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To be completely fair, the bed frame was old and they’ve been really busy lately.
See, back when Minho and Jisung first decided to move in together, they agreed to use Jisung’s bed frame in the primary bedroom. Jisung was given a pretty nice wooden piece from his parents way back when he moved into his place with Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin. Minho, on the other hand, had a futon. A futon he loved, but one they both decided would be better kept in the secondary bedroom, which served as more of a studio, complete with a couch and fridge and everything.
To them, moving in together was not just another step in their relationship. It was a step into a new phase of adulthood—one where they were functional people that could cohabitate without letting dirty socks send a relationship up in flames. So despite being a few years old, Jisung’s bed was the reliable choice of furniture. It wasn’t perfect —there was a nick in the footboard from when Jisung once kicked it with a pair of heavy boots, and the left front leg tends to creak just the tiniest amount if the occupant moved around too much while in bed—but it was theirs .
All this to say, the bed creaking while Minho bounced in Jisung’s lap wasn’t a cause of concern. It’s been through a lot and survived it all. It would be fine. It was normal.
Was it a little louder than usual? Perhaps. But it’s also been weeks since the two of them have been able to do more than give each other sloppy handjobs and all Minho cares to focus on is how full he feels and how stupidly hot Jisung looks with his new blue hair.
Minho cards his fingers through it, tugging hard as he grinds his hips back and forth. Jisung lets him pull, head leaning further into his grip and mouth opening in a pretty groan when Minho squeezes around his cock.
“Don’t stop,” Minho moans. hands moving to Jisung’s broad shoulders for more leverage. He hoists himself up just a bit before dropping back down—a breathy yelp spilling out when Jisung’s cock splits him open again.
Jisung gropes his waist and ass. “Fuck, keeping going. Just like that, baby.” He lifts Minho a little and starts thrusting up. Minho keens—head falling beside Jisung’s and hands frantically finding the headboard to grip. It feels so good. Lube and sweat coat their lower bodies, the slick sounds fill the bedroom. Jisung’s fingers are gripping Minho’s waist hard enough to bruise and his cock is deep enough to make his toes curl.
“Harder,” Minho pants into Jisung’s hair. His cock is trapped between their stomachs, rubbing there every time either of them move. At this rate, he is going to cum but be left unsatisfied. Frustrated and desperate, Minho moves one hand from the headboard to Jisung’s chest. His fingers trace over the inked skin before pinching a nipple and squeezing the entire muscle. “Fuck me harder, Jisungie.”
Jisung grunts, shifting so he can lean back on the headboard with his cock still throbbing inside Minho. Minho can see the younger’s eyes trained on where his dick is impaling him—transfixed and with a face made entirely too smug by how eagerly Minho’s hole is taking it.
Minho yanks Jisung towards him. He winds his arms around Jisung’s shoulders and throws his legs around his hips so he is fully seated in Jisung’s lap. Their bodies are pressed so close that their sweaty skin is dragging and Minho feels like he’s overheating. The position also means Jisung can’t do more than hump into him. It’s erratic and messy. His cock is pressed directly into Minho’s prostate, but it’s still not enough.
“Gonna cum,” Jisung pants, thick brows pinched together.
Minho kisses him, open mouthed and sloppy. “Not yet.” He runs his tongue across Jisung’s. “Not until I do.”
Jisung lets out a pitiful whine. “Hyung.”
Minho ignores him, hand still groping Jisung’s chest. Finally, Jisung huffs and Minho doesn’t have a chance to protest before the younger has him on his side.
Creak.
“You’re such a brat.” Jisung grumbles, straddling one of Minho’s legs while hoisting the other over his shoulder.
The new position has him deep , and Jisung grins when Minho whimpers, pressing a kiss to his ankle as Minho claws at the bed. He starts thrusting—one hand on Minho’s hip and the other on his calf. Each thrust has Minho gasping. His cock slaps against his belly painfully, but he ignores it. Instead, Minho’s attention is on the way Jisung’s abs tense, and how his tattooed chest bounces every time he pounds into him.
Creak.
“Ah,” Minho mewls. He clenches around Jisung. “‘m so full.”
Jisung flattens his palm just under Minho’s belly button and presses down. The featherlight touches on his cock—paired with the pressure on his stomach as Jisung massages the slight bulge—has Minho twitching.
Creak.
