Archive of Our Own

Minho doesn’t usually do it this way, to avoid dysphoria, mess, cramping in his hand and wrist. 

Usually, he opts to mount a pillow, place a suction vibrator between his legs and fuck, imagining he’s actually putting his dick somewhere. He doesn’t really have to touch his own skin that way, feel through his folds and find the insane amount of wetness he’s been cursed to have.

Especially when he thinks about the right things. 

Or the right people. 

Han Jisung is out today; Minho thinks about him. He thinks about him often, really. 

Usually he thinks about how his laugh is infectious, how unbelievably well he feels he understands him, how much he likes that Jisung likes the same things he likes, how their time together feels more and more precious as the years go by. He thinks a lot about how easy it is to be best friends. 

He thinks about Jisung’s dick with two of his own fingers in his sopping hole, laid back in Jisung’s bed. 

It was just supposed to be a nap, in those cozy sheets and blankets that smell so familiar and warm him from the outside in. It’s not even uncommon, as sleeping and cuddling in each other's beds had been regular for a long time, another aspect of their friendship that Minho loved and appreciated. There was no fear around intimacy; it was welcomed. 

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t so hard for his mind to go there, to the thought of being so close he could feel his best friend literally inside him, touching him somewhere he usually didn’t even want to touch himself.

The thought of it was too potent, a mix of humiliation and arousal making him whine and rub his thighs together, the ache building in his core. 

Sliding his fingers in initially had felt like jumping into a cold pool when he started; a shock, unwanted sensation. Until he curled them up, instantly assaulting his spot rough and hard like a punishment, like he would want Jisung to do, like he knew he would. He’d play with him just right, just like the way they played at everything else together. Minho didn’t really wonder about that. 

He could never really come like this, but it’s always indescribably good as long as the mood is right, and maybe if he’s had a little too much water and denied himself the bathroom for a while. The pressure against his bladder reminding him of it, making him feel so good and so pathetic, the heel of his hand heavy on his dick almost enough sensation but not quite. 

Utterly useless on his own. 

And the sound of it, absolutely disgusting noises to match the obscene wetness inside—it’s hard to remember a time he’s ever been this wet. It’s enough that he can scoop some out, watch it drip from his fingers back onto his sloppy cunt. The shame turns to nausea, nausea turns to more arousal. 

He wants him to see him like this. 

He thinks about how it would make Jisung feel—to see it. Minho looking unrecognizable, an uncontrolled mess in his bed without permission, just because he smelled his sheets and thought about getting fucked by him. 

It would probably make his pride swell, get him feeling cocky and paint that smirk on his face everyone loves to talk about so much. It could be powerful, maybe enough to stop him from resisting Minho, to give in and test just how much Minho is willing to let him take. 

Minho’s wrist grows fatigued, unable to fuck himself with the same force as before, making him whine. If it’s not rough he doesn’t want it. Instead, he takes a break to stroke at his small cock, the wetness making it an easy slide. He’s already desensitized for the most part to the sensation against his fingers, his mind slipping far enough into a depraved space that all he can think about is Jisung, and I wanna cum. 

His brain is foggy and desperate enough to not hear the sounds of the door opening, of the proximity of all his dreams coming true growing much closer than he ever could have known. 

When he pushes three fingers back inside and spreads himself further out, that’s when Jisung walks into his own bedroom. He jumps a bit first, seeing the figure in his bed and Minho follows suit, like an electric current running through his body. 

Their eyes meet, and for a while there’s nothing. Minho doesn’t move, fingers still deep in his hole, his mind still confused. Jisung looks stiff, but his eyes travel across Minho’s body, settling on the place where his fingers are nestled inside. 

It lasts an uncomfortably long time, until Minho whimpers, beginning to want to curl in on himself, about to reach for the blanket to cover himself.

Jisung looks at his face again, his expression still difficult to read. It’s not unpleasant, no sign of discomfort or offence. 

Minho feels so dirty, so stupid. So horny. 

But when looks down, and he’s pretty sure he doesn't imagine the twitch in Jisung’s jeans, he lets out a gasp. 

