Archive of Our Own

Jisung hated being told what to do. And he really hated being told not to do something. If someone said he couldn’t, he’d probably do the opposite. Maybe that made him a bit of a brat, but he didn’t care. 

His parents told him not to drop out of college, but he didn’t listen. He wanted to pursue music, and how was sitting in a boring college classroom going to help him with that? 

His brother told him he wasn’t allowed in the bar he owned. But that wasn’t fair. Just because he was a bit younger than him, it didn’t mean he was a child. He was twenty-two now, and Chan wasn’t the boss of him. 

The more he told him to stay away, the more he wanted to break the rules. 

He’d been sneaking into the bar for years. He knew it pissed Chan off, and maybe that was why he kept doing it. The only time he saw his older brother was when he snuck into the back of the bar late at night. Since Chan was fifteen years older than him, Jisung barely remembered him being around. By the time Jisung was three, Chan had already moved out, and when he opened the bar when he was ten, he saw him even less.

To be fair, his mother had remarried, and Chan was probably looking for any excuse to get out of the house owned by his stepdad. Jisung couldn’t blame him. 

But when Chan was around, and he let him hang out with his friends, it was so much fun. 

Hyunjin had always let him drink and party on the dance floor. He never treated him like he was just a kid, like Chan always did.

His friend Minho was way too protective of him, probably because Chan told him to be. Minho always listened to Chan, probably because he was not only his friend, but his boss.

So when he entered the bar that evening, he was immediately stopped.

“Wait right there,” the familiar voice said as he tried to sneak past. 

Jisung rolled his eyes, but he knew if he didn’t listen, Minho would just come grab him anyway. 

He turned slowly and dramatically, and Minho’s soft laughter did make him smile—even if he was a little annoyed.

“What?” 

“Don’t ‘what’ me with that attitude,” Minho said, eyeing him carefully. 

Jisung sat at the bar, folding his hands on the sticky ledge. 

“Good evening, Minho. How are you tonight?” He completely changed his tone, offering a saccharine smile. 

“Thought you were gonna sneak by without me noticing, huh?” he asked, completely ignoring it. 

Jisung rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. You’ve got eyes in the back of your head—or you put a tracker on me.” 

He wasn’t sure how he did it, but Minho always caught him. To get in through the back entrance, he had to pass by the bar, and even if he hid in a crowd or wore a disguise, Minho would spot him. 

“What are you doing here?” Minho asked. 

“I can’t come visit my favorite bartender?” 

“Do you know other bartenders?” 

Jisung shrugged. “Maybe.” 

Minho gave him a pointed look. 

“Okay, you’re the only bartender I know—well, besides Jeongin. But you know you’re my favorite.” He folded his hands under his chin and blinked at him, hoping his eyes sparkled under the dim lights. 

“You know that’s not going to work on me. You’re not getting a free drink.”

“Why not?” he whined, giving up and laying his head down. “My brother owns the place. Just take it out of his pocket.”

“Your brother has asked you multiple times to stay away from the bar.” 

Jisung rolled his eyes for a third time. 

“I can come here if I want. He can’t tell me what to do.”

Minho was quiet for a moment, and when Jisung looked up, he was thoroughly cleaning a glass, eyes fixed on him. 

“He worries.”

“Well, I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t need him to worry about me. I’m not a child.”

Minho opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it before anything came out. 

He hated it when he did that. 

“What?” Jisung asked. 

Minho just shook his head as he set the glass down.

Before Jisung could press him to spit out whatever he apparently wanted to say, Minho spoke first.

“Stick close to the bar so I can see you.” 

Jisung hated being told what to do.

“You don’t have to watch me,” he grumbled. 

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Your brother is busy tonight. Just listen to me, okay?”

Normally, Jisung would argue back if it were anyone else. But Minho’s soft, pleading gaze was enough to make him bite his tongue and blush. 

“Whatever.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved him off. “Can I at least get some water or iced tea?”

Minho gave him a small smile before grabbing the glass he’d just cleaned and filling it with ice and sweet tea. 

“Oh, so I can have free iced tea but no beer?”

Minho reached out and lifted his chin. His intense eyes nearly took his breath away. 

“Do you not want anything at all?” 

Instead of answering and risking his voice cracking, he pushed Minho’s hand away and took a hefty sip. 

Minho’s satisfied grin made his heart flutter. But who could blame him? Minho was thirty-six years old, and one of the hottest guys Jisung had ever seen in his life. He was older, attractive, and had a pretty great sense of humor. It was crazy that he didn’t have a girlfriend or something. Jisung had asked him once why he was single, but Minho had dodged the question.

And maybe, just maybe, Jisung had the tiniest little crush on him, even though he knew it would never go anywhere. Having a silly crush on his older brother’s friend was embarrassing, because he knew Minho only saw him as Chan’s younger brother. 

But when he had Minho’s attention, that little crush swelled just a bit more.

“How’s music coming along?” Minho asked. 

Jisung smiled. Minho was the only one who ever asked him about it, and the only one he shared his songwriting with. Maybe it was because he spent hours sitting at the bar on weekends, trying to get attention from his brother, but getting it from Minho instead. 

“Great. We’re trying to book gigs, and I’ve been finishing a new song,” he said, maybe a bit too excitedly.

“That’s good,” he said, cutting up a lime. “Have you asked your brother yet if you could play here?”

Jisung frowned. “I’m not asking him.”

He’d already explained himself. If Chan cared, he would’ve asked him already if he wanted to play a gig at his bar. But he rarely paid attention or showed any interest in him. He was always too busy. 

“Jisung, you know it would be a great opportunity for you. And I know Chan would love to support you.”

“I shouldn’t have to remind him that I’m a starving artist. I’m not going to force him to care about me, either.” He flicked his gaze towards the bar with a pout. 

Maybe he was stubborn, but he wasn’t going to beg. 

Minho looked like he was about to say something, but a customer caught his attention at the end of the bar. 

A soft sigh left his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

It was still early, so Minho wasn’t that busy. But every time he left him, Jisung quickly sipped his iced tea, forcing Minho to eventually come back and fill it. 

By the time Minho returned, Jisung was chewing on the ice. 

“Need more?”

“Give me a beer.”

Minho shook his head. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“How about a soda?”

Jisung wanted to roll his eyes again. He was totally babying him. Yeah, he’d had a few instances where he couldn’t handle his liquor, and Chan had to carry him out—so what? He’d learned since then. He didn’t need Minho monitoring his alcohol intake or watching over him like this.

Before Jisung could complain, Minho poked the nozzle into his glass and filled it. 

“So tell me about this song,” he said, leaning on the bar.

“It’s a love song,” Jisung said, his voice shyer than he intended. 

Minho smiled softly. “A love song, huh? Are you crushing on someone?”

Jisung’s cheeks flushed. “No—I just—it’s not about me. I’ve been super into reality dating shows recently. I wrote a song about love inspired by that.”

That was partially true. He had taken inspiration from the show, and maybe a bit from his longing for a love that could never be. But he wasn’t going to admit that. 

“Well, you should sing it for me someday,” Minho said, that pretty smile of his widening. 

Jisung’s heart completely melted. 

“Maybe,” he mumbled, sipping his soda. 

Jisung wasn’t shy. If there was one thing about him that he was unapologetic about, it was his confidence and belief in himself. He loved music. He loved songwriting. He knew he was good at it. But for some reason, singing the love song he’d written with Minho on his mind filled his nerves with unfamiliar insecurity.

Minho’s attention was caught at the end of the bar again, and Jisung felt disappointed when he walked away. It was starting to get busy, and he knew Minho wouldn’t have much time to talk anymore.

Jisung sighed as another customer came, then another, then another. He’d finished his soda, once again chewing on ice, waiting for Minho to return to his end of the bar.

He kicked his feet impatiently. It had been almost twenty minutes since Minho had even glanced his way. He was about to call him over, but his heart ached when he saw Minho laughing brightly, talking to some guy, his intense eyes and pretty smile prominent on his face. 

Jisung clenched the glass in his hand. Maybe it was irrational to get irritated whenever someone flirted with Minho at the bar. He was a hot-as-fuck bartender. It was normal for him to get hit on, and only natural for him to flirt back.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

He knew that he wasn’t on Minho’s radar. Why on earth would he fall for someone fourteen years younger than him? It was highly unlikely, and Jisung knew he should squash that little crush before it got worse.

Even if Minho cared about him more than anyone ever had. 

Even if he listened to him ramble on about everything and never looked annoyed or bored.

Even if he smiled at him, like maybe there could be something between them. 

No, that was completely ridiculous to even think, especially now that he was watching Minho actually flirt with some cute guy, who was way cuter than him. And he looked to be around Minho’s age. 

When Minho finished taking care of a different customer and returned to that cute guy instead of him, disappointment filled his chest.

He pushed his empty glass forward and slipped off the barstool. If Minho wasn’t going to entertain him, then he’d find someone else. Minho had told him to stick near the bar, but he was obviously too busy to care.

And Jisung hated being told what to do. 

Minho had been Chan’s friend since college, but he never came around much. Jisung had never properly met him until the first night he snuck into Chan’s bar three years ago.

He remembered it clearly. 

He tried to slip past his brother as he crept in through the back entrance. But Chan noticed him instantly, catching him by the back of his shirt and forcing him to sit at the bar.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come?” he asked, clearly frustrated. 

Yes. He’d told him about four times not to come to the bar tonight. But Jisung had turned nineteen yesterday, and he wanted to have fun and celebrate. 

Jisung swiveled in the barstool as he rolled his eyes. “I’m old enough to be here now. You can’t tell me what to do,” he argued, smacking his hand off. 

“I don’t care how old you are. You’re still my little brother, and there are a lot of characters that come in here. I don’t want you wandering around under the influence, especially near the back rooms.”

Jisung knew it wasn’t just a bar. He knew about the money slipped around in the secret back rooms, but that wasn’t any of his business. He had no interest in whatever Chan was involved in to make some extra cash. 

He just wanted to have some fun tonight—have a drink, dance a little. 

“Would you relax?”

“No.”

Jisung stuck his tongue out at him, and at the same time, the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life strolled over from the other end of the bar.

His tongue retreated back into his mouth, his cheeks blushing as the man smiled brightly.

“Chan? Who’s this?” he asked, wiping down a glass.

Chan sighed. “This is my little brother, who refuses to listen to me.”

“I have a name, you know,” Jisung glared. 

The hot guy chuckled, and Jisung couldn’t believe his heart fluttered. 

He reached out his hand, trying to act casual. “I’m Jisung.”

Chan’s friend smiled and shook his hand. “Minho.”

His touch was gentle. 

“Min, can I bother you to look after him tonight?” 

Jisung frowned, his words stabbing through his heart. 

“No bother at all,” Minho said, making Jisung’s pout lift a little.

“Thank you. I’ll be back in a bit. Jeongin’s off tonight, but he said if you need help, give him a call.”

Chan circled the bar, squeezing Jisung’s shoulder before leaning down to talk into his ear. 

“Behave,” he warned.

Jisung rolled his eyes again and flipped him off as he headed towards the back rooms, to do god only knows what.

When he turned back around, Minho’s smile made his heart jump again. But that was a normal reaction considering he was hot as hell. Anyone would feel flustered.

There was absolutely no way he could have his eyes on him all evening.

“Look, you don’t have to watch after me. Chan’s just being overprotective,” he tried to explain. 

“Do me a favor and try to stick close to the bar,” Minho said, throwing a towel over his shoulder. 

Had he just completely ignored him?

“I don’t need you to babysit me. Seriously. I’m an adult who’s old enough to drink and old enough to be in here.” 

“I’m sure you are.” 

Jisung didn’t like his tone, like his words went in one ear and out the other.

He was getting so sick of being treated like a child. Tired of being told what to do. All he wanted was to have a drink, maybe dance a little, and enjoy his evening. But now he had to worry about his overprotective brother and the hot guy who was watching his every move.

Ever since then, Minho had been keeping an eye on him every time he set foot in the bar. And maybe it had annoyed him at first, but over time, he realized he came less to irritate Chan and more to see Minho. Because having Minho’s attention was something he craved.

It was stupid, and he knew the tiny crush he had was just as stupid. But every time Minho smiled at him, it swelled a little bit more.

Jisung clenched his fists when he got to the bar. Last weekend, he’d left without even saying goodbye to Minho. That cute guy was still talking to him, even hours after Jisung had drifted off to the dance floor. Since Minho wouldn’t get him any alcohol, he’d danced completely sober. But it was boring, and not many people were out. He’d also barely felt Minho’s eyes on him all night. 

Maybe it was silly of him to sulk all week about it, but he couldn’t help it. 

So when he snuck through the back entrance and saw the same guy from last week chatting Minho up again, he almost lost it. 

It pissed him off that this stranger looked so cute, leaning on the bar, making Minho laugh with that pretty smile that should be reserved only for him. 

He stormed up to the bar, totally insane, and shoved the guy in the shoulder, forcing him to stumble slightly out of his seat.

Minho’s pretty smile faded. “Jisu—”

“Excuse me, this is my chair,” he said, ignoring Minho and giving this attention-stealing asshole a stern look. 

The cute stranger just chuckled. 

“Uh, Minho? Who’s the kid?”

Jisung was ready to lose his shit on this guy. 

“You’re so ancient you think I look like a kid, huh?”

“Damn, okay, brat,” he smirked, glancing at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Want me to call the nursing home? They probably think you’re lost—”

“Hey,” Minho said, interrupting him. “Come here. Now.” His voice was commanding. It was rare that he used that tone with him, and it sent a shiver up his spine.

Jisung pouted but followed Minho, who beckoned him with a finger as he walked to the other end of the bar.

“What?” he grumbled, the sass heavy in his tone. 

Minho’s face turned into a frustrated frown. “Why are you being so rude? What’s with the attitude?”

Jisung scowled. “Who even is that guy?”

“Seungmin. He’s a friend of mine.”

A friend? Yeah, sure.

“How do you know him?”

“We used to bartend together before I quit to come work for Chan.” 

“Then shouldn’t he be working instead of bothering you all night?” 

Minho’s frown deepened. “Jisung,” he said, his name rolling off his tongue like a warning. 

“What? He was here last week, and now he’s here again. He’s clearly distracting you from your job.” 

And from giving Jisung the attention he needed—but he kept that part to himself. 

“Huh, sounds like someone else I know,” Minho said with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Maybe it was supposed to be a harmless joke, but Jisung’s heart ached. 

“Well, if I’m bothering you so much, then don’t fucking worry about me. I won’t annoy you at all tonight. Have fun with your friend,” he snapped, turning quickly and heading towards the dance floor. 

He ignored Minho when he called his name, and it was ridiculous to have tears in his eyes. But Jisung hated feeling like a bother. And he really hated it when Minho liked giving attention to anyone other than him. 

Whatever. If Minho didn’t want him at the bar, then so be it. He could flirt with that cute guy all night for all he cared. 

And he would find a cute guy of his own, someone willing to give him all the attention he desired. 

He unbuttoned his shirt, halfway down his chest, showing off his tattoo—another thing his parents begged him not to do. He fixed his hair, smoothing it down, making sure he looked irresistible. He wore all black tonight, sleeves rolled up, his burgundy hair fading to pink over the last few days. He knew he looked hot. He even put on some blueberry chapstick, lips ready to be kissed. 

He’d admit he had originally dressed up to get Minho’s attention tonight, but that plan completely shifted. He didn’t need Minho. He could have any guy he wanted. All he had to do was work some magic. 

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t around tonight, busy with beer and liquor shipments. He’d definitely interrupt if he saw Jisung messing around with drunk guys on the dance floor. 

His eyes locked onto a blonde on the dance floor. He was dancing like crazy, his pink furry cardigan bouncing, and when he winked at him, Jisung took his opportunity. 

Jisung danced up behind him, and the blonde turned with the biggest smile. He was beautiful—pretty freckled cheeks, sharp jaw line, braided back hair—not usually Jisung’s type, but he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to have some fun tonight.

“Hey,” Jisung said, giving a flirty smile.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

A light flush spread across Jisung’s cheeks. 

“Wanna dance?” Jisung asked, trying not to sound shy or awkward. 

“I would love to.”

The blonde placed his hands on his hips, and Jisung chuckled when he pressed himself close to his body. 

“I’m Felix, by the way.”

“Jisung.”

“So, Jisung,” Felix said, tilting his head with a smirk. “Who are you trying to make jealous tonight?”

Jisung’s eyes widened. Was he really that obvious? He didn’t want to hurt this guy’s feelings or anything.

“Ah—no, I’m—”

Felix cut him off with a chuckle. “Oh, come on. You stormed over here from the bar and latched onto the first person who looked in your direction.”

His blush darkened. “I…” 

Shit. Well, this was kind of embarrassing. He honestly had no idea what to say.

“It’s okay. I’m trying to make someone jealous too,” he admitted.

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Felix nodded and leaned in closer. “Yeah. I think we can help each other out here.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered when he kissed his neck. He swallowed hard as his hands slipped to grip his ass. He wondered if Minho was watching from the bar. Probably not, since he was too busy with that Seungmin guy. 