“You gonna cum?” Sweat is matting Jisung’s short blue bangs to his forehead. There’s probably blue stains on the pillowcases that Minho is gripping for dear life. Jisung pulls out with a squelch, before thrusting back in, and Minho gasps. “Gonna cum on my cock, hyung?”
Minho groans, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. The only thing he can muster is a nod and Jisung takes that as permission to pick up the pace.
Creak.
“Me too. Gonna cum. Gonna cum in you, hyung.” Jisung kisses his ankle again—his fingers gripping Minho’s calf muscle hard. Jisung’s other hand tangles itself in Minho’s hair, pushing his long bangs from his unfocused eyes, then returning to his stomach. “You’re so pretty, baby. Taking my cock so well. Love being inside you, hyung.”
Jisung is rambling but Minho doesn’t care. It’s hot, and his own cock is heavy on his hip—begging for release after being neglected.
Creak.
Not a minute later, Jisung thrust up. His cock jabs into Minho’s prostate, hand still pressing down on the outside, and Minho completely blanks as his orgasm barrels through him. He shakes—hole clenching and thighs tensing while cum spurts from his cock.
A sob tumbles from Minho. It’s like there is lava boiling inside him; it courses through his veins in a way that leaves him trembling as Jisung fucks him through the orgasm.
“There you go.” Jisung pants, pistoning in and out of Minho’s hole. It’s so wet and the stretch is bordering on painful in the best way. Minho instinctively tries to curl away from the feeling but Jisung’s grip is too strong. Stupid renewed love for the gym. “So tight. Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”
Creak.
“Can I come, Minho?”
Creak.
Minho nods, mouth hanging open in a silent cry.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
Jisung’s hand slides from Minho’s ankle to his thigh, pulling himself as far as he can between the dancer’s split thighs. His thrusts get sloppier and sloppier until he finally cums with a choked sound. Heat fills Minho’s insides, dripping down his thighs while Jisung rides out his high. Minho lays there limp as Jisung cums for what feels like ages—dick stirring his guts and leaving Minho buzzing from overstimulation.
Creak.
His eyes remain shut when Jisung finishes, listening as he catches his breath. He is warm and tingly, but there’s a delicious satisfaction settling in. Like a deep knot finally getting massaged out.
“Feeling okay, baby?” Jisung rubs Minho’s thigh soothingly, sliding the leg on his shoulder off slowly and carefully.
Creak. The annoying bedpost behind Minho squeaks when he nods and curls in on himself. It’s an unwelcome addition to their heavy breathing and the slick sound of Jisung pulling out.
Creak. “Do you wanna shower?” The bed creaks once more when Jisung shifts his weight and moves to flop down behind Minho. “Or should we just lay here for awhile first-“
There’s no warning but somehow Minho knows what’s going to happen before Jisung even makes contact. As soon as the rapper's weight lands, disaster strikes. Cracks shoot through the base rail, racing up the headboard, and snapping the top bar in half. Below, the frame leg crumbles, its fibers unable to withstand the impact and shattering into a dozen splinters.
It crackles and crackles and crash.
The left side of the bed collapses first. Jisung lets out a high-pitched shriek, jolting Minho fully awake. His eyes fly open wide, startled, as the mattress plummets, sending Jisung tumbling. He instinctively throws his arms around Minho's waist, preventing himself from falling completely to the floor.
“What the he—“
Boom!
Minho shouts when the other side gives out, and the mattress—heavy and soaked in a variety of fluids—slams flat on the ground. Wooden remnants of the frame shoot out across the floor, leaving the once stable, well-loved frame in tatters around them.
Minho is frozen, Jisung clinging to his back. A chunk of what was once a footpost slams onto its side and both men jump.
“What…” Jisung whispers. “What just happened?”
Minho swallows, slowly peeking over his shoulder. Jisung blinks owlishly—doe eyes bugging and impossibly round. Minho blinks back, equally bewildered.
“I think we broke the bed.”
•
“Wow, it’s actually broken.” Changbin gawks through the phone. “Is it weird to say I’m impressed?”
Minho watches as Jisung flips the camera from the mangled bed frame to himself. “Yes! My parents bought me that! How am I supposed to explain what happened when they visit?”
“Wait, they broke the bed? Lemme see.” Minho hears Hyunjin say off camera before weaseling his way into frame. “Holy shit! Minho, what did you do to him?”