His fingers move instinctually, pushing in and out of himself at a slower, but no less obvious pace than before. Because why not? It can’t get much worse. He rakes his eyes back up towards Jisung, who has his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his eyes darkened with something Minho has never seen as he steps forward, his own pace slow as he creeps to the edge of the bed, his eyes once again fixated on the action. And he just watches. 

Minho is not an exhibitionist, not really. He’s a voyeur. He likes hearing and seeing what he knows he shouldn’t. He likes porn and fantasy and things that exist outside of him and his own body. 

But Jisung looking at his body and his body only can’t feel wrong. It feels okay. It feels good. 

“Jisung…” he breathes, testing the waters. His voice is barely there. It’s almost embarrassing. 

Jisung takes a deep, shaky breath. “Minho-ya,”

Definitely not an unpleasant tone. Gritty, low, fond, a touch of astonishment somewhere. The honorific falls off his tongue naturally, easily, and it makes Minho ache in his core. Under all other circumstances, he wouldn’t have let that fly, but right now it’s perfect. 

Minho hits a good spot inside just right and throws his head back against the pillow with a guttural moan. 

“I didn’t know.” Jisung shakes his head, reaching out and running a hand gently over Minho’s calf. “I didn’t know you had such a pretty pussy, baby.” 

Minho feels like passing out, going lightheaded, confused. 

“Can I call it that?” Jisung gets out, squeezing at the flesh under his palm, possessive but tentative. 

Yeah. Yeah, Jisung can call it what he wants. No one else, but he can. 

“Um, um—”  Minho just nods, his face burning. 

It’s clear now that a boundary has been broken. It doesn’t feel wrong; it doesn't feel scary. It’s natural, like this is just every day with them—Jisung climbing into bed with him, to touch him. Or maybe Minho just wants it that badly. 

He keeps a questioning look on his face as his hand moves north, past Minho’s knee to his thighs and up further, insistently squeezing at the flesh with growing intensity until it’s enough to make Minho flinch and hold back whines. He can probably already feel the wetness there at the crease of his thighs, feel what he does to Minho’s body. 

Does he know? Does he know it’s his? 

“You can, y'know…touch. If you wan’ to.”

“I am touching you,” Jisung says, his hand skipping over where Minho wants it, finding the softness of his tummy instead, squeezing at it. Another part of himself he wishes was different, another reminder of the body he was given. 

Except the touch feels good down to his core, urging him on to keep going, despite his aching wrist nearing the edge of giving up on him. 

Jisung’s hand finally travels down his happy trail to his mound, kneading at it and feeling the coarse, damp hair there. Minho feels his cock twitch, his hips bucking up uncontrollably against the touch, his body forcing him to  beg without words. Jisung keeps looking at his face, focused, attentive, sensual. 

When Jisung’s fingers find his dick, he’s not sure if it was an accident or purposeful, but it feels so good that Minho removes his own hand completely, opting to take whatever Jisung gives. 

Fingers spread him open at the sides, revealing him fully and he watches Jisung’s face for a reaction, any sign of distaste. 

Jisung just licks his lips and leans down. His breath is hot, ghosting over Minho’s skin, making him shiver. 

“Can my mouth touch too?” 

Another wave of dizziness. What the fuck. Minho could come in seconds if he isn’t careful.  

He nods. “Yeah, please.”

It starts with a gentle lick that settles him like the first sip of water in the morning, the first dip into a warm bath. Minho feels his bones relax, his every muscle fiber. 

Jisung groans low in his throat after a moment, his eyes still focused on Minho’s cunt.“Pretty cock too, wow. I really want to suck you off, Minho-hyung,” 

And he doesn’t wait before he does it, wrapping his plush lips around him, suckling perfectly. He’s already bobbing his head and moaning into him like he’s determined to make Minho come in sixty seconds or less. And he can, he can because everything he says and does makes Minho feel like his nerves are exposed like faulty wiring. 

Jisung makes him defective, and it is mind-numbingly perfect. 

His thighs clench around Jisung’s face, locking him in, and he’s coming already, too lost in the pleasure of it to be ashamed. Unintelligible sounds fall from his mouth, unheard by either of them, as he writhes and pushes his cunt into Jisung’s face as hard as possible until it’s too much and he’s pulling him back by the hair at his scalp. He gasps for breath, unable to open his eyes for a few moments, not ready to come back quite yet. 

