Chan’s sheets and moaning into the open air.
The sound Chan’s mouth makes when he finally pops off Jisung’s chest is obnoxiously loud, and it makes Jisung laugh breathlessly as he tilts his chin down to look at Chan. “Hi,” Jisung says, for lack of any other words in his brain.
Chan laughs, licking his already spit-slick lips. “Hi.”
There’s a long pause, filled only with Jisung catching his heavy breath, and then Chan speaks again. “Can I still eat you out?” He’s somehow even shyer this time, like maybe he’s worried Jisung will say no, deny him after all this time.
“I might pass out if I come that hard again, but fuck it, go for it,” Jisung says, shrugging and then wriggling lower. Chan giggles as he tugs the towel with Jisung’s hips, shifting back on his knees to give them both the space needed for Jisung to lay down more.
“If you pass out, I’ll let you sleep, so you can rest, how’s that sound?” Chan says, grinning as he lowers himself onto his stomach.
Jisung has to try valiantly not to think about how Chan’s hard cock is still tucked away, trapped in the loose confines of his shorts as he settles against the mattress. “No,” he says, frowning. “I told you already; I want to make you come too.” Chan looks like he’s ready to argue, so Jisung tilts his eyebrows, pouts his lips out, blinks down at him.
With a little scoff, Chan rolls his eyes. “Alright. Anything you want,” he says, and then he’s settling between Jisung’s spread legs.
Jisung has to look away, unable to watch Chan make eye contact with his pussy from point blank range. Chan’s left hand slips under Jisung’s thigh, arm snaking underneath so he can bully his shoulder into lifting Jisung’s thigh higher and out of the way. He leaves his other elbow tucked into his own side so he can hide his messy hand in the space where Jisung can’t see, and uses his fingers to slide over Jisung’s cunt and spread his lips.
Jisung hisses, legs jerking in Chan’s hold, and Chan breathes a little laugh through his nose. Jisung kicks him lightly in the side. “It’s just sensitive,” Jisung defends.
“Poor thing,” Chan murmurs. “I’ll go slow.”
When Chan’s tongue — somehow even hotter than Jisung’s cunt — slides against his core, Jisung feels like he might crack right down the middle and shake apart into a million pieces. They moan together, a tangled cluster of desperation that makes Jisung’s face burn from how good it feels.
Chan wants him. Even like this, in the moments that Jisung is unsure of himself, when he hates his body, Chan is here. Wants him. Enough to drag his tongue against Jisung’s stiff little cock, wrap his lips around it and suck it into his mouth. Enough to moan when he does it, like he’s the one who can feel the pleasure zip up his spine.
Jisung tenses, feels the sloppy cocktail of fluid spill from his hole just as it’s being chased by Chan’s tongue, slurping loudly as he stiffens the muscle to press it into Jisung’s hole. It reaches deeper than Jisung had expected, wriggling against the hot, pulsing walls of his cunt until Jisung has to bite down on his lips again to quiet himself.
Chan goes back and forth, sucking Jisung’s cock into his mouth expertly before dipping lower to fuck him on his tongue — an endless cycle that makes Jisung’s eyes roll and his legs shake. He can feel the way he gushes into Chan’s mouth, and he can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that disgusting?”
But Chan just moans into his cunt, pulls back just far enough to spit — frothy pink — onto his pussy before rubbing his messy fingers over his clit, and says, “No,” before ducking back in to press his tongue inside of him again.
And Jisung has no choice but to believe him as he eats like a starved man, like he’s trying to drown himself in whatever Jisung will give him. Jisung’s fingers curl into Chan’s covers, his head turned to the side. He breathes in Chan’s scent, ingrained in the fibers of his pillow, and feels his stomach knot with affection for him.
He chances a glance down, only to be met with Chan’s heady stare as he mouths sloppily at his cunt. “You’re pretty,” Jisung says, brushing his fingers through Chan’s bangs. He watches the smile reach Chan’s eyes, flashing his teeth briefly before he nuzzles deeper between Jisung’s thighs and toys the edge of his teeth against Jisung’s sensitive cock.
Jisung’s eyes flutter, his fingers slipping against the covers and tugging at the strands of Chan’s hair to hold him in place as he jerks up against his mouth. “I’m gonna come again— hhhnnguhh, hyung,” Jisung draws the word out, jaw dropping open in a long groan. Chan’s eyes slip shut as he buries his nose even deeper, bumping up against Jisung’s fat clit as he eats his hole. Jisung swears loudly as his eyes roll back, thighs trembling and then clamping shut around his head as his orgasm slams into his core.
