Archive of Our Own

Rain sounded comforting to other people.

Soft against the windows.

Jisung never understood it.

The second rain touched his skin, irritation crawled through him immediately.

Cold water slipping beneath his collar. Shoes soaking through no matter how carefully he tried avoiding puddles.

And the noise.

God, the noise.

Rain swallowed everything whole.

Conversations blurred together; Umbrellas knocked against shoulders. People rushed past him in crowds like they belonged somewhere important, while Jisung always seemed to fall half a step behind everyone else around him.

Jisung hated that feeling most.

The strange, restless frustration rain always dragged out of him. Like the entire world was moving too quickly while he struggled to keep up with it.

By the time he got home on rainy days, his shoulders usually ached from how tightly wound he’d kept himself the entire walk back.

So no.

Jisung didn’t think rain was comforting at all.

“I can’t believe we’re really roommates,” Felix chuckles, placing the last of the cutlery into the drawer.

“Well, I did say I’d follow you two wherever you ended up,” Jisung sighs, collapsing into one of the chairs.

Ever since first year, Jisung had known he wanted to spend his second year living with Felix and Jeongin.

Jeongin leans over the coffee table to grab the TV remote before settling beside Jisung on the couch.

Jisung glances over at Felix just as he tucks his blonde hair behind his ear, sunlight catching briefly across the freckles scattered over his cheeks.

Jisung then catches a glimpse of himself in the dark TV screen for a moment, fingers briefly brushing through his freshly dyed blonde hair.

Jeongin had insisted on it a week earlier, standing behind Jisung in the tiny bathroom with bleach-stained gloves while insisting blonde suited him better. Something about a fresh start.

Jisung hadn’t argued much.

Maybe because he was tired of hearing the same things over and over again.

Too soft for an alpha.
Too pretty.
Too quiet.

People rarely said it cruelly enough for him to openly get upset about it. That almost made it worse. The comments always came disguised as jokes, passing remarks during secondary gender conversations, and confused looks whenever someone found out he was an alpha instead of an omega.

Jisung had learned a long time ago how to laugh along with it.

Still, aside from Felix, talking to omegas had always felt awkward afterwards, like there was something fundamentally wrong in the way Jisung carried himself. Something missing.

By now, most of his ruts were spent alone with suppressant bottles cluttering his bedside table and rutting helplessly into his bedsheets, trying not to think too hard about how easy everything seemed for everyone else around him.

Felix makes his way over to the couch whilst texting on his phone, a smirk evident on his lips.

Jisung's eyes trail as he takes in the calendar on the wall with green and yellow dots chalked out. It wasn’t usual for unclaimed alphas and omegas to live together, but they decided it would be far easier to just disappear for a couple of days during their heat or rutting period.

And Jeongin didn't really mind as a beta; he was more or less unaffected by their pheromones.

“Hey, guys”, Felix called, ushering them over with his hands.

“Hm,” Jisung peers over Felix’s shoulder. A chat log opens, the name being four hearts.

“Channie hyung is having a party tonight.” He shifts back, shoving the phone in Jisung's face. “You both should come- no, you need to come, especially you, Sunnie. I mean, you don’t talk to any other omegas, and you're practically always cooped up in your room making music. Even Innie has a boyfriend”, he emphasises.

Jisung opened his mouth to refuse automatically before stopping himself.

Maybe Felix was right. Maybe hiding in his room every weekend was getting pathetic.

“Come on, Sungie,” Felix complained, playfully shaking him back and forth.

“Yeah, just this once. Trust me, it will be fun.” Jeongin adds, bringing both men into a hug.

Jisung chuckles, “Fine, but you two better not leave me for Chan hyung and Seungmin,” He states, playfully nudging their foreheads.

There was a heavy downpour that night.

Rain hammered against the windows hard enough to rattle the glass; the streets outside drowned beneath silver sheets of water. Every flash of lightning turned the apartment white for a split second before sinking it back into a dim yellow light.

Jisung begged Felix and Jeongin to let him stay home, but they wouldn't budge.

“You’ve cancelled the last three parties,” Felix complained from the doorway, already pulling on his shoes. “At this point, people think you died.”

“Maybe I did,” Jisung muttered, staring at the rain with open disdain.

The storm already felt exhausting, and he hadn’t even stepped outside yet. Rainwater raced down the windows in uneven streams while thunder rattled somewhere overhead, low and distant. Just looking at it made his shoulders tense.

“You’re being dramatic,” Jeongin said, tossing him his jacket. “Come on. One hour. Then you can disappear again.”

At the party, Jisung tried to drown the noise out with whatever drink ended up in his hand. Which was ironic, really, considering he loved music more than anything. But whatever they had blasting through the speakers barely qualified as music to him—just bass-heavy enough to make the floor vibrate beneath his shoes and people scream over each other.

He shifted from one foot to the other near the kitchen counter, fingers tight around his glass as he scanned the crowded apartment. Thankfully, Felix hadn’t abandoned him completely for Chan this time. Instead, he’d attached himself to Minho, his older dance senior, the same one Felix had spent the last month talking about nonstop.

Across the room, Jeongin was significantly less subtle. He had Seungmin pinned near the hallway wall, mouth pressed against his boyfriend’s, while Seungmin’s face burned bright red. Considering the way Jeongin kept smiling into the kiss, discretion clearly wasn’t the goal anymore.

Jisung looked away before they could accidentally make eye contact and took another sip of his drink instead.

That was when he noticed Minho lightly patting Felix’s shoulder. Felix immediately pointed in Jisung’s direction with an expression that looked far too pleased with himself.

Jisung narrowed his eyes.

Minho glanced over. Then, as if he’d been given a direct order, he started walking toward him.

He hadn’t even wanted to come.

An hour ago, he’d been standing by the window, watching the rain hit the glass in uneven streaks, already irritated, already tired—telling himself he’d stay for ten minutes, maybe fifteen, then leave without anyone noticing.

And then

Cloves.

Warm, sharp and unfamiliar in a way that makes his thoughts stutter for a second.

“I hear you’re not much of a dancer.” He whispers.

It’s layered with something else, too, rain, but not as he knows it. Not suffocating. Something cleaner.  Like the storm exists around it, not through it.

Jisung stills.

For a moment, the noise of the party fades, and his focus shifts, pulled in a way he doesn’t understand.

He frowns slightly, more confused than anything.

Because nothing about this makes sense.

He hates the rain. He still feels out of place, still too aware of himself, of everything he’s not. Everything he lacks.

But for the first time in a long while, Jisung doesn’t feel swallowed by the room.

All Jisung can focus on is the person in front of him.

Jisung feels his ears flush, not sure if it was the drink or the smell of Minho.

They sway slowly as Minho turns his back to Jisung, allowing his hands to settle on Minho’s hips.

In that moment, Jisung didn’t feel inadequate the way he usually did.

Jisung never really thought much about omegas, especially dominant male ones. But standing here with Minho in front of him, he found himself completely captivated. The sharp line of his nose, the vivid orange hair catching beneath the dim lights, the deep cupid’s bow carved into his upper lip—it all pulled at Jisung in ways he couldn’t explain. Every instinct in his body seemed to lean toward him automatically.

Was this what people meant when they talked about an alpha’s pull toward their omega?

Except Jisung didn’t want to overpower Minho. If anything, he wanted to stay close enough to be let into Minho’s world for a little longer. 

Minho turned back around to face him, hands loosely looped around Jisung’s neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jisung held Minho’s gaze, his breath catching slightly under the weight of it. He’d never really thought about kissing someone before, never wanted to kiss anyone enough for the thought to stay with him. But right then, with Minho standing impossibly close, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to feel Minho’s lips against his.

Minho’s eyes drift between Jisung’s lips and eyes before he brings his lips to Jisung's.

It's slow at first as their lips slot together, as Jisung kissed both lips.

Minho pulled away and laughed.

“Focus on one lip”, Minho chuckles, as he then points to his top lip.

Jisung moved first, close enough to feel Minho’s breath against his skin. His hands came up instinctively, cupping Minho’s cheeks as he closed what little distance remained between them.

“Cute,” Minho laughed softly when Jisung immediately tried again more carefully.

The kiss started soft, hesitant. Just slow presses of lips against lips while Jisung tried to process the warmth of Minho this close to him.

Rain and cloves drifted around him with every breath. The scent curled into Jisung’s senses so naturally that it made his head spin a little. Rain had always felt cold to him before, sharp and suffocating, but on Minho it felt entirely different—warm air, steady and consuming, softened by the spice of clove lingering beneath it.

Jisung's heart pounded in his chest as Minho's kiss deepened, his tongue tentatively exploring the recesses of Jisung's mouth. The sensation sent a tremor through Jisung, leaving his body unsteady beneath Minho’s touch. He could taste the remnants of the soju he had earlier, mingling with the unique flavour that was purely Minho. Jisung's hand, still at Minho’s jaw, was warm and firm, his thumb tracing lazy circles on Minho's cheek. It was a stark contrast to the urgency of their kiss, a slow burn that threatened to consume them both. Jisung's fingers, curled into the fabric of Minho's shirt, gripping tighter, pulling him closer still. He wanted to feel every inch of Minho against him, to drown in the sensation of their bodies pressed together.

The wall at Minho's back was cold, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their bodies. Jisung's other hand found its way to Minho's hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. He could feel the rise and fall of Minho's chest, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they continued to explore each other's mouths.

Minho's kiss was confident, sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, there was a softness to it, a gentleness that belied the passion behind it. The careful rhythm between them dissolved quickly, replaced by something needier and far harder for Jisung to pull away from. 

The rain continued to pour, the sound of it a steady drumbeat against the roof, but neither of them noticed. Their world reduced to the sensation of their lips moving in sync, their breaths mingling. Jisung's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them centred around Minho. The way his body felt against his, the way his lips moved with such skill, the way his scent enveloped him, making him feel safe and alive all at once. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, his body responding to Minho's touch in ways he'd never experienced before.

Minho's hand moved from Jisung's jaw, tracing a path down his neck, his shoulder, his arm, until it found Jisung's hand. Their fingers entwined, and Minho gave a gentle squeeze, as if to say, "I've got you." It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt of warmth through Jisung, a sense of belonging that he'd never felt before.

Their kiss slowed, their tongues retreating, their lips still moving in a slow, sensual dance. They pulled away, their breaths coming in short gasps, their foreheads leaning against each other. Jisung could feel Minho's heart beating as fast as his own, could see the dilation of his pupils, the flush on his cheeks. He reached up, his thumb brushing against Minho's cheek.

By the time Minho finally pulled back completely, Jisung was left breathless, chest rising unevenly as he struggled to steady himself.

Then he felt it.

The slow tightening of his jeans on his cock. His breath stuttered as arousal settled heavily through him. 

Jisung’s eyes widened slightly as he immediately tried to think about anything else. The rain outside. The music. Felix somewhere in the apartment. Anything.

It didn’t help.

Humiliating, Jisung thought bitterly.

How embarrassing was it for an alpha to get hard from a simple kiss?

The day after the party, Jisung felt unusually hot. He knew it wasn’t his rut that ended last week.

So why did it feel like a shock was ripping through his body?

His cock was burning. Begging for a release from his shorts.

Haggardly, he stumbles into the kitchen to prepare himself some tea.

“God, Sungie, are you okay? Your pheromones are all over the place.” Felix called, placing a hand to Jisung’s forehead.

“I- I don’t know.” Jisung sighs. “I woke up and- and I don’t know”, he struggles to say, shuffling back to his room, waving away Felix’s concerned look.

Collapsing on his bed, confusion plagues his mind.

Ever since he met Minho last night, it was like he couldn't control his body.

He tries to shove it down, the thoughts, thoughts of Minho.

His firm grip, his intense gaze.

To no avail, Jisung was utterly swept up in the feeling of the omega, as he grew harder in his shorts.

Jisung's hand moved with a mind of its own, his palm grinding hard against his cock, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through him. Jisung's breath caught in his throat as he imagined Minho's body responding to his touch, his eyes softening, his breath coming in short gasps. He wanted to see that composed expression shatter, to see Minho surrender to the desire between them. But he didn't want to be the one in control.

He wanted to submit to Minho.

He wanted Minho to take charge, to guide their bodies, to set the pace. He wanted Minho to tell him what to do, to command him, to control him. He wanted to feel Minho's hands on him, firm and insistent, guiding him, pushing him, pulling him closer. He wanted to feel Minho's body against his, his breath mingling with his, the warmth climbing his neck.

He wanted Minho to say, "Jisung, touch me here. Kiss me there. Make me feel good." 

He wanted to obey, to give Minho everything he wanted, everything he needed. He wanted to surrender to Minho, to let go of his own control, to let Minho guide their bodies, to let him set the pace.

He wanted Minho to tell him, "Jisung, you're mine. You belong to me." In that moment, Jisung knew, he would give Minho everything. He would give him control, would give him power over his body, over his pleasure. He would make Minho his master in every way possible.

"Would he like my touch?" Jisung whispered to himself, his voice ragged with need. He could picture it so clearly, Minho's body responding to his, his breath coming in short gasps, his stomach pulled tight. But would it be enough? Would Minho want more?

The thought of giving Minho more made Jisung's spine tingle. He envisioned his hands, mapping Minho's body, leaving no spot untouched. Minho's breath hitching, sharp and quick, his body arching into Jisung's touch, his hands clutching Jisung's arms, shoulders, and back, pulling him nearer, craving more. A needy whimper escaped Jisung's lips. He felt the pressure mounting in his balls, his cock pulsing with desire. He was teetering, so close to the edge. He could almost hear Minho's voice, low, whispering his name, edging him on.

"Minho..." Jisung groaned, his hand moving faster, his body arching into his touch. He could almost feel Minho's lips on his, could almost taste the rain and cloves on his tongue. He could almost hear Minho's breath mingling with his, could almost feel the steady pressure of their bodies pressed together.

With a final, desperate groan, Jisung came, his body jerking with the force of it. He could feel the warmth spreading in his shorts. He lay there, panting, his body still tingling with the aftershocks of his release.