“Hey!” Jisung barks, insulted. “I’ll have you know I’m the one that ran him through the mattress.”
Minho snorts, fixing his scarf while Hyunjin and Jisung continue going back and forth.
It’s barely seven in the morning and he’s skipping his PT session just to get this errand done and over with. They’ve had to put off getting a new frame for the past week, choosing to close off the manmade disaster in the primary bedroom, and take shelter on the futon in the spare. But if they don’t get one now, they’ll probably not get one for a while—what with schedules picking up again soon.
“Bug,” Minho says. Jisung suddenly looks up from the phone, attention now entirely on him and the hand he’s holding out. “Come on, we gotta go.” He makes a grabbing motion.
“Bug?” Hyunjin coos from the speaker. “That’s so cute. Binnie, why don’t you ever call me cute things like that?”
Jisung glances back down at his phone, lip curled. “You call each other ‘wife’. And I’m hanging up now—please continue to be jealous over how good in bed I am.” Hyunjin squawks something but Jisung hangs up before he can finish.
Jisung slips his phone into his leather jacket pocket and grabs his crossbody bag from the hook. He takes Minho's hand, palm warm and a little rough from hours of guitar playing, but perfect in his grasp. They can only hold hands for the brief elevator ride, and though Minho misses the warmth as soon as Jisung releases his, the younger man brushes their knuckles together every now and then as they leave the apartment building.
“Should we just redo the entire room?” Jisung asks, bumping their shoulders while they sit on the bus. The store is far enough for this entire errand to be considered a day trip and a date. Nothing gets Minho going quite like roaming around showrooms and getting his steps in. “I have an inspo board.”
Minho hums, letting his fingers trail over Jisung’s knuckles. “Okay.”
Jisung flips his hand so Minho can trace the lines of his palm. “That didn’t sound very enthusiastic. What if I decide to paint the walls pink?”
Minho shrugs.
“That’s fine. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care.”
Jisung stares at him for a long moment before scoffing softly. “Woah, that’s some flirting, hyung. What’s your goal? You know I already refer to you as my partner when I talk to people, right? I literally bought you the ring you’re wearing.”
“Can’t I just talk to my boyfriend?” Minho can see Jisung’s cheeks flush under his facemask. “It’s not my fault my natural charm makes you swoon over everything I say. I could recite a stew recipe and you’d faint.”
Jisung scoffs again, offended. “I would not.” When Minho just arches an eyebrow, Jisung turns away—obviously pouting, even if his mouth isn’t visible. “Whatever. I’m gonna paint the room neon pink and put a giant poster of Changbin on the wall in front of our bed.”
“Hot.”
Once they arrive, it doesn’t take long for them to get lost in the winding aisles. The entire place is a maze of quirky light fixtures and a maximalist's wet dream. Jisung has to convince Minho out of buying at least a handful of different human sized stuffed animals, insisting every bright eyed-bushy tailed can’t be his doppelgänger. (Minho, of course, staunchly disagrees).
Minho, in turn, reminds Jisung that investing in an entire kitchen remodel is pointless when they rarely ever have time to use the one they currently have. By the time they reach the bedroom section, their little complimentary basket has only one ceramic chipmunk salt shaker and a pack of wall hooks.
“Is all furniture this expensive?” Jisung gawks, circling the showroom with eyebrows pinched together in shock and mild disgust. “I mean seriously, hyung, three hundred thousand won for a side table? We could use the box as one.”
Minho yawns behind his face mask. They got to the furniture superstore at opening in hopes of avoiding the crowds, but there was already a decent amount of foot traffic.
So much for that, Minho thinks while fixing his beanie. In front of him, Jisung continues to survey the different pieces of furniture; based on his own half covered expression, the maple desk and mahogany footboard are not impressing Minho’s long term partner.
“That’s what we get for waiting months to buy a new frame.” murmurs Minho. “Now we have to do the real grown up stuff, honey.”
Jisung huffs, shoving his hands into his leather jacket. “It’s not our fault we’ve been so busy! And mine was perfectly fine until…y’know.” He leans back, surveying their surroundings, before shooting Minho a coy look. “Can I convince you to ditch this and go split a slice of chocolate cake in the cafe instead?”
It’s a tempting offer. Furniture, in general, is a hassle Minho does not look forward to dealing with. That, and their current set up wasn’t all bad; Minho quite enjoyed getting pounded into a frameless mattress like he and Jisung are broke university students. But both sets of their parents have been asking when could they visit their new place, and not getting one means Minho having to watch his sweet mother throttle his boyfriend for having her precious son still sleeping on the floor.