Maybe messing around with Felix wasn’t such a terrible idea. Making Minho jealous probably wouldn’t work, but he was so desperate to steal his attention back that he would do anything. 

“I’m down,” he said, wrapping his arms around Felix’s neck. “But…I won’t lie, I’m not really sure how to—”

“Just follow my lead. Are you cool if I kiss you a little?” he asked. 

Was he cool with some pretty guy kissing him? He could think of plenty of worse things. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind.”

Felix smirked, and Jisung gasped when he pressed their lips together, his tongue instantly tangling with his. Felix tasted sweet, his lips soft and plump. Jisung realized he was usually into a rougher touch, hands grounding him by holding him tight, and not the ticklish way Felix grazed him. 

But he kissed him back anyway, fingers threading through the back of Felix’s hair. Their kiss was sloppy and perhaps a little overheated, clearly meant to make anyone watching jealous. When Felix pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected their mouths.

Felix giggled. “You’re so hot. Thank god I found you tonight. You’re gonna make my boyfriend so jealous.”

Jisung panicked. “Boy—boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, he’s not gonna, like, beat you up or anything,” Felix said quickly. “He’s watching us. It turns him on. And the more jealous he gets, the better I’ll get it later.”

A small feeling of relief filled Jisung’s chest. Sure, he’d been working out lately, trying to build some muscle, but it was mostly for show. There was no way he’d win in a fight, especially since he was pretty sure the big, buff guy sitting on the couch in the corner, eyeing them down, was the boyfriend in question.

“Now tell me,” Felix said, pecking his lips again. “Who are you trying to make jealous?”

Jisung’s heart fluttered. He’d never told anyone about his crush on Minho. Not his brother, not his friends, not even his bandmates. But for some reason, he felt like he could trust Felix. 

“Um…the bartender,” he mumbled shyly. 

“The bartender?” 

“He’s my brother’s friend. My brother actually owns this bar.” 

Felix laughed. “No shit—really?”

“Yeah. My brother’s a lot older than me. His mom remarried—well, our mom. And my dad is his stepdad.” 

“Ah, I see. So you’re in love with your older brother’s best friend.”

Jisung nodded with a depressed sigh. “Yeah, but he probably doesn’t even care about me. He’s been flirting with this stupid guy recently, and I just…I mean, he’s fourteen years older than me, so…”

Felix shrugged. “So what? My boyfriend is ten years older than me. He treats me right—better than any other guy I’ve dated. And he loves me more than anything in the world.”

Jisung sighed. That must be nice. He’d never had a boyfriend before. Sure, he’d messed around with a few guys, and a girl once, but he’d never been in a real relationship. 

And now that he was thinking about it, he’d been crushing on Minho for three straight years.

“It’s not possible between us,” he sighed. “Besides, my brother would never let it happen.”

“Your brother can’t tell you who you’re allowed to fall in love with, babe.”

Jisung pouted. “I know…but—”

“No buts. If you like him, pursue him.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me? I’m probably just a kid in his eyes.” 

Felix hummed. He flipped them, pressing himself closer and making Jisung gasp. 

“Well, maybe I’m wrong—even though I’m never wrong, just so you know—but he’s definitely looking over here, and I don’t think he looks very happy.”

Jisung’s heart slammed against his ribs. There was no way that was true. And if Minho was watching him with a scowl, he was probably annoyed that he’d left the bar, making it harder to keep an eye on him.

“It’s not like that, though.” 

Minho wasn’t interested in him. Even if sometimes Jisung thought he was, he knew that was his own silly delusion. He was probably going to date that Seungmin guy. If he asked Minho out, he’d probably say yes.

Frustration swelled in his heart. 

“I have an idea,” Felix said then. “I’ll go get us a drink.”

“What?”

“If he ignores me for a while, then he’s definitely pissed. I never have to wait for service at a bar.”

Jisung really liked Felix’s confidence. He was hot, and he knew it. And he was trying to help him out—even though it was pointless, because he was sure Minho had no interest in him.

But he wanted a drink, and he knew Minho wouldn’t give him one, even if he said he’d pay.

Felix kissed his cheek. “Be right back.”

Jisung watched as he skipped over to the bar, his pink fur cardigan hanging off his shoulders. He really was beautiful, and Minho would be stupid not to think Felix was hot. Maybe he would actually flirt with him, which would make everything ten times worse, since Felix seemed to be around Jisung’s age. The jealousy might make him explode.

But he waited, waited, and waited—and Jisung couldn’t believe Minho actually walked right past him as Felix tried to get his attention.

No. He couldn’t read into this. He was just busy—even though the bar had mostly cleared out, and he still passed by Felix without even a glance. When he finally took his order, Jisung’s heart fluttered when the daggers in Minho’s eyes flicked over Felix’s shoulder and caught his gaze.

He quickly turned away. Shit. He was pissed. Honestly, he’d never seen Minho so mad before in his life. 

When he dared to look again, Minho was making the drinks Felix had ordered. And when he slid them across the bar, his eyes were dark. Minho had never been angry with him before. But he was definitely mad right now. 

Felix strutted back over with the drinks, something fruity-looking. 

“Here you go, cutie.”

Jisung thanked him before reaching for the glass. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t get Minho’s expression out of his head. 

“So, yeah. He reminded me that glass isn’t allowed on the dance floor—which I’m pretty sure isn’t even a rule,” Felix laughed. “Holy hell, babe, he’s so into you. Look at him. He’s still fuming.”

Jisung glanced at the bar, and Minho wasn’t even being subtle. He was staring right at them, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Even when a customer called for him, his eyes barely left their direction. 

But he was probably just mad that Jisung was fucking around and straying from the bar. That was all it was. He was just babysitting him. Some annoying kid he had to look after. That was all he’d ever been.

Jisung tipped his head back and chugged his drink, making Felix laugh. 

“Shit—are you trying to get drunk?”

“Well, if glass isn’t allowed on the dance floor…” he trailed off with a shrug, grabbing Felix’s waist and tipping his drink towards his lips.

Felix let him, pliantly drinking it all, giggling as he pulled the empty glass away. 

“You’re fun,” Felix said, taking his hand and dragging him to the dance floor. “We should be friends.”

“Would your boyfriend be okay with that?” he asked, still a little wary. 

“Oh, for sure. Don’t worry. We have a very secure relationship. Changbin is my everything.”

“That must be…really nice.” Jisung wondered what it was like to have somebody to love that intensely.

“And if you ever wanna join, just let me know. We’re always looking for someone.”

Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Join?”

“Yeah. You know, like, be our third.”

“I don’t—uh…”

Felix laughed loudly. “I know. I’m half-kidding. You seem more like the exclusive type.”

He definitely was. If he ever had a boyfriend, he wouldn’t be okay with sharing. If Minho were his, he’d want him all to himself. The thought of someone else kissing him made something painful twist in his chest.

“I think I am.”

“You are. And that’s totally okay. But I’d let you fuck me,” Felix said dreamily, making Jisung choke on his tongue. “You’re a sweetheart. You’d be gentle, but might lose a little control—but Binnie would set you straight. He likes to be in charge. I think you’d like to be pushed around a little, put in your place.”

Jisung flushed. Was that true? Was he that easy to read? Maybe Felix had a gift for figuring out someone’s kinks just from a simple kiss. But there was no way he could join them.

“Well…I’ll let you know.”

Felix chuckled again. “I won’t hold my breath. But we should still be friends. Best friends—what do you say?”

A smile came to Jisung’s lips. He was happy he stumbled across Felix tonight. His mood had been sour, but Felix’s bubbly, sweet aura had dragged him out of it.

They danced, the lights gleaming down on them as one of Jisung’s favorite songs played over the speakers. 

“I love this song,” he said, pulling Felix closer by his hips. 

“Oh my god, same.”

They danced and sang loudly, definitely a little drunk. Felix’s boyfriend eventually brought them both another drink and danced with them for a bit before kissing Felix deeply and tugging him away.

And maybe that was his cue to get lost. 

He was swaying a little, and he probably should sit down somewhere, but before he could leave, Felix’s deep voice cut through the music.

“Jisungie,” Felix whined, reaching for him. He grabbed his arm and pulled him close, Jisung’s eyes widening as he kissed his lips again, slow and sweet. “Text me. Give me your number.”

They exchanged contact information, and Felix kissed him once more before finally pulling back.

“Last chance. Wanna come home with us? We’ll have so much fun,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, but his tone was lighthearted. 

“Ah…” Jisung shook his head, feeling a little dizzy. 

Felix chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give up on my hopes to suck your cock. But don’t forget, the offer never expires.”

Jisung laughed loudly, his cheeks coloring. Felix was kind of wild. But he was kind. 

“Now, go get your man. He’s still looking at you, by the way.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered again. When he looked over his shoulder, Minho really was staring at him, but he didn’t look happy.

Fuck. He was definitely going to chew him out. 

Felix waved goodbye, making him promise to text him before his boyfriend tugged him off the dance floor.

Jisung sighed, turning towards the bar. He kept his gaze down, but he could feel those intense eyes on him. He climbed up on the barstool, almost tipping over, grabbing the ledge to steady himself. 

He expected Minho to say something, but he didn’t. A glass was set in front of him, the nozzle filling it with water. When he finally glanced up, Minho looked disappointed.

But that wasn’t fucking fair. 

“What?” he snapped, hiccupping immediately after. 

“Drink that entire glass. And don’t even think about leaving the bar for the rest of the night.”

An angry fire burned in Jisung’s chest. 

“You’re not the boss of me.” 

“Don’t. Argue,” he said sharply. 

“Or what? Are you gonna tell Chan and tattle on me? News flash—I don’t give a fuck.”

“Watch your attitude,” he warned. “You’ve been out of control tonight.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, and Minho took a deep breath. 

A customer called him from the other side of the bar, making him curse under his breath.

“Stay here. I mean it, Jisung.” 

If it were anyone else giving him demands, he would’ve hopped off the barstool. But since it was Minho, he stayed put, just like he was told.

He sipped his water as he watched Minho take care of a customer. Then he realized that Seungmin guy was nowhere to be found. 

Good.  

When Minho came back over, he immediately filled Jisung’s glass to the top with more water. 

“Keep drinking.”

“Where’s your cute boyfriend?” Jisung blurted out, knowing the alcohol made the words fly out of his mouth. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy you’ve been flirting with all night. And last weekend too. I see the way you look at him.” 

Minho blinked at him, completely unamused. 

“Seungmin is just a friend,” he said calmly.

Jisung scoffed. “That’s bullshit. You’re in love with him.”

“Jisung—”

“Why else would you completely ignore me for the rest of the night? You obviously like him. He’s cute, totally your type, and he’s your age. He has really pretty eyes. He’s perfect for you. Just perfect.” 

He needed to shut up before he said something he regretted, but the words kept spilling out. 

“So, whatever! Why are you even mad? Why do you even care if I stay close to the bar? You don’t care about me anyway. You don’t—you don’t fucking care about me.”

Jisung’s face was tilted towards the bar counter, tears falling into his water. He couldn’t stop himself from crying. If Minho got a boyfriend, it would destroy him. And maybe that little crush he’d had for years had swollen until it consumed his entire heart.

“Hey,” Minho said gently. He tried to tilt his chin up, but Jisung moved his face away. 

“Jisung, look at me.” 

If it were anyone else…

He slowly raised his head, sniffling as more tears poured down his cheeks. 

“Wh—what?” he hiccupped. 

Minho let out a soft sigh and reached out to brush the tears from his cheeks. His thumbs were gentle as they rubbed against his skin. 

“I do care about you. More than you even know.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered, but only for a second, before he remembered Minho’s smile as he looked at his so-called friend.

“No, you don’t,” he sobbed. “You ignored me. You—you wanted to spend time with that other guy and not me.” 

It was humiliating, crying like this at the bar and pouring out his heart, but he couldn’t stop. His heart ached at the thought of Minho liking someone else. He hated it. 

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

Minho sighed again. “I’m sorry, okay? Seungmin is moving out of town soon. He’s just been stopping by to see me before he leaves.”

Jisung averted his gaze, suddenly feeling silly. But he couldn’t lie—he was thrilled that guy wouldn’t be coming back.

“Is that why you broke up?”

They had to have dated. The way they looked at each other had to mean something.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’ve never dated. He’s just a friend.” 

Jisung sniffled. “Really?”

That sweet smile, the one Jisung wanted reserved just for him, returned to his face. Minho brushed away the last of his tears, and Jisung didn’t like how cold he felt when he pulled back, even though it was hot inside the bar. 

“Stay,” Minho said again, needing to help another customer. 

Jisung quickly wiped his cheeks, embarrassed by how vulnerable he’d been. The alcohol was really getting to him. It made him honest, stupid, and emotional.

He chugged the rest of his water, needing to sober up before he said anything else—or worse, before he admitted that he had a crush on him. 

When Minho came back over, he reached out again to brush his thumb over his cheek. This was new. Minho had never touched him like this. Maybe a pat on the head or a squeeze on the shoulder in passing, but never something this…intimate. 

“What’s with the outfit tonight?” 

Jisung flushed, scowling a little. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, you don’t usually dress up,” Minho said.

“I just wanted to look nice. Is that a crime?” he grumbled. 

“No,” Minho said, flicking his eyes away. “You look pretty.” 

Jisung’s heart swelled, his palms starting to sweat. The compliment made his stomach tingle. 

“Was this part of your plan? Hitting on random guys on the dance floor until you got lucky?” 

His tone completely changed, and there was something off about it. 

“I…wasn’t…” 

That wasn’t even why he dressed up. He wanted Minho to notice, not some random guy. Although he guessed he got to meet Felix because of it. 

He gasped softly when Minho reached out to button up his shirt, until only one was left open, his chest and tattoo no longer showing. 

“But you went out to the dance floor and made out with some guy.”

Jisung swallowed nervously. “No—I was just—”

“Were you using him to get drinks, then?”

Fuck. He couldn’t tell him his stupid plan to try to make him jealous. 

“I was bored. I just…”

“Wanted attention?”

Jisung’s breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “What? N-No.” 

Minho hummed, unconvinced. 

“He was nice. But he had a boyfriend. And it wasn’t like that anyway. I was just having fun.”

Minho nodded, still unamused. Actually, he looked even more pissed now.

“Fun, huh?” 

“Why do you even care?” Jisung mumbled.

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because Minho glanced at him, his eyes narrowing. 

“You know Chan doesn’t want you messing around with the customers here.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “I can mess around with whoever I want. Chan can’t tell me what to do.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before looking him dead in the eyes. 

“I don’t want you messing around with the customers here.” 

Jisung’s heart threatened to burst. 

“What?” 

“I watched you all night, dancing up on some guy, kissing him, and if something happened when I wasn’t looking, then—”

“Felix was nice. He wasn’t some loser who wanted to fuck me in one of those shitty back rooms Chan runs.”

Well, he did want to fuck him. But he’d kindly invited him back to his place. Much classier. 

“He got you drunk.”

“It’s a bar, Minho,” he rolled his eyes. “And you’re the one who told him he couldn’t take the glass out onto the dance floor. That’s not even a rule, so why did you say that?”

The tips of Minho’s ears turned bright red, something Jisung only ever saw when he was flustered—which was rare. 

“You’re drunk,” he said, diverting the conversation. 

“I’m barely drunk.” 

He was very drunk.

Minho eyed him carefully. “My shift is over in an hour. Sit there, wait for me, and drink your water.”

Jisung grumbled incoherently. But he did what Minho said. 

Just like he always did. 

He rested his head on the counter as Minho walked away to help another customer. His heart was still racing, and he realized how dizzy he was when he closed his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed how late it had gotten. 

He usually left right before Minho’s shift ended—because what fun was it if Minho wasn’t around?

The music was bumping, but even with the loudness in his ears, he drifted off. Maybe he’d drunk more than he thought.

He groaned when someone started moving him, but he was too tired to lift his head.

“Jisung, wake up.” Minho’s soft voice blanketed his ears, pulling him even deeper into his slumber.

He tried to tell him not to worry, to just let him sleep, but he wasn’t sure if the words actually came out. 

“Come on, baby, get up.”

Maybe Jisung was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. Minho didn’t just call him that. He was being delusional. 

He hummed and opened his eyes. Everything swirled when he lifted his face.

Fuck. He didn’t feel great. 

“Minho,” he whimpered.

“There you are,” he said, cupping his cheek. “Awake now?”

Jisung mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. “I feel sick. I’m tired.”

“I know. Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” 

When he slipped off the stool, Minho wrapped an arm around his waist. He could barely stand, and he wasn’t sure how he’d felt even more drunk than before. 

Minho helped him to the exit, but not before Chan’s voice stopped them from behind. 

“Minho? What’s going on?”

Minho turned slowly, pulling Jisung around with him. 

“Hey, I’m taking Jisung home.” 