“Fuuuuck,” Jisung sighs, curling around Chan as he laps at him, easing him through the waves of his climax until Jisung’s legs fall back open to release him.
Chan presses a soft kiss to Jisung’s pussy before he sits up, and Jisung shrieks when he catches sight of Chan’s face. “Oh, my god, hyung!” he wails. “Cover your face!” There’s a horrific glob of goopy, black mess on Chan’s chin, nevermind the red smear of blood across his lips and cheeks and up over the tip of his nose.
“Close your eyes!” Chan says back, laughing as he lifts his hand to cover his face. It doesn’t help, since he uses the hand that’s covered in tacky, drying blood. Jisung’s eyes fixate on the blood stuck under Chan’s nails before he slams his lids shut and covers his face with both hands.
“This is mortifying!” Jisung says.
“It’s not, I promise,” Chan says, shifting on his knees. He moves around between Jisung’s legs, and when Jisung peeks between his own fingers, he sees that Chan has wiped away some of the mess on his chin and hand.
He still looks crazy. But it’s manageable for Jisung’s weak heart.
“Thank you, hyung…” Jisung says, basking in the post-orgasm high in which his cramps have all but vanished.
“Don’t thank me, Hannie,” Chan says, shaking his head. “I liked it. Like making you come.”
“You’re embarrassing,” Jisung says, reaching out to slap at Chan’s chest. He takes the momentum to sit up and grab Chan by the shoulders. “I’m not kissing you with all that on your face, and I don’t want to have cock in my vagina, but I do have an idea…” he says coyly, batting his lashes.
“Anal?” Chan says, just as Jisung is pushing him down onto the mattress.
And Jisung has no choice, really. He hits him again, palm landing loud and sure against Chan’s nice, firm pec. “No! Oh, my god, hyung!” he scolds. “You don’t get to take my ass virginity after taking my finger-me-on-my-period virginity!”
Chan blinks up at him. Jisung narrows his eyes. When Chan says nothing, Jisung jabs his fingers into Chan’s side. “Sorry, sorry,” Chan says, chuckling. “You said the word ‘virginity’ and I sorta—” He stops short and rolls one eye, fluttering it ridiculously. He looks like he’s short-circuiting.
Jisung gapes at him. “Oh, you so would,” he says, accusatory.
“Well, when it’s you…” Chan says, reaching out for Jisung.
And stupidly enough, Jisung is roped right in by his charming dimples and his loser vibes. He doesn’t say anything, instead turning his attention to the tent in Chan’s shorts before tugging them down and away to let his cock free. It hangs under its own weight, and Jisung finds himself staring at the way moisture beads at the tip, which just barely touches Chan’s abdomen.
“Have you ever touched a cock before?” Chan says. It’s light. A gentle tease.
Still, Jisung glares at him, a little pout forming at his lower lip. “My own.”
“I meant someone else’s,” Chan says, fingers restless against Jisung’s thigh as he grins up at him.
“No,” Jisung says through his pouty lips. “Only fucked girls before, cis ones.”
“S’okay,” Chan says. “Want hyung to show you?”
“I know how a dick works,” Jisung says, rolling his eyes. He spits into his palm and then takes Chan’s cock into his fist, stroking from base to tip.
“Yeah, okay,” Chan says, throaty and filled with too much air as he lays his head back against the pillow and lifts his hips into Jisung’s touch.
“Eager much?” Jisung taunts, lip tugging up at one corner to flash his teeth and gums.
But Chan just shrugs, even if his cheeks and ears match the redness of his chin. “You look good. Taste good, feel good. Sue me.”
Suddenly, Jisung is shy again, feeling heat rise up the back of his neck where a fine sheen of sweat has already made its home. “Shut up,” Jisung quips, stroking Chan only a few more times before he moves.
Jisung straddles Chan’s waist, ignoring the drip of viscous fluid that stretches from his hole to Chan’s balls as he settles over him. With gentle fingers, Jisung presses Chan’s cock flat against his stomach and then settles himself over him, spreading the lips of his pussy to frame Chan’s shaft and press his stiff, tired clit up against the tip of Chan’s cock.
“Holy shit,” Chan breathes, fingers gripping at Jisung’s waist as Jisung spreads his thighs just a bit further to put the right amount of pressure before he grinds his hips in a slow, careful drag.