But even as he caught his breath, his mind was already racing, already imagining what it would be like to touch Minho for real.

“Knock, knock.”

A sharp bang echoed from outside his bedroom door, making Jisung nearly jump out of his skin.

“Hyung,” Jeongin called from the hallway, voice muffled through the wood, “Felix hyung told me to pick up some suppressants on my way home.”

Jisung froze for a moment before forcing himself to answer. “Just leave them outside.”

He waited until Jeongin’s footsteps disappeared down the hall before finally moving. Being a beta, Jeongin wouldn’t notice anything unusual anyway. He couldn’t smell pheromones the way alphas and omegas could.

Felix, though? Felix would know immediately.

The scent of dark chocolate and vanilla lingered heavily in the room after everything Jisung had been thinking about. There was no way Felix wouldn’t notice it the second he walked through the door. 

He waited for the scent to fade before leaving his room, lingering by the door until the heavy traces of dark chocolate and vanilla finally settled into something less obvious.

Even then, shame prickled beneath Jisung’s skin. It was humiliating knowing he could come so easily from nothing more than thoughts of Minho. Just the memory of the omega’s hands and voice had reduced him to this.

Needy enough to ruin a fresh pair of boxers just thinking about Minho kissing him again. 

He slowly cracked the door open, glancing down both sides of the hallway before quickly snatching the suppressants from the floor.

 The apartment was quiet, thankfully, leaving him to slip into the bathroom unnoticed.

The lock clicked behind him.

Jisung stared at his reflection for a long moment, face still warm from the memory of last night. The kiss replayed in his head so vividly it made his chest tighten. Minho’s lips against his, the steady grip at his waist, the scent of rain and cloves wrapped so tightly around him that even now Jisung swore he could still smell it lingering on his skin.

He exhaled sharply and turned the shower on as cold as possible.

Maybe the freezing water would shock him back to normal. Or at least stop him from thinking about Minho for five minutes.

14:56

Jisung sat in class with his notebook open and pen in hand, trying his best to focus on the lecturer speaking at the front.

It was pointless.

Every few minutes, his thoughts drifted back to Minho. The warmth of his hands. The feeling of his lips against Jisung’s. The scent of cloves and rain lingered so clearly in his memory that it almost felt unfair.

By the time class finally ended, Jisung had barely processed a single word from the lecture.

He packed his bag quickly before making his way across campus toward the dance building, where Felix’s classes usually ran later than everyone else’s. The autumn air was cool against his skin, students flooding the pathways around him in noisy groups while Jisung kept his head down and walked a little faster.

Normally, he liked waiting for Felix after class. The dance building was quieter once rehearsals started, and Felix always complained dramatically if Jisung left without him.

Today, though, the closer he got to the building, the more restless he felt.

16:20

Felix should’ve been out ten minutes ago.

Jisung shifted his weight impatiently beside the railing outside the building, fingers tapping restlessly against his sleeve. Usually, he didn’t mind waiting. Quietly standing off to the side while Felix finished class was easy enough. Fewer people meant fewer eyes on him, fewer chances to overthink every glance or conversation.

Today was awful.

Students crowded the entrance in loud clusters, shoving past one another as they spilt onto the walkway. Jisung kept getting bumped into from every direction, muttered apologies and laughter blending into one overwhelming mess of noise.

Leaning back against the railing, he let out a quiet sigh and wished Felix would hurry up already.

Then he saw Minho.

The omega stepped out of the building beside Hyunjin and Seungmin, laughing at something one of them said. The sound carried easily through the crowd, light and effortless enough to make Jisung still for a moment.

For a second, he couldn’t look away.

Seungmin spoke to Minho so naturally. There was never any hesitation with him, never that awkward pause Jisung constantly felt around omegas. Everything about Seungmin seemed easy. Comfortable.

Jisung’s fingers curled tighter around the sleeve of his hoodie. Leaning against the railing suddenly felt awkward, his shoulders stiffening as he watched the three of them together beneath the afternoon sunlight.

An alpha like Seungmin could talk to omegas without overthinking every word that left his mouth. Meanwhile, Jisung could barely form coherent thoughts around Minho half the time.

Shame settled over him almost immediately after.

Not because Minho was laughing with someone else, but because Jisung found himself envying something so simple in the first place. It made him feel lacking somehow. Like, there was something fundamentally wrong with the kind of alpha he is.

Lowering his head, Jisung shifted back against the railing and tried to make himself smaller, hoping Minho wouldn’t notice him standing there.

“Jisung!”

Minho called his name as he strode across the courtyard toward him, orange hair practically glowing beneath the late afternoon sunlight.

Jisung straightened immediately, nearly fumbling the strap of his bag as he shifted its weight across both shoulders.

How did Minho know his name?

Did Felix tell him?

“Good afternoon, hyung,” Jisung greeted quietly once Minho stopped in front of him.

Minho’s nose scrunched slightly, like he’d noticed something amusing, before his expression softened into another smile.

Without hesitation, he draped an arm over Jisung’s shoulders and leaned in close. Too close.

Jisung’s breath caught as Minho tilted his head, nose brushing lightly against the crook of his neck.

“You smell lovely today, Jisung.”

The low murmur against his skin sent heat rushing straight through him. Minho breathed in again, deeper this time, and Jisung had to fight not to visibly react right there in the middle of campus.

“T-thank you, Minho, hyung”, he managed, voice quieter than before. “Have you seen Felix?”

“Hm.” Minho pulled back slightly, though not nearly enough for Jisung’s sanity. “I think I saw him heading to the bathroom. He should be out soon.”

The moment Minho stepped away properly, a strange pang settled in Jisung’s chest almost immediately. The distance between them was barely anything, yet Jisung noticed it all at once.

A second ago, Minho had been close enough to touch, close enough that Jisung didn’t have to think about anything except the feeling of him there.

Now the space between them felt oddly empty.

Jisung hated how quickly he already missed him.

“Say…” Minho tilted his head with a small grin. “I don’t have your number.”

“N-no, you don’t,” Jisung replied, unable to stop the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Then give it to me.”

Minho held his hand out expectantly, palm up.

Jisung blinked at him for a second before hurriedly pulling his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it in the process. Minho laughed softly at the reaction, the sound warm enough to make Jisung’s ears burn.

“You’re cute,” Minho murmured.

Jisung almost choked on air.

With far more concentration than necessary, he unlocked his phone and opened a new contact before handing it over carefully. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Jisung hated how aware he was of something that small.

Minho typed his number in without much hurry, leaning casually against Jisung’s shoulder while he did. Jisung could smell the faint scent of rain and cloves again, softer now beneath the afternoon sun.

“There,” Minho hummed, handing the phone back. “Now you can’t avoid me.”

Jisung blinked down at the screen for a second.

Avoid Minho?

As if he would ever do that willingly. If anything, Jisung had spent the last ten hours doing the complete opposite, letting every thought somehow circle back to Minho, no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else.

The idea of ignoring him felt almost ridiculous.

Before Jisung could force himself to respond normally, his phone buzzed lightly in his hand.

Unknown Number:                                                                                                                                     Hi Jisung :) 

Jisung stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary while Minho watched him with obvious amusement.

“You texted me while standing in front of me?” Jisung asked quietly.

“Mhm.” Minho grinned. “I wanted to make sure you saved it.”

“Well, I have to go,” Seungmin chuckled as he watched the two of them, lightly hitting Minho’s arm. “Innie’s going to get jealous if he hears I’ve been hanging out with his friend without him.”

Jisung watched as Seungmin strode off across the courtyard, entirely unconcerned with the stares he got.

Sometimes, Jisung wished he were more like him.

Seungmin was an alpha too, yet he never seemed restricted by the expectations that usually followed them. He dated a beta openly and didn’t care that people whispered about the fact that he preferred being the bottom, the one taken care of, instead of the one in control. He wore confidence so effortlessly that it almost seemed unfair.

Meanwhile, Jisung still felt painfully aware of himself around omegas, like every word and movement needed to be measured before it left him.

“His boyfriend has him wrapped around his finger,” Minho chuckled softly, eyes drifting back toward Jisung.

A quiet “Yeah” escaped Jisung’s lips.

“Sungie!”

Felix came rushing down the stairs, nearly tripping over himself in the process. “Sorry, I’m late. The janitor took forever with the toilet paper.”

Then his eyes landed on Minho.

“Oh, Minho hyung!” Felix brightened. “Would you like to come over since you’re already here?”

Jisung’s face flushed immediately.

Minho, at home.

Their apartment. His room. His space.

The thought alone made his stomach flip.

“Sure,” Minho replied easily before tilting his head slightly toward Jisung. “If that’s alright with Jisung?”

“Yes, of course, Hyung," Jisung answered far too quickly, trying desperately not to reveal the grin threatening to spread across his face.

Back at the apartment, Minho and Jisung sat together on the long couch.

Or rather, in reality, Jisung sat as far away from Minho as physically possible without falling off the edge, leaving an almost comical amount of space between them while Minho sat comfortably near the middle cushion.

The distance should’ve helped. Instead, it only made Jisung more aware of the omega sitting a few cushions away from him. Every shift of fabric or quiet laugh from Minho dragged Jisung’s attention right back toward him, no matter how hard he tried to act normal.

Meanwhile, Felix rummaged through the cupboards completely obliviously, pulling things out only to shove them back moments later.

“Why do we have three boxes of pasta but no sauce?” he complained to nobody in particular. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know it was Innie.”

Minho snorted softly at that while Jisung tried not to stare at the way he looked lounging comfortably against the couch.

Felix continued rambling absentmindedly from the kitchen about classes, dance rehearsals, and somebody in his lecture who apparently microwaved tuna in public.

At some point during the story, Minho shifted positions.

Jisung looked over instinctively just in time to see Minho lean sideways against the armrest, stretching out comfortably along the length of the couch. Then, without a second thought, Minho rested one leg across Jisung’s lap.

Jisung went completely still.

Minho didn’t even look at him, his expression calm as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Jisung’s brain stopped functioning entirely.

Minho slowly pressed the heel of his foot down harder against Jisung’s cock, the movement subtle enough that Felix remained completely oblivious in the kitchen.

Jisung’s breath hitched anyway.

His eyes widened as he grabbed lightly at Minho’s ankle, trying to push his foot away before Felix turned around and noticed something was wrong. But Minho barely budged.

It felt like trying to move a stone.

The omega only shifted his foot again at an agonisingly slow pace, expression still perfectly calm as he listened to Felix ramble on about campus gossip like he wasn’t actively ruining Jisung’s ability to think.

Jisung shot him a horrified look.

Minho smiled lazily in response, entirely unbothered.

Felix finally seemed to realise staring into the cupboards wasn’t going to magically replace the food Jeongin had eaten. With a dramatic sigh, he turned toward the couch.

“Right, I’m going to get pizza.”

Minho’s foot didn’t move from Jisung’s lap. If anything, the pressure against his cock grew heavier.

Jisung sucked in a sharp breath, fingers curling against the cushion beside him. His pulse stumbled violently as he fought to keep his expression normal, one hand quickly covering his mouth before any humiliating sound could escape.

Minho only rubbed slower, more deliberately this time.

“Are you okay?” Felix asked distractedly while grabbing his keys from the counter.

“Ye-yeah,” Jisung answered too quickly, voice catching halfway through the word. “Perfect.”

Felix blinked at him for a second before shrugging. “Okay… Keep an eye on him, hyung.”

“Of course,” Minho replied smoothly.

Clack.

The front door shut behind Felix.

Silence settled over the apartment almost instantly.

Jisung turned toward Minho with flushed cheeks, barely able to hold his gaze.

“Hyung,” he whined softly as Minho pressed down harder against his cock, completely unhurried now that they were alone.

“Toilet,” Jisung burst out suddenly.

Minho blinked a couple of times. “Huh?” he teased lightly.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Jisung blurted before practically stumbling off the couch.

He disappeared down the hallway quickly, heart pounding hard enough to make his chest ache. The restless feeling beneath his skin only seemed to worsen the longer Minho stayed near him.

Jisung barely made it into the bathroom before pushing the door shut behind him. Or at least, trying to.

A hand caught the edge of the door before it could close fully.

Jisung went still as Minho slipped inside anyway, calm as ever, before quietly locking the door behind him. 

“Hyung…” Jisung’s face burned instantly. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Right now, Jisung wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. 

The urge had been sitting restless beneath his skin ever since last night, growing worse every second Minho looked at him like that.

His fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of Minho’s shirt.

“It’s okay, Jisungie,” Minho murmured softly.

Minho’s hand slid to Jisung’s cock, spreading warm and firm against him.

Jisung let out a shaky sound at the contact, breath catching as Minho’s palm pressed more insistently through the thin fabric of his trousers. It felt completely different from before. More direct. More overwhelming. He could feel every slow movement of Minho’s fingers against him, steady enough to make his knees weaken.

A soft whine escaped Jisung’s throat as he bent forward slightly, forehead nearly brushing Minho’s shoulder. Heat rushed through his entire body while Minho kept him close, calm and grounded despite the way Jisung’s thoughts spun uselessly in circles.

“mhm-” he moaned again, voice embarrassingly unsteady.

Another sound slipped from Jisung’s lips, louder this time, and he curled forward instinctively, shoulders folding inward as though the sensation was too much to hold inside his body. Releasing himself in his trousers, whilst shaky breaths left him in quick pants.

“Hyung…” he moaned softly, fingers tightening helplessly in Minho’s shirt.

Tears rolled down Jisung’s cheeks as he hid his face against Minho’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” he sobbed quietly. “I couldn’t hold it.”

The shame hit him almost immediately afterwards, heavy and suffocating. Once again, he felt pathetic. Weak. Like he was failing at being the kind of alpha he was supposed to be.

“No…” Minho breathed softly.

His hand slid beneath Jisung’s chin, gently lifting his head until their eyes met. There wasn’t even a trace of disappointment in Minho’s expression. Only warmth.

“You were so good for me.”

The praise made Jisung’s stomach tighten painfully.