Jisung whined, his head aching. He didn’t feel like listening to Chan chide him about getting drunk. 

“What the hell happened? How much did you give him?”

“It wasn’t—Minho’s fault. Don’t yell at him,” Jisung groaned.

“He decided to party tonight. I was watching him the best I could,” Minho said, completely throwing him under the bus. He never did that, so he really must have been pissed about it. 

Jisung was so tired he could barely see, but he heard Chan’s deep sigh. 

“Jisung, haven’t I told you a million times, I don’t want you—”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Leave me alone. I was just—having fun,” he complained. He was definitely going to get in trouble tomorrow for telling his older brother to shut up, but he didn’t want to hear it right now. 

“I’ll take him home. Don’t worry,” Minho said. 

Chan sighed again. “Thank you. Thank you for looking out for him.”

“Of course.” 

Jisung wanted to tell him to shut up again, but then the cool air hit his face, clearing his head a little.

Minho tugged him along gently, but walking was something Jisung really didn’t feel like doing.

“Carry me,” he whined.

“Carry you?”

“Please?” he begged. “I don’t wanna walk.”

When Minho was quiet for too long, Jisung started whining again.

“Please, please, please, please, plea—”

“Okay, alright,” he said, kneeling down for him. “Hop on.”

Jisung slumped onto his back, making Minho tip forward a little before he secured his hands under Jisung’s knees.

“Easy now.” 

Jisung giggled. “Am I too heavy?” 

“Not at all. Light as a feather,” he said, standing up like Jisung weighed nothing.

He pressed his face into his neck, breathing in deeply. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he liked Minho’s sweet scent. 

“Ready?” 

But Jisung didn’t really want to go home, or to be alone. 

“Can I sleep over?” he asked. And since he was drunk, his confidence was boosted by the liquor, so he didn’t even think twice about it.

“Uh—maybe I should just take you home.”

“Please?” 

He didn’t want this attention to end. He wanted more of it. 

Minho turned his face towards him, and Jisung couldn’t stop himself from pressing his forehead to his cheek. 

“I want to go home with you.” Jisung heard Minho swallow. It was so thick it was hard to miss. 

“Jisung, I don’t think that’s—“

“What if I get sick? You’re supposed to be watching me, remember? You promised Chan.”

He was talking nonsense, but he did feel a little ill. And it definitely wasn’t fair to throw Chan’s request in his face. He just desperately needed Minho to say yes. 

“Pleaseee?” he added, hoping his whining would work. 

“Okay—yeah, okay.”

Jisung snuggled happily into his neck, and he swore he felt lips brush the top of his head, but maybe he was too drunk to properly tell.

The ride was a bit bumpy, but Jisung didn’t mind, even if it made his stomach queasy. When they finally reached Minho’s apartment, which wasn’t far from the bar, he melted as Minho’s scent surrounded him.

He was surprised when Minho didn’t let him down. Instead, he carried him through the apartment, kicked open a door, and set him on the softest, sweetest-smelling sheets he’d ever come across. 

He wanted to lie down so badly, but Minho kept him upright. 

Minho took off his shoes, and when he reached for Jisung’s shirt, he hesitated.

“Can I take this off?” 

Jisung smirked. “Why? You wanna fuck?” 

He giggled when Minho’s ears turned bright red.

“I’m joking,” he laughed. “It’s not like you’re even interested in me. Or like me. Or think of me like that. You’ll never…want me like that. I’m just some stupid kid to you. Chan’s annoying little brother. A bother.”

Fuck, what was he even saying? 

“That’s…that’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, baby. It’s not.”

Maybe the alcohol really was playing tricks on his mind. 

“That’s not all you are to me,” Minho continued. “You’re never a bother. Never, okay?” 

Minho brushed his fingers over his cheek, and Jisung hadn’t even realized he’d started crying. 

“Then why were you with someone else? You like him more than me. You ignored me.”

Minho sighed. “I wasn’t. That’s not true, and I already told you why.”

Jisung didn’t want to hear the lies.

“Take my shirt off,” he demanded suddenly. 

“Baby—”

“I want it off. Take it off,” he whined even louder. 

Okay,” Minho whispered quickly. “Just settle down.”

Jisung was going insane. He wanted more of him, even though he couldn’t have him. He wanted him to touch him, to call him pretty, to kiss him—just like Felix had earlier. 

He wanted Minho to tell him he wanted him, to whisper in his ear that he wanted his body. He wanted Minho to fuck him so badly. He’d thought about it more than once, touching himself, wishing it were him. 

He reached out slowly and undid the buttons, all the way down, until the silk shirt hung open. The fabric slipped off his shoulders, and Minho’s eyes were on his chest, then his side, taking in his tattoos. But he was silent.

And that was driving Jisung crazy. 

“You think they’re stupid, don’t you?” he asked, getting choked up.

Minho had seen his tattoos before—but not like this. Not with Jisung sitting on his bed, half naked, this close. 

“No,” he said, cupping his cheek, “I don’t think that at all.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I’m ugly?”

Maybe he was being a little insecure, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when Minho constantly attracted all these hot men and women at the bar. 

“Ugly?” he asked, dumbfounded. “If there’s one thing you’re not, Jisung, it’s ugly. Not to me.”

“Really?”

Minho blinked at him, something in his gaze Jisung couldn’t decipher in his drunken state. He sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Minho rarely cursed. 

“What?” 

“I can’t…I shouldn’t be…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Let’s get you a shirt and get you into bed.”

Jisung wanted to argue, but then his head started to hurt, and his stomach felt sick again. He desperately wanted to know what Minho was thinking, but he stood and turned away to rifle through his closet. 

He pulled out a shirt that was way too big, and when he slipped it over Jisung’s head, it fell halfway down his thighs. 

“Do you want to take your pants off? Or you can leave them on until I’m gone.” 

“Gone?” he asked, panic laced in his voice. 

“I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“No. Sleep with me.”

Minho cursed under his breath again. 

“No, Jisung. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

He wanted to beg and plead, but he was genuinely losing consciousness. But he didn’t want him to go. He wanted him to crawl into bed next to him, he wanted that attention he craved so badly. 

“Give me a hug before you go.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “A—what?”

“Hug. I want a hug.”

Okay, maybe it really was time for him to go to bed.

Minho let out a soft chuckle. “You are going to have a rough morning.”

“Huuuug,” he complained, holding his arms open. 

The softest sigh left Minho’s lips, and when he wrapped his arms around his middle, Jisung wondered if he could feel his rapid heartbeat. He could blame it on the liquor racing through his veins, and Minho’s intense warmth making it worse. 

He held on tightly, wishing he never had to let go. He liked Minho so much. He liked the way he smelled. He liked his soft voice. He liked the way he rubbed his back in tiny circles. 

“Okay. Bedtime,” Minho said, trying to pull back. 

Jisung pretended to fall asleep, even though he was clinging tighter than before. 

“Jisung, come on.”

“No,” he whimpered. He didn’t want to let go. 

“Jisung,” Minho said again, and Jisung really liked the way he spoke his name so gently.

“Minho,” he replied, trying to copy him. But honestly, it just came out whiny and pathetic. 

Minho eventually wiggled out of Jisung’s grasp, since he was falling asleep sitting up. He really was exhausted, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t hang on any longer. 

More incoherent speech left his lips, and Minho finally laid him down. His scent surrounded him, and he snuggled into the soft pillow. It smelled completely of Minho. 

A gentle hand brushed the hair from his forehead.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Jisung wanted to ask what he meant by that, but only a weak hum escaped him. 

The next thing he knew, the lights were off, Minho’s warmth was gone, and he drifted into slumber. 

Minho was gone when Jisung woke up. His head ached, and his hangover was worse than he’d expected. He was a little embarrassed about last night—from what he could remember. He’d cried, begged, whined, and probably said things he shouldn’t have.

He checked his phone to see a few texts. Some from his new friend Felix, asking to grab coffee sometime, a couple from Chan, yelling at him for yesterday, and one from Minho, who rarely texted him. 

Went to the gym

He frowned. His message seemed cold. 

Did he really have to go to the gym this morning? Was he ignoring him? Was he hoping Jisung would be gone before he got back? Maybe. He’d drunk too much last night. Drinking always made him sloppy. And maybe he’d admitted too much. 

Did Minho know about his crush now? Had he been too obvious? His heart filled with anxiety. If Minho started treating him differently, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

He reluctantly changed out of Minho’s shirt, even though he desperately wanted to keep it on. His entire body was wrapped in Minho’s scent, and he didn’t even want to shower, afraid it would wash away. 

When he left Minho’s room, he noticed the spot where Minho had slept on the couch. It definitely wasn’t big enough to sprawl out on comfortably. He left the apartment with a heavy heart, realizing he was probably more of a bother than he intended. 

He’d been drunk and not thinking straight. All he’d wanted was Minho’s attention—but now he’d ruined everything. 

On his walk home, his phone rang.

Chan

He thought about ignoring it, but he knew if he didn’t answer now, he’d just hear about it later. 

He sighed and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re awake. I’m surprised.” 

Jisung wanted to say something snarky, but he bit his tongue. 

“What’s up?” he asked, hoping Chan would get to whatever point he wanted to make.

“Jisung, I don’t want you coming to the bar anymore. And I mean it this time.” 

Anger swelled in his chest. He’d heard those words a billion times before, but something in Chan’s tone was different. 

“What? Why?”

Chan sighed. “Because. Things have been getting busier at the bar, and I can’t keep putting the burden on Minho to keep an eye on you when he doesn’t have the capacity. Especially when you act the way you did last night.”

Jisung stopped on the sidewalk, heart aching. 

“I want you to apologize to Minho for your behavior yesterday. And I want you to stay away from the bar from now on.”

Jisung’s lip wobbled. Usually, he would argue, but the tears were right on the edge, threatening to spill. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you. I do, Jisung. You’re my little brother, and I don’t want you mixed up in these things. And yesterday you proved to me that you can’t behave properly in an environment that could be potentially dangerous.”

He gritted his teeth. He was overreacting. He was being way too overprotective. Jisung wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t a child, too naive to know when he was in danger. 

Jisung hung up. Chan was definitely going to be pissed about that, but he didn’t want to listen to it anymore. 

Burden.

Was that all he was to Minho?

Maybe. 

And that was enough to make the tears fall, his heart crushed to pieces as he realized Minho would never see him as anything more than Chan’s annoying little brother.

Jisung sulked all week. Minho had texted him later that day after he left, but he ignored it. 

Are you feeling okay? 

He didn’t need to pretend to care about him. 

It was hard to even feel excited about the gig his band had secured at a local bar and restaurant next weekend. It was their first one, and he knew he should’ve been celebrating with his bandmates, but it was Friday night, and all he could think of was Minho. 

He wanted to run to the bar and tell him. He wanted to invite him to come see them play. But instead, he decided he would let go of his crush, knowing it was stupid to fall in love with Minho in the first place.

A beautiful man, fourteen years older than him, completely out of his league, and friends with his brother. He never had a chance, and never should’ve given it a thought. To Minho, Jisung was just a bother, some stupid kid, not someone he could ever love. 

He was sulking in his room when his phone rang. He wondered if it was his bandmates, begging him to come out again. But when he saw the selfie Felix took in that pretty pink cardigan pop up on his screen, he answered immediately.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, babe. Come out tonight. We’re going downtown,” Felix said. 

Jisung sighed. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Cancel whatever else you have going on. I want to hang out. Please?”

Felix was cute. But Jisung just wasn’t in the mood. Maybe partying at another bar would help make him feel slightly better, but honestly, he only wanted to see Minho. 

“Sorry. I really can’t tonight.”

Felix was quiet for a moment before humming softly over the line. 

“Okay, what’s wrong? You sound depressed.”

If he could trust anyone with his feelings, it was definitely Felix. Besides, he was the only one who knew about the way he felt for Minho. 

“Minho isn’t into me.”

“Uh, bullshit.”

Jisung sighed. “No, it’s true.”

“Didn’t I tell you I’m never wrong? That guy is head over heels for you, babe. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Felix couldn’t fill his heart with hope like this. He just couldn’t. 

“He’s not. He sees me as just his friend’s younger brother. Annoying. A bother. Just a pain in his ass, probably.”

“Did he say that?” he asked. 

Jisung messed with his sheets, tangling his fingers in them. 

“I mean…no. Not exactly, but—”

“Wanna know what I think?” Felix asked, and Jisung should’ve said no instead of letting him get his hopes up. “I think he wants to fuck his best friend’s younger brother and is terrified to act on his feelings.”

Jisung flushed. There was no way that was true. 

“No…he doesn’t…”

“Babe, listen. He looks at you like you’re the light of his life. And his attitude was serious when I went to the bar to get us drinks. Like, he didn’t know me, but he hated me,” he laughed. 

That didn’t mean anything, though. He could’ve been having a bad night. He could’ve just thought Felix was a rude customer. It didn’t mean that he liked him. 

“I don’t know.”

“Tell him you like him,” he said, making Jisung’s eyes go wide. 

“What?”

“Tell him you like him,” he repeated. “And tell him you want him to fuck you.”

“Felix,” he choked out. “I can’t—I can’t say that.”

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to ask him to fuck you. I totally would, but I forget you’re not as bold,” he giggled. “But I’m serious. Tell him you like him.”

Jisung swallowed nervously. Could he even do that? What if he rejected him? What if he thought he was joking? What if he patted his head and laughed, like he was just some silly kid? 

He would rather die. 

“What if he doesn’t feel the same? I can’t…” 

He hated feeling unwanted. He hated feeling like a bother. If his feelings were nothing but a burden, then everything would change. 

“He does. I know he does. So go get your man.”

Jisung blinked rapidly at the ceiling before sitting up. 

“Tonight?”

“Why not? Isn’t he working?” 

“Yeah, but…” 

Chan had sounded like he meant it when he told him to stop coming to the bar. 

“Why are you full of buts? I promise everything will work out.”

Jisung couldn’t help but worry.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“Then you can date me and my boyfriend.”

Jisung sighed. “Lix…”

“I’m joking,” he said, and Jisung could hear his smirk. “There’s no way your man is into sharing, either. He seems possessive.”

His heart fluttered. Was he? 

“Now get ready. Make yourself hot. Make him unable to resist—which won’t be hard, because you’re the cutest hottie I’ve ever seen.”

“Keep saying things like that, and I might think you’re in love with me.”

“Hey, like I said before, my offer to suck your cock is still on the table.”

Jisung laughed. “You’re insane. Did you know that?”

“I just know a sweet, pretty boy when I see one. And you’re a total catch. And that bartender would be stupid not to snag you up.” 

Jisung flushed. He really was thankful for Felix.

“Thank you.”

“Any time, sweet cheeks. And make sure to call me after and tell me all about it. I bet he’s crazy in bed.”

“I’m just telling him I like him,” he reminded him.

“And I’m telling you, he’s gonna lose control when you do.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “We’ll see.”

“Call me. I love you. Have fun!” 

A small chuckle left his lips as Felix hung up. He felt a bit better, but it quickly shifted into anxiety.

Because he was going to tell Minho everything. 

He hopped out of bed and took a shower for the first time in days, scrubbing away everything and lathering himself in body soap, wanting to smell fresh.

When he dried off, he sprayed his perfume all over his body, from his neck to his hips, enveloping himself in the musky scent.

His hair wasn’t cooperating, but he put a slight wave in it and threw on a dark brown hat. He matched it with a dark brown leather jacket, light-wash jeans, and a white cheetah-print shirt. Sunglasses probably weren’t needed, since it was dark, but they completed the look along with a sparkling cross necklace. 

Hopefully, Minho thought he looked hot. He spread his blueberry chapstick over his lips, making them shine bright red. 

He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. He tried not to run, but his rapid heartbeat quickened his pace.

When he got there, the bar was crowded. If he wanted in, he’d have to sneak through the back like usual—Chan always told the bouncers not to let him in.

He rushed into the alley and unlocked the keypad to the back door. Chan never changed it, and he had no idea why. He quickly slipped inside and closed the door gently. He left his bag in Chan’s small office space and tucked his loose strands of hair beneath his cap. 

The music was loud tonight, and Jisung was surprised to see half-naked dancers on the floor. Maybe that was why Chan didn’t want him here. He really was turning the place into an entertainment venue. 

He forgot his nerves for a moment, but as he walked along the bar, his heart dropped into his stomach. Minho wasn’t behind the bar tonight. It was Jeongin, with his million-dollar smile, making drinks for customers. 

Where was he? He always worked Friday nights.

He approached the bar, and when Jeongin spotted him, his eyes went wide. 

“Jisung? Didn’t Chan say you weren’t allowed in here?” he asked, leaning over the bar to speak to him. 

“I’m never allowed in here,” he reminded him, pushing up his sunglasses. 

“Then what’re you doing? You’re gonna get me in trouble if I don’t tell him I saw you.”

He wanted to roll his eyes. Minho would never blow him in like that. 

“Where’s Minho?”

“Minho? He had something personal going on tonight, so we switched shifts.”