“We can get cake,” Jisung’s eyes light up. “After we buy a bed frame.” Jisung immediately groans. “ Yah , don’t throw a tantrum, Han Jisung. It’s your fault the last one broke.”
“You weren't complaining while I was breaking it.” Jisung shoots him a teasing wink, only for his expression to quickly switch to one of offense. “Wait, why is it my fault now? Whatever happened to teamwork makes the dream work?”
Minho just shrugs, pretending to check his nails.
“Whatever, brat.” His boyfriend shuffles over and grabs his wrist, tugging Minho to the other side of the showroom while Minho giggles to himself proudly. Jisung pulls him to a stop in front of a bed display stage and points at it.
“Alright, let’s get this one.”
Minho stares at where he’s pointing. On the raised step is a nice wooden platform bed frame, with a long rounded corner headboard, held up by short rods and a low footboard. By design it sits low to the ground, hovering a few inches above it but not fully touching. It’s a good, sturdy looking bed—one that Minho’s father would approve of. It helps that the darker wooden finish would compliment their green and white bedding.
“Are you just picking this one so we can go get cake?”
Jisung squawks, faux-insulted. “How dare you, hyung? Can’t you see this one is made of walnut? I’ll have you know walnut is considered one of the sturdiest hardwoods, and is resistant to mold which means no damage from humidity.”
“I’ll show you hardwood.” Minho mutters under his breath, which makes Jisung’s insulted facade slip.
“You’re ridiculous.” Jisung thumbs at Minho’s wrist and smiles. “Come on, hyung. Doesn’t this look like it should be our marital bed?” He wiggles his shoulders.
Minho blinks again. “I think you’re supposed to ask me to marry you first, Jisungie.”
Jisung splutters, cheeks getting warm under his face mask. “One thing at a time, baby.”
Minho snorts. “I suppose it’ll work.” He taps one of the legs with his foot. “Sounds solid. Try not to break this one.”
Jisung stands behind Minho the entire time he’s discussing purchasing with the salesperson—a mixture of giddiness and anticipation radiating from him. Once Minho has swiped his card and filled out the necessary paperwork, he turns to his boyfriend.
“Here.” Minho holds out a small card to Jisung. “Delivery and assembly tomorrow morning—don’t lose it.”
Jisung quickly takes it and stuff it in his bag. “Gotcha. So…” He rocks on his heels. “Cake time?”
His boyfriend all but skips to the store, finding a corner in the store for them to sit in. Jisung brings over a tray with two iced teas and the biggest slice of chocolate cake Minho’s ever seen. They don’t really talk as they take bites—content to sit in silence, savoring the sweetness while their hidden feet bump into each other. Jisung gets some icing on his lip, and Minho instinctively reaches up to wipe it away, only to freeze.
Jisung stares at his hand before turning to subtly look around. When he turns back, he leans in—letting Minho carefully swipe the sugar away.
“Thanks, baby.” Jisung whispers softly.
Under the table, their knees brush.
Minho smiles. “Of course.”
•
There’s a buzz from the doorbell and lips on Minho’s shoulder blade.
Logically, Minho sinks deeper into the warm hold around his waist, chasing the soft lips and scruff scratching his skin. Jisung has his face fully pressed against his back and his hands rub Minho’s belly from under the sleep shirt he’s wearing. Minho can’t really tell whether or not his boyfriend is awake, but he doesn’t care. It’s comfortable. Being held by Jisung is where he feels safest—at ease.
There’s another buzz.
“Delivery.” A staticky voice calls from the intercom.
Minho reluctantly opens his eyes. The bedroom is mostly dark, thanks to the blackout curtains, but the twinkle lights cast a nice warm glow.
Another buzz.
Jisung’s arms tighten around his waist and he groans. Minho wraps a hand around his forearm, tugging.
“Jisungie.” Jisung grumbles into his skin. “Someone’s at the door.”
With a reluctant grunt, Jisung lets him go and Minho rolls out of bed. His phone says it’s not even 7AM when he checks it. There are a few more buzzes on the door camera before Minho finally answers it—eyes squinted and bleary from sleep.
“Hello?” He asks, checking the monitor. Three men in matching uniforms stare up at the lobby security camera, waiting to be buzzed in.