When he finally takes his first look at Jisung’s face, glistening with his slick, his eyes hooded and glazed over with an expression Minho can only pin as want , he can’t help but sit up and kiss him. 

He tastes himself on Jisung’s lips, his tongue, his teeth, as he pulls him closer by the back of his neck. It keeps the fire in his belly stoked, a rumbling resounding in his chest. It’s so wet and warm, their lips sliding together. The sounds they’re making together are desperate and hungry, and Minho is even worse off than before. 

He needs, he needs badly. 

“I want to suck you off too, please, Jisungie?” Minho pants between kissing, pawing at his friend’s hard cock over the denim, feeling his heat. 

Jisung just nods breathlessly, kissing him one more time before leaning back to undo his belt, seemingly succumbing to the same primal instinct that's inside Minho. He stands to take off his pants, pulling them down with his boxers, his cock springing out, hard and thick and red like he’s just as desperate. 

It makes Minho’s mouth fill with saliva, not too dissimilar to how it would if he were presented with his favorite pudding brand.

Jisung starts making his way back down to Minho’s level before Minho stops him with a hand on his thigh. 

“No, stay standing over me. Fuck my mouth—watch me fuck myself while you use me.” 

Jisung’s eyes are wide and he freezes for a second before he groans, reaching down and stroking himself languidly, positioning his dick closer to Minho’s face, close enough to see but not touch. 

“You’re crazy.” He shakes his head, looking down at Minho with a smirk that looks a touch condescending. “You say that like it’s what you’ve been waiting for all day.”

It kind of is, honestly. Minho smiles too, unable to stop himself from mirroring his Jisungie’s expression. 

“Yes. I’ve waited to have you inside me… any hole.” He decides to play it up–opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue like he wants to prove that he needs it.  

“Jesus fucking christ, Minho. Do you do this for other men, baby?” Jisung taps the head on his tongue hard enough to make a wet smack. “Just offer your holes so fucking fast, the instant they walk in on you touching yourself to the thought of getting ruined?” 

Jisungs words and the salty taste of his pre make Minho tremble, making him feel like a cheap whore going completely stupid over cock. 

“What other men come around the house except you?” he tries to tease, but there’s some truth there, a confession. 

Guiding him by the back of his head, Jisung slides into his mouth, Minho’s lips stretching around his length until he stops halfway in. 

“Well, I live here,” Jisung grunts, tugging Minho’s hair tight enough to make his body go taut in response to the jolt of pain, his spine straight like he’s been well trained in looking pretty on his knees. 

“So, I guess it’s just for me, then.” 

Jisung stuffs his mouth full, starting to thrust in and out right away, causing Minho to gag each time the head hits the back of his throat. It makes Minho feel so small, like he hoped he would, like he knew he would. He feels useful when he uses his tongue, swiping it along the underside and making Jisung curse under his breath. 

Minho feels like a good toy. 

There’s drool seeping past the corners of his mouth—dripping from his chin down his chest, some of it onto the blankets as his throat is used roughly. He’s having a hard time controlling it, with Jisung’s pace growing more brutal at times, slower at others, completely at his own will. It doesn’t help that his brain feels like it’s turning to mush like it always does the minute he gets something in his mouth. 

As the tears begin to fall, Jisung swipes a thumb over his cheek, and it’s almost sweet until he brings his thumb to his mouth, tasting the salty liquid. Minho’s eyes roll back and he feels himself getting even wetter at the implication. Even his tears are owned, meant for Jisung’s pleasure. 

“Messy. God, look at you. You came in here to make a mess on my bed, you wet little thing.”

Minho nods as best he can, wants to affirm the truth, wants his Jisung to know.

“What was that about watching you fuck yourself while I use you? C’mon.” Jisung smiles cruelly, gripping his hair and pushing his head down all the way roughly, his nose buried in the hair at the base with no choice but to take in his scent and warm his cock with his throat. 

It feels awkward to do it like this, when it’s hard to breathe and his head is locked in one position, his jaw aching. It’s humiliating, his shaky hand reaching down to his hole, wetter now than ever with his own slick and remnants of Jisung’s saliva. He pushes his fingers in, tries to get them as deep as Jisung is in his mouth, but it’s difficult; his fingers have always been too short. 