Minho leaned closer, lips brushing carefully across the tears still clinging to Jisung’s face before kissing the corner of his mouth in quiet comfort. His hands cupped Jisung’s cheeks with surprising gentleness, thumbs stroking against flushed skin as though trying to soothe every trembling thought out of him.

Then Minho kissed him again. Whatever restraint had been there moments ago disappeared completely. The kiss turned messy almost instantly, all uneven breaths and mouths pressing too hard together while Minho’s fingers tightened in Jisung’s hair. And Jisung chased after it helplessly. Jisung moaned softly against Minho’s mouth, the sound only making Minho pull him closer. His hands grabbed desperately at Minho’s clothes, bunching the fabric tightly in his fists while he pressed forward without thinking, overwhelmed by the warmth of Minho everywhere around him. The scent of rain and cloves thickened in the cramped bathroom until Jisung could barely think through it properly anymore. Jisung's body responded instantly, his cock hardening painfully as he pressed himself against Minho, trying desperately to relieve the aching heat building beneath his skin 

 Minho held him easily, his arms supporting Jisung as he trembled with need. As their kiss deepened, Minho's pheromones grounded Jisung, made him feel safe, and all he could think about was Minho's arms around him, his lips on his, his body pressed close.

Jisung's cock hardened again, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire as Minho's gaze flicked downwards. The omega's lips curved into a teasing smile, his voice soft yet laced with amusement and lust. "Look at you, Jisungie," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. "All hard and needy for me. Tell me, what do you want, hmm? What do you need?"

Jisung's body quivered in response, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-you, hyung. I need you. I'll be... I'll be good for you. I'll do anything you want, just... just please, hyung."

Minho's smile widened, his eyes softening as he cupped Jisung's cheek, his thumb brushing against his flushed skin. 

"You're already being so good, Jisungie," he whispered. "So patient, so needy.  But I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Jisung's breath hitched, his body tensing with anticipation.

"I-I want you to touch me, hyung," he admitted, his voice laced with shame and desire. "I want your hands on me, your lips, your body. I want you to help me come, I want to make you proud."

Minho's smile was soft, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "You already make me proud, Jisungie," he murmured. "Now, let's see if we can't make you feel even better, hmm?"

“Yes,” he whimpered. “Hyung.”

Minho’s lips brushed against Jisung’s ear, his voice low and steady. “Hold it in for me, Jisungie. I know you can.” 

Jisung's breath hitched as Minho's hand slid beneath his waistband, wrapping around his bare cock. The omega's fingers traced the veins along Jisung's length, his touch gentle yet firm, making Jisung's head spin. 

"Hyung... it's t-oo," he moaned, his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Minho's hand paused, his thumb pressing against the underside of Jisung's cock, right where he knew it would drive him wild. "You can, Jisungie," he murmured. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer."

Jisung's body quivered, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Minho's hand resumed its slow, torturous pace. 

Once.

"Please... hyung... I can't... I need to come..." Jisung begged, his voice laced with desperation and need.

Twice.

Minho's hand paused, his fingers wrapping around the base of Jisung's cock, squeezing gently“Not yet, Jisungie. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer.” 

Three times.

Jisung's body trembled, his cock throbbing painfully as he fought to hold back his release. His mind was a whirlwind of sensation, his body aching with need, his cock leaking precome onto Minho's hand. Minho’s fingers tightened slightly, reassuring rather than demanding. “There you go, Jisungie. You’re doing perfectly.” 

Jisung’s muscles tensed helplessly, breath turning ragged as he fought to hold back his release. He was on the edge, struggling to stay in control, but he held on, wanting more than anything to hear Minho tell him he’d done well.

Minho's hand resumed its slow, steady pace, his fingers tracing the length of Jisung's cock, his thumb rubbing against the slit with each stroke. Jisung's body trembled, his breath coming in short gasps as he fought to hold back his release, his body aching with the effort.

Minho's voice was low and commanding. "Now, Jisungie. Come for me now. Show me how good you can be."

And Jisung did, his body shuddering as he released into Minho's hand, a low moan tearing from his throat as he rode out the waves of pleasure. Minho held him close, his touch tender and possessive, his hand continuing to stroke Jisung's cock, drawing out every last drop of his come. As Jisung finally relaxed in Minho’s arms, Minho brushed a soft kiss against his forehead before gently smoothing Jisung’s hair back from his face.

“There you are,” he murmured warmly. “You did so well for me, Jisungie.”

The words settled deep inside Jisung, quiet but overwhelming. He had spent so long feeling mismatched with the role expected of him as an alpha that Minho’s approval almost felt unreal. Minho didn’t look at him like he was weak for wanting softness or for craving praise instead of control. If anything, Minho held him more carefully because of it. Something tightly wound inside Jisung loosened at the realisation.

Jisung barely felt steady on his feet afterwards. His limbs felt heavy, thoughts drifting slowly while he stayed tucked against Minho like moving any farther away would break something fragile between them. He knew he should probably feel embarrassed. Ashamed, even. He isn't supposed to melt from soft praise and careful hands.

Minho leaned down slightly, brushing another soft kiss against Jisung’s lips. “Are you okay, Jisungie?” he asked quietly.

Jisung nodded against him almost immediately. “I’m okay, hyung.” His voice came out softer than usual. “Really.”

A small smile pulled at Minho’s mouth before he brushed his thumb lightly beneath Jisung’s eye. “You did well,” Minho murmured again, like he knew Jisung still needed to hear it.

The words settled somewhere deep inside him. Jisung lowered his head slightly after that, unable to stop the small smile tugging at his own lips, while Minho kept holding him close beside the sound of running water.

Jisung curled over the sink while Minho quietly washed his hands beside him. The sound of running water filled the small bathroom, leaving Jisung alone with the dizzy aftermath of everything that had just happened.

His head spun as he tried to process it all.

He had only ever jerked off alone before. Hidden away in his room late at night with nobody around to witness how needy and desperate he could become.

Now he had done it with an omega.

Not just any omega.

Minho.

The realisation made fresh heat rush to his face despite everything.

By the time Jisung finally looked up again, Minho had already slipped out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open behind him.

Jisung let out a slow breath and sank back against the toilet, his dick still out, eyes falling shut for a moment as he tried to steady himself. The faint remnants of rain and cloves still lingered in the air around him, soaked into his clothes and skin strongly enough that it made his chest ache.

He inhaled deeply before covering his burning face with both hands.

Jisung returned to the living room slowly, still avoiding looking at his own reflection whenever he passed something remotely reflective.

The moment he stepped in, he froze.

Minho was sprawled across the couch on his stomach, his plump ass almost acting as an invitation. He was completely comfortable, like he owned the apartment already. At the sound of Jisung entering, he rolled onto his side and smirked lazily at him.

Jisung immediately looked away.

Without a word, he crossed the room and sat down on the opposite couch instead, leaving as much distance between them as possible.

“Scared, Jisungie?” Minho teased.

“No,” Jisung mumbled quickly, ears burning. “I just don’t think my heart can handle that much proximity.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

For a second, silence filled the room.

Then Minho laughed.

Not the soft chuckles Jisung had heard before, but something deeper and fuller, warm enough to send heat straight back into Jisung’s face. The sound filled the apartment so naturally that Jisung found himself glancing over despite himself.

Minho was still smiling at him when their eyes met.

Jisung immediately looked away again. He sank further into the couch cushions, suddenly wishing Felix would come back already. Or Jeongin. Anyone, really.

Not because he wanted Minho gone.

That was the problem.

Every second alone with him made Jisung feel more aware of himself—his heartbeat, his flushed face, the way his thoughts kept spiralling somewhere dangerous whenever Minho looked at him for too long. Felix’s constant talking or Jeongin’s dry comments usually gave him something else to focus on.

Now it was just Minho’s attention fixed entirely on him.

And Jisung genuinely didn’t know how much more of it he could survive.

It wasn’t long before the front door opened again, Felix walking in with pizza boxes balanced in his arms while Jeongin trailed closely behind him.

“I’m back, Hyung and Sunnie,” Felix called out as he kicked the door shut behind him. “Sorry it took so long. Innie was stranded, so I picked him up.”

“Tragic,” Jeongin deadpanned while slipping off his shoes. Then his eyes flicked toward the living room. “Wait, why are you two sitting so far apart?”

Jisung immediately lowered his head.

“I don’t know,” Minho mused lazily from the opposite couch. “Maybe I scared our little Jisungie away.”

“No—” Jisung cut in instinctively before stopping himself abruptly.

Silence.

Jeongin’s lips curled slightly at the reaction.

Jisung wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Thankfully, Felix interrupted before anyone could say anything else, loudly announcing the importance of eating pizza while it was still hot.

The four settled around the coffee table with pizza boxes spread between them, Felix loudly complaining about dance rehearsals while Jeongin argued purely for the sake of arguing.

Jisung stayed mostly quiet, absentmindedly tearing pieces from his pizza crust while the others spoke over one another.

“You’re barely eating.”

Jisung glanced up.

Minho was already looking at him.

“There are still three slices left,” Jisung said quietly.

“And?” Minho nudged the box slightly closer toward him. “Eat properly.”

Jisung stared for a moment before slowly taking another slice.

Felix pointed dramatically across the table. “See? I say that all the time, and he ignores me.”

“That’s because you sound like his mother about it,” Jeongin replied instantly.

Minho laughed softly while Jisung looked down at the pizza in his hands.

It felt strange being noticed so easily.

Stranger still, that Minho seemed to notice things Jisung never said out loud.

Eventually, the last slices disappeared.

“Well, I should get going, Felix,” Minho said, patting his stomach lightly as he stood from the couch.

Felix whined dramatically about him leaving while Jeongin started stacking empty boxes together.

Jisung lingered behind near the couch cushions, fingers twisting together nervously.

Part of him wanted to hug Minho goodbye. The thought alone made heat creep back into his face. But maybe that was too much. Too clingy.

They’d barely known each other for two days.

“Are you not going to say goodbye to your hyung?” Jeongin asked suddenly.

Jisung looked up. “Should I?” he asked quietly, fiddling with his fingers. “I mean… we aren’t that close.”

Except that thought felt strangely wrong now.

Jeongin squinted at him for a second before a smile tugged at his mouth.

“Go,” he urged.

Jisung hesitated only a moment before standing and making his way toward the front door.

“Goodbye, hyung,” he called softly.

Minho turned around immediately, a smile already spreading across his face.

“Goodbye, Jisungie,” he replied warmly. “Be sure to answer my texts.”

Then, with one last wave, Minho disappeared down the street.

Jisung stood there staring at the closed door for several seconds longer than necessary.

Jisung hated how quickly he noticed his absence.

The couch still dipped slightly where Minho had been lying earlier, and for one embarrassing second, Jisung caught himself wanting to sit there instead.

Jisung slowly made his way back into the living room.

Jeongin had already disappeared into his room, probably calling Seungmin the second the door shut behind him. Felix, meanwhile, was sprawled dramatically across the couch with one arm over his eyes.

“Lixxie…” Jisung started hesitantly.

“Hm?” Felix lifted his arm slightly to peek at him.

“What’s Minho hyung like?” Jisung asked carefully. “I mean—you know him well, so I was just wondering. Not in a romantic way or anything.”

The words came out rushed and awkward, making Felix snort immediately.

“Relax,” he laughed, sitting up properly. “Minho hyung’s actually really nice once you get close to him. He acts intimidating, but he takes care of people a lot.”

Felix smiled a little to himself before continuing.

“He remembers tiny things about everyone. Like your favourite drink, or if you mentioned being stressed weeks ago. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, then suddenly show up with food or yell at you for skipping meals.”

Jisung listened quietly.

“And he’s really patient,” Felix added. “Like… weirdly patient. Especially with people he likes.”

The last sentence made warmth creep up Jisung’s neck again.

Felix stretched lazily before grinning at him. “Honestly? I think you two would make great friends.”

Friends.

The word lingered in Jisung’s mind long after Felix wandered off toward his room.

Could he really handle just being friends with Minho?

The mere sight of him sent Jisung’s thoughts spiralling. One smile from Minho was enough to leave his chest tight for hours afterwards.

Slowly, Jisung made his way back to his room before collapsing face-first onto his bed.

Almost immediately, his thoughts drifted back to Minho’s lips.

That deep cupid’s bow. The softness of his mouth against Jisung’s, fitting together so perfectly it made his stomach twist even now.

Jisung groaned into his pillow, his body already alight with desire. 

Minho's thick thighs were impossible to ignore, the way they filled out his jeans, the way they flexed when he moved. Jisung hadn’t meant to notice them at first, but now it felt impossible not to. The way Minho sprawled across the couch so comfortably certainly didn’t help either.

He slowly rolled over onto his back.

What would it feel like if Minho straddled him?

If those thighs pressed against his hips while Minho leaned over him with that same calm, knowing expression. If he rolled them slowly against Jisung just to watch him fall apart beneath him.

Jisung's hips jerked upward, a moan escaping him. The sudden rush left him breathless as he arched into his sheets, as he came into his trousers, the pleasure leaving him breathless. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe it. He had never come like that before, just from thinking about someone. But then again, Minho wasn't just someone. He was... something else entirely.

Jisung took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He felt alive, exhilarated, and he couldn't wait to see Minho again. He had no idea what was happening to him, but he couldn't wait for more.

At this point, he was less embarrassed and more genuinely impressed.

PING.

The sound came from Jisung’s phone beside him.

Still half buried in his pillow, he reached for it lazily, not expecting much this late at night. The moment the screen lit up, though, his exhaustion faded instantly.

Hyung :                                                                                                                      Are you asleep, Jisungie?

Jisung stared at the contact name for a second before quickly typing back.

Jisung:                                                                                                                              No, hyung, are you okay?

A reply came almost immediately.

Hyung :                                                                                                                                               😳

Jisung blinked at the screen.

A blushing sticker?

Warmth crept into his cheeks before he hurriedly typed again.

Jisung:                                                                                  Shall I not call you hyung? Sorry, I thought it was okay

The typing bubble appeared instantly.

Hyung :                                                                                                                       No, no, please do Jisungie

Jisung couldn’t stop the small smile spreading across his face.