“Furniture delivery for a Lee Minho?”
Minho yawns, “Ah, I’ll buzz you in.”
The men move at a remarkable pace. Minho opens the door and half watches as the three men carry three large boxes into the apartment and set them in the living room before already preparing to leave.
“Please call if there are any problems.” One of the men hand Minho a business card.
Minho suppresses another yawn and bows slightly. “Thank you. Have a good day.”
He only waits a few seconds after the men have left before shuffling back to the bedroom. Jisung lets out an oof when Minho throws himself on him, arms wrapping the younger’s waist and face burrowing in his neck. He smells sweat and soap, and Minho gives his Adam’s apple a kitten lick.
“Hyung,” Jisung heaves, wiggling around. “You’re heavy.”
Minho licks his throat again. “I’m squishing you. Bugs get squished.”
“You would cry before hurting a bug.” Partially true. They’ve both screamed loud enough to trigger watery eyes after coming into contact with an insect a few times. But Minho was a friend of all things small and weird, and Jisung could have a degree in entomology from the sheer amount od online rabbit holes he’s gone down.
“You don’t count. You’re a human bug. Bug Man.”
Jisung grimaces. “Gross.” He eventually gives up, going limp under Minho. “What was at the door?”
Minho snuggles closer, leaching heat off of Jisung’s bare chest. “Just the furniture delivery.” Jisung’s chest is warm. It makes a fantastic pillow. At least it does until Jisung suddenly tenses under him.
“The bed frame?” Minho nods, hands rubbing over Jisung’s tattoos. “That was quick—did they set it up in the living room?”
Shifting away from Jisung’s neck and onto his hands, Minho looks down at his boyfriend. “What do you mean?”
Jisung has a weird look on his sleep rumpled, confused face. “They built the frame, right? Unless it came already put together—wait, no you gave me the assembly time card yesterday.”
Oh. That.
“Aishhhh,” Minho drops back onto Jisung, knocking the air from him. “I forgot.”
Jisung pats his back halfheartedly. “Do you think they can come back?”
Minho blows a raspberry. “They gave me a number to call if there are any problems.”
“So are you gonna call?”
Minho pouts, nipping at Jisung’s skin. “Why do I have to? I opened the door.”
“And forgot to get the actual bed made!”
“Yah.” Minho stares at Jisung. “I paid for the frame, punk. What did you say yesterday? Teamwork makes the dream work?”
Jisung groans, throwing his head back. He stares at the ceiling for a beat before reaching down to the floor and feeling around for his phone. “Gimme the number.”
Minho keeps his head on Jisung’s chest as he dials the phone number on the card and waits for it to connect. When it does, he listens as Jisung explains the situation; his voice is still rough from sleep so the chipper customer service tone he puts on sounds endearingly funny. Minho’s content to just listen until Jisung pauses for a long moment.
“Oh, no I understand. Could you give me a moment? Thank you.” Jisung mutes the phone and sighs, which rustles Minho. He then taps Minho’s head. “They can’t come back.”
Minho hums, “What did they recommend?”
“They can reschedule for another time, but the soonest available slot would be when we are out of the country.” He toys with Minho’s hair. “The alternative is they give us a refund on the assembly fee and we can build it ourselves.”
Minho considers it. While a nuisance, building the frame themselves isn’t impossible . They had the entire day off and hadn’t made any real plans beyond maybe dry humping on the couch while catching up on some anime. Minho has helped his parents build around their family home and Jisung, despite possessing all the grace of a newborn deer at times, knew his way around a tool box. Waiting to reschedule would also mean just another thing to worry about while working.
“Let’s just build it ourselves.”
Jisung looks at him, genuinely surprised. “Really? It’ll probably take a while.”
“Why not?” Minho shrugs. “Nothing else to do today. It might be nice to do something together.”
“Is this an excuse to get us all hot and sweaty?” Minho glares at Jisung, who just chuckles. “I’m just playing, baby.” He unmutes the phone and relays their decision to the other side, finally ending the call with a polite goodbye . Jisung then tosses his phone on the mattress and wraps both arms around Minho’s shoulders. “Guess we are playing carpenter today, hyung. Time to put our roleplay skills to the test.”
Minho lets out a soft sigh when Jisung presses a kiss to his cheek—scruff scratching his skin in the way he loves.
“Want me to order breakfast?”