“Is this okay?” Jisung asks, laughing when Chan starts nodding before the question is done coming out of his mouth.
“Yeah, fuck. More than okay,” he says, and then licks his lips, eyes locked on where Jisung’s bloody cunt frames his cock, the tip disappearing and then peeking out as Jisung rocks back again.
Jisung builds a steady rhythm, thighs burning the longer he goes on, palms growing slick with sweat where they rest on Chan’s abdomen. He bears down, placing his weight there to be able to get the angle he needs to work his hips faster. It’s so wet, with blood and cum and slick dripping over them both, smearing into a sticky mess. It makes the glide so good, makes Jisung chase the feeling of pleasure that stems from his clit and pulses through his body all the way to his toes.
Chan’s cock leaks steadily against his pale skin, and he groans every time Jisung’s dick drags over the sensitive underside of his head, catching on the ridge. The head is so swollen and red, and Jisung would give anything to suck Chan’s cock, to swallow him down, fill his cheeks with him and choke on a bucket of his cum.
“‘M’not gonna last much longer, Sungie— baby,” Chan says, a little notch to his brow that Jisung loves.
“Don’t have to,” Jisung says, panting with the effort of grinding them together. “Come whenever you want, I just need to—” He chokes on his words when his legs start to feel numb, shaking as they threaten to give out. “Wait, wait—” he scolds his own body, need burning in his veins.
Chan is loud when he comes, just as Jisung had imagined. He babbles and moans, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Jisung as Jisung stares down, watching the head of Chan’s cock twitch and spurt cum all over his chest and abs. Chan’s fingers bite into Jisung’s flesh, pulling him down and lifting his own hips in a mockery of burying himself inside of him, trying to wring out every drop of his own pleasure while also begging for Jisung to come. “C’mon, Jisungie. One more, you have one more for hyung, yeah?”
Jisung goes limp in Chan’s lap when he comes, more sticky mess spilling from his hole as he collapses into Chan’s chest, lets him grind his softening shaft up into his sloppy cunt to coast through his high.
They lay there together, sweaty and messy and trying to breathe deeply. Everything smells like sex and blood and sweat, but still Chan underneath it all, and Jisung hums, content as he lets his eyes fall shut and his cheek rest against Chan’s shoulder. Chan’s arms wrap around him, his fingers tracing gently up his spine. His chin is tilted politely away, even though the blood there has dried by now.
“Thank you, hyung,” Jisung says, quietly.
Chan hums, somehow loving and chastising at the same time. “You really don’t need to thank me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m doing it anyway,” Jisung says. Chan laughs, but they fall silent again soon after, and Jisung is left with his thoughts.
What does it mean? Is it going to be awkward now? What happens next? What does Jisung want to happen next? Does he want to sleep with Chan again? More than that? Do they tell the rest of the group?
“Jisung, don’t think so hard,” Chan says, nudging him with his shoulder.
“How did you—?”
“Your shoulders are very tense, and it’s kind of uncomfortable, actually.”
Jisung laughs, forces his shoulders to relax, snuggles deeper into Chan’s embrace. “Sorry. We can talk about it later, yeah?”
“Yeah. Of course, baby,” Chan says.
Baby. Jisung likes that. Things have always been easy with Chan. He uncomplicates even the most complicated of issues.
They lay together long enough for Jisung to feel a bit chilly in the open air of the room, eyes shut and breath evened out, but once he feels himself leak, he’s sitting up abruptly.
“Alright, I love you, but I need to get up now, because if I keep free bleeding on your limp dick, I’m going to throw up,” Jisung announces.
Chan laughs as he sits up with him, helping Jisung carefully extract himself from his lap. It looks like a small animal had been sacrificed somewhere between their thighs, but Jisung just looks away with a frown.
“Shower with me?” Chan says, blinking those big, beautiful eyes up at Jisung.
It’s another thing Jisung has never done with anyone else. It’s too intimate; there’s nowhere to hide. There’s no way to disguise the shape of his body under the water in the bright lighting of the bathroom shower.
“Yeah, sure,” he says, holding his hand out to help Chan up.
They giggle as they waddle to the bathroom together, trying not to spread their mess. Jisung turns his back to Chan for a lot of their time in the shower, makes him shut his eyes when he has to clean blood and cum from between his legs, but it feels good. Intimate. Right, in a way.
Chan loves him exactly how he is. Someday, Jisung will love himself just the same.