He starts crying again when Jisung pulls out just to push back in again, making Minho choke and mindlessly start pumping his fingers into himself in time with his thrusts.

The wet gagging and fucking sounds bounce off the walls, and Minho can’t stop thinking about it. That’s my body, evidence of what Jisung is doing to my body. 

When he curls his fingers up, he’s hit with an extreme jolt of pleasure, along with a matching need to piss that makes him freeze, looking up to meet Jisung’s eyes in a panic and tapping his thigh rapidly. 

Jisung pulls out immediately, his hand moving to cup the side of Minho’s face as he kneels down to get close to him. 

“What’s wrong? I’m sorry, did I go too hard?” There’s a sobering tone there that pulls him out of his headspace just a little bit, makes him worry that Jisung is worried too.  

He shakes his head quickly. “No, no. um. I just…” Was it weird to tell him about his… interest in holding his piss? Too soon? 

Well, again, it can’t get much worse. Minho bites his lip. 

“I have to pee,” he blurts, his cheeks warming a bit. “I like holding it. It makes me cum hard… but, I really have to go now.” 

Jisung’s mouth takes on an “o” shape, but he nods, like it’s just a regular talking point between them. He thumbs at Minho’s cheek gently, looking down between his still spread legs. 

He’s soft spoken when he asks, “do you ever like… uh. To not hold it?”

At first, it’s confusing, until it’s not. 

“Oh…”

He’s never done it like that before, not even in the shower or anything. He’s thought of it, many times, which perfect scenarios would allow for him to let go, lose control of himself like that. 

Usually Jisung was a part of those scenarios, and it looked a lot like this. 

“Maybe. It depends, like, why are you asking?” 

Because does Jisung even like that? Most people don’t—

“Cause I want that. I want to see that.”

A whine leaves Minho’s mouth without his permission, and then he’s kissing Jisung again, saying ‘okay’ and nodding over and over. The feeling is overwhelming, the safety of it, the wanting. Jisung tastes so fucking good as he sucks on his tongue, explores his mouth with his own. 

It hits him then, that things can never be the same again, now that he’s had this. 

“Yeah? You’ll do that for me, sweetheart?” Jisung nips at his upper lip, which Minho usually hates. It makes him moan now, when Jisung does it. 

“Yeah.” He nods again, his eyes glossy, unfocused. 

Jisung lets out a deep breath and shakes his head again, like he’s the only one who can’t believe what they’re doing, what they’re saying. His eyes bore into Minho’s, analyzing, but full of emotion, the whole array of it. 

He kisses him again with such care that Minho’s throat constricts, his eyes welling up and squeezing shut. 

It’s soft when Jisung speaks too, “Do you want to keep going or do you want me to do it?” 

The thought makes Minho’s head spin, of Jisung fingering him until he loses it. He needs it—he needs everything. 

“I want you.” He pulls them down, laying back flat again with Jisung on top of him, nestled between his legs. 

The younger wastes no time before bringing a hand to meet his cunt, cupping it in his palm warmly and massaging it a bit. Now that they’ve kissed it’s like they can’t stop, even if it becomes more of their lips and teeth bumping together and heavy breaths into each other's mouths. 

Two of Jisung’s fingers find their way down, rubbing over his hole in little circles, tentatively dipping in every once in a while. Each time the tighter muscle at his entrance is breached, Minho has to fight to stop himself from leaking, and every time he almost leaks, he tightens up more. It doesn’t feel particularly pleasurable in a physical sense, but it reminds him of the position he’s in, the one he craved from the start, of being played with like he’s just one of Jisung’s guitars being tuned perfectly by his skillful hands. 

One particular touch has him dribbling a bit onto Jisung’s palm, vocalizing his embarrassment and squirming, but Jisung just coos at him. 

“Shhh, baby, that’s okay. So fucking hot, I want more,” he mumbles against his lips, sliding in to the knuckle.

He gives Minho one moment to adjust before he starts fucking him in earnest slow but hard, the pads of his fingers hitting the perfect places, pressing against his walls from the inside. 

Minho is already starting to lose control, but then Jisung puts his other hand over his belly again. This time, he presses down, continuing the assault on his insides quicker and more roughly, almost carelessly.  