Jisung kisses his face again. “Yes please.”
Minho orders food from his phone while Jisung washes up in the bathroom. By the time it arrives, Jisung’s bathed and put on a sleeveless shirt and sweats while Minho changed into an oversized shirt and some gray sweatpants of his own.
“Three boxes,” Jisung says around a mouthful of egg sandwich. “Is that a lot for a bed?”
Minho takes a sip of his iced coffee. “Headboard. footboard, and everything in between. It shouldn’t be…too difficult.”
Jisung stuffs the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and dusts off his hand, placing them on his hips. “Okay. We got this.” He claps his hands more firmly. “We got this, hyung. Where is the toolbox? Did we unbox it already?” Minho watches him scurry around the living room and kitchen, finally locating the toolbox—a gift from Minho’s father—under the sink. He holds it up with pride, happily singing like a video game character who collects acorns.
“So, should we build it in here, or do we need to take it to the bedroom?”
Minho surveys the boxes. He shuffles over to the longest, flattest of them and squats. “Pass me the box cutter.” Jisung sets the tools down and rummages around, pulling out and passing it to him. Minho carefully slides the blade along the taped seam, peeling the cardboard from itself, and tearing the entire thing open in one swoop.
“That was hot.” Jisung says from next to him. “I’m guessing this is the headboard?”
Minho nods, pulling out the thick paper instruction book. “Read this.” While Jisung flips through the manual, Minho starts unpacking. There’s miscellaneous pieces stacked on top of the headboard, separated and protected from damage by squares of cardboard. There’s also a plastic bag of nuts and bolts, which Minho sifts through.
“Okay so it says the first thing to do is to insert those little pegs into the fronts of the headboard and footboard.” Jisung looks into the package. “There’s the headboard…are one of those the footboard?”
Minho cocks his head to the side. “No, that can’t be right. Those pieces are too thin to be a footboard.”
“Well it says right here: Box 1, Step 1: Insert pegs into headboard and footboard.”
“I can see that, bug, but there’s no footboard in here.” Minho starts unpacking the entire thing—no footboard to be found, just as he suspected. “Do you see a footboard?”
Jisung huffs, waving the manual around. “So did they forget a piece?”
Minho frowns and Jisung glances at him. His eyebrows are furrowed but the crease softens slightly upon seeing his expression.
“Maybe it’s in another box.” Minho murmurs, waddling over to the other boxes and slicing them open. Jisung is quiet as Minho unboxes them, stacking the new wooden pieces into separate piles. At the bottom of the last box, he finds a long but narrower slab of wood and taps it. “Is this the footboard?”
He looks back at Jisung, who now stands sheepishly with the manual in hand. “Uh, yeah…yeah, I think so. It looks right.” Minho nods and Jisung shuffles up behind him, taking a seat next to Minho. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get snippy. At least, not towards you.”
Minho shrugs. “It’s fine. Misplaced anger, that's all. Furniture is annoying to build.”
“Yeah, but still.” Jisung chuckles, gently brushing Minho’s bangs from his face. “Y’know, I’ve seen people say building furniture together is the real relationship test.”
Minho raises an eyebrow. “Test? Are you trying to find a reason to break up with me?”
Jisung snorts, shoving Minho lightly and making him rock back and forth. “Don’t even joke about that. You’re stuck with me, baby.”
It takes an entire hour to get the large pieces moved into the bedroom because when they go to get the mattress propped against the wall, Minho gets to watch Jisung nearly squish himself under it while trying to do it on his own. Just putting the main parts together requires nearly fifty screws—a handful of which Minho manages to lose for about fifteen minutes before realizing he’s been sitting on top of them.
An hour and a half into their fun little date, Minho flops flat on his back in the middle of the empty frame. There’s sweat making his shirt stick to his back; the cold wooden floor provides a much needed relief. Similarly, Jisung’s arms have a nice sheen to them—which Minho ogles at shamelessly as the younger rattles the frame to assure everything is stable.
“Alright,” Jisung flops down beside him. “I think we are in the clear.” Minho rolls over, throwing an arm and leg across Jisung’s body. “Hyung, gross—we are sweaty.”
Minho snuggles closer. “That’s never stopped us.” His fingers dip through one of Jisung’s shirt holes and trail over the ink on his ribs. “What time is it?”
Jisung relaxes under his touch. “Almost noon, I think. Not too sure.”