“Personal? Like what?” he pressed, knowing Jeongin knew. And he wasn’t going to leave until he told him. 

“I think his friend is moving out of town, and they went out or something. I’m not sure the exact details,” he said, making Jisung’s heart sink. “Why?”

He was out with that Seungmin guy? Were they on a date? He said they were just friends, but could he believe that? Maybe they were trying to figure out how to make long-distance work. Maybe Seungmin was confessing his feelings before he left, and maybe Minho would accept them. 

His heart was completely shattered. 

“Hey—where are you going?” Jeongin called as he backed away from the bar. 

He ran to the bathroom. Thankfully, there was no one inside, so when he sobbed into the sink, no one was staring at him with judgmental eyes. 

It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t meant to fall in love. But he loved this man, the one who made him feel special when he looked at him. It wasn’t fair that he was fourteen years younger, making this crush even more embarrassing. He hated that he was his brother’s friend, making it all but impossible to be together.

He was jealous. So jealous that his tears kept falling. Minho couldn’t love someone else. He couldn’t. He didn’t want him giving attention to anyone else. He wanted him all to himself. 

He loved him. 

He quickly pulled out his phone. He was completely sober this time, so he didn’t have the courage rushing through his veins like before. But he needed to say it. 

“Jisung?” 

He sounded confused. Jisung had never called him before. 

His heart swelled. His voice caught in his throat. 

“Minho…”

“Jisung, where are you? Are you at the bar? Are you drunk?” 

He didn’t answer his questions, because he knew someone could walk into the bathroom at any second. But he could probably hear the music in the background and figure it out. 

Jisung only had one thing to say. 

“I love you.”

It was quiet over the line for a moment, just a few sniffles from Jisung’s end.

He said it. He couldn’t believe it. But he meant it, wholeheartedly. 

“Where are you?” 

He shook his head, letting more tears fall. 

He was nothing but a burden, even more so now that he had spilled his forbidden feelings. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Jisung, hey, listen to me. Tell me where you—”

He hung up. There was nothing else to say.

He rubbed his wet cheeks, looking at himself in the mirror. At least he looked hot. But it was time to head home. Without Minho here, he really wasn’t interested in hanging out at the bar. 

He jumped when someone walked in, their eyes landing on him immediately. He blinked his gaze away, thinking about putting his sunglasses back on, even if it would look completely ridiculous. 

“Hey, sweetheart—what’s with the tears?” 

Jisung flushed. He looked over at him again, noticing the smirk on his face. The man had to be in his late forties. Jisung could see the gray peppered in his hair, and the wrinkles near his eyes. 

He walked closer, and Jisung should have stepped back, but instead, he blinked up at him. He was taller, by a couple of centimeters, holding a beer in his hand. 

He was in a business suit, and the watch on his wrist was expensive. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and he was definitely drunk. 

He brushed Jisung’s hair behind his ear, the strands that kept poking out from under his hat. “Would you hold this for me, sweet thing?”

Jisung wasn’t sure why he did as he asked. Usually, he’d tell him to fuck off and get lost. But his heart was too broken, and the attention was enough to make him compliant.

The man winked at him before turning to relieve himself. Jisung stood there awkwardly, staring at the wall, knowing he should just set the beer down and leave.

But his heart was heavy, and this guy looked at him like he was willing to give him the attention he craved. 

When he was finished and washed his hands, he took his beer back. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” he mumbled.

The man reached out, tilting Jisung’s chin up. “Who made you cry, huh?”

“My boyfriend.” He wasn’t sure why he lied, but maybe it would make him more enticing.

“What kind of guy makes his pretty boy cry alone in a shitty bar?”

He ignored the comment about the bar but let him rub his thumb over his bottom lip.

“A shitty boyfriend,” he mumbled. 

The guy laughed, pulling back his thumb and pressing it to his own lips. He licked Jisung’s chapstick off his thumb, his eyes narrowing on him. 

“Well, what would you say if I asked if you wanted to spend the night with me? Forget that boyfriend of yours,” he suggested.

This was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. 

“Okay.”

The man smirked. “I’m Youngho.”

“Jisung,” he said. “How old are you?”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“I asked you first,” he said, reaching to grasp his tie.

“Forty-seven,” he told him. “Your turn now.”

“Twenty-seven.” He wasn’t sure why he lied. Maybe if he were a little older, things could be different. He wished he were the same age as Minho. Maybe then he’d want him.

The man leaned in, like his age didn’t matter, and Jisung’s breath hitched when he kissed his neck. 

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“No,” he blurted out. 

The older man raised an eyebrow at him. 

If they went to the bar, Jeongin would immediately run and tell Chan.

“We should just…” He pulled him closer by the tie.

“You wanna head to those back rooms they have here?”

Jisung’s heart fluttered. This was stupid. So, so stupid. Chan would kill him. Minho would be disappointed. 

But he quickly decided he didn’t fucking care. 

“Yeah.”

Jisung gasped as he sucked harder on his neck, definitely leaving a mark. He’d had sex before, but only a few times with a friend from college. They’d messed around, it had been fun, the sex had felt good, and they were still friends. But it had been a while, and they didn’t hook up anymore. 

“Eager. I like that.”

A shiver ran up Jisung’s spine. And when the man pulled back, he tried to kiss him, but he turned away. 

“I don’t want to…I mean, not here.”

The man smirked. “Of course, sweet thing. Let me pay for a proper room. Then I’ll make you forget all about that boyfriend of yours. I promise.” 

He slipped his hand down to intertwine their fingers. His touch was rough, sweaty, and uncomfortable. But Jisung couldn’t be picky. 

He’d let this guy fuck him, clear his mind of Minho. If he had to let go, then he would need help forgetting. Luckily, Jeongin was too busy attending to customers to notice Jisung walk by with a man double his age, heading to the back rooms where sex and drugs were common.

Maybe he’d been curious, wanting to know what the rooms were like. Chan would never let him set foot back here.

At another bar, the one where you paid for a room, Jisung put his hood and sunglasses on so the guy behind the counter wouldn’t recognize him. His heart hammered.

“One room—two hours,” the man said, sliding cash over the bar.

“Room nine,” he replied, and suddenly, this felt very real.

The hall was long, separated from the rest of the bar, but when he heard loud moans, laughter, and chatter behind the closed doors as he passed them, he started to panic. 

He was about to sleep with a man because his heart was broken. The gloss he’d put on his lips tonight, the one he wanted Minho to taste, would be wiped off by a stranger instead.

As they approached room nine, he accepted it. He was going to let go and have fun—completely move on.

He gasped as a sudden hand gripped the neck of his jacket. He was tugged back aggressively, and the man he’d come with was slammed against the door.

“What—what the fuck?” the man choked out, a fist clenched in his messy dress shirt. 

Jisung’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Minho.

He pulled him back and slammed him into the door again, teeth clenched and eyes wild.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hissed.

Minho shoved a wad of dirty cash into the man’s mouth, everything he had paid at the counter. 

“Take your money back. And get the fuck out of here.”

The man stumbled when Minho shoved him to the side. And before Jisung could react, he was grabbed by the wrist and thrown into the room. 

The door clicked shut behind him, and after Minho pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, he turned around. His eyes were furious, shaking Jisung to his core. 

“What on earth were you thinking?” Minho snapped. 

Jisung’s heart pounded so hard he could barely breathe.

“Do you even know what these rooms are for?” 

That made Jisung’s jaw clench. “Yeah, I know what these rooms are for. I’m not some stupid, naive kid.”

Minho let out a humorless laugh. “You’re not? Then care to explain why you’re back here with a guy thirty years older than you?” 

He was pissed. He’d never heard him sound so mad before. 

But Jisung didn’t have to explain anything to him. He was letting him go tonight, and Minho was ruining it. 

“It’s none of your business.”

Minho stepped closer. “You are my business.”

Jisung felt the anger swell in his chest. 

“You don’t have to care about me just because Chan tells you to!” he yelled back. He was tired—so fucking tired. 

Minho closed his eyes, frustration written all over his face. 

“Jisung—”

“Why are you even here?! You can stop pretending like you give a shit! I’m a burden, right? Just like Chan said—all I do is burden you!” 

Tears welled up again, and a sob escaped his chest. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was overwhelmed. He wasn’t expecting Minho to be here. He was planning to let go.

Minho stepped even closer, his tone immediately changing. “No, baby, stop saying that. You’re not a burden to me.” 

Jisung’s heart fluttered.

Baby. He said it so softly. 

But then his ears turned bright red, and he shook his head.

“That’s—what Chan said. That’s what he said,” he blubbered. “That all I do—is burden you.”

He couldn’t stop crying, hiccuping between breaths. 

Minho reached out and cupped his cheek. “Well, it’s not true. You’re not a burden to me. You never have been, and never will be.”

Those eyes were on him, the ones Jisung loved so much. He liked his attention—craved it, missed it. But then he remembered that he was supposed to crush these silly feelings tonight. And Minho had been out with someone else. 

He pulled his chin away with a pout. 

“Shouldn’t you be out with your boyfriend? That’s where you were tonight, right?” 

Minho looked surprised. “I was out with my friends.” 

“You were out with him,” he hissed. “And if you like him, then just tell me.”

Minho ran a stressed hand through his hair. “I already told you, we’re just friends.” 

“You’re such a liar.” 

“I’m not lying,” he said, clearly annoyed. “I don’t like Seungmin like that. We’re just friends.”

Jisung bit his lip and flicked his eyes away, but Minho tipped his chin back, forcing their gaze.

“Why did you call me?”

Jisung shook his head. He couldn’t admit it twice, and there was no way he could say it to his face. The fear of rejection was too much. 

“Have you been drinking?”

No. He was completely sober—which somehow made it even more embarrassing. He just shook his head again.

Minho sighed. “Jisung, what’s going on? Why are you back here? Why were you with that man—especially after you called me and said I love you?”

Fuck. He honestly had no idea what to say. Minho didn’t sound angry anymore, he sounded worried. And Jisung knew he was a complete idiot. He should have kept his feelings locked in his heart. It was easier that way. 

Jisung shrugged, a few more tears falling from his eyes. 

“Please, tell me what’s—”

“Because I do love you,” he blurted out, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to leave this room unless he said it. “But you don’t love me. And you never will,” he cried.

Minho was quiet—way too quiet. When Jisung looked up, his ears were bright red, and his mouth hung slightly open. If he was trying to say something, nothing came out. 

“I know it’s stupid. I know I’m just a kid to you—just Chan’s annoying little brother. I’m so much younger than you. Why would you even look at me like that? Especially when you’ve got guys your age drooling over you all the time.”

He wiped his tears, and Minho still wasn’t saying anything. He knew he would reject him. He should’ve known.

“So yeah, it’s dumb the way I feel. I know it is. But you…sometimes when you look at me, I think that you see me. Like no one else does. And I think maybe you care about me more than anyone ever has.”

He hiccupped, sniffling pathetically.

“But then I remember how stupid it is to think a guy like you would ever want me. And even though I know it’s ridiculous, I hate it when you give attention to other people. I only come to the bar because I want to see you. When you don’t give me attention, it makes me want to scream. When you flirt with other guys, it drives me crazy. I want you to only look at me, but—I know you don’t feel the same.”

His confession came out fast, barely breathing as he said the words. 

“So I’m giving up. And I know this is probably even more of a burden, having to deal with this stupid kid who has a crush on you, but I—”

“You’re not a burden to me,” Minho interrupted him.

Jisung broke, crying harder. “Stop lying. I’m a burden to everyone.”

He was a burden on his parents. He was a burden on Chan. Maybe his insecurities were getting to him, bleeding into everything as he poured his heart out. 

“Baby, that isn’t true.”

Baby. Fuck.

Minho cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together, and Jisung couldn’t help but reach for his shoulders, shaking with his sobs. He couldn’t stop. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. 

When he pulled back, he thumbed away Jisung’s tears. He knew he probably looked pathetic. 

“You mean everything to me,” Minho admitted. 

Jisung almost couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Wh—what?”

“When you called, I could hear you crying. So I left, because I was so worried.”

Jisung blinked at him, barely able to process his words. 

“You think that if I didn’t care about you, that I would do that?” 

“But…”

He’d been with Seungmin—someone more suited, someone older, someone better.

“I…” Minho winced, shaking his head. “I can’t…I know I can’t, but I…”

“You can’t what?” Jisung asked desperately. 

But Minho was quiet again, taking deep breaths, like he was fighting something in his head.

When he finally looked up, he reached out to wipe away the rest of the tear tracks from Jisung’s cheek.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“No. You said you can’t. What can’t you do?” he pressed.

Minho shook his head again. It was starting to piss Jisung off. 

“Don’t tell me no. Just say it.” 

“Jisung—”

“Tell me,” he begged. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because…” he trailed off again. “Come on, we shouldn’t be in here.”

“Don’t change the subject like that,” he complained. 

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Just tell me what you can’t do.”

Minho took a deep, shaky breath, quiet for way too long. But when he finally spoke, Jisung’s world came crashing down. 

“I can’t love you.”

Jisung’s heart snapped—everything he never wanted to hear, shattering it to pieces. 

He nodded slowly before pushing Minho away. He stood from the couch and ran for the door. The pain was unbearable, and he couldn’t look at him anymore. 

They could never be. He’d always known that. But it still hurt so fucking much to hear him say it.

Before he could reach for the door handle, Minho grabbed his wrist. 

“No, Jisung, wait—”

“I get it, okay?!” he screamed. “I won’t bother you ever again!”

“Listen to me—it’s not like that.”

Jisung tried to pull his arm free, but Minho was stronger. When he tugged him to his chest, he pounded on it.

“Stop it! Just let me go!”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t care!”

Minho only squeezed him tighter. 

“I can’t love you,” he said again. “But I do.” 

Jisung froze, his entire body going completely limp. 

“You’re right. You are a lot younger than me. You’re my best friend’s brother. And he would fucking kill me if he knew how much I love you.” 

Jisung’s heart slowly pieced itself back together, and when he looked up, there were tears in Minho’s eyes. 

“So I can’t. I know that I can’t. But with you calling me, telling me you love me…fuck, I just—”

Jisung completely lost his mind. He grabbed Minho by the shirt and yanked him in, slamming their lips together. Sparks shot through him, his mouth tingling against his. Minho was sweeter than he’d imagined, like a subtle vanilla. All the times he’d daydreamed at the bar, staring at him and wondering what it would be like to kiss him, all became a reality. 

The only problem was that Minho was still—way too still.

Jisung kept kissing him anyway, holding on tighter, hoping he would kiss back. He needed him to kiss back. 

A relieved whimper left Jisung’s lips when Minho finally threaded his fingers into his hair, knocking his hat and sunglasses to the floor. He walked him backwards until he slammed him against the wall, tongue slipping into his mouth as Minho devoured him.

His heart raced, and his hands were shaky, hanging onto Minho for dear life, not wanting to let go. 

So when Minho pulled away, Jisung whined loudly, trying to tug him back. 

“No—fuck…stop, stop, stop,” Minho whispered, clenching his eyes shut, like he was arguing with himself.

“No, please don’t stop,” Jisung begged, his voice rough and pathetic. 

Minho’s jaw set, shaking his head. “We can’t.”

“Why not? Please? I want this so much.”

Minho winced. “No, Jisung. We can’t do this.”

“Why?” he cried. “You said—you said you loved me.”

Minho swallowed, head tilted towards the ground as he held Jisung at arm’s length so he couldn’t kiss him again. 

“I do, but…” he trailed off, his voice defeated. 

“Is it because of Chan?” he asked, clenching his fists. 

Minho remained silent. 

“Why are you so afraid of him?” he asked, irritated. “Why do you care what he thinks? If you love me, then why does it matter? He would understand. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him I love you. I—”

“I don’t—I can’t…”

Jisung’s heart broke again. But he couldn’t let go. He realized letting Minho go was impossible.

“I thought you said you cared about me?” he whimpered. 

Minho’s eyes went wide. “I do, Jisung. I do care about you. But it’s—”

“Then love me. Because if you don’t, then I’ll have to find someone who will.”

Minho’s jaw tightened again, and Jisung swore he saw his eye twitch. 

“That guy…he said he’d make me forget about you.”

Minho took a sharp breath. Jisung knew he was playing dirty, but he had to get Minho to accept these feelings. He couldn’t let him throw him away. 

“He said I was pretty. He said he wanted to fuck me—”

“Stop,” Minho warned.

“He said he’d let me ride him. Pull my hair. Make me cry for it. Give me what I—”

Minho pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with fury. “That’s enough.”

He was definitely exaggerating a bit. And maybe he’d pushed it too far, because now Minho just looked angry. 

Jisung let a few tears slip. When Minho pulled back, he let out another deep sigh. 

“But I didn’t want him. I wanted you. I wanted you to tell me I looked pretty. I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to kiss me—I even put on my favorite chapstick.”

“Please…stop, Jisung, please,” he begged. 

And Jisung knew he was close to breaking. 