“Ah—fuck!” Minho wails, his body and pussy locking up and convulsing under Jisung’s touch, as liquid from inside begins to hit Jisung and the blankets. The pleasure is unbelievable, reaching every centimeter of his body, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He isn’t really aware of what he’s doing, just feeling. Just being. 

“Oh my god, Minho-ya, that’s right baby.” Jisung breathes, his voice distant but comforting, like a dream. It really is like a dream. He slows down, but still fucks Minho through his high, holding him open by his thigh against Minho’s instinct to close them.  

When the fingers inside him finally still, everything stills. Jisung’s face is warm and damp in Minho’s neck, both of their breaths heavy, Minho’s arms slung around his back. 

Minho feels sated, he feels so fucking good. whatever mess he’s in doesn’t matter. 

But there is one thing. 

“Jisung,” he whispers roughly, carding a hand through the other man’s sweaty hair, getting a hum in response. 

He turns his head to the side, his mouth at Jisung’s ear when he says it. 

“Put your dick in me.”

Jisung lets out an unexpectedly loud laugh, throwing his head back and showing his perfectly sweet teeth and gums, making Minho giggle too. He can’t help it. 

“You’re fucking insatiable, wow,” he says, lightly hitting Minho’s shoulder and shaking his head. 

“No, no, I'm good. You just deserve to come, is all.” Minho flashes his own teeth, a classic mischievous smile. “You deserve to fuck me raw and come inside after what you just did for hyung.” 

Jisung’s head plunges back into his neck in an instant as he lets out a mix of a yell and a whine, smacking his shoulder again twice as hard as before. 

“Stop it. I’m going to come before I even get the chance to do any of that.” 

“Better make it quick then, hm?” Minho says, reaching down to grab Jisung’s cock, still insanely hard. He almost feels bad about how long he’s gone without release. 

He takes it upon himself to guide Jisung to his heat, swiping the head over the wetness outside, making himself twitch a bit when it brushes against his own cock, now swollen and sensitive. He spends a minute doing that, rubbing them together and watching the small expressions of pleasure on Jisung’s face, from the crinkle in his brow to his panting, open mouth. It grows a small sense of pride in him that he doesn’t bother to take the time  to understand quite yet. 

When he places the head against his entrance, he wraps his legs around Jisung’s waist, pulling him in. Jisung goes without protest, sliding into Minho’s warmth up to the hilt and letting out another whine. 

Minho, despite being spent, marvels at the feeling of being filled, at the feeling of pleasuring Jisung this way, connecting him with the most vulnerable, conflicting part of his body. Jisung who fits inside him just right, like he hoped he would, like he knew he would. 

“I really won’t last,” Jisung gasps, looking at Minho like he really is at his breaking point, his eyes shining and desperate. 

He starts moving anyway, his cock dragging perfectly along Minho’s sensitive walls, enough to make him think he actually could come for a third time if he tried. 

Another time, maybe. 

It’s a quick descent into shallow, rapid thrusts, more like grinding deep inside. It’s animalistic and uncontrolled, and it makes Minho wonder why after so many years, he’s only seeing Jisung like this now. It makes him wish he could see it again and again, for as long as he might live. 

“Gonna—yeah. Baby, ‘m gonna cum. Please?” Jisung babbles, his voice pitched up from usual. 

It’s cute, Minho thinks, that he had to ask when he’s already been given permission. Maybe something to explore. 

“Breed me, Jisungie c’mon,” Minho gets out, digging his heels into the soft flesh of Jisung’s ass. 

There’s a stutter of hips, then a broken sound as Jisung buries himself fully and stills. Minho can feel his cock pulsing deep inside, warmth filling him in waves, making him feel utterly satisfied, owned. 

They don’t stop clinging to each other for some time, long past their breaths evening out. Jisung doesn’t make any move to pull out, growing mostly soft still inside Minho, keeping him warm like it’s what their bodies are meant to do. Though Minho has shared more real intimacy with Jisung than anyone else, this is something else. 

This is what it’s supposed to be, maybe what it’s been all along. 

Maybe it doesn’t really feel all that different, actually. 

Minho hums, placing a kiss to Jisung’s cheek, soft with a hint of stubble that rubs against his skin as a smile forms and grows, along with something warm somewhere between his ribs.