Jisung:                                                                                                                          Okay, well, goodnight, hyung

He wanted to keep talking. Really badly, actually. But his eyes were already growing heavy, exhaustion finally catching up to him after everything that had happened today.

His phone buzzed one last time before he could put it down.

Hyung :                                                                                                                             Goodnight Jisungie ❤️

Jisung stared at the heart for several seconds before burying his burning face back into his pillow.

Over the next month, texting Minho slowly became the easiest part of Jisung’s day.

What started as short good morning messages and teasing replies somehow turned into hours of conversation stretching late into the night.

Jisung started checking his phone before he even realised he was doing it.

Walking between lectures.

Waiting for the kettle to boil.

Lying in bed, half asleep.

Some small part of him was always waiting for Minho now.

Minho texted him constantly. Pictures of meals he claimed looked “tragic.” Complaints about rehearsals. Random observations during lectures. Sometimes, even blurry selfies, Jisung would stare at for far longer than necessary before forcing himself to reply normally.

And Jisung found himself doing the same in return.

He started telling Minho things he usually kept to himself, small frustrations about class, songs stuck in his head, thoughts that crossed his mind at two in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. Somehow, Minho always answered.

Some nights, they barely spoke about anything important at all. Yet Jisung still found himself smiling at his phone like an idiot while Minho sent another teasing message, followed by a sticker that somehow perfectly matched his expression.

Minho became woven into the routine of Jisung’s life frighteningly quickly.

The sound of a notification now made his heart jump automatically.

And somewhere in the middle of all those late-night conversations and lingering smiles at his screen, their relationship stopped feeling fragile and new.

It started feeling natural.

“You’re on your phone a lot lately,” Felix teased one afternoon, flopping dramatically onto the couch beside Jisung. “Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” Jisung shut down immediately, barely glancing up from his screen.

“A boyfriend?” Jeongin asked from the kitchen, a sarcastic grin spreading across his face.

“No,” Jisung repeated, though this time his ears turned noticeably red. “I’m talking to Minho hyung.”

Felix’s eyebrows lifted instantly.

“And you two have gotten close, I take it?” he probed.

Jisung quickly locked his phone before tossing it face down onto the couch cushion beside him.

“No closer than anyone else,” he insisted.

Felix and Jeongin exchanged a look.

“Right,” Jeongin drawled slowly, clearly unconvinced.

A moment later, Jisung’s phone lit up against the couch cushion with another notification.

His attention snapped toward it immediately before he could stop himself.

Jeongin snorted. “Yeah, definitely just friends.”

Jisung tried to focus during his lectures, but his mind kept drifting back to Minho.

Minho and his texts.

Minho was strangely expressive over messages. Always sending emojis, dramatic abbreviations, and stickers that somehow matched his tone perfectly. Jisung found himself staring at them longer than necessary sometimes, wishing he could communicate that easily, too.

His phone buzzed quietly against the desk.

Min Hyung:                                            Hey Jisungie, want to see a movie today around 18:00 at the XX 😣

Jisung:                                                                                      ofc hyung ill come immediately after class 🙂

Even though the invitation was sudden, excitement bloomed immediately in Jisung’s chest.

Was this technically a date?

An alpha and an omega alone together at the movies definitely sounded like one.

Heat rushed to Jisung’s face at the thought. Suddenly, the remaining two hours of his lecture felt unbearable.

By the time 17:00 rolled around, Jisung was already outside the cinema waiting.

He knew he was early. But Minho was always punctual, if not earlier than everyone else.

So Jisung waited patiently near the entrance, fingers twisting together as he checked the time every few minutes.

17:30.

Still no Minho.

18:00.

Jisung shifted nervously from foot to foot. Surely Hyung would be here soon.

Minho would text him if something happened.

Hyung wouldn’t lie to him.

Every time someone with orange hair appeared through the crowd, Jisung looked up instinctively.

Every notification made his chest tighten before disappointment settled back in.

His thoughts spiralled the longer he stood there.

19:00.

21:00.

By then, it was obvious Minho wasn’t coming. Yet Jisung still lingered outside the cinema with stubborn hope curling painfully in his chest.

23:00.

Jisung quietly opened the apartment door, exhaustion clinging heavily to his body. He was quieter than usual, somehow. Empty.

“You’d think it was raining with that expression,” Jeongin joked lightly from the couch before his smile faded at the sight of Jisung’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jisung muttered tiredly. “I just want to sleep.”

Before he could disappear down the hallway, Felix suddenly slid into view in his fluffy socks.

“Sungie, about Minho hyung—”

Jisung stopped walking.

“I’ll hear it from hyung,” he interrupted quietly before continuing toward his room.

He wanted to hear it from Minho himself.

Why had he been stood up? Why hadn’t Minho sent even one message cancelling on him?

To Jisung, tonight had felt dangerously close to a date. To Minho, maybe it had just been hanging out. Something forgettable.

Behind him, Felix and Jeongin exchanged looks.

“Listen, Jisungie,” Felix said carefully as he pushed open the bedroom door a little. “Minho hyung lost his phone. It broke. He couldn’t contact you.”

Jisung’s chest tightened painfully.

Then why did Felix know before him?

“I don’t want to hear anymore,” Jisung whispered.

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix admitted quietly.

Oh.

So Felix and Hyunjin knew.

Meanwhile, Jisung had spent hours standing outside alone, waiting like some pathetic dog left on a leash.

His vision blurred.

“Please leave, Lixxie,” Jisung said softly, voice cracking slightly.

“Sungie—”

Before Felix could continue, Jeongin appeared behind him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Jeongin quietly guided Felix away from the room, pulling the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Jisung stayed curled on his bed, staring at the wall in silence.

It wasn’t that he was angry.

Somehow, he couldn’t even bring himself to feel mad at Minho. Not really.

His chest just hurt.

A dull ache settled there the longer he thought about standing outside that cinema for hours, checking his phone over and over in hopes of seeing Minho’s name light up the screen.

More than anything, Jisung realised he had simply missed him.

He missed Minho.

The days blurred together into something dull and exhausting.

Without Minho constantly texting him, everything slowly slipped back into the grey routine Jisung had grown used to before they met. He stopped lingering in common areas, kept his head down during lectures again, and overthought every little thing that came out of his mouth.

It felt like he had reverted to an older version of himself. Smaller somehow.

Maybe Minho wouldn’t actually want someone like him around for long.

An alpha who got nervous over simple touches. An alpha who cried. An alpha who needed praise just to stop feeling like he was failing at everything.

The thoughts circled endlessly in his head until Minho consumed nearly every quiet moment he had.

At night, it became even worse.

Jisung found himself unable to find release unless he imagined Minho there with him—holding him close, stroking through his hair, softly praising him while telling him how good he was doing.

It was humiliating how badly he needed those words now.

How badly he needed Minho.

Jisung kept reaching for his phone throughout the day before remembering there would be nothing waiting for him.

No blurry selfies.

No teasing messages.

No “jisungie :)”

Jisung hadn’t realised how much space Minho had taken up in his life until the silence returned.

“You should come out with us, Sungie,” Felix states, staring at Jisung across the table.

“I don't want to go to any parties.” Jisung ruffles his own hair.

“You're coming. You can't waste away in your room; we are worried about you. Everyone is.” Jeongin mentions leaning over the back of his chair.

Everyone.

Jisung ended up going despite the nervous knot sitting stubbornly in his chest at the thought of seeing Minho again.

Deep down, he knew that was exactly why he came.

He missed him.

The music pulsed loudly through the apartment, bass vibrating through the walls while people shouted over one another between bursts of laughter. Someone had connected their phone to the speakers again, filling the room with loud club remixes that blurred together beneath the haze of alcohol and bodies pressed too close together.

Normally, Jisung would’ve hated it.

Tonight, he barely noticed.

By the time he finished his second buzzball and fourth tequila shot. Not enough to stop thinking about Minho, unfortunately.

“You seem determined to drown yourself in alcohol tonight, Sung-ah.”

Jisung froze at the familiar voice behind him.

Before he could fully turn around, a hand caught his wrist gently and spun him toward the speaker.

“Min hyung,” Jisung breathed immediately, relief crashing over his face so openly it almost embarrassed him.

Before he could second-guess himself, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Minho.

“I thought you were ignoring me,” Jisung admitted quietly against his shoulder. “I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

Minho stilled slightly at that before pulling back enough to look at him properly.

“You really thought I’d ignore you?” he asked softly.

Jisung lowered his eyes instead of answering.

Minho sighed quietly before brushing his thumb across the back of Jisung’s hand.

“You think too badly of yourself sometimes.”

Jisung gripped tightly onto the front of Minho’s shirt, fingers bunching the fabric instinctively like letting go for even a second might make Minho disappear again.

“You’re too cute sometimes,” Minho murmured softly as he wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist properly, letting his weight rest on Jisung.

Still, questions crowded noisily at the back of his mind.

Why had Minho disappeared?

What actually happened?

Why hadn’t they seen each other in over a week?

Thirteen days, technically.

Jisung had counted every single one.

As if sensing the tension building in him, Minho slowly pulled back just enough to look at him before reaching carefully into Jisung’s pocket.

Jisung watched quietly as Minho pulled out his phone.

“Let me give you my new number,” Minho said, already typing into the screen before pausing briefly. “I was sick for a while, too. I didn’t want to infect you.”

Jisung stared at him for a moment.

Part of him didn’t fully believe the explanation. If Minho had only been sick, then how had he supposedly lost and broken his phone, too? The story didn’t quite fit together, no matter how hard Jisung tried to make it.

But standing here with Minho’s hands still resting warm against his waist, Jisung found he couldn’t bring himself to care very much right now.

Jisung’s hands slid slowly along Minho’s back, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of his shirt like he needed to reassure himself that Minho was actually here. Really here.

When he finally pulled back enough to look at him properly, Minho was already watching him with a small, impossibly soft smile.

Then Minho cupped Jisung’s cheeks gently and kissed him.

The kiss was nothing like the frantic desperation of the first night. Slower this time. Softer. Like both of them were trying to make up for everything they’d lost over the past two weeks.

Jisung melted into it almost immediately.

He stayed close enough that every breath brushed against Minho’s skin, fingers tightening unconsciously at the back of Minho’s shirt whenever the omega tried to pull away even slightly. Every small separation only lasted a second before one of them closed the distance again.

Minho kissed him carefully, lingering each time like he was trying to reassure Jisung without words.

I’m here.

I came back.

I’m not leaving.

The longer it continued, the harder Jisung found it to breathe normally. Not because the kiss was overwhelming, but because something about it felt painfully tender after missing Minho this much.

He hadn’t realised how badly he wanted this until now. The warmth of Minho’s hands. The softness of his mouth. Simply being held close without feeling like too much.

When Minho finally pulled back slightly, their foreheads rested together while Jisung stayed tucked close against him, unwilling to create even an inch more distance than necessary.

Minho took Jisung’s hand and led him through the crowd, their fingers intertwined tightly so they wouldn’t lose each other between the sea of bodies and flashing lights.

The music throbbed loudly through the house, bass vibrating beneath Jisung’s feet while Minho tugged him into a quieter corner near the hallway wall.

Before Jisung could say anything, Minho pressed him lightly against the wall and leaned in close.

“Suppress your pheromones,” Minho murmured lowly against his neck before grazing his teeth teasingly along the skin there.

A soft whimper escaped Jisung before he could stop it. Instinctively, he chased Minho’s mouth again, kissing him deeply enough that he forgot where they even were for a second.

Minho laughed quietly against his lips before pulling back slightly. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah,” Jisung admitted with a crooked grin.

This time, he grabbed Minho’s hand first and pulled him back through the crowd toward the drinks table. The simple act made something warm settle in his chest. For once, he didn’t feel awkward or uncertain beside Minho. He felt wanted there.

The two ended up sharing a mix of cheap vodka and overly sweet lemonade poured into mismatched plastic cups.

By the second drink, Jisung was laughing more easily than usual, shoulders loose while Minho kept brushing against him every few seconds like he couldn’t stay away for long either.

At one point, they just stood there staring at each other stupidly before both bursting into laughter for no reason at all.

“I think I’m actually fucked, hyung,” Jisung giggled, nearly spilling his drink.

“Me too, Sung-ah,” Minho snorted, bumping his shoulder playfully against Jisung’s. “Should we take a piss break?”

Jisung nodded immediately, still laughing under his breath as Minho grabbed his wrist again to guide him upstairs.

The two stumbled through the hallway together, trying to find the bathroom, stopping every few steps because one of them kept dissolving into laughter again.

“In here,” Minho called over the music, fingers tightening around Jisung’s wrist as he tugged him toward the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The room was small enough that Jisung nearly stumbled straight into Minho the second the door shut behind them. The bass from downstairs still pulsed faintly through the walls, muffled now beneath the buzz of the bathroom light and their uneven breathing. Jisung laughed breathlessly under his breath, one hand catching against the sink to steady himself while Minho leaned back against the door behind them. He could smell the alcohol lingering on Minho’s breath when he smiled, sweet lemonade and cheap vodka mixing strangely with the familiar scent of cloves. His orange hair was messy now, strands falling into his eyes after being jostled around by the crowd downstairs. 

Neither of them spoke. They didn't have to.

Usually, being this close to someone made him painfully aware of himself. Where his hands were resting. Whether he looked awkward. Whether he was speaking too much or too little. But with Minho, the nervousness blurred at the edges beneath something softer, something that made Jisung want to stay exactly here for as long as possible.

“You’re staring again,” Minho murmured teasingly.

Jisung immediately ducked his head with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

Minho said it so simply that Jisung looked back up automatically.

Jisung’s eyes trailed slowly down Minho’s body.

Sometimes it felt unfair how easily Minho occupied his thoughts. Not just because of the way he looked, but because of every small thing underneath it, too. His patience. His softness. The quiet way he paid attention to people.

Jisung found himself staring again before his eyes drifted lower.

“You’re hard-” Jisung caught his breath immediately after saying it, cheeks flushing.