Minho lets his eyes flutter shut. He’s weirdly tired. There’s an exhaustion settling into his bones that makes him want to curl up and sleep. It’s the kind he only ever gets after a long day of rehearsals.
“Hey,” Jisung jostles him a little. “Don’t fall asleep now, baby. We only have a few more things to do.”
Minho whines, letting Jisung shake him but not opening his eyes. “Don’t wanna.” He rolls on top of Jisung. “I should’ve just asked my dad to build us one. The one he made my mom as an anniversary gift has lasted their entire marriage.”
“You want your dad to build our marriage bed?”
Minho pinches Jisung’s side. “That makes it sound weird, pervert.”
“No,” Jisung pinches him back. “I think it’s sweet. You’re so sweet, hyung. My sweet hyung that no one else gets to see.”
“I’m perfectly sweet to everyone. You’re just annoying. Just for that, I’m not helping anymore.”
Jisung suddenly sits up, dragging Minho with him and forcing him to cling onto his front like a cat. “Nope.” The younger says, popping the p. “We are finishing what we started.”
Minho grumbles. He wishes he could find Jisung’s bursts of motivation annoying. Instead, Minho finds moments like this—or when Jisung randomly shoots up in bed to jot down song inspiration in his notes app—to be some of the most swoon worthy shit imaginable. It’s not Minho’s fault. Love makes him stupid. That’s why he finds even Jisung’s sneezes cute.
It doesn’t stop him from complaining as he sits back to back with his boyfriend and rubs his fingertips raw from twisting tiny bolts into place. Another half hour passes before they get all the support slats secured. Minho’s back and knees crack when Jisung pulls him onto his feet. Along with being thoroughly exhausted, there’s some pride and satisfaction.
“Good job.” Minho pats Jisung’s butt.
“Thanks,” Jisung crosses his arms, admiring their work. “If the idol stuff hadn’t worked out, maybe I could’ve worked in furniture.”
Minho shakes his head, laughing softly. “No, you were born to be an artist, Jisungie. Leave this to the real professionals.”
Jisung pouts, “Do you have so little faith in me, hyung?”
“I have too much faith in you, bug.” His boyfriend’s face brightens. Minho smiles and pats his cheek. “Help me get the mattress on.”
The bed frame holds up when they heave the mattress onto it with a thud. There’s nothing but plastic, cardboard, and dust all over the floor yet Jisung immediately follows Minho when he crawls onto the bare mattress. Jisung lays flat on him, lips pressing against Minho’s neck.
“What are you doing, honey?” Minho asks softly. His hands knead the muscles in Jisung’s back and Jisung kisses him again.
“Saying thank you.” He punctuates each word with another kiss to Minho’s throat. Minho hums happily, spreading his legs so Jisung can nestle between them. Jisung’s mouth moves up from his neck to his face, and finally his lips. The kiss is closed and soft—more a chance to bask in each other's presence than anything.
Minho bumps his nose to Jisung’s and the latter’s big eyes flutter open, finding him. “Hi.”
Jisung grins against his lips. “Hey. Feel like I haven’t kissed you all day.”
Minho hums, pecking his bottom lip. “That’s because you haven’t. You’ve been neglecting me for a bed frame all day.”
“Don’t tell me you're jealous of an inanimate object, hyung.” Jisung rocks down, grinding their groins. “That’d be pretty crazy, even for you.”
Without warning, Minho reaches down and swats Jisung’s ass. The younger gasps, giving him a scandalized look.
“A bed frame can’t do that, now can it?”
Jisung stares at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “This is taking a weird turn. Weird even for you, baby.” Still, Jisung kisses him again.
“Have to keep you on your toes, Jisungie.” Minho sighs against his lips.
He shifts up into Jisung’s hips and when Minho moves to deepen their kiss, Jisung eagerly opens his mouth. It starts slow—hips rocking against each other as their cocks start to rouse, tongues colliding. Minho shoves both hands under Jisung’s shirt, dragging them up his sides and settling on his chest. Jisung groans into his mouth when Minho circles and presses his thumbs to his nipples.
“Fuck,” Jisung gasps. His hips rock down harder—cock now thick in his sweatpants. Minho continues to massage Jisung’s pecs while nipping at his bottom lip. His own cock throbs, hot and heavy on his hip. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
Jisung’s own hands moves to mirror Minho’s. Minho shudders when Jisung cups his chest—the warm skin sending shivers through him. Removing both hands from Jisung’s chest, Minho drops one to his waist and the other cups his face. Minho then pulls away from their kiss.