“Chan told me not to come to the bar, but I wanted to see you. I always come to the bar to see you. I missed you. I wanted attention. I like it when you only look at me. I like that even when you have customers, you glance in my direction, just to make sure I’m still there.” 

Minho turned his face, clenching his teeth. 

And Jisung knew it was silly to take Felix’s advice from earlier—but he was out of options. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Minho’s eyes shot wide, his gaze struggling to find a place to land, like his mind had gone haywire.

“Don’t—don’t say that to me,” he pleaded.

“Why not? I want you. Don’t you want me too?” Jisung blinked at him, big, wide, and begging. 

Minho finally looked at him, eyes full of something he’d never seen before. He licked his bottom lip, and Jisung knew he only needed one more push. 

“Please?”

“Fuck,” Minho whispered. 

His heart slammed against his ribs when Minho reached for him, hands firm on his waist. His grip was tight, making a soft whimper leave Jisung’s chest. Minho leaned in so close their lips almost brushed, still holding back. But Jisung was tired of waiting. He pressed forward and closed the gap, and all of Minho’s resistance seemed to fade away.

Jisung pulled him towards the couch, Minho falling onto it as Jisung crawled into his lap. He placed his knees on the outside of his thighs, ass pressing against his cock, already hard beneath his jeans.

“We—fuck, we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. We shouldn’t,” Minho whispered between the desperate, rough kisses Jisung gave him. 

When Jisung pulled back to yank off his jacket and t-shirt, Minho’s eyes went wide.

“You really want to stop?” he asked, reaching down to grasp his cock through the fabric. 

Minho gasped, hands still tight on Jisung’s waist. 

“It’s not that I want to stop, it’s just—”

“Then shut up,” he said, leaning down to press their lips together again.

Minho moaned against his mouth, and Jisung couldn’t help but smirk. There was no way he would change his mind, especially now that he was half-naked in his lap. 

“Your—your brother is going to kill me,” he said, a hand sliding down to grip Jisung’s ass, still shaking with uncertainty. 

Jisung gasped, needing more—so much more. 

“Chan can’t tell me what to do, or who to love. You either,” he told him, grinding his hips down.

Minho moaned again, and Jisung kissed his open mouth. Fuck, he was so hot, panting against him already. 

“He asked me to look after you,” he said, like he was still trying to stop this. But they were too far gone.

“Well, you’re looking after me, that’s for sure,” Jisung chuckled, but Minho didn’t seem to find it funny.

He looked stressed, and Jisung needed to wash that away.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I love you.” 

Minho’s eyes went wide again, like every time Jisung said it, he still couldn’t believe it.

“I—I love you too.”

“Then stop thinking about Chan. I want all your attention.”

He whimpered when Minho slipped his fingers into his jeans to squeeze his ass, nails gripping his skin. Jisung’s heart went wild in his chest. 

Minho’s touch was soft yet aggressive—and he was losing his mind. He needed more. 

“Baby, you always have my attention.” 

Jisung hummed. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Not when you flirt with customers at the bar,” he mumbled. 

Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not flirting with them. I’m doing my job.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” he asked, pulling him in close and pressing a kiss to his chest. 

“You’re one wink away from asking them on a date. It pisses me off.”

“Well, first of all, I can’t really wink that good,” he said, demonstrating and making Jisung chuckle as he blinked at him with both eyes. “And second, maybe I like it when you get a little jealous. It’s kind of cute.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped open. “So you admit you’re flirting with them.”

“Honestly, I’m just talking and smiling.”

“Well—don’t smile at them. I hate it.”

Minho laughed, but Jisung pouted, hating the thought of Minho smiling at someone else. 

“Okay. I’ll try not to smile at them anymore.”

Jisung’s pout lifted a little, but then he remembered the way Minho was smiling at Seungmin. 

“Tell me you don’t like him,” he said suddenly.

Minho tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

“Jeongin told me you were with Seungmin. Tell me you don’t like him.”

Maybe it was ridiculous to make him deny it again, but he couldn’t help it. 

“I don’t.”

“He was flirting with you. And don’t even try to tell me he wasn’t.”

Minho let out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to be jealous of him.”

“How can I not be? He’s hot, he’s your age, he stole you from me, and I don’t like him,” he mumbled. 

Fuck, he was acting like a brat. 

Minho pulled him in then, and Jisung’s breath hitched when he pressed their lips together, soft and sweet. 

“Because you’re the one in my lap right now, not him.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered so wildly he almost felt lightheaded. He leaned in and kissed him again, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Have you ever kissed him?” 

Minho shook his head. “No.”

“Did he want to kiss you?”

Minho went quiet, but Jisung didn’t need him to answer to know.

“I knew I wasn’t stupid,” he grumbled. “God, he was flirting with you so much it was pissing me off.”

“And what about that blonde guy you were making out with on the dance floor that night, huh?” Minho asked suddenly. 

Jisung flushed. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No? It seemed to be like that when you had your tongue down his throat.”

Jisung shrugged. “Well—you were practically eye-fucking Seungmin all night, ignoring me, might I add.”

“I was not ignoring you.”

Jisung rolled his eyes again. “Yes, you were.”

He gasped when Minho suddenly smacked his ass—not hard, but enough to startle him. 

“Quit rolling your eyes at me,” he says sternly.

Arousal flooded Jisung’s body.

“Yeah, or what?” 

“Or that little attitude of yours is gonna make you get it.”

Jisung flushed. “Maybe I want it,” he countered.

He shivered when Minho reached out and unzipped his jeans, slipping them and his underwear down over the curve of his ass. 

His heart was pounding, and when Minho rubbed his hand over his cheek with a delicate touch, a small whine slipped from his lips. 

Jisung yelped when Minho smacked him, falling forward against his chest. His cock twitched, dribbling into his underwear, so fucking pathetically. 

Minho kissed his neck. “That’s for rolling your eyes,” he said. Before Jisung could say anything, Minho smacked him again. 

“That’s for leaving the bar and not listening to me.”

Another harsh smack, making Jisung whimper. 

“And that’s for making me watch you kiss another man.”

Jisung moaned, shaking in Minho’s arms. When he smacked him again, he jumped in his grasp. 

“What was—that one for?” he whimpered.

“For not apologizing for it just now.”

Jisung gasped when he landed another smack.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—mean to,” he whined.

“You didn’t mean to make out with that guy to make me jealous?” he asked, rubbing his skin softly now.

“No—no, I did. I just—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever do that again. Understand me?”

Jisung wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck. “I won’t. I won’t, Minho.”

“Good.”

Jisung’s heart melted, especially when Minho kissed the side of his face. 

“Just…promise to give me your attention. Don’t make me jealous anymore either,” he pleaded. 

“My attention is all yours, sweet boy.”

Jisung pulled back and kissed his lips. He wanted him. And he couldn’t wait any longer. 

He reached down and pulled the rest of his jeans off, slipping his briefs off with them. Minho’s eyes went wide again as Jisung sat fully naked in his lap.

“Fuck,” Minho whispered, his ears turning bright red. His eyes raked up and down Jisung’s body as he leaned back, hands braced on Minho’s knees. 

“What?” Jisung asked, needing him to say more than that. 

Minho reached out, trailing a slow fingertip down his chest, past his navel, and along his cock, standing attentively and begging to be touched. 

“You’re beautiful.”

Jisung bit his lip hard. Those words meant so much more coming from him than from some random guy. He shifted his hips impatiently, wanting Minho to touch him more. But he only watched, leaning back against the couch, eyes trailing up and down. 

“I like your tattoos,” Minho said, making Jisung blush. 

“Really?”

Minho nodded, fingers tickling over his side. “I could look at you all night,” he whispered, hand grasping his hip.

But Jisung needed more, and he needed it now. 

“Can’t you do something?” he complained, wiggling in his grasp. 

“Let me look for a bit.”

Jisung whined, his cock twitching. It felt so exhilarating, Minho’s eyes taking in all of him, not missing a single part.

“My pretty boy.”

Jisung whimpered loudly, cock leaking with precum. It was embarrassing how turned on he was just from being watched.

Minho studied him intently, like he was taking the time to remember every blush, freckle, and bruise on his skin. The lust in his eyes made him look hot. Jisung thought it would be even hotter if he had a drink in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth.

He couldn’t believe that just moments before, it could’ve been another man. He also couldn’t believe people really came back here just to fuck. And he couldn’t believe he was back here now, stripped naked in Minho’s lap.

“Fuck, Minho, please,” he begged. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It could’ve been thirty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like eternity. 

“If you’re so impatient, then move your hips for me.”

He swallowed nervously, but he was so desperate he would do anything.

Minho watched him as he circled his hips with the slow beat of the music that bled through the walls. 

It felt a little embarassing, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing his head back. “So is this what those dancers come back here for?”

Minho trailed his fingers over his abdomen, making him gasp when he pinched his nipple. And who knew just rolling the tiny bud between his fingers could feel so good.

“Yeah,” he said. “But not just the dancers. Anyone can come back here. That’s why Chan doesn’t want you drinking and messing around on the dance floor or at the bar.”

Jisung had to fight not to roll his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Minho asked, tugging a bit harsher at his chest. “Because if I recall, you did exactly what Chan told you not to do. Many times now.”

“But you’re always watching me. You’d never let me back here,” Jisung smirked. “Well—I guess…unless you’re fucking me yourself.”

He knew that was risky to say. The last thing he wanted was for Minho to panic and tell them they couldn’t. But he was so turned on, and he wanted Minho to touch him more.

Minho eyed him carefully. Jisung moaned when he leaned in and kissed his chest, leaving marks and biting his sensitive nipples. He teased him until little whimpers escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Minho whispered again. 

Jisung whined in annoyance. “Who cares?”

“I do. I shouldn’t be sleeping with you in a place like this.”

“Why?” Jisung asked, his tone hurt. 

Minho quickly cupped his cheek. “Because I should take you home, lay you in my bed. Not here, where people pay money to fuck a one-night stand.”

Jisung flushed. He wasn’t expecting him to say that. 

“I don’t mind,” Jisung mumbled. “I just want you.”

Minho sighed. “I want you too.”

“Then fuck me,” he whined impatiently. “I’m the only one naked. I don’t like it.”

He started yanking on Minho’s black shirt, desperate to get it off. He threw it onto the floor and finally got his hands on his chest. He was so hot, and Jisung wanted to kiss his soft stomach, tease his zipper down—but Minho had other plans. 

He gripped Jisung’s cock, stroking him gently, swiping a finger over the slit. 

“You’re so wet.”

He was soaked. He wanted it so badly. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Minho chuckled. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I want it. I want you.”

A hand touched his cheek again.

“You’re so needy.”

Jisung pouted. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I like it too much,” he whispered, pulling him in by the back of his neck and kissing him deeply. 

Kissing Minho was unlike anything he’d ever felt. His lips were soft, and when he gasped into his mouth, a shiver ran up his spine. His movements quickened on his cock, making Jisung’s hips thrust into his fist.

It felt so good, he really thought he was going to cum if Minho kept touching him like this. He felt like such a virgin, but he never loved someone like this before. 

“Minho,” he whimpered into his mouth. 

He pulled his hand away, and Jisung let out a desperate whine. 

“Wanna help me out with these?” Minho asked as he began unbuckling his belt. 

Jisung quickly reached out and helped Minho out of his pants. His eyes went wide when Minho’s cock slapped against his stomach. 

“So…big,” he said, not even realizing he’d said it out loud. 

He looked up to see Minho’s ears bright red again.

“Come here,” he said, pulling Jisung to his chest, kissing him over and over. His hands ran along his sides until he reached his ass, squeezing again. 

Jisung’s heart pounded as he shook his hips a little. He wanted Minho to smack his ass like earlier, but he wasn’t sure how to ask for that without sounding like a slut. 

So he whined loudly, like a total brat not getting his way. 

“What, baby?” 

“Again…” he groaned, pressing his face into his neck. He smelled so fucking good. 

“What again?”

“Smack me.”

Minho chuckled. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, while you kiss me.”

Jisung pressed their bodies together, gasping when their cocks brushed against each other. Minho was so much bigger than him, and for some reason, that turned him on even more. 

When Minho rubbed his hands over Jisung’s skin, softly at first, goosebumps ran all over his body.

Minho smacked him, but gentler this time. Still enough to leave a print on his cheek, but not enough to hurt. It was perfect, and he hadn’t even known how good something like this could feel. He felt…sexy. Maybe it was because he was naked in Minho’s lap, in this forbidden back room, but it turned him on so much that he was about to cum. 

As Minho smacked his ass, holding on this time and squeezing his cheek tightly, the head of Jisung’s cock brushed over his, making him moan.

He came, hard and fast, and Minho’s eyes widened as he humped him desperately, needing more friction from Minho’s length. He whimpered, jaw falling open as he finished all over Minho’s cock and stomach. 

“Fuck, baby,” Minho whispered. 

When he smacked his ass again, helping him through his orgasm, Jisung let a few tears slip. It felt so good he almost couldn’t take it. 

“You liked it that much?” 

Jisung nodded, pulling back to press their lips together. His heart was racing, and he knew he had just cum, but he needed more. 

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” he begged against his lips. 

“Baby, you just came. Why don’t we—”

Jisung quickly slipped out of his lap and onto the floor. Before Minho could protest, he took the head of Minho’s cock past his lips, licking Minho’s precum and his own cum off without hesitation.

Ji—fuck, baby, wait—fuck,” he moaned, gripping Jisung’s hair. 

But that only made Jisung want to suck his cock even more. It had been a while since he’d done this, and he really hoped it wouldn’t be bad. 

He tried his best, twirling his tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the back of his throat—well, at least what he could take. Minho’s cock was big, so he could really only take about half of him down. 

When he looked up, Minho’s jaw was unhinged, eyes blown wide with lust. His fingers were still in Jisung’s hair, threaded through the soft locks as he tugged on them. 

Jisung wanted to please him, to make him moan with pleasure. He wanted to blow his mind, make him realize this was worth it, even if it was in some shitty back room at a bar. 

So when Minho guided his head back and forth, making him take it, he gave up control. 

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” Minho whispered as Jisung let him fuck his throat. He kind of liked it when Minho was rough with him, making his cock twitch as he face-fucked him, even though he’d just came. It was so hot, the feeling of being used by him. And right now, he would let him do anything.

Minho rocked his hips, and Jisung choked as the tip slammed into the back of his throat. Spit coated his cock, wet and messy on his chin, tears mixing as they slid down his cheeks, throat aching with the expanse of his dick inside. But it was perfect.

Minho pushed him down as far as he could take it, holding him there, brushing the hair off his face, gazing deeply into his watery eyes. 

He looked at him in a way he never had before—full of love.

“Good boy—stay just like that,” Minho praised, keeping him still.

Jisung’s heart fluttered at those words. He could barely breathe, but he didn’t care. If Minho looked at him like that, he’d hold his breath forever. 

When he pulled him off, Jisung gasped, coughing aggressively. Fuck, he was so bad at this. 

“Sorry—shit. I’m sorry, baby,” Minho said quickly, wiping his messy mouth and wet eyes. 

If anyone should apologize, it should be him for sucking at sucking cock.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry—I suck at this.”

“No. No, not at all. That was…you took it all. No one has ever taken it all.”

Jealousy burned through him. “Don’t sleep with anyone else anymore,” he mumbled. “If you want your dick sucked, I’ll do it.”

He didn’t care if that made him sound crazy or jealous—because he was. He didn’t want Minho touching another man ever again. He only wanted Minho to want him.

Minho chuckled. “I won’t. Promise,” he said, reaching up to rub his thumb across Jisung’s bottom lip. 

He was drenched—chin and lips. And he couldn’t believe it, but his cock was hard again, dribbling with precum onto the floor. 

“Come here,” Minho said, tugging him back into his lap. He kissed him deeply, but when he pulled away, Jisung couldn’t help but whine. 

Minho smiled, brushing his thumb over his lips again. 

“You still taste sweet.”

“It’s blueberry-flavored chapstick,” Jisung told him.

“I like it.”

“Really?”

Minho nodded. “My sweet boy.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered wildly. 

Minho reached over to the table near the side of the couch, and Jisung raised an eyebrow when he passed him a condom and a tiny bottle of lube. 

“There are condoms in here?”

“Yep. Complementary. Safe sex is important, especially when it’s a one-night stand.”

Jisung pouted. “Well, I’m not a one-night stand. I want you to fuck me again and again and again.” 

Minho chuckled. “You’re too cute.” 

Maybe it was crazy, but Jisung threw the condom over his shoulder. 

Minho’s eyes went wide. “Jisung…”

But he meant it. He didn’t want Minho sleeping with anyone else. And if they were exclusive, it was okay, right?

“Fuck me without it,” he mumbled, blinking at him with desperate eyes. “Please?” 

Instead of responding, Minho slammed their lips together again. Deep, desperate, messy, hot. Jisung couldn’t get enough of him. 

“Turn around,” Minho demanded against his lips. 

Jisung immediately did as he was told, flipping himself around in Minho’s lap. Minho pressed a soft kiss to the top of his spine, rippling a shiver across his skin. His touch was gentle at first, until he reached his hips and gripped tightly.