Every other time, Minho had been the one making him fall apart so patiently. Jisung wanted to be able to do the same for him. To please him.

Minho looked down briefly before a smile tugged softly at his lips. “Jisungie…” he trailed off.

Before he could say anything else, Jisung closed the small gap between them again.

“I could help you, hyung,” Jisung whispered, just loud enough to make Minho’s ears turn crimson.

He pulled back slightly just to look at him properly.

Minho’s face was flushed from the alcohol, messy orange hair falling into his eyes, while the bathroom door pressed against his back, trapping him there with nowhere to escape, even if he wanted to.

“Have you ever fingered someone before?” Minho whispered, resting his nose in the crook of Jisung’s neck, breathing him in slowly.

Jisung twitched beneath the touch, his heart rattling in his chest. Desperately hoping Minho couldn't tell. He’d only had his first kiss a few weeks ago. His first handjob, too. Of course, he’d never fingered anyone before. Slowly, Jisung shook his head, trying to swallow down some of the nervous excitement climbing up his throat.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Something soft flickered across his face then, amusement mixed with something strangely fond.

“You trust me a lot, don’t you, Jisungie?” he murmured.

Minho smiled softly at the reaction before taking Jisung’s hand carefully into his own.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll tell you what feels good.”

Jisung’s breath came out unevenly as Minho guided his hand lower, settling on his hardening cock. His cheeks flushed as the reality of it all came crashing down. Jisung was about to touch Minho.

“Relax,” Minho whispered against his neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Jisung’s wrist when his fingers first twitched nervously. “You’re overthinking again.”

Jisung let out a quiet laugh at that, embarrassed by how easily Minho could read him now.

“Just pay attention to me,” Minho continued softly. “You don’t need to be perfect.”

The reassurance settled some of the tension in Jisung’s chest immediately.

Jisung’s hands trembled slightly as he slowly unbuckled Minho’s belt before tugging the zipper down carefully.

The sound felt strangely loud beneath the muffled bass downstairs.

Minho watched him quietly while Jisung pushed the fabric down his hips, the dark trousers loosening before collapsing around Minho’s ankles in messy folds.

Jisung slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Minho, fingers tightening briefly against Minho’s thigh to steady himself. 

Jisung’s gaze locked onto the outline of Minho’s cock, twitching and straining against the thin fabric of his underwear. The damp patch at the tip was already darkening,  then he noticed something different. It was the other wetness—slowly leaking from behind, seeping out from between Minho’s ass cheeks, staining the back of his briefs. He’d only ever heard about this, read about it. His hands moved before he could think. Fingers sliding up Minho’s thighs, then inward, tracing the seam of the fabric until he reached the spot soaked with slick. The slickness clung to his skin, warm and slippery. Without hesitation, Jisung brought his fingers to his mouth, parted his lips, and licked them clean. The taste hit him—musky, salty, unmistakably Minho. He let out a shaky breath, his tongue curling around his own digits, savouring every last trace.

Jisung swallowed hard. He wanted it badly; he needed it badly.

“Stand up,” Minho breathed unevenly, helping Jisung back onto shaky legs.

Jisung barely steadied himself before Minho leaned in close again, lips hovering near the scent glands at the side of his neck. 

“R-release your pheromones, Sung-ah,” Minho whined softly.

The whine tore straight through Jisung’s composure. 

Jisung obeyed instinctively, letting the restraint around his scent loosen little by little until dark chocolate and vanilla slowly spread through the cramped bathroom air.

Minho inhaled sharply against his neck the second the scent reached him. His grip on Jisung’s waist tightened almost unconsciously while he buried his face closer, breathing Jisung in deeply like he’d been craving it.

“G-good,” Minho praised weakly, voice rougher now.

The approval hit Jisung harder than it probably should have. He didn’t feel ashamed of the way his pheromones filled the room. Not when Minho reacted to them like this. Not when the omega looked at him like he was something worth wanting.

Minho slowly let his own pheromones slip free after that, the scent of rain and cloves curling into the dark chocolate and vanilla already thick in the cramped bathroom. The mixture settled heavily between them, dizzying and intimate all at once.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at Jisung properly, though his hands never left his waist.

“Ready?” Minho asked softly, voice unsteady around the edges now.

Jisung watched the slight shudder that ran through him before Minho gave a small, encouraging nod.

His chest tightened strangely at the sight.

Slowly, Jisung nodded back.

Jisung slowly pulled down Minho's underwear, letting them rest mid-thigh. 

“Bring your fingers,” Minho breathed, his voice a low, rasping command.

Jisung’s mouth fell open instinctively, and he slid two fingers past Minho’s lips. Minho’s tongue curled around them immediately, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks, drawing them deeper. The wet heat wrapped around Jisung’s digits, and Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as he bobbed his head, coating them thoroughly in saliva. He didn’t stop until they were glistening, slick, and ready.

“Okay,” Minho shuddered, pulling his mouth away with a wet pop.

Jisung’s other hand slid down, parting Minho’s legs slowly. The slick was already leaking freely, a steady trickle running down Minho’s inner thighs. Jisung’s finger brushed against the tight, glistening rim, already slippery with omega slick. He traced the edge, rimming his own fingertip against the puckered muscle, feeling it flutter and clench in anticipation.

“Start with one,” Minho gasped, his head dropping to rest against Jisung’s neck, breath hot and shaky.

Jisung pressed forward, and the muscle gave way with alarming ease. The slick acted like a lubricant from the inside, hot and silky, welcoming his finger all the way to the knuckle. He knew omegas had different anatomy—wetter, softer, more receptive—but this was something else. Inside, it wasn’t just tight; it was gripping, pulsing, hungry. The warmth enveloped him, clutching at his digit like a living thing.

“Can I move, hyung?” Jisung whispered, his voice barely audible, but it sent a visible jolt through Minho’s whole body.

“Y-yeah,” Minho stuttered, his hips twitching. “Yeah, move… slowly.”

Jisung obeyed, pulling his finger back until just the tip remained inside, then pushing back in. The slick made a soft, wet noise—schlick—as he thrust. Minho’s walls clamped down, milking his finger with every stroke. Jisung watched his own digit disappear inside that tight hole, watched the slick bead up around his knuckle, watched Minho’s thighs tremble.

“Add another one,” Minho ordered, voice strained but firm. “But go slow—let me stretch around it.”

Jisung pressed a second finger against the rim, and Minho’s breath hitched. He teased the entrance, circling, letting the slick coat both digits before pushing in. Minho’s body resisted for just a second, then swallowed them both, the walls stretching to accommodate. Minho let out a long, shaky moan against Jisung’s neck.

“That’s it,” Minho breathed, his voice dropping into a low, rewarding purr. “You’re doing exactly what I want, Sung-ah. You're taking such perfect care of me.”

Jisung let out a sharp, needy whimper, his own cock twitching violently. The validation sent a jolt of electricity straight to his core, making his breath hitch. He pushed deeper, his movements becoming more eager, desperate for more of that tone. “More... please, tell me more,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Now curl them up, toward my belly,” Minho commanded, sensing Jisung's desperation. “Look at how well you handle me. You're so fucking talented at this.”

Jisung crooked his fingers inside, searching, and Minho’s whole body jerked. A sharp cry escaped his lips as Jisung’s fingertips grazed a spongy spot deep inside.

“Right there,” Minho gasped, his nails digging into Jisung’s shoulders. “Don’t stop—fuck, just like that—keep pressing.”

Jisung moaned loudly, his head rolling back as the praise fueled his arousal, making his heart race. He worked that spot relentlessly, alternating between firm presses and slow circles. The slick gushed around his fingers, hot and messy, dripping down his wrist. Minho’s cock was leaking onto his own stomach, pre-cum mixing with the slick pooling beneath them.

“Now scissor them,” Minho panted, his voice cracking. “Open me up—I want three next. Do it for me. Show me how well you can stretch me.”

Jisung spread his fingers inside, feeling the muscle stretch and give, the heat intensifying. Minho’s hole gaped slightly when he pulled back, then clenched, desperate to keep him. Jisung added a third finger without waiting, and this time Minho cried out, his head thrown back, throat exposed.

“Yes—fuck—yes, like that,” Minho moaned, riding Jisung’s hand, fucking himself back onto those three fingers. “You’re so deep—I can feel you—oh god—don’t stop—you're doing it just right, Sung-ah, just how I like it.”

Jisung was practically sobbing now, his hips grinding instinctively against the bed as the constant stream of praise pushed him to the brink. He pumped faster, his fingers buried to the base, slick splattering with every thrust. Minho’s breathing turned ragged, his hips moving in frantic circles, chasing the pressure.

“I’m close,” Minho whimpered. “Keep going—right there—curl again—make me feel it—”

Jisung crooked his fingers, pressing hard into that spot, and as he felt Minho's walls tighten in a peak, he leaned in and whispered urgently against his ear: “I've got you, Hyung... please, just let go for me, Hyung.”

The word snapped the last thread of Minho's control. At the sound of the honorific, Minho shattered. His body seized, back arching, a long, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he came untouched, hot and thick against his own stomach. His ass clenched around Jisung’s fingers in rhythmic pulses, milking them, drawing out every last tremor. When he finally slumped forward, trembling, Jisung slowly withdrew his slick-coated fingers. Minho grabbed his wrist, bringing them to his own mouth, and cleaned them with slow, deliberate licks, eyes locked on Jisung’s.

After Minho finished cleaning Jisung's fingers, he released his wrist but kept their gazes locked. The air between them was thick with heat, still charged from Minho's release. Slowly, deliberately, Minho cupped Jisung's jaw with both hands, thumbs tracing along his cheekbones.

“Come here,” Minho murmured, his voice still rough and wrecked, vibrating with the aftershocks of his release.

He leaned in, closing the distance with a slow, predatory grace, and pressed his lips to Jisung's. It wasn't urgent or frantic; it was a languid, heavy claim—a deep, dragging slide of mouth against mouth. Minho tilted his head, slotting their lips together perfectly, his tongue sliding along the seam of Jisung's to taste the salt and heat of their shared exertion.

As they pulled apart just an inch, Jisung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with adoration. “Hyung...” he whimpered, the word barely a whisper, but it made Minho’s chest tighten. “I... I did it right? I did everything you wanted?”

Minho smiled against his mouth, a dark, satisfied look in his eyes. "You learn fast, Jisung-ah," he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "So eager to listen. So perfect at following every single instruction I give you."

Jisung’s breath hitched, a violent tremor running through his entire body at the praise. He shifted, pressing his chest harder against Minho, his voice sounding small and needy. “Tell me again... please, hyung... tell me I was good for you.”

"That's it," Minho breathed, his lips trailing from the corner of Jisung's mouth, down his jaw, and settling just below his ear. "You take direction so well, baby. You make Hyung so fucking proud.”

The words were like a drug to Jisung. He let out a strangled sound, his fingers digging bruisingly into Minho's hips as he arched his back. “I want to make you proud every time, hyung... always... just tell me what else to do,” he gasped, his voice trembling with the sheer intensity of his arousal.

Minho chuckled softly, a low rumble that Jisung felt in his own bones. He pressed a tender kiss to Jisung's forehead, then the tip of his nose, before finally claiming his mouth again. This time, the kiss was softer, almost reverent, sealing the praise with a deep, possessive warmth that left Jisung breathless and completely undone.

02:40

“Hyung, you can sleep over in my room,” Felix bubbled happily to Minho. “Innie and Seungminnie went back to seungmin’s apartment.”

He linked arms with both Minho and Jisung while leading them down the hallway, still talking loudly despite the hour.

Jisung glanced sideways toward Minho for a moment.

Minho met his gaze immediately, a small tired smile tugging at his lips before Jisung quickly looked away again, warmth creeping back into his face.

03:17

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jisung whispered quietly from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Sung-ah,” Minho replied softly before pulling Jisung into one last tight hug.

Jisung lingered there for a second longer than necessary before finally forcing himself back toward his own room.

Slam.

Jisung’s eyes blinked open again.

Was that the front door?

Still half asleep, he reached for his phone beside the bed.

04:36

A weird time for Jeongin to come back.

Jisung rubbed tiredly at his eyes before quietly slipping out of bed, careful not to make the floor creak too loudly beneath him. The apartment was dark now, lit only faintly by the kitchen light left on overnight.

Felix’s bedroom door sat slightly open.

Jisung hesitated briefly before nudging it wider.

The bed was occupied.

But not by Felix.

His eyes drifted toward the small note abandoned messily on the table instead.

Hyung, Channie hyung, and I are going for a little walk. Drink water when you wake up :) 

The rushed handwriting immediately made Jisung smile to himself. Only Felix could make sneaking out at nearly five in the morning sound cheerful.

Shaking his head quietly, Jisung looked back toward the bed.

Minho was still asleep, buried halfway beneath Felix’s blankets with orange hair falling across his eyes messily. One arm hung lazily off the side of the mattress while soft snores escaped him every few seconds.

Jisung felt something soften painfully in his chest at the sight.

“Hyung,” he called quietly.

Minho only snored slightly louder in response.

Jisung pressed his lips together, unsuccessfully hiding the smile spreading across his face.

The room was silent, save for the heavy, rhythmic sound of Minho’s breathing. He was out cold, sprawled in a deep, effortless sleep that looked devastatingly peaceful. Jisung, however, was wide awake, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched him.

The sight of Minho, relaxed and still smelling of the heat they had shared earlier, was too much. Jisung felt himself thicken, his cock straining against the fabric of his joggers until the friction became an ache he couldn't ignore. His breath shook, coming in shallow, jagged hitches as he slowly slid his hand inside his waistband, palming himself through the fabric first just to feel the pulse of his own arousal. Slowly, agonisingly, he eased his cock out of the joggers, holding the half-hard length in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, the contrast of his own trembling grip against the stillness of the room making his skin prickle. Driven by a desperate, quiet hunger, Jisung slid down and dropped to his knees. He moved with excruciating care, terrified that even a single creak of the floorboards would wake Minho and break the spell. He reached up, his fingertips barely grazing the curve of Minho’s lips. He traced the shape of them, imagining the taste of the praise he’d been given earlier, the way Minho had called him perfect. The memory sent a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. Jisung began to stroke himself, his grip tight and frantic yet muffled. He squeezed his eyes shut, his head tilting back as he fought the urge to scream. A whimpering sound caught in the back of his throat, a desperate, stifled noise as he tried to keep his moans from echoing in the quiet room. He was shaking, his entire body vibrating with the effort of staying silent while his mind played back every word Minho had whispered. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, building into a blinding peak. As the first wave of release crashed over him, Jisung couldn't hold it back anymore. He leaned closer to Minho's sleeping face, his voice a broken, airy thread of sound.

