linorang
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Jisung’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, soft and pink as he takes a breath, trying to find his words. Idly, Minho salivates.
“Hyung, I,” he begins, shaky and desperate, his fingers curling into the fabric of Minho’s shirt. So sweet, so precious. “I need you.”
Minho only hums, his thumb trailing down to the plush, pillowy pink of Jisung’s lower lip. “Need me to do what, Sungie?”
Jisung opens his mouth — whether to whine or protest, Minho is unsure — but quickly snaps it back shut, taking a breath and finding his words, just how Minho trained him to. Pride flickers dimly in his chest. “I need,” Jisung gets out, blinking those wide, prey eyes as his full, pretty cheeks flush further. “I need you to-”
Minho takes pity on him. “You need me to fuck you, baby?”
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It’s sweet, he realized after an impulsive drive to Jisung’s apartment, like pudding. Entangled with his boyfriend in a beautiful art of loving lips and warm bodies, he ran delicate fingers through Jisung’s drying hair, and was rewarded with such a precious, fond smile that Minho’s hips nearly stuttered in their pace.
I love you.
It wasn’t something they said often, but there wasn’t any need to. Jisung’s smile said it for them.
Inspired by Sweet - Cigarettes After Sex
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“Nervous, Jagi?” Jisung swallows, tearing his gaze from the screen to Minho’s eyes.
Yeah, he’s nervous. Fuck, how could he not be? He just said he would kiss Minho.
As the view count nears closer, Jisung feels like he’s going to explode. His hands are sweaty, his mind is a mess, eyes blown wide in panic— and then Minho leans over and presses their lips together.
Or, Jisung faces the repercussions of what should have been a meaningless kiss.
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“Relax for me, baby, alright?” Comes Minho’s lulling whisper, soft lips grazing his ear. And so he does, despite himself, sighing softly and sinking into Minho’s chest, relishing in the appraising, low hum resonating from around him. “So pliant for me, Channie. So good.” He silently keens, pleased, delighted with being good. Good for Minho.
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When Minho asked Jisung if he wanted him to stay the night like he usually did, rather than simply deny him, Jisung blurted out, “I have a girlfriend!”
Minho blinked. Once, twice, and then a third time. Minho waited for Jisung to tell Minho that he was joking. Instead, he clapped a hand over his mouth, pretty doe eyes widening like he hadn’t meant to say anything, like he’d been trying to keep it a secret. Keep it from Minho.
“Wow,” Minho managed to say. “That’s great, Sung-ah. I’m happy for you.” Jisung seemed to relax at that, a familiar smile replacing his nervous pout. Minho’s heart squeezed all the tighter. He was still waiting for the punchline.
Her name was Heather. Minho found that he never craved anything quite as great as taking her place.
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Forced into a marriage he had no say in and humiliated by the coldness he finds there, Jisung makes it his mission to become a thorn in his husband’s carefully controlled life.
He’s a moth flying closer and closer to a flame—and he is just angry enough to dream of burning.