“Lean forward, hands on the table.”

He didn’t hesitate. His shaky, impatient hands rested on the table, where a bottle of wine waited to be uncorked. Maybe they should have had some first, but they were too desperate to get their hands on each other. 

Jisung jumped when Minho brushed his delicate fingertips over his ass. His skin ignited, heat spreading through his body. His senses were heightened now that he couldn’t see him.

Before he could beg him to do something, he heard the cap of the bottle open. He gasped, feeling the cool liquid dribble between his cheeks. 

“You’re seriously beautiful, do you know that?” Minho asked. 

Jisung wasn’t sure why that embarrassed him. Sometimes he thought he was. Other times his insecurities got the best of him—especially when Minho flirted with hot men at the bar. It was hard to feel confident when someone else attracted his gaze. 

“Really?” he asked, his voice cracking. Pathetic. 

“Yes, really. You’re so pretty. My pretty boy. I’ve always thought you were so pretty,” he murmured.

Jisung yelped with surprise again when he pressed his fingers to his rim. His touch wasn’t cold. He had warmed the lube with his fingers before rubbing them in soft circles against his hole. 

Jisung was losing his mind. That confession had him spiraling. And he needed Minho now. 

He leaned forward against the table and presented himself, giving Minho as much access as he could. He spread his knees a little wider, knowing Minho could see him perfectly, but he wanted his touch inside. 

“Ready?”

Jisung nodded desperately. He needed it—needed him. 

“Tell me,” Minho said calmly. “Is this really what you want?”

Jisung had no idea why he sounded anxious, as if he would say anything other than yes. 

“Yes, I want it so bad. I want you. I want…fuck, please,” he begged. 

“What exactly do you want?” he asked, and Jisung felt like he might start sobbing. His cock twitched from the soft teasing, his fingers lightly circling his hole.

He was about to snap. 

“I want you. I want to be fucked. I want you to finger me and then fuck me so hard I can’t even think. I need it so bad. I want to feel your cock.”

Maybe that was too much and way too honest, but he meant those words—even if they sounded excessively lewd. Maybe this room was making him feel extremely aroused. It excited him, and he felt…naughty, which embarrassed him like crazy to admit. 

“I don’t know if I should reward you,” Minho said, tapping him gently. “You were going to fuck that man in here. I’m not quite happy about that.”

Jisung’s heart clenched. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have said all that earlier. But that wasn’t fair. 

“You were out with another guy,” he shot back. 

“I already told you, I was out with friends.”

“You were with him. The guy who likes you.”

“So that meant you had to jump to conclusions?”

Minho completely pulled his hand away, and Jisung whined loudly. He realized that if he wanted Minho to touch him again, he had to change his approach—admit his deeper, more vulnerable feelings.

“I—I was jealous,” he mumbled, clenching his fists. “He’s better for you than me.” 

Jisung’s heart pounded as Minho touched him again.

“That’s not true, baby,” he said softly, hand caressing his ass again. 

“Yes, it is. You can’t love me because I’m younger. You can’t love me because of what other people will think. People wouldn’t question your relationship with him. They wouldn’t tell you that you couldn’t be together.”

The pain in his heart exploded, and he tried to keep the tears back. These were the thoughts that made him keep his crush a secret, the ones that told him it was a dumb idea to like Minho in the first place.

Before Jisung could look over his shoulder, a soft finger pressed into him. He gasped, the slight stretch immediately making him whine in pleasure. 

“But I don’t love him,” Minho whispered, fucking him slowly with one finger. “I love you.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered so hard that it hurt. Hearing those words made the tears burn his eyes. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

“More,” Jisung begged after his finger was pressed all the way to the knuckle.

He spread his legs even wider, wiggling his hips, and Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“Patience, sweet boy.”

But it was hard when he’d been wanting something like this for years. 

Minho teased him, played with him, fucking him with that singular finger until it was almost impossible to bear. He needed so much more. He wanted Minho’s cock. The slow pace was torture.

“Please,” he begged, borderline in tears, unable to take it anymore. 

“Needy,” Minho whispered. “Always so needy.”

Jisung let out a loud, pleased groan when Minho finally gave him what he wanted, adding another. He welcomed the stretch again, but Minho was gentle with him.

He pressed his fingers in over and over until Jisung’s hole gave no resistance. When he pushed in deep, crooking ever so slightly, Jisung’s entire body shook.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, not holding back. 

“Right there, yeah?”

Minho petted him deep, hitting that spot until Jisung could feel his cock pulsing. 

“Yes…yes,” he whined, pushing his ass back to try to get more. 

Minho stopped pressing his fingers as Jisung moved his hips faster. And when Jisung looked over his shoulder, wondering why, there was a wide smirk on his face. 

“Keep going. Fuck yourself on them,” he encouraged. 

Jisung didn’t need him to say it twice. He blushed as he fucked himself back onto Minho’s fingers that were now still. But this was so fucking hot, and he hoped that Minho thought so too. He felt desperate and pathetic, the squelch coming from his ass unbelievably lewd. Minho used a lot of lube, and he kind of liked the slipperiness of it. 

“Look at you,” Minho whispered. “You want it that bad?”

“I—I want it—so bad,” Jisung whimpered between bounces. 

When Minho suddenly placed a hand on his cheek, holding him still, Jisung let out a dissatisfied whimper.

“If you want it, then you need to take a couple more still.”

Jisung’s eyes went wide when Minho poked a third finger at his opening, slowly fitting it inside next to the others. It was tight, since it had been a while. He took a deep breath, but Minho was sweet and patient, waiting for him to be ready before moving again.

He worked up his pace, and soon, Minho was fucking him so fast he had to hold him up by the hip. 

“Minho, Minho, Minho, Minho, Minho,” he repeated, knees restless, hips trying to jerk away. It was almost too fast, too much, his body experiencing so much pleasure he couldn’t take it. 

“Hold still for me, needy boy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

He was teasing him, and Jisung loved it. But at this pace, he could feel himself about to cum. His cock twitched pathetically as Minho pressed that spot over and over.

“Cum…I’m…I’m gonna—”

He gasped when Minho pulled his fingers back, suddenly leaving him empty. He could feel the way he was gaping, his hole clenching around nothing, needing to be filled. 

“No…please…more,” he pleaded.

The soft chuckle that left Minho’s chest made his heart race. He wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist, pulling him up. He kissed his back multiple times, sending shivers up his spine.

“Turn, face me,” he demanded gently. 

Jisung moved obediently, legs a little wobbly, so Minho had to help him. But when he faced him, his soft smile made his heart flutter. His kiss was sweet, and Jisung’s cock brushed up against his stomach as he pulled him in by the back of the neck. 

When Minho pulled away, he pressed his lips to his ear. “I want you to ride me,” he whispered.

Jisung leaned back slightly, blinking at him with big eyes. “Ride you?” 

Minho nodded. “You wanted to ride that asshole’s cock so you could forget me?”

Jisung flushed, flicking his gaze away from Minho’s intense eyes. But Minho immediately gripped his chin, forcing it back. 

“Well, I’m about to make sure you never forget,” he said sternly. His tone changed, sending another shiver up Jisung’s spine. “And the only cock you’ll ever take will be mine.”

Jisung whimpered as Minho kissed his neck hard, leaving a mark where that man had kissed him earlier.

“Say you’re mine.”

Felix was right. He was possessive—and that was so fucking hot. 

Usually, Jisung hated being told what to do. But he had never wanted to say anything more. 

“I’m yours,” he rushed out, wanting to please him. It came out in a desperate whine, but he didn’t care. 

“Good,” Minho growled, making Jisung whimper as he bit his neck near his pulse. He wondered if he could feel it racing. “Now, lift your hips. Let’s fill that tiny hole of yours.”

Jisung did as he was told again, no hesitation. He raised his hips, and Minho’s hands guided him, steadying him since he was still a little shaky. A gasp left his lips as the tip of Minho’s cock tapped his entrance.

“Fuck,” Minho whispered, so softly that Jisung almost didn’t hear it. And when Jisung reached behind him to guide him inside, an involuntary groan left Minho’s lips. 

Jisung moaned as the head pressed past his rim, making him shudder. It was a lot, perhaps even too much, as he was already stretched wide. He winced as his cock spread him, trying to take it the best he could.

Minho’s grip tightened on his waist, suddenly holding him still. 

“Hey, go slowly. Don’t hurt yourself,” he told him, making Jisung flush bright red. He wasn’t trying to rush, he was just desperate, needing Minho fully inside, wanting him deep and as close as he could be. 

“S—Sorry,” he whispered, unsure why he was apologizing. Maybe he was just anxious. He didn’t want Minho to hate this. He didn’t want him to think sex with him was bad. 

“No, baby. I just want this to feel good for you. So take your time,” he assured him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“I—I want this to feel good for you too,” he mumbled, and Minho gave a soft smile. 

“Believe me. It feels very good. You have no idea how much I’m holding back right now.

Jisung’s heart fluttered again. 

“How much?” he asked, desperately needing to know. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, tucking the rest of the loose strands behind his ear. “So move slowly.” 

Jisung bit his lip but nodded. He would do anything Minho told him. Always. 

He eased himself down slowly, taking Minho’s cock as he rubbed small circles on Jisung’s hips with his thumbs. What drove him crazy were the soft praises Minho whispered each time he took him deeper. 

When his cock was all the way inside, ass resting on his hips, Minho dug his fingernails into his skin. 

“There you go,” he murmured, cupping Jisung’s cheek. “Such a good boy, taking it all.”

Jisung whimpered so pathetically that it should have been embarrassing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt so good. He wanted Minho so badly, and he was so fucking turned on, sitting fully on Minho’s cock, stripped naked, on a couch in the back room of Chan’s bar. 

“How does it feel? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Jisung quickly shook his head. “No…feels…good. I feel…full.”

Minho shuddered, holding onto Jisung even tighter as he rocked impatiently in his lap. He held him still, but Jisung couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Let me,” Jisung begged, his voice whiny and needy. “Please. I want you.”

“Shit. Holy fuck,” Minho swore. He rarely lost his composure like that, so it made Jisung smirk. 

“I want to fuck myself on it. I want your cock. I want—”

His words were stifled when Minho quickly shoved his fingers into his mouth, pressing hard and petting his tongue.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Keep saying things like that, and I’ll cum too fast.”

Jisung lapped his tongue around the digits Minho shoved past his lips. Minho looked surprised, but let him suck desperately, eyes locked on the way Jisung’s lips closed around them. God, everything made him feel like a slut right now, but it felt so good he couldn’t stop. 

When Minho pulled them from his mouth, Jisung whined in disappointment. But it didn’t last as Minho wrapped his wet fingers around his cock.

“Go on,” Minho said impatiently, making Jisung shiver. He obviously couldn’t wait anymore either.

When he lifted himself up, he went all the way until only the head was inside before slamming back down. He let out a filthy whine as his ass smacked off his hips, and Minho threw his head back against the couch cushions. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his thumb messing with the slit of Jisung’s cock. 

“Holy—shit,” Jisung breathed out, legs shaking. 

When their gazes met, something sparked. The lust in Minho’s eyes and the desperation in Jisung’s made them both reach for each other, slamming their lips together.

Jisung had never shared such a hungry, impatient kiss. He tried to devour Minho, slipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting him. He thought he could be in control, wanting to make Minho beg for more as he teased his ass on his cock. But he quickly realized how impossible it was to maintain focus while being filled to the brim with pleasure.

A whine escaped his chest as Minho pulled back, threading his fingers through his hair and yanking him closer with an intense stare. He knew then that Minho was in charge.

“Ride my cock, sweet boy. Show me how good and pretty you are. Just for me.” 

Within seconds, Jisung was bouncing up and down in Minho’s lap, taking his ridiculously big cock so deep. But it felt perfect, thick, warm, pressing into the spot that made his vision black out within seconds.

When Minho touched his hand to his stomach, he let out a whimper. 

“Fuck. You’re so damn tiny I can see my cock right here.”

Jisung felt wobbly, his thighs burning, and his knees a little weak. Minho’s filthy words were making him shiver, and he was desperate to hear more. 

“So…big. So…big,” he whimpered. 

“Yeah, but it feels good, right? Look at how well you’re taking it.” Minho pressed slightly, and Jisung let out a loud moan. 

He nodded. It felt so good he almost couldn’t stand it. He’d had sex before, but not like this. And he knew sex felt so good, but not like this. Minho was making him feel things he’d never felt before. 

He fucked himself up and down, taking him in and out, riding him quick and hard. When Minho smacked his ass, he glitched, coming to a full stop with Minho’s cock buried deep.

He shivered with a whine, grabbing onto Minho’s shoulders. 

“Why’d you stop?” Minho smirked, rubbing his palm over his slapped cheek. 

He was completely out of breath, unable to respond, heart hammering, and lost for words. Honestly, he stopped because he’d almost cum just from getting his ass smacked.

“You like it when I do that, huh?”

Jisung flushed. It was obvious he did, but with Minho’s cock deep inside him, it felt even better—like he belonged to him. 

“Turn around,” he demanded, like earlier. 

Jisung went to lift himself off his cock, but Minho grabbed him by the hip. 

“Keep it inside. Do a little twist.”

Jisung couldn’t believe his words, but he did as he was told, wiggling around so that Minho’s cock stayed inside him as he turned. 

He once again had his hands on the table, but it was even hotter now with Minho’s cock inside of him. 

When Minho smacked him again, Jisung’s jaw dropped, and a loud moan escaped.

“You have the prettiest ass.”

This was so fucking crazy. 

“Do—Do I?” he asked. He hadn’t even meant to say that, but he liked it so much that it was making him lose his mind. 

Minho rubbed a hand over his cheek, and Jisung welcomed the slight sting from his slap.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers soft on his skin again. “Can I be honest?” His tone changed again, and Jisung looked over his shoulder, curious as to what his expression looked like. 

“Yeah, of—of course.” 

Minho was quiet for a minute, petting him gently, over and over. 

“I’ve had so many thoughts about this.” 

Jisung’s heart fluttered, his eyes going wide.  

“You have?”

Minho nodded. “Is it crazy to say I’ve been denying my feelings for a while?” 

No, it wasn’t crazy. Not at all. 

“I have too,” he blurted out. “I thought you’d think I was some annoying kid with a silly crush.”

He gasped when Minho moved his hips, thrusting into him. He was suddenly feeling sensitive, his cock twitching as Minho hit deep inside, still rubbing his palm over his cheek.

“I thought you’d think I was your older brother’s creepy friend who was flirting with you.” 

Jisung moaned as Minho fucked him at a steady pace. He had one hand on his lower back, the other gripping his cheek, fingernails digging in as he rocked in and out.

He clenched his fists and lowered his head, everything so intense as Minho took over. It felt so fucking good that his body shook, and he knew Minho could feel his tremors. 

“I don’t—think that,” he said between strokes. “I like—your attention.”

Jisung heard his soft chuckle behind him. “I know you do, baby.”

Another smack landed on his cheek, and a lewd moan left his lips. When Minho squeezed his skin, spreading him as he pressed in as deeply as he could, Jisung almost passed out.

“Fuck, it fits so well.”

Minho jiggled his cheeks, pulling them apart even more. Jisung had never felt so exposed, so turned on as Minho fucked and played with him purely for pleasure.

“Move for me. Slowly. All the way up, then all the way down. Let’s see that pretty hole. Show me you can take it.”

Jisung let out a soft cry, those words making him shudder. He wanted nothing more than to please him. He did as he was told, leaning forward until Minho’s cock almost slipped out. When he slowly sank back down, all the air deflated from his lungs. 

“That’s it. Good boy.”

He couldn’t take it for much longer. His cock was leaking desperately, so wet, crying for his impending release. 

He fucked himself on Minho’s cock again, needing it so badly it was almost embarrassing. He never thought he’d have Minho like this. He never thought he’d be here, in these back rooms, with him. God, if his brother knew, he wondered what he’d even say.

But if Chan truly loved and cared about him, he’d understand that all Jisung wanted was to be heard. He wanted people to listen to his music. He wanted his parents to understand his dreams. He wanted Chan to pay attention to him and treat him like an equal. And most of all, he wanted him to know that he loved Minho more than anything in this world—and nothing was going to change that.

“Fuck, baby. Keep going,” Minho encouraged him.

He started to meet him halfway, their skin slapping together and echoing off the walls. It sounded so fucking filthy. 

Jisung was wet, his hole squelching with lube, and he knew Minho was watching it glide in and out of him. When Minho gripped his cheek, pushing him off his cock, the way his rim fluttered around nothing was almost uncomfortable. 

“Min…”

“Holy shit,” he whispered, squeezing his cheek. “Oh my god, you’re so hot.”

Jisung whimpered, clenching his fists on the table again. 

“Jisung, you are so beautiful. All of you.”

He was on the verge of tears, especially when Minho slapped his skin lightly, making his ass jiggle.