“Hyung...”

The word escaped his lips in a soft, shattered exhale just as he came hard into his hand, his body shuddering violently as he collapsed forward, forehead resting against the mattress, completely spent and shivering in the wake of his own longing.

As if suddenly aware of how pathetic he must look, Jisung slipped quickly back out of the room before Minho could wake up and catch him staring.

The door clicked softly shut behind him.

Jisung immediately pressed the heels of his hands against his face, shoulders curling inward as a quiet groan left him.

What was wrong with him?

Sneaking into Felix’s room at nearly five in the morning just to look at Minho sleeping like some lovesick idiot.

Something inside Jisung folded in on itself at the realisation. 

This wasn’t normal anymore. The longing had rooted itself so deeply inside him that even unconscious, Minho still pulled at him like gravity. One glance was enough to leave Jisung feeling painfully full all over again, aching with the same desperate affection that kept undoing him night after night alone in his room.

That embarrassed him more than anything else.

He woke to the smell of eggs and something sweet frying in butter.

For a second, Jisung stayed buried beneath the blankets, eyes still half shut while muffled voices drifted from the kitchen. Then memory came rushing back all at once.

The party.

Minho.

The bathroom.

Jisung immediately pressed his face deeper into the pillow with a quiet groan before finally dragging himself out of bed.

By the time he shuffled into the kitchen, Minho was already standing at the stove making breakfast like he belonged there. Sleeves pushed up, messy orange hair barely brushed down, moving around Felix’s kitchen with sleepy confidence while pans hissed softly beneath him.

Jisung stopped in the doorway for half a second, just watching him.

“Someone’s finally awake,” Minho teased without even turning around properly.

Felix snorted from the table. “You should see Innie. He practically died walking through the door.”

“Yeah, because unlike some people, I actually went outside,” Jeongin grumbled, immediately dropping his head against Felix’s shoulder.

Felix smiled automatically, fingers running through Jeongin’s hair while he complained.

“I didn’t know you left, Lixxie,” Jisung mumbled quietly while sliding into his chair.

The conversation drifted easily after that. Mostly pointless teasing and half-awake complaints while Felix stole pieces of food straight from the pan, and Jeongin kept threatening to go back to sleep.

Jisung barely followed any of it.

Not when Minho sat directly across from him at the table afterwards.

Not when Minho’s sock-covered foot slowly brushed against his beneath the table.

Jisung nearly choked on his drink.

His eyes snapped upward immediately, only to find Minho calmly eating like nothing had happened, though the faint amusement tugging at the corners of his lips completely gave him away.

A nervous blush spread across Jisung’s face while he quickly looked back down at his plate, terrified Felix or Jeongin would notice.

They didn’t.

Or at least Jisung hoped they didn’t.

Eventually, Minho stood from the table with a quiet sigh, collecting his jacket from the counter.

“I’d stay longer, but Hyunjin and I are supposed to go shopping today.”

Felix whined dramatically while Jeongin complained about being abandoned.

As the others cleaned up breakfast together, Jisung found himself following quietly behind Minho toward the front door without really thinking about it.

Minho slipped his shoes on before turning around suddenly.

Jisung barely had time to react before Minho caught his waist gently, pulling him a little closer.

“Don’t jerk off until I see you again, okay?” Minho whispered teasingly.

Jisung’s entire face burned instantly.

“H-hyung!” he choked out, horrified.

Minho only laughed softly at the reaction before squeezing Jisung’s waist one last time and stepping back toward the door.

The days after that settled into something strangely domestic.

Jisung and Minho texted constantly, though most of it was painfully mundane. Complaints about lectures. Pictures of terrible cafeteria food. Minho was sending blurry selfies from random stores while Hyunjin complained in the background. Jisung found himself staring at those messages for embarrassingly long amounts of time anyway.

It was becoming a problem.

Jisung struggled not to think about Minho too much because the second he did, his body reacted before his brain could catch up.

Seeing Minho around campus only made it worse.

Sometimes he’d spot him across the courtyard beside Hyunjin and Seungmin, laughing easily beneath the afternoon sunlight, and Jisung would immediately turn the other direction before Minho could notice him first.

Because if Minho hugged him in public again, Jisung genuinely thought he might lose his mind.

So somewhere along the way, it became a strange game of cat and mouse.

Jisung would linger just close enough to watch Minho from afar without actually approaching him. Sitting a few tables behind him in the cafeteria. Passing slowly through buildings, he knew Minho had classes in. Pretending to check his phone while secretly tracking the familiar flash of orange hair through crowds of students.

Close enough that it didn’t feel like avoidance.

Far enough that Jisung could still breathe normally.

The worst part was that Minho definitely noticed.

Sometimes Jisung would be halfway through staring before his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Min Hyung:                                                                          I hope you’ve been keeping up with my little task 🙂

Jisung nearly dropped his phone the first time it happened.

Meanwhile, across the cafeteria, Minho calmly ate his food like he hadn’t just completely ruined Jisung’s ability to think straight.

The small smirk tugging at his lips gave him away, though.

Jisung wanted to be near him constantly. Wanted to hold him, talk to him, sit beside him, doing absolutely nothing at all. The yearning followed him everywhere now, dull and constant beneath his ribs.

But his body still couldn’t seem to handle the proximity.

Nights were the worst.

Jisung started taking cold showers so often that Felix complained about the water bill. He slept with his windows cracked open despite the chilly air creeping into the apartment at night, hoping the cold might prevent any perverted thoughts.

It never really worked.

Because no matter how hard Jisung tried to distract himself, everything always seemed to lead back to Minho eventually.

The texting only got worse after that.

Or better.

Jisung honestly couldn’t decide anymore.

Minho became bolder over text in a way he somehow still wasn’t fully in person. More teasing. More pet names. Random selfies sent without warning at impossible hours of the night. Sometimes, Minho would just message him to complain about nothing for twenty minutes straight before disappearing again.

Jisung treasured every notification embarrassingly carefully.

Min Hyung:                                                                  Shall we go for lunch later today, Sung-ah? 🙂

Jisung stared at the message for nearly a full minute before forcing himself to respond normally instead of something humiliatingly eager.

Jisung:                                                                                                         Okay, hyung!

Even while replying, nervousness still lingered quietly beneath his excitement.

A small part of him kept waiting for something to happen again. Another missed meeting. Another week of silence.

Regardless, that didn’t stop him from spending far too long getting ready.

Jisung changed outfits three separate times before finally settling on bootcut jeans that hugged his figure more nicely than most of his clothes and a loose white shirt that rested just above his belt buckle. Casual enough not to look obvious. Nice enough that Minho might notice.

He gave himself a few awkward turns in the mirror before immediately cringing at his own behaviour.

What was he doing?

“You look good today,” Jeongin teased immediately after Jisung stepped into the living room. “Plans with your hyung?”

Jisung’s ears burned. “Maybe.”

Felix looked up from where he was slipping his shoes on near the door before smiling brightly.

“Yeah, he does look good.” Felix nodded seriously. “I’m going home for the weekend, by the way. Have fun on your date, Sungie Hyung.”

“It’s not a date,” Jisung protested far too quickly.

Jeongin snorted loudly.

“I guess I’ll stay at Minnie’s tonight then,” Jeongin said casually while grabbing his jacket. “Is that okay, hyung?”

Jisung blinked before realising what he meant.

The apartment would be empty.

Warmth immediately spread across his face again.

“O-only if you want,” Jisung muttered, unsuccessfully trying to sound unaffected.

Jeongin’s grin widened instantly.

“Have fun,” he smirked knowingly as Jisung quickly escaped toward the front door before anyone could tease him further.

At lunch, Jisung found himself staring more than actually eating.

Minho looked unfairly beautiful sitting across from him beneath the warm lighting of the restaurant, sleeves rolled up slightly while he scrolled through the menu with quiet concentration. Even something as simple as brushing his hair back from his eyes kept pulling Jisung’s attention away from whatever he was supposed to be focusing on.

“You’re staring again,” Minho hummed without looking up properly.

Jisung nearly choked on his drink. “Sorry.”

Minho only smiled faintly at the reaction before reaching over once their food arrived.

“Let me cut that for you,” he insisted casually, already pulling Jisung’s steak plate closer.

“I can do it myself, hyung,” Jisung protested immediately, embarrassed.

Minho looked up at him then.

Not annoyed. Just patient.

It’s fine, the expression seemed to say before he continued cutting the steak anyway, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jisung felt his mouth twitch upward despite himself.

Something about being taken care of so casually still made his chest feel strangely full every time Minho did it. Like Minho never thought twice about looking after him in small ways.

The lunch itself went surprisingly smoothly after that.

Conversation drifted easily between them, moving from lectures to Hyunjin’s latest drama to Minho making fun of Jisung’s terrible texting habits. Jisung laughed more than usual, his shoulders gradually loosening the longer they sat there together.

At some point, he realised he’d stopped overthinking every little thing he said.

And somehow, that felt almost more dangerous than the attraction itself.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” Jisung asked quietly, the words sounding almost hesitant leaving his mouth.

Minho’s expression softened immediately.

“Of course I would, Sung-ah,” he replied easily before linking their arms together again.

The apartment was empty by the time they returned.

The silence inside somehow made Jisung more nervous than the crowded restaurant had.

He led Minho down the hallway toward his room, ears already burning before they’d even stepped inside properly.

Minho slowed slightly once he entered, eyes drifting carefully around the space.

Jisung suddenly became painfully aware of everything at once. The clothes hanging over his chair. The messy textbooks near his desk. The hoodie abandoned at the end of his bed.

The walls of his room were painted a deep wine red, darker now beneath the soft evening light filtering through the curtains. Music and band posters covered nearly every empty space across them, edges curling slightly at the corners from years of being taped up and replaced. His sage green sheets sat messily twisted across the mattress, standing out softly against the darker colours of the room.

It looked unmistakably like him.

“I’ve never seen your room before,” Minho said quietly while taking it all in.

“No,” Jisung smiled awkwardly. “You haven’t.”

Minho hummed softly before wandering farther inside, eventually settling himself comfortably against Jisung’s pillows as if he belonged there already.

The sight alone made something nervous flutter through Jisung again.

“You haven’t jerked off, have you?” Minho asked suddenly, eyes flicking back toward him with obvious amusement.

Jisung nearly stopped breathing.

“No,” he answered quickly, shifting his weight from foot to foot beside the bed. “I haven’t, hyung.”

Minho’s smile curled wider at the response.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s very good.”

“Come here,” Minho added after a moment, patting the mattress beside him.

Jisung sat carefully on the very edge of the bed instead.

Minho stared at him for half a second before laughing quietly beneath his breath.

“Are you really going to stay all the way over there, Sung-ah?”

He shuffled farther back against the pillows while speaking, relaxed and completely comfortable in Jisung’s space already.

The sight made Jisung’s chest tighten strangely.

Slowly, he crawled closer across the mattress until he settled between Minho’s legs, close enough now to feel Minho’s hands slide lightly along his waist.

Without really thinking about it, Jisung reached up and cupped Minho’s cheeks gently in his hands.

The air in the room was thick, saturated with the heady, intoxicating clash of their scents. The deep, rich aroma of dark chocolate and vanilla from Jisung collided with the crisp, earthy scent of rain and cloves emanating from Minho, creating a pheromonal storm that left them both lightheaded and desperate.

They kissed slowly, passionately, their mouths moulding together as Minho’s hands gripped the sides of Jisung’s shirt, bunching the fabric in his fists. Jisung shifted, his knee finding its way to the sensitive weight of Minho’s balls, slowly grinding against them in a way that had Minho gasping into the kiss.

“Shall we check if you really haven’t jerked off?” Minho teased, his voice a low vibration as his hand slid down to grab Jisung’s pulsing cock.

“Hyung...” Jisung whimpered, the word trembling with a mix of hope and hunger.

“You know I love it when you call me that, Sung-ah,” Minho moaned directly into his ear, the heat of his breath sending a fresh wave of shivers down Jisung’s spine.

Jisung pulled back, his chest heaving as he stripped off his shirt. He looked down at Minho—the man who had plagued his thoughts, his dreams, and his every waking hour since the day they met. Despite the depth of his love, he had never dared to imagine this: the reality of Minho taking his virginity, the weight of their bodies finally aligning.

Jisung slowly removed his trousers, hovering over Minho. With a slight, encouraging nod from the older man, Jisung stripped away his boxers and reached for Minho’s shirt. But before he could pull it over Minho's head, Minho placed a hand against Jisung's chest.

“Let me keep it on,” he breathed, a rare flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“Okay, hyung,” Jisung responded softly, his voice full of reverence.

Jisung moved between Minho's legs, his focus narrowing to the slick entrance of Minho's heat. He started slow, his fingers dipping into the creaminess, testing the waters. He didn't just push in; he explored. He traced the sensitive walls, circling the opening, feeling the way Minho’s internal muscles clamped around him in a desperate, needy rhythm. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching him with an intimate, methodical pace. He watched Minho’s face—the way his eyelids fluttered, and his lips parted—and used that as his guide. He worked the spot that made Minho’s hips jerk upward, his fingers curling deep inside to massage the prostate. Their moans began to intertwine, a melodic chaos of pleasure as Jisung leaned down to pepper Minho’s neck and jaw with wet, hungry kisses.

“I’m ready, Sung-ah... so ready for you, baby,” Minho cooed, his voice sounding completely undone.