“Spit.” He presses his thumb to the corner of Jisung’s mouth. A dollop of drool covers it.
Jisung grinds down, hands fondling Minho’s chest. “Want me to spit in your mouth, baby?”
The usual answer? Yes. Absolutely. There is very little Minho loves quite as much as he loves sticking his tongue out and letting Jisung spit in his mouth while fucking him. But tonight he wanted something else.
Minho presses his thumb closer to Jisung’s mouth and realization flashes through the younger man’s eyes. Without hesitation, Jisung takes Minho’s wrist and pushes two fingers between his lips—lapping at the digits then sucking down. Minho rubs them on the top of Jisung’s tongue, parting them and letting the man lick between.
“Good boy.” Minho says, pulling the waist of Jisung’s sweats and underwear under the swell of his ass. Jisung sucks harder—round cheeks caving in, before letting go with a loud, wet pop.
Jisung is flushed and breathless when Minho drags his soaked fingers down the cleft of his ass. He lets out a choked moan when Minho prods between them and starts to sink one finger in his hole. It’s a tight squeeze and Jisung’s face scrunches up at the intrusion.
“Relax, baby.” Minho rubs Jisung’s side with his free hand. Jisung’s mouth is slack from a deep groan, but the furrow between his scrunched in his face begins to soften. “There we go.”
Forgoing lube for spit is far from their MO, but they’ve learned to make do over the years. Minho rubs his finger against Jisung’s walls, feeling him shiver and clench around it. Jisung hasn’t stopped grinding against him—his hard cock straining against the front of his pants and getting soaked in precum. Minho’s own cock is twitching with excitement.
“Hyung,” Jisung whimpers, voice dropping. His hips don’t know whether to rock forward or back onto Minho’s finger.
Minho kisses Jisung’s cheek and slowly adds the other. The stretch has Jisung reeling. His hips speed up, chasing stimulation on both ends, and only gets faster when Minho starts scissoring them. His fingers aren’t long enough to reach Jisung’s prostate in this position, but the way Jisung is panting tells Minho he doesn’t care all that much. Minho speeds up, fingers switching between prodding and massaging Jisung’s walls.
“Fuck,” Jisung groans, reaching down and hastily pulling the front of their pants down. Their cocks smack with a wet, slick noise and both men gasp. Jisung takes both cocks in his hand and the contact makes Minho’s hips spasm.
“Ah,” Minho pants. Jisung is practically riding his fingers, and combined with the squeeze of his hand around their cocks, Minho is close. “I’m gonna cum.”
Jisung nods. “Me too. Yeah, me too, hyung.” He rocks faster, fucking himself in his and Minho’s hand. The bed shifts with them—headboard bumping the wall. Minho can’t think about that, though. His cock twitches as it slides against Jisung’s, their cum making it easier but still a little rough as skin pulls.
“Fuck,” Jisung whimpers. “Oh, fuck-“
Jisung clenches around his fingers, expression going slack as he cums. His cock spurts and covers their stomachs in ropes of his own seed. Some shoots so far, it lands on Minho’s jaw and that’s all he needs to follow Jisung over the edge. His cock spills into Jisung’s fist as Jisung rides out his orgasm on Minho’s fingers—blue bangs hanging in his eyes. Minho shakes when Jisung pumps him through his climax.
His fingers slip from Jisung’s hole and Jisung gasps at the loss, going limp on top of him. He keeps his face buried in Minho’s neck as he catches his breath—hole clenching around nothing.
Minho rubs his hand over Jisung’s ass, squeezing while mouthing at his cheek. “Do you…” He swallows. “Do you wanna go again? Really put this bed to the test?”
Jisung chuckles, shifting off Minho to leer at him. “Sure. Let me catch my breath fir-“
Creak.
Minho’s eyes fly open. Jisung’s do the same.
“No way.”
“Are you kidding me?”
Jisung shifts his weight again.
Creak.
“Goddamnit.”
Minho groans, going boneless. He frowns, glares at the ceiling, and grits his teeth, before finally taking a deep breath.
With the most placant, serene expression he can muster, Minho smiles at Jisung. “Wanna finish this on the couch and deal with that later?”
Jisung exhales gratefully.
“Yes please.”