“But I swear, I’m about to cum because of how perfect your ass is.”

Perfect. He flushed red. 

“The number of times I’ve thought about this ass. I always found myself staring, and I felt so guilty, because I wanted to smack it whenever you were being a brat, or whenever I thought it looked extra good. That night you were shaking it on your friend’s cock on the dance floor was driving me crazy,” he admitted, smacking him a little harder. “I wanted to see it. To make it mine. And now here it is, just for me—cheeks all spanked red and your hole wide open to take my cock.”

Jisung couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to cum, and he wanted Minho’s cock back inside him. He needed him close. He wanted to kiss him. 

“I want—I want to cum. I want—you to fuck me. I want kisses. I want—”

“I know, sweet boy. I know. Come here.”

Minho pulled him by the hips, tugging him back so he was no longer leaning on the table. He turned Jisung around again, helping with his legs and knees before he laid down, guiding Jisung on top. 

His cock pressed against his entrance as they kissed, Jisung lying on Minho’s chest, trying to push him inside. But Minho had a tight grip on his hips, holding him still as he sucked on his tongue.

It felt like torture, his fluttering rim teased by the pulsing head of Minho’s cock. 

“I’m really close,” Minho whispered.

“Me too,” Jisung groaned. And he didn’t want to wait anymore. He slid down, and Minho loosened his hold on his hips, letting him sink all the way. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he moaned, making Jisung’s heart flutter. 

He wrapped a hand around Jisung’s neck, pulling him closer. They kissed hard and deep, devouring each other as Minho slowly rocked his hips.

Jisung hadn’t realized how tired he was, thighs shaking as he tried to move with him. 

When Minho pulled back, he kissed his forehead. “I’ll do it, baby.”

Jisung whimpered, ready to cum just from that sweet, soft gesture. His entire body was on fire, and when Minho gripped his ass again, he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum,” he whined, pressing his face into Minho’s neck. Minho was sweaty, but he panted against his skin, tongue sticking out to taste him. 

“Me too—fuck, me too.”

When Minho tried to lift him off his cock, he panicked. He was so close, and he couldn’t leave now. He needed him deep. 

“Don’t pull out,” he pleaded, pressing his hips down again. 

Minho’s eyes widened. “Baby, I have to—”

“Just cum inside me. Please, keep fucking me.”

He buried his face into his neck again, biting softly on his skin. 

“Shit, oh, shit,” he grunted, wrapping one arm around his waist while the other squeezed his ass, hips stuttering as he fucked him as deeply as he could. 

Jisung wiggled, his cock rubbing between their bodies as Minho pressed in so deep it hit that spot inside him perfectly. Everything felt so intense, and when Minho came, he felt the warmth flooding in.

No one had ever cum inside him before, and the feeling of Minho panting, twitching, and shaking as he spilled into his body was making him go crazy. 

“Oh, fuck. Holy fuck. Squeeze harder, milk my fucking cock for me.” Minho’s demanding tone made Jisung shiver, feeling him pulsating inside. He did as he was told, and when Minho bit the tip of his ear, he whimpered pathetically. 

“Fuck,” Jisung whined, taking Minho so deep, wanting him to stay forever. 

“Move your hips. Ride me until you cum,” Minho said suddenly. “Come on. Let’s see how pretty you look, just for me.”

Minho’s possessiveness was enough to make him lose his mind. And it was totally embarrassing, but after just one measly bounce, he came all over Minho’s chest between them. 

He felt filthy, slutty, and sexy as Minho smacked his ass again, cumming so hard it made him cry. 

“That’s it, sweet boy. There you go. Cum so hard.”

He shuddered violently through the best orgasm he’d ever had. He clenched around Minho’s softening cock, not wanting to let go. He wanted Minho to fuck him forever. He didn’t want this to end. He’d been dreaming of something like this—even if they were in the back rooms of Chan’s bar. 

He wanted to cry when Minho slipped out, cum flooding from his hole. He could feel it dripping out of him, probably getting all over Minho and the couch. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s kind of been a while, so…” he trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle. But he didn’t need to feel that way.

Jisung leaned up and kissed him, a little exhausted, but needing his lips. Minho’s hand tangled in his hair, softer this time, scratching and caressing as he kissed him gently. It was so perfect. This was perfect. Minho was perfect. 

Every single thing was absolutely perfect—being in his arms, kissing his sweet lips—and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Are you okay?” Minho asked as he pulled back. 

Jisung blinked at him, still a little fuzzy, coming down from his intense high. 

“I’m great. I’m…so, so good,” he chuckled, kissing Minho’s lips again. 

Minho smiled at him, brushing his sweaty hair from his eyes. 

Jisung bit his lip. “Are you okay?”

 “I’ve never been better in my entire life.”

Jisung chuckled this time. “Your whole life?”

“My whole life,” he confirmed. 

The way his heart swelled almost hurt. 

Minho kissed him again, and everything just felt right. Even if they were both naked, lying on each other, completely filthy in the back room of Chan’s bar. 

“Here, let’s clean you up. And we should probably get out of here.” His voice was a little anxious, and Jisung knew why. If Chan caught them, he’d definitely misunderstand and lose his shit before they could even explain.

Jisung kissed his lips again, wishing this moment didn’t have to end. “Okay,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed. 

“I’ll take you home.”

“Can I come over?”

Minho smiled. “Sure.”

“And can you sleep in your bed with me this time?”

“If you want, then, yes.”

“Of course I want that. That’s why I asked, silly.”

Minho’s smile widened as he slowly helped them sit up. Jisung winced, realizing just how filthy he really was. 

“They have some tissues somewhere, hold on.”

He set Jisung gently on the couch, the mess getting all over the cushions. 

“Ew,” he grumbled, Minho’s cum and the lube smearing everywhere. “Oh my god, who’s hired to clean these? Wait, do they even clean these? Oh my god, please tell me they clean these.”

Minho chuckled. “Yes, we have a cleaner. And that’s why they’re leather. Easier to clean.”

Jisung started laughing uncontrollably. When Minho walked back over to help tidy him up, he chuckled too.

“What’s with the giggle fit?” he asked, kneeling and wiping him down. 

“Nothing. It’s just…no wonder Chan didn’t want me back here. This is kind of insane—like people just come to the bar and fuck back here?”

“I didn’t want you back here either,” Minho said.

Jisung rolled his eyes. “You guys are way too protective. I know what sex is. Obviously.”

The tips of Minho’s ears burned bright red as he finished cleaning Jisung up.

“I meant…I didn’t want you with anyone else,” he admitted. 

Jisung’s heart fluttered wildly. He was kind of cute when he was nervous. And right now, he looked anxious after saying those words. 

“So you wanted me all to yourself?” Jisung teased, tipping up his chin. He really adored Minho’s red ears, his piercings glimmering under the dim lights. 

“I did. But if I couldn’t have you, then no one else could either. Not under my watch.”

His possessiveness was so damn hot. 

“Well, I only want you anyway,” Jisung assured him, wanting to ease the furrow in Minho’s frustrated brow.

“You came back here with another man,” he reminded him, making Jisung wince. 

“I didn’t want him.”

“Don’t ever do that again. Do you understand me?”

He nodded obediently, always listening to Minho. 

“I’m sorry,” he pouted, blinking at him with wide eyes. 

Minho sighed, but it must’ve worked, because his brows softened. He reached out, caressing Jisung’s cheek, his touch so soft, like Jisung was fragile. 

“It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Jisung had never felt so full of love. “Now, come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s shirt and pulled it over his head, smirking when he fixed his hair as well.

“Can we fuck back here again sometime? It was fun, wasn’t it?” he asked as Minho reached for his pants. 

“No. We shouldn’t have even been back here in the first place—and before you pout at me, it’s not because I didn’t want you, it’s because your brother will kill me if he—”

“Oh my god,” Jisung groaned, rolling his eyes. “Who cares what Chan thinks?”

“I care if he thinks I’m fucking his younger brother with bad intentions. That is not what I want.”

“Then tell him you love me and don’t have bad intentions,” he said simply. 

“If he sees me take you back here, it’s going to be hard to convince him otherwise.”

Jisung sighed. He seemed serious, so he didn’t want to push him. 

“Fine,” he grumbled as Minho helped him slip his pants back on.

“Maybe one day. After your brother…accepts us.”

“Wait—you want to tell him?” he asked, grabbing his wrist and leaning forward. “Really?”

Minho’s ears flushed red again. “Only if you want. And only if you want to be with me.”

Jisung didn’t want to say the words, but he needed to. Because he couldn’t risk Minho changing his mind.

“I thought you said you couldn’t love me?” he asked. 

Minho gently took his hands, helping him stand and buttoning his jeans for him. 

“But I do,” he whispered. “I love you too much to let you go, even if I should.” 

Jisung stepped closer, their bodies practically pressed together. 

“You shouldn’t. You don’t have to.”

“People will think it’s weird,” Minho told him. “They might make comments, judge us—and I don’t want that to hurt you.”

“So what? I don’t care. You’re the only person who has ever loved me, the only one who has ever understood me completely. You see me for me. Everyone else can fuck off if they don’t understand. Those people don’t matter to me. You do.”

Minho’s eyes flicked to the floor, clearly upset, but Jisung didn’t want that. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I know. And you matter to me too. I just…fuck, I’m afraid. My friends, your brother…and I’m such a fucking coward for that.”

Jisung wrapped his arms around his neck. “It’ll be okay,” he assured him. “They’ll understand. I know they will.”

Minho nodded multiple times, taking a deep breath, like he was trying to convince himself.

“And Chan loves me, and he loves you. Even if he’s a hard ass, sometimes. He loves us both, and you know that.”

“I know,” he said again, closing his eyes this time. 

Jisung leaned in and kissed him softly. When Minho finally seemed to accept it, he kissed him back. Before things could get heated, Minho pulled back, cupping Jisung’s cheeks to hold him still.

“Let’s go. We should go,” he said breathlessly. 

Jisung chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”

But when he tried to pull him by the hand, his legs wobbled, thighs burning. He stumbled a little, and Minho caught him, a concerned look in his eye. 

“Are you okay?”

Jisung couldn’t resist.

“Can you carry me?”

“Carry you?”

He nodded quickly. “I can’t walk. Please?”

Minho just smiled and knelt down so Jisung could hop on. When he slammed into his back, Minho let out a tiny groan.

“Careful. You’re gonna throw my back out.”

“Oh, come on. You’re old, but you’re not that old,” he teased. 

Minho chuckled. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“I mean, your bones are creaking a little, but you’re not a grandpa.”

“Okay, you little brat. Do you want your piggyback ride or not?”

Jisung squeezed his arms around his neck, clutching so tightly he was probably choking him a little.

“Carry meee,” he whined, kicking his legs. 

Minho shook his head with a laugh. “Then watch that mouth of yours.”

“But you like my mouth,” he teased, licking the tip of his red ear.

“Your attitude,” he corrected. 

“I don’t have an attitude.”

Minho let out a short, loud burst of laughter. 

“What?” Jisung asked, full of sass as Minho shook his head again. 

“Nothing. I’m just trying to think of a time when you didn’t have an attitude.”

“Well, I’m trying to think of a time when you weren’t so bossy.”

“It’s not like you listen anyway.”

Jisung pouted. “I always listen to you.”

Minho hummed. “Do you?”

“Most of the time,” he mumbled. 

“Then explain why I have to tell you not to leave the bar multiple times a night.”

“Because I like your attention,” he admitted shyly. “I only leave when you’re not paying enough attention to me.”

And he liked it when Minho looked at him sternly, beckoning him back to his bar stool with a finger. It let him know that even if he was busy, Jisung was still on his mind. 

Minho laughed again, softer this time. “You’re too cute,” he whispered, kissing his cheek.

When he opened the door of the back room, Minho looked both ways before slipping out like a spy. Jisung wanted to roll his eyes, but he kept quiet, not wanting to get himself in trouble and lose his piggyback privileges. 

Minho hurried down the hallway, giving the guy behind the counter a stern look as he glanced at them. And when Jeongin spotted them, he looked extremely confused. 

“Minho?” he called out. 

Minho froze. Jisung could feel him panicking, probably trying to decide whether to run or approach the bar. He must have chosen the latter, because he hiked Jisung up on his back and headed for the counter.

“Uh, hey, Jeongin.”

Jisung held on tighter, grateful that Minho didn’t put him down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out with your friends?” Jeongin asked, eyes flicking to the hallway they’d just come from. “And…what were you guys doing back there?”

Jisung felt Minho swallow thickly. “I…uh, yeah. I…um…”

He was totally freaking out. 

“I’m drunk,” Jisung interrupted, slurring his words for effect. “I called Minho to come get me. Some guy tried to take me back there—didn’t you see?”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide, panic on his face. “N-No, I was—I was busy. Does…does Chan…”

“No, he doesn’t know. And let’s just…not mention it to him, okay?” Minho said.

Jeongin quickly nodded. “Yeah, no—for sure. I mean—yeah.”

Jisung wanted to roll his eyes again. His brother really had these two terrified if something ever happened to him under their watch. He seriously needed to relax.

“I’m gonna take him home before Chan sees him and gets pissed,” Minho said.

“Cool, yeah. And I won’t mention it.”

“Cool,” Minho nodded.

As they walked away from the bar, Jisung sold his fake drunken state by waving over his shoulder.

“Bye, Innie!” 

Jeongin waved back, and Jisung chuckled when he returned his arms around Minho’s neck. 

“He was totally shitting his pants. My brother is way too hard on you guys. And I can do what I want without a damn babysitter.” 

Minho didn’t say anything, and Jisung wondered if he was still feeling anxious. But it was fine now. They were away from the bar and any potential judgment as they made their way to Minho’s apartment. 

“I’m sorry I freaked out back there,” Minho whispered.

Jisung sighed softly. “It’s okay.”

He really wasn’t mad about it or anything, and he hadn’t expected him to tell Jeongin right then and there.

“I want to make sure I tell them properly. And right now, I just…” he trailed off. 

Jisung kissed the side of his head. “I know, babe.”

Minho turned his face, looking at him with those pretty, wide, blinking eyes. He leaned in and connected their lips in a soft kiss, and Jisung realized then that even if they didn’t tell anyone, as long as he could have him like this, that was all that mattered.

He held onto him tightly, feeling like he could cry. As Minho carried him down the sidewalk, thumbs rubbing against his thighs, he had never felt so happy.

When they finally entered Minho’s apartment, he didn’t want him to let him down. But he had to take off his shoes and get in the shower. He didn’t want to, but Minho told him to, and he listened—with a grumble, of course. 

Minho denied showering with him, but he did wrap him in a towel when he was finished. The fluffy cotton smelled like him, and it was kind of driving him crazy. 

He even blow-dried his hair for him, his soft fingertips massaging his scalp. He’d never had someone take care of him like this before, and he liked it so, so much. 

He couldn’t even believe he was here right now. Honestly, he thought he’d be at home, crying his eyes out about a man he would never be able to love. 

And he was so glad he’d listened to Felix’s advice, confessing his heart, and winning him over. He definitely had to call him tomorrow and tell him all about it. 

When Jisung’s hair was completely dry, Minho kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment. 

“Get into bed. You can borrow any of my shirts to sleep in.”

Jisung nodded, and when Minho leaned in to press their lips together instead, he had to force his heart to settle down. 

He pulled away and ran for the soft bed that smelled so deliciously of Minho. As Minho was in the bathroom, Jisung took the opportunity to press his face to his pillow, breathing in deeply. It was so comforting, blanketing him in his scent, and the shirt he’d plucked from his closet was just as fragrant. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d started to drift off. But it was past midnight, and Jisung was exhausted.

He stirred when arms slipped around his waist, soft kisses pressed to his neck. 

“Sorry, baby. Go back to bed,” Minho whispered, settling in behind him. 

Jisung hummed, wanting to spend more time with him, to talk about what this meant for them, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Minho pulled his hips back, and when he felt his warmth surround him, wrapped in his arms, it was impossible to fight falling asleep. 

“Do you want to tell him?” Jisung asked. 

“Huh?” Minho replied, cleaning a glass and placing it behind the counter. 

They’d been dating for two weeks now, stealing secret kisses whenever no one was looking, and Jisung staying over at Minho’s almost every night, fucking like crazy. 

It was amazing, and Jisung was so in love. 

But Chan had just chided him for coming to the bar again, and he was kind of annoyed that Minho had just flicked his gaze away. 

“My brother. Are we going to tell him about us?”

Minho looked nervous, almost dropping a bottle of beer to the ground. 

“Ah…yeah. Yeah, we can tell him soon.” 

“I think we should tell him tonight.”

Minho let out a deep sigh and leaned on the counter, his head down. 

“Jisung…” he started, trailing off.

“Why not? You said you wanted to tell him. And I’m tired of him telling me I can’t be here, and you just letting him say it.” 

When Minho lifted his face, he could see his anxiety. 

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t baby me,” Jisung grumbled. “I want to tell my brother.” 

Minho’s jaw tensed as he scratched his chin. 