Jisung’s cock twitched violently against his stomach. He reached for the condom, his movements slightly shaky as he looked down at Minho. He took a moment to memorise this: Minho’s messy orange hair spilt across the pillow, his shirt hiked up at the back, his expression one of total surrender.

He slipped the condom on, begging for the release that was only seconds away. He lined himself up with Minho's hole and slowly, inch by inch, sank in.

“Hyung... Hyung!” Jisung begged, the honorific spilling out as he felt the tight heat of Minho swallowing him whole.

“So good, Sung-ah baby—so—fuck, so good for me!” Minho moaned, his arms wrapping around Jisung, pulling him deeper, wanting every single inch.

Jisung established a rhythm, slow at first to catch his breath and let his body adjust. As Minho quivered beneath him, Jisung began to speed up. Minho gripped his back, nails digging into his skin, as precum leaked from his own member, sliding between their bellies. The sound of their bodies colliding—the loud, squelching slap of Jisung’s balls against Minho’s skin—filled the room, fueling the fire.

Minho began to beg for it harder, his voice breaking. In one fluid motion, they flipped. Jisung ended up beneath him. Minho slapped down hard onto Jisung’s cock, causing Jisung’s head to fly back into the pillow, his eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy.

“More, hyung, please... I want to come, come hyung!” Jisung begged, his voice a frantic prayer.

“Just like that, Sung-ah,” Minho moaned loudly, grinding down with a possessive force that threatened to shatter Jisung’s composure. “Come for me, baby!”

As if on command, the tension snapped. Jisung came so hard and loud that he gripped the sheets until they threatened to rip. Before he could regain control, his biology took over; he felt the hot, sudden expansion of his knot forming deep inside Minho.

Minho let out an uncontrollable moan, his head falling forward as he felt himself being filled and locked. “That’s it, baby...” he cooed, riding out the waves of Jisung’s orgasm.

“Hyung, hyung!” Jisung cried out one last time, the sound triggering Minho’s own peak. Minho released a heavy spray of cum that hit Jisung across the lips.

Jisung didn't pull away. He licked his lips, tasting Minho, and reached up to suck on Minho's nipples while they both shook, their bodies fused by the knot. They collapsed into the mattress as one, breathless and entwined, held together in the most intimate bond possible.

“Why didn’t you contact me, hyung?” Jisung breathed out shakily, arms tightening instinctively around Minho, where he rested against him.

Minho’s breathing was uneven too now, softened further by the way he immediately reached up to caress Jisung’s face. His thumb brushed slowly beneath Jisung’s eye before resting against his cheek.

“My heat started unexpectedly while I was at work,” Minho admitted quietly. “And everything was… worse than usual. I lost my phone somewhere during it, I think.”

He paused briefly, eyes lowering for a moment before meeting Jisung’s again.

“And I knew it wouldn’t be fair to see you while I was in that state.”

Jisung’s chest tightened painfully at the explanation.

“I could’ve helped you, hyung,” he replied softly, unable to fully hide the hurt lingering beneath his voice. “I help Felix sometimes when he needs suppressants or things like that.”

Minho’s expression shifted slightly at that, something conflicted flickering briefly across his face.

“I didn’t want you seeing me like some helpless omega,” he admitted with a quiet sigh.

Jisung frowned immediately. His arms tightened around Minho without thinking.

“I’d never think that about you, hyung.”

The words came out firm this time. Certain.

Minho went still for a second before his shoulders slowly relaxed beneath Jisung’s hold.

“I know, Sung-ah,” he breathed quietly, sounding almost relieved hearing it out loud. “I know.”

The silence of the room returned, though it was now heavy with the scent of their combined release and the lingering warmth of their bodies. After a long, hazy period of drifting in the afterglow, the tight pressure of the knot slowly began to subside.

With a soft, wet sound, Jisung finally popped out of Minho. He let out a long, shaky exhale, his muscles still twitching from the intensity of it all. As he pulled away, a thick stream of slick dribbled slowly from Minho's entrance, staining the sheets beneath them in a testament to how thoroughly Jisung had filled him.

Minho stayed sprawled on his back for a moment, his chest still heaving. His gaze drifted down to Jisung's hand, where he held the condom. It was stretched tight and heavy, filled with a thick, creamy white load that proved just how much Jisung had been saving for this exact moment. A mischievous, satisfied smirk played on Minho's lips. He reached out and delivered a sharp, playful slap to Jisung's reddened ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“I guess you really held out well, didn’t you, Jisungie?” Minho teased, his voice returning to that low, smug purr that always made Jisung’s heart race.

Jisung didn't mind the sting; in fact, he leaned into the attention, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated devotion. He shifted closer, pressing his warm skin against Minho’s and planting a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek.

“I’m glad I could live up to your expectations, hyung,” Jisung cooed, his voice sounding small and sweet, completely content to be exactly what Minho wanted him to be.

Once they shared a bed, everything between them shifted quietly.

Not dramatically.

Just small things.

Minho started showing up at Jisung’s apartment more often without asking first, letting himself collapse face-first onto Jisung’s bed after classes while complaining about professors or customers from work. Jisung would pretend to study while secretly watching Minho scroll through his phone beside him.

Sometimes, Minho would steal his hoodies without shame. Other times, he’d shove his cold hands beneath Jisung’s shirt just to hear him yelp in protest.

Jisung slowly got used to the feeling of Minho existing in his space.

The soft clutter he left behind. Empty drink cans near the desk. His hair ties around Jisung’s bedposts. The scent of rain and cloves lingered faintly on Jisung’s pillows long after Minho went home.

Minho also got impossibly clingier once physical affection stopped feeling awkward between them.

He’d drape himself over Jisung while he studied, rest his head in Jisung’s lap during movies, and hook their pinkies together absentmindedly beneath restaurant tables. Sometimes he’d just stare at Jisung for no reason at all until Jisung eventually grew embarrassed enough to hide his face.

“You’re cute,” Minho would mumble every single time.

Jisung never learned how to respond to it properly.

Sleeping beside Minho became dangerous in an entirely different way, too.

Not because of anything physical.

Just because Jisung got used to the quiet intimacy of it all. Waking up with Minho still half asleep beside him, messy orange hair falling into his eyes, while he buried himself deeper into Jisung’s blankets with sleepy little complaints whenever morning came too early.

The first time Minho unconsciously reached for him in his sleep, Jisung genuinely thought his heart might stop.

After that, nights without him started feeling strangely hollow.

Even mundane things became painfully domestic between them.

Cooking instant ramen together at two in the morning. Arguing over what movie to watch. Minho forcing Jisung to do skincare because “your face is dry, Sung-ah.” Walking through convenience stores together while Minho tossed random snacks into the basket that Jisung inevitably ended up paying for.

It scared Jisung a little how quickly Minho had started feeling woven into the shape of his everyday life. 

Min Hyung:                                                               What’s your Saturday looking like, Sung-ah 🙂

Jisung:                                                                       Nothing, I have the day off, hyung

Min Hyung:                                                                Good. let’s go on a date

Jisung:                                                                        😳 hyungggg

Min Hyung:                                                                How about that movie we never got to see 😊

Jisung stared at his phone long after the conversation ended.

A date.

Not “hanging out.” Not “meeting up.”

Minho had actually called it a date this time.

Something warm spread slowly through Jisung’s chest at the realisation, soft enough that he found himself smiling down at his screen without meaning to.

The missed movie had lingered quietly between them ever since that night. Jisung never brought it up again after Minho explained everything, but some small hurt had stayed lodged beneath his ribs anyway.

Now, somehow, Minho was fixing it.

And worse, Jisung knew he was going to spend the entire week thinking about Saturday now.

Saturday arrived painfully slowly for Jisung.

By the time he finally met Minho outside the cinema, he’d already changed outfits twice and spent nearly ten minutes fixing his hair only to ruin it again the second he stepped outside into the wind.

Minho noticed immediately.

“You look cute,” he said casually instead of hello, smiling at the way Jisung’s entire face warmed.

Minho sat beside him, stealing handfuls of popcorn from his lap every few minutes. Leaning over to whisper commentary into his ear during important scenes just to make Jisung laugh quietly into his sleeve.

At some point halfway through the movie, their shoulders drifted together naturally.

Then their knees.

For almost twenty minutes, Jisung’s attention kept drifting away from the movie entirely.

Every few seconds, his eyes would lower toward Minho’s hand resting loosely against the seat between them before snapping back toward the screen again.

It shouldn’t have felt this terrifying.

But this was Minho.

And Jisung still didn’t fully know what they were to each other yet.

They kissed. Shared beds. Held each other like something precious. Yet somehow Jisung still found himself hesitating over something as simple as touching Minho’s hand first.

What if Minho only saw this as casual?

What if Jisung wanted more than he should?

The thoughts kept circling until another accidental brush of their knuckles sent warmth rushing straight through him again.

Before he could lose his nerve completely, Jisung slowly slid his hand across the seat and carefully rested it over Minho’s.

For a split second, Minho went still beside him.

Then Minho quietly turned his hand over and intertwined their fingers together.

Jisung stared at their intertwined fingers for a second; he almost forgot there was a movie playing at all.

Afterwards, neither of them wanted to go home yet.

So they wandered through the park nearby while the late afternoon sun dipped lower overhead.

Their hands stayed linked the entire time, now like neither of them even thought about letting go anymore.

At one point, Jisung absentmindedly started spinning Minho’s rings around his fingers while they walked side by side.

Minho noticed after a minute, glancing down with a small, amused smile.

“You like playing with my hands a lot,” he teased softly.

Jisung looked away immediately, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“You apologise too much.”

Minho looked beautiful like this, too.

Relaxed. Warm from the heat. Close enough that Jisung could reach over and brush fallen strands of orange hair away from his eyes if he wanted to.

Instead, Jisung just stayed there quietly beside him, fingers still loosely intertwined with Minho’s against the grass between them.

“Hyung…” Jisung called softly, warmth creeping across his face again.

“Sung-ah,” Minho hummed back lazily, rolling his head across the grass to look at him properly.

The sunlight caught against his cheeks beautifully.

Jisung’s mouth opened once before closing again.

The words sat heavily at the back of his throat, frightening in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

Because maybe Minho was simply like this with people he cared about. Warm hands. Soft smiles. Lingering kisses that made Jisung overthink himself into spirals afterwards.

Maybe Jisung had mistaken tenderness for something deeper just because nobody had ever given him this much of it before.

The thought left Jisung feeling painfully foolish all over again. 

Then Minho’s fingers shifted against his again, absentmindedly tracing along Jisung’s knuckles like touching him had already become instinctive.

And Jisung realised he didn’t think he could keep any of this inside himself much longer.

“I think about you too much,” he blurted suddenly.

Minho blinked once before smiling softly. “That’s cute.”

“No, hyung, I mean like—” Jisung groaned quietly, already flustered. “Like, constantly.”

Minho’s smile only widened.

“I see something and immediately think about telling you,” Jisung continued helplessly, words starting to tumble out faster now. “When I wake up, you’re usually the first thing I think about, which is honestly kind of embarrassing, and when you don’t text back for too long, I start thinking you secretly hate me even though logically I know you don’t because you literally—”

He cut himself off abruptly with a horrified noise, covering his face with his free hand.

Minho was trying not to laugh now. Jisung could feel it.

“Jisungie…”

“I like being around you too much,” Jisung rushed on before Minho could interrupt him. “Like, way too much. I look for you everywhere now. I can’t even walk across campus normally anymore, because I’m always hoping I’ll see you somewhere.”

His face burned hotter with every sentence.

“And then when I do see you, I start acting weird,” he muttered miserably. “Which I know you’ve noticed because you keep staring at me whenever I panic.”

“I do enjoy that a little,” Minho admitted.

“Hyung.”

Minho laughed softly at Jisung’s wounded expression, but his eyes stayed reassuringly gentle the entire time.

Jisung swallowed hard before looking away again toward the sky overhead.

“You make me feel seen,” he admitted more quietly this time.

“Like I thought I was bad at being an alpha somehow,” Jisung continued, voice smaller now. “Too emotional. Too awkward. Too needy.” He laughed weakly beneath his breath. “Too everything.”

The grass shifted softly beneath them as Minho turned more fully toward him, but Jisung kept talking before he could lose his nerve.

“But with you, it’s quieter somehow,” Jisung murmured with a small laugh.

His fingers tightened unconsciously around Minho’s hand.

“And I know this probably sounds stupid because maybe you don’t even see me like that, and I don’t want to ruin things between us because you’re honestly the best thing that’s happened to me in a really long time, but…”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut briefly.

“I really like you, hyung.”

The words finally left him in one rushed breath.

The second the confession left his mouth, Jisung felt vulnerable, like all the layers of protection he had built around his heart and soul had been laid bare in front of Minho.

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Jisung rushed out immediately. “I mean—not okay, obviously, because I think I’d actually have to disappear forever from embarrassment, but I can deal with that later—” 

“Sung-ah.”

Minho’s voice cut gently through the rambling.

Jisung finally looked over again.

Minho looked at him like none of this was embarrassing at all. It almost made Jisung stop breathing.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since the day we met,” Minho admitted softly.

Jisung blinked. “What?”

Minho smiled weakly beneath his breath, almost embarrassed now himself.

“You looked at me like I was something terrifying and precious at the same time,” Minho said quietly. “And then you just kept doing it.”

Jisung immediately covered his face again with a groan. Minho laughed softly before pulling his hand back down.

“I don’t think you understand what you’re like to be around sometimes,” he murmured.

Jisung blinked at him.

“You make people feel… important,” Minho continued slowly, like he was still trying to find the right words himself. “Like you’re listening to them so carefully that nothing else matters while they’re talking.”

His thumb brushed absentmindedly across Jisung’s knuckles.

“And with me, you’ve always been so gentle.”

Minho went quieter after that, thumb still moving slowly across Jisung’s knuckles. 

“Even when you were nervous around me. Even when you thought you were doing everything wrong.” He smiled weakly. “You never were.”

Jisung’s throat tightened.

“I think I started falling for you really early on,” Minho admitted quietly. “I just kept wanting to be near you afterwards.”

His smile softened slightly.