“Okay—do we have to tonight?” he asked nervously. 

“I would like to,” he said, trying not to sound frustrated. He knew this was hard for him, but he wished he could be more confident in his feelings.

He let out another sigh, clenching his eyes shut before nodding.

“Okay. We can tell him after my shift.”

Jisung couldn’t help but pout, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you don’t want to, then I’m not going to force you.”

“No, I do want to.”

“Then why are you still so afraid to tell him? I hate keeping this a secret. I really don’t want to.”

Minho clenched his fists on the bar. Jisung noticed a customer waiting at the end for assistance, but Minho didn’t walk away from him. 

“Because I’m afraid of losing my best friend. Because even if he doesn’t approve, or fires me, I’ll choose you.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered wildly. 

“I really don’t want to lose Chan. He’s been a great friend to me, especially when I needed someone. He gave me this job when I was struggling to even keep a job.”

He’d never heard that before. But he guessed Minho had lived a whole life he’d barely known. Jisung had only been five years old when Minho was in college.

“What happened?”

Minho bit his lip, glancing at the customer still waiting. He reached out and caressed Jisung’s cheek, and his heart slammed against his ribs. His gentle touch in public still caught him off guard.

“I’ll be right back.”

His pretty smile appeared as he helped the man at the bar. He made him a couple of drinks, and Jisung sat there, impatiently holding his breath, desperate for him to return.

When he finally came back over, he let out another sigh. 

“In college, I was hanging out with the wrong crowd—drugs, alcohol, partying, shit like that. And Chan…he kind of pulled me away from it. It took a while. But he never gave up on me.”

Jisung’s heart ached. He honestly had no idea. Chan had never really talked to him about Minho or their friendship. Not that it was really his story to tell, anyway.

“Babe,” he whispered, reaching out to rest his hand over his. 

“It’s okay. I’m better now. For years now. So don’t worry about me,” he assured him, cupping his cheek again before quickly dropping his hand. “Your brother’s a good guy. And the last thing I want is for him to think I’m stabbing him in the back.”

“How would you be stabbing me in the back?”

Minho’s face paled, and Jisung immediately flicked his head to see Chan standing there, confusion written all over his face. 

“Chan,” Minho breathed out. “I—I…uh, no—I didn’t mean…”

“What are you two talking about?”

Minho’s mouth opened and closed, like he was trying to get words out, but nothing came. He was panicking, completely panicking, as Chan raised an eyebrow. 

“Nothing. Minho was just being a good babysitter, like usual,” Jisung jumped in. “I told him he didn’t have to watch me. I even bribed him, but he said he couldn’t stab you in the back like that, after you asked him to.”

Maybe that was a little over the top, but the last thing he wanted was for Chan to misunderstand. And Minho looked like he was about to pass out.

“I just want you to be safe. Especially when you’re here.”

“He—he is safe,” Minho said, making them both glance over at him. “Because I made a promise to you to keep him safe. Always.”

Chan smiled. “And I’m really grateful for that. Even if Jisung doesn’t listen, and tries to sneak around the bar anyway.”

Minho swallowed nervously, and Jisung wondered if Chan could sense the awkward vibes radiating between them.

“I don’t mind if he comes to the bar,” Minho said, making Chan pause. “I actually…I like it when he comes to the bar.”

It was uncomfortably quiet for a moment, and Jisung considered butting in to save him, hearing the nervous tremor in his voice. 

“I watch after him, because, yes, you asked me to, but also because I care about him—so much that there’s no way I would ever let anything happen to him. Because I…”

He swallowed again, and Jisung’s heart raced. He wanted to reach out to squeeze his hand, to tell him it was okay, but he didn’t want to add any unnecessary stress. 

“Minho, what’s going on?” Chan asked, flicking his eyes between them. 

“I—I like Jisung. We’re…together. Romantically.”

Jisung’s eyes went wide. His heart swelled, finally hearing him say it. He couldn’t believe he admitted it—here, right now, with the music bumping in the background. 

Chan’s face was as still as a statue, and Jisung was starting to get nervous too when he was just staring at Minho, not saying anything. 

“Chan—” Jisung tried, but he was interrupted. 

“How long?” 

He was still staring at Minho. 

“How long…what exactly?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“About two weeks. It hasn’t—it hasn’t been very long, but—”

“How long have you been having these feelings?” he asked bluntly. 

Jisung’s eyes flicked to Minho, noticing his bright red ears. 

“I don’t…I don’t know for sure. It was fast…I think. Years, now.”

He couldn’t believe he’d just admitted that. But Jisung was so happy he could barely breathe—or maybe it was the nerves as Chan’s eyes went even wider. 

Chan rubbed his chin, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. Minho’s expression turned distraught, and Jisung was getting pissed.

He had no reason not to accept this. Minho was one of his best friends. Someone he loved and trusted. If there was anyone perfect for him, wouldn’t it be Minho?

Frustration took over, and he smacked Chan’s arm, startling him.

“Look, I love Minho,” he told him, his voice stern. “And I don’t care what you say this time, you can’t tell me what to do or who I’m allowed to love.”

Chan sighed deeply, shaking his head. “Jisung, he’s so much older than you.”

Jisung clenched his teeth. “So what? That doesn’t fucking matter to me. He loves me. And I love him.”

He glanced at Minho, his eyes on the bar, face pained. Jisung was going to lose his shit. 

“I can understand if you’re mad we kept it from you. But the only reason we haven’t told you is because you’re way too protective of me. Minho loves me, but he loves you too, and having to choose between your friendship and the love he has for me is killing him. So why can’t you just—”

“Jisung—” Chan tried to cut in, but Jisung couldn’t stop. 

“No! Why can’t you just listen to me for once in your life? You never listen. You’re always treating me like some kid who can’t make a decision for myself! I’m tired of it! And now Minho finally admitted his feelings to you, and you’re looking at him like you don’t even know him when you’ve been friends for years!”

Chan’s hand shot out, resting on his shoulder. “I’m just surprised, that’s all,” he said calmly.

“Well, maybe if you paid attention to me, you wouldn’t be,” he snapped. 

Chan’s expression changed then, almost hurt. 

“Jisung,” Minho whispered, reaching out to grab his hand. If it were anyone else, he would’ve smacked them away. But Minho’s gentle touch calmed him down. 

“It’s true,” Jisung mumbled.

It was quiet for a moment again—well, as quiet as it could be with the music from the dance floor thumping in the background.

“You know I love you, right?” Chan asked then.

Jisung’s heart ached as he shrugged. Maybe he knew, but sometimes he really felt like such a bother to him. 

“Because I do. I love you so much. And maybe I don’t show it well, or say the words often, but you’re my brother. I just want what’s best for you.” 

His expression finally softened, but Jisung wasn’t letting go of his stance. 

“I’m telling you that I know what I want, I’m capable of being my own person, and what’s best for me is Minho. And I need you to accept that.”

Chan nodded slowly, then turned to Minho again. “You’ll take care of him?”

Minho nodded so quickly Jisung thought his head might roll off his shoulders. “Of course I will. Always.”

Chan let out another soft sigh, but this time, with a small smile after. “We should talk more about this. Maybe we can all get lunch together next week.”

“Yeah—yeah, that would be…that’d be great,” Minho said, relieved. 

“Everything else is going okay?” Chan asked, eyeing him carefully.

Minho nodded again. “Great. I’ve never…felt better.” 

Jisung’s heart soared. He wanted to lean over the bar and kiss him, but he decided both Chan and Minho weren’t ready for that. 

“Good,” Chan said, tapping the counter. “I’d tell you to look after Jisung, but I guess that’s not needed.” 

Before he left, he grabbed Jisung by the neck, not hard, but enough to pull him in and kiss the top of his head. 

“Behave. Don’t forget Minho’s still working, so don’t mess around. And I love you.”

Jisung pushed him playfully, but his heart swelled. “I love you too. And don’t tell me what to do. I can mess with my boyfriend if I want to.” 

Chan pointed at him with a warning, but there was a smile on his face. 

After he walked away, Jisung snatched Minho by the front of his shirt and smashed a kiss onto his lips. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he rushed out between sweet kisses. “See? It was fine, right?”

Minho chuckled, but Jisung could taste the nervous sweat on his upper lip. But he didn’t care. He was so proud of him.

“I thought he was going to punch me for a minute there.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, that’s a little dramatic.”

“Did you not see the look in his eyes? It screamed, I’m going to kill you for fucking my little brother and bury you under the bar.” 

Jisung laughed. “I think you’re imagining things.”

Minho sighed with a smile, brushing his thumb over Jisung’s cheek. “Maybe. But…I’m glad I told him.”

“Me too.”

“And thank you for being patient with me. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Jisung shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. I was nervous too. But I like you too much. And you love me, and I think Chan knows that.”

Minho kissed him again, and Jisung’s heart fluttered.

“I hope you know I love you so much, too. And I shouldn’t have been such a coward. And…I’m going to tell my friends. Everyone. Because I love you, and if they don’t understand, then…well, I don’t need them.” 

Jisung grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly, leaning in to deepen their kiss. But Minho pulled back. 

“Don’t stir me up right now,” Minho chuckled. “I still have two hours left.”

“Can’t you get off early? I want you,” he whined.

Minho slowly shook his head, pulling away completely. 

“No. I can’t.”

“Then take me to the back room on your break,” he smirked. 

“Jisung, don’t start.” 

“Why not? I want you to fuuuuck meeee,” he whined, making Minho’s ears turn bright red.

Minho leaned in suddenly, lips on his ear. “Be a good boy, sit here patiently, and I’ll fuck you until you sob later. Just the way you like,” he whispered. 

When he pulled back, he gave Jisung a pointed look. “Understand me?”

If it were anyone else, he’d have told them to fuck off. But he’d do anything Minho said, especially if he was going to get a reward for it. 

“I understand.” 

Minho tapped under his chin. “Good boy.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered wildly, and he tried not to pout as Minho left him to take care of a few customers.

But he stayed there, sipping the soda Minho had poured for him, impatient and excited as he waited for his shift to end. 

Jisung tuned his guitar, smiling as he stepped onto the stage Chan had set up for him at the bar. He knew Minho had suggested that Chan let his band play there. At first, he’d been annoyed, but Chan seemed genuinely excited when he asked if they wanted to perform, so Jisung let it slide.

Minho had kissed him over and over, telling him Chan thought it was a great idea and apologizing for overstepping, but he’d just wanted him to be happy.

And how could Jisung be mad about that?

They had been dating for two months now, and every day their love grew sweeter. Minho told his friends, who supported them completely, and Jisung held him later that night as he gushed about their positive reactions. They were just as sweet as Minho—even that Seungmin guy, which he was forced to admit. Honestly, he thought he would glare at him, like Jisung had when Seungmin showed up at the restaurant they’d gone to for dinner the other week. But who could blame him? The guy had once liked his boyfriend, and Jisung was possessive too.

His glare had been unnecessary, especially when Seungmin told him he was thrilled Minho had finally found someone he adored.

He could tell he meant it, and Jisung thought that was really sweet. So he ditched the glare and got to know him better, which made Minho smile at them all night as they laughed together. 

He wondered if Seungmin would make the trip tonight. He hoped he would. Chan’s bar was about to be filled with their friends, all there to support him—and he was starting to get a little nervous.

“Jisungie! My love!” 

Before he could turn around, arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Hey! Lix, I’m so glad you made it!”

Felix pulled back, and his boyfriend, Changbin, gave him a short wave with a smile.

“Binnie and I are so excited for your set. Oh my God, I’ve been gushing about you all week, all around town to anyone who’ll listen.”

Jisung blushed. Felix was the sweetest friend. He really loved him so much. 

When he told him that he and Minho got together, he had screamed excitedly for a solid ten seconds over the line, followed by a ton of I told you so’s.

“Thanks. It’s already packed in here. I’m kind of nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll be great,” Felix assured him, grabbing both of his hands. 

Jisung jumped when another arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him close and forcing Felix to let go.

“You will be great,” a sweet, familiar voice said. 

“Hello, Minho. Nice to see you again,” Felix said with a smirk. 

“Felix,” he replied with a nod.

Jisung wanted to roll his eyes. Minho was still so uptight whenever Felix was around. They made out one time—that night on the dance floor. And he had promised him that was it. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal Jisung from you. Yet,” he teased. 

Jisung felt Minho’s grip tighten around him. 

“Good luck prying him from my hands,” Minho smiled. 

“Oh my god, do you two have to do this every time?” Jisung groaned. 

“Until the day he greets me without that little possessive glare, then yes,” Felix said.

“Until the day he stops hitting on my boyfriend right in front of me, then yes,” Minho copied. 

“It’s not my fault your boyfriend is hot,” Felix shrugged.

“Guys,” Jisung sighed. “Come on.”

Minho kissed the side of his head, but Jisung knew he was still glaring at Felix’s smirk. 

“I still think you guys should join us—be our other couple,” Felix suggested, for the third time now. He looked over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be fun, Bin?”

Changbin nodded. “I’m always down for anything, baby.”

“I still think we’re gonna pass,” Minho said quickly. 

“Come on, quit being so boring. You don’t want to watch Jisung, and I make out a little? It would be hot. And we’ll both suck you off as we kiss. Then I’ll keep his legs spread while you—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jisung said, slapping a hand over Felix’s glittering lips. He was definitely just trying to rile Minho up, and it was working, because the tips of his ears were bright red. 

Felix giggled, licking Jisung’s hand, making him pull back.

“Fine. But you know my offer always stands,” he said, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him away from Minho for a hug.

“Like always, don’t hold your breath.”

He squeezed him tight, whispering into his ear. “I’m mostly joking, you know. I just can’t help but tease your boyfriend.” 

“I know,” Jisung chuckled. 

When Felix pulled back completely, he grabbed Changbin’s hand. “Alright, I want a drink.”

“Come on, let’s go to the bar,” Changbin suggested.

Felix smiled at his boyfriend before turning with a wave. 

“Good luck, babe! You’ll be great!” he called over his shoulder, sending him a flying kiss. 

Jisung waved back, and as soon as Felix was out of sight, Minho tugged him in by the waist again. 

He kissed him without warning, and Jisung whimpered as he slid his tongue against his. His jealousy was showing, especially when he slipped his hand under his shirt, gripping his skin. 

“Babe,” Jisung gasped, trying to pull back, but Minho just devoured his neck. 

“Let me kiss you,” Minho mumbled. 

Jisung chuckled, his soft lips tickling his skin. 

“I have to tune with the band.”

Minho hummed, kissing his cheek before slotting their lips together again. He was so sweet, and if he kept this up, he wasn’t sure he’d make it through his set.

“You’re gonna do so well tonight,” Minho whispered. 

“Thanks,” Jisung murmured, just before Minho dove in to kiss his lips again. 

“And when you’re done. You’re all mine,” he said, low into his ear. 

Jisung’s heart fluttered so wildly that he almost blacked out. 

“Wanna take me to the back rooms?” he teased.

He fully expected him to decline, so when he didn’t, his heart slammed against his ribs. 

“Chan will kill me.”

“Yeah, but I think you want me more than you’re afraid of my brother.” 

He was quiet for a moment, and the excitement vibrated his body as Minho bit lightly at his ear.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

That simple confession made him melt, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Felix had gotten to him a little.

“You wanna ride my cock, just like last time?”

Jisung’s knees almost gave out. 

“Can I?”

Desperate. He sounded so fucking desperate. 

“Of course. You’re my good boy, right?”

Minho had to steady him this time as his legs went completely weak. Whenever he called him that, he was done for.

“Yes, I’m a good boy.”

Minho smirked and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Then show me how talented you are.”

Jisung shuddered when Minho gripped his ass, knowing he definitely wasn’t talking about the guitar. 

He desperately needed to clear his head before going on stage. 

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“Okay, baby,” he smirked. “I can’t wait to hear the song you wrote for me.”

Jisung couldn’t wait to play the song he’d written for Minho, the one that flowed so easily, the one he desperately wanted to share with him. 

“I hope you like it.”

“You know I will.”

Jisung adjusted the strap of his guitar and stole one more kiss from Minho’s lips.

“Good luck,” Minho said. “I love you.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered. 

“I love you too,” he said, blowing him a kiss. “And I’ll be in the back rooms after.” 

Minho shook his head with a smile. “You know you’re supposed to stay away from there.” 

Jisung shrugged. “Yeah, but I know how to get a free room. And you can’t stop me.”

Minho smacked his ass. “Guess I can’t. So I’ll have to come get you. Little brat.”

If they kept teasing each other like this, he wouldn’t be able to step out onto that stage. 

So he blew him one last kiss before he jogged out under the lights, his heart racing, and ready to play. They tuned quickly, and he introduced their band to the packed bar. The energy was electric, and he’d never felt happier to be where he was right now. 

Seeing Minho, Chan, and Felix all cheering him on in the crowd, dancing along, made his heart swell. 

And he would never forget the tears on Minho’s cheeks when he leaned into the mic and sang the song he’d written just for him.