“Then suddenly you were everywhere in my life, and I didn’t want that to stop.”

For a second, Jisung could only stare at him.

Then Minho leaned closer, brushing their noses together lightly.

“So yes,” he murmured softly. “I really, really like you too.”

He had spent so long wanting Minho quietly. Wanting him in all the small, embarrassing ways he never admitted out loud. Sitting through lectures thinking about him. Saving every text message. Counting days apart like they physically hurt.

And now Minho was here beside him, looking at Jisung like he was something precious.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Minho murmured gently.

Jisung laughed weakly beneath his breath. “Sorry.”

Minho smiled at that familiar response before reaching up and brushing his knuckles lightly against Jisung’s cheek.

“You don’t have to apologise for everything, Sung-ah.”

Before he could think himself out of it again, Jisung leaned closer. Slowly enough for Minho to stop him if he wanted to. Slowly enough that Jisung could feel his own heartbeat climbing higher with every inch between them disappearing.

Minho never pulled away.

Instead, his hand slid gently into Jisung’s hair the moment their lips met.

Like, Minho was embracing him more than kissing him. 

Like every bit of yearning they’d been carrying for each other had finally found somewhere safe to rest.

Minho kept kissing him in slow, lingering presses, barely giving Jisung time to breathe between them. Whenever Jisung leaned in too impatiently, Minho would laugh softly against his mouth before pulling him closer again.

If Jisung could relive one moment for the rest of his life, he thought it would be this one.

Minho, beneath the summer sunlight, cheeks flushed softly pink from the heat, orange hair falling messily into his eyes while he kissed Jisung like there was nowhere else he would rather be. The warmth of his mouth against Jisung’s. His fingers threaded carefully through Jisung’s hair like he was holding something fragile and loved all at once.

Jisung found himself trying quietly to memorise everything—the warmth of Minho beneath the summer sunlight, the soft press of his mouth, the careful way he kept touching Jisung like he was something precious. 

When Minho finally pulled back slightly, their foreheads rested together while Jisung tried quietly to catch his breath.

Minho’s thumb brushed slowly beneath Jisung’s eye before settling against his cheek again, absentminded and affectionate in a way that made Jisung’s chest ache softly.

And for the first time in years, Jisung looked at himself through Minho’s eyes and couldn’t find anything lacking there at all.

The air in Jisung’s apartment was thick, charged with the scent of their arousal. Minho, even on his knees, managed to tower, his powerful thighs caging Jisung’s. He wasn't just sitting; he was presiding, a king on a throne of his submissive top.

"Look at you," Minho murmured, his voice a low, thrilling command. He traced a fingertip along Jisung's jaw. "All worked up for me already." His other hand went to the hem of Jisung's shirt. "Off. Now."

Jisung obeyed with a shaky breath, helping to pull the fabric over his head before his own hands went to Minho's sweater. He pushed it up, revealing the elegant lines of Minho's torso, his skin glowing in the low light. Pants and underwear were shoved down and kicked away in a tangle of impatient limbs.

"Condom, Sung-ah," Minho said, not asking. He leaned back just enough to watch, his gaze heavy and approving as Jisung fumbled with the foil packet, his hands trembling as he sheathed himself. The sight of Jisung's cock, thick and ready, made Minho hum in satisfaction. "Good boy."

Emboldened by the praise, Jisung surged up, his mouth finding Minho's chest. He sucked dark, urgent marks onto his nipples, making Minho gasp and thread his fingers through Jisung's hair, not to pull him away, but to hold him there. Jisung moved lower, painting Minho's neck, his lower stomach, the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with possessive bruises. Each one was a plea, a worshipful hyung, hyung, hyung breathed against his skin.

In turn, Minho claimed his territory. He pulled Jisung close, sinking his teeth into the side of his neck, leaving a mark that would last for days. His fingers, clever and sure, traced the lines of Jisung's tattoo on his arm, a familiar caress that made Jisung shiver.

"You take such good care of me, don't you, Sung-ah?" Minho whispered, his breath hot against Jisung's ear. Then, with effortless control, he shifted. "Now, I want your mouth."

He turned, sinking down to plant his knees on either side of Jisung's head. The first taste was intoxicating. Jisung groaned, his hands flying to Minho's hips as he licked into him, messy and devoted. Minho's slick was everywhere, sweet and perfect on Jisung's tongue. Jisung added two fingers, curling them inside, and Minho cried out, his body tightening.

"Yes, just like that- such a good boy, fuck, Sung-ah!" Minho chanted, his voice climbing as he ground down. He came with a sharp, beautiful cry, shuddering through it on Jisung's face.

Jisung, desperate and overwhelmed, shuffled up the bed. He grabbed the hand Minho had buried in his hair and brought his fingers to his mouth. Looking up through his lashes, he bit down on Minho's middle and ring fingers, hard, leaving deep, perfect imprints of his teeth. A claiming from the one who was owned. Minho moaned, his eyes dark with lust.

The shift was practically seamless. Minho, still trembling from his climax on Jisung’s face, moved with a grace that belied the intensity of the moment. He got onto his hands and knees, presenting himself, the elegant curve of his back a silent, powerful command.

Jisung knelt behind him, his own breath coming in short, ragged pants. He ran his hands reverently over the swell of Minho’s ass, down his taut thighs. “Hyung,” he breathed, the word thick with awe and desire. “You’re so pretty like this.”

He didn’t enter him yet. Instead, he leaned forward, placing open-mouthed kisses along the base of Minho’s spine. “My perfect hyung,” he mumbled against warm skin, his voice soft, adoring. He spread Minho open with his thumbs, watching as more slick gathered, glistening.

“Sung-ah,” Minho prompted, his voice a low thrum of need and authority. “Don’t just look.”

“I know, I know, hyung,” Jisung whined, nuzzling the back of Minho’s thigh. “But you’re just… so pretty. Wanna remember this.” Finally, he guided himself to Minho’s entrance, the blunt head pressing against the heat. He pushed in slowly, inch by exquisite inch, a low groan torn from both their throats as he bottomed out, his hips flush against Minho’s ass.

For a moment, he just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his forehead resting between Minho’s shoulder blades. “F-feels so good, hyung,” he stammered, his voice small and wrecked. 

Then he began to move. Slow, deep, rolling thrusts that made Minho push back against him with soft, punched-out moans. The sound of their bodies meeting, of skin slapping against skin, filled the room, rhythmic and obscene. Jisung’s hands gripped Minho’s hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh.

“You feel so good, hyung,” Jisung babbled, his thrusts gradually gaining speed, losing some of their careful control. “Hyung, my hyung, lettin’ me feel you like this.” He leaned over Minho’s back, his chest pressing against the sweat-slicked skin. He planted a soft, sucking kiss on Minho’s shoulder. “Love you so much. Love bein’ inside you. My favorite place.”

His words were punctuated by the increasingly frantic slap of his balls against Minho’s skin. He reached around, his hand finding Minho’s hard, leaking cock, and began stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Wanna make hyung feel good,” he murmured into Minho’s ear, his voice a sweet, desperate contrast to the filthy rhythm of their bodies. “Wanna be the best for you. Am I doin’ good, hyung? Tell me I’m doin’ good.”

Minho, lost in the sensation, could only manage a choked, “So good, Sung-ah. So good for hyung. Just like that, baby.”

Encouraged, Jisung’s thrusts became harder, deeper, his own pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He was a mess of sweet nothings and animalistic need. “Gonna make you come again, hyung,” he promised, his voice trembling. “You’re so perfect. My beautiful, perfect hyung.”

His pace became punishing, the bed frame creaking in protest, his words dissolving into breathless, worshipful gasps against Minho’s skin with every powerful drive of his hips.

“Hyung, please, hyung,” Jisung babbled, his voice cracking on a sob, his forehead pressed against the sweat-damp skin of Minho’s back. His toes were already curling helplessly into the sheets beneath them, a physical testament to the overwhelming pleasure of being allowed to take Minho like this. 

“Wanna see you, please, need to see your face… need to see you, hyungie, please.”

Minho, lost in the deep, punishing rhythm, let out a low, shuddering breath. He reached back, his fingers tangling in Jisung’s hair. 

“So needy, my Sung-ah,” he murmured, feeling the tension in Jisung’s body through the desperate grip on his hips. “Always so sweet for me. Alright, baby. Come here.”

The shift was slow, Minho guiding him to stillness. Jisung whined at the loss, his toes flexing and curling again in frustration. Then Minho turned, a beautiful, commanding vision, and pushed him down onto the bed. Jisung’s back hit the sheets, and immediately his feet sought anchor. 

Minho teased him, rubbing Jisung’s cock against his slick entrance. “What do you want, Sung-ah?” he purred.

“You,” Jisung gasped, his hands gripping Minho’s thighs. His toes curled tight, a physical echo of his verbal plea. “Want you, hyung. Please—”

Minho sank down. It was a slow, devastating descent. Jisung’s entire body arched, a silent cry tearing through him. His toes clenched so fiercely into the sheets that he felt the fabric might tear. He was buried to the hilt, utterly possessed.

For a long moment, Minho just sat there, impaled, letting them both adjust. He rolled his hips in a tiny, circular motion that made Jisung’s toes curl and uncurl rhythmically against the bed. 

“All mine,” Minho breathed, looking down at him. “Right where you belong, baby.”

Then he began to move. The deliberate, rocking rise and fall was exquisite torture. Jisung’s hands framed Minho’s face, his toes were curled into permanent fists of pleasure against the sheets. “Hyung,” Jisung whispered, tears in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Minho’s pace quickened, his thighs flexing. The wet, slapping sounds filled the room. Jisung’s hips jerked upward to meet him. It was a tiny, frantic dance of submission at the end of his body. Minho leaned forward, caging him in. The new angle was deeper, more intense. 

“There! Hyung, right there!” Jisung cried out, his body bowing, his toes pressing so hard into the mattress that his arches lifted.

“I know, baby,” Minho panted, kissing him deeply. He kept up that deep, rolling grind. “My Sung-ah.” The praise poured forth, and with every “good boy,” every “perfect,” Jisung’s responding whimpers were accompanied by another desperate curl of his toes into the cotton.

dissolved breathlessly into the next while Minho held him close enough that Jisung felt untethered from everything else around him. 

Minho’s rhythm grew desperate, and Jisung could feel it—the way Minho’s internal muscles began to twitch and tighten around him, signalling he was right on the edge. 

“You’re mine,” Minho chanted, his voice breaking, raw and needy. “So close, baby… please…”

Jisung watched from below, mesmerised and breathless, as Minho sat up and threw his head back, riding him with a wild, uninhibited abandon. Jisung’s own pleasure was mounting, tightening like a vice in his gut, but his focus was entirely on the sight of Minho coming undone above him. He could see the tension in Minho's thighs, the way his muscles quivered and strained as he pushed himself to the absolute limit.

“Come for me, Sung-ah,” Minho commanded, his voice a guttural rasp that sent a shiver of pure heat straight to Jisung's core. “Let me feel it.”

“Hyung—I can’t—I’m gonna—” Jisung sobbed, his hips stuttering upward, his entire body tensing as he fought to keep up with Minho's frantic pace.

“Now!” Minho gasped, and he finally broke.

Jisung felt the exact moment Minho hit his peak. It was explosive. He felt Minho’s entire body seize violently, the sudden, crushing grip of his internal walls milking Jisung with a ruthless, rhythmic suction. The sensation was overwhelming; Minho was clamping down on him so hard it felt like he was trying to draw every single drop of pleasure out of him. Jisung gasped, his eyes wide, watching Minho’s face contort in pure ecstasy as his release stripped across Jisung’s stomach in hot, heavy pulses.

The sight of Minho completely shattered—the sound of those broken, breathless moans and the feel of him gripping him so tightly—was the final blow. It destroyed whatever restraint Jisung had left. 

With a final, broken wail of “Hyung!”, he slammed upwards one last time. As he spilt into the condom, his vision whiting out, the tension in his body exploded and then released in a wave of total, utter surrender.

Minho continued to ride him through every pulse, his movements slowing to a gentle, heavy roll as the aftershocks continued to ripple through them both. 

“Good boy… my good boy…” he whispered, kissing him softly. Jisung lay beneath him, a trembling, oversensitive mess, his mind still reeling from the intensity of Minho's climax and the sheer force of their connection.

Jisung still didn’t want to let go.

The moment Minho shifted even slightly, Jisung instinctively pulled him closer again until their chests pressed flush together beneath the blankets. His arms tightened around Minho automatically, holding him there like something precious Jisung still couldn’t fully believe belonged to him.

Warmth surrounded him from every direction now. Minho’s body tucked against his. The slow rise and fall of his breathing. The steady heartbeat resting beneath Jisung’s cheek that gradually soothed his own back down from its frantic pace.

Jisung tilted his head up slowly after a while, eyes still hazy with affection as he looked at Minho properly again.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, he leaned in and started pressing small kisses across Minho’s face. The tip of his nose. The corner of his mouth. His cheekbones. Soft, lingering little kisses that made Minho laugh quietly beneath his breath.

Jisung loved him so much that it almost felt unbearable sometimes.

“Hyung,” he whispered, voice still rough around the edges.

This kiss felt different from the others.

Slow enough that neither of them tried to rush it. Jisung stayed close, lips moving gently against Minho’s while his hand came up to cradle Minho’s cheek with absentminded care, thumb brushing lightly beneath his eye.

Minho melted into it immediately, completely relaxed beneath Jisung’s touch now.

When they finally pulled apart, Minho kept their foreheads pressed together for a second before smiling softly.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Jisung’s chest tightened so suddenly it almost hurt.

Minho’s smile widened slightly at the expression on his face.

“You’re a really cute boyfriend, Sung-ah.”

Jisung immediately buried his face against Minho’s neck with a strained groan, arms wrapping even tighter around him while Minho laughed softly above him.

“Stop talking,” Jisung mumbled weakly against his skin.

But he couldn’t stop smiling.

And when Minho’s hand slid slowly into his hair afterwards, holding him there carefully against his chest, Jisung thought he could stay like this forever.