Archive of Our Own

Minho had always considered himself independent.

Maybe it was the wrong kind of assumption to make on his own, but when he viewed himself from an outer perspective, it seemed as if there was no  need  for others in his life. 

Not until he met  Jisung.

Han Jisung, his best friend since high school, who matched his energy perfectly, who could read him like a book, who he could always  depend  on if he needed anything, who he could tell everything to.

Well, that last one’s a stretch.

See, as Minho sat crouched on the hardwood floor of his bedroom, legs folded underneath his body, he seriously considered every minute of his and Jisung's friendship. 

Naturally, if one were to come across their best friend,  and roommate,  for that matter, wearing bright pink lingerie with their hands restrained behind their back, wrapped in fuzzy handcuffs of a similar color, they’d probably freak the  fuck  out.

Or pop a boner, maybe.

Minho ran over this situation in his head a million times. It all ended with Jisung staring wide-eyed at him, only to then never think of Minho the same. The thought left a little twinge in his chest, vague enough to ignore, but present nonetheless.

However, there wasn’t much he could do in his position. 

Minho’s eyes drilled holes into the small key on the ground, too flat for him to fumble into his fingers, and too small to bite with his teeth. Believe him, he tried. The idea of using handcuffs was flawless, in perspective, and  really  racked in extra tips but  probably  not the best to attempt by himself.

Not that he had anyone in mind to assist him. Any future handcuff streams were to be postponed, as of now.

Minho has been streaming for long enough to understand what his viewers want. He has a loyal fanbase, a bit strange, – as one would expect from users of shady porn websites, – but  filthy  rich. 

No matter if they typed the most vulgar shit Minho has ever seen in his life in his chat, he  adored  the attention. Except for the threats, but those came naturally, no matter what he did to filter them away.

His highest tipper had asked him to do a handcuff stream a few days back, and who was Minho to deny hard cold cash? 

Maybe he should’ve put a  bit more  thought into his decision.

The wetness in his lace panties was starting to irk him at this point, and Minho knew that there was no way out.  “Fuck!”  He cursed under his breath, using his foot to slide his phone across the floor from where it lay on the blanket he had placed on the ground; towards him.

With a groaned struggle, he bent over and used his nose to unlock his phone, opening his messages app, breath fogging the screen. Minho pulled up the only person within his vicinity, and the  one  person he didn’t want to see him in such a state.

If it was Hyunjin, fine, he already knew about the streams beforehand, – a drunken confession by Minho – or Felix, the man might be a bit cursed for life, but nothing would change Felix’s impression of him.

However, both of them were farther away than Minho thinks he could manage. So, with a heavy sigh, he bent over and pressed the call button underneath Jisung’s picture, wincing as the screen changed.

He gave the key one last death glare before shifting his position, pushing his thighs together to at least  attempt  to cover his semi-clothed dick, – and the wet spot to go with it – and brought his feet behind his ass, sitting between his ankles.

The call picked up after a few rings, and a tired-sounding Jisung sprung through the speaker. “What’s up, Min?” Jisung’s voice rasped out, heavy with sleep. Minho winced, not only did he  wake  Jisung up, but he was about to shove his situation into Jisung’s life.

For several seconds, Minho considered hanging up and wallowing in his own pity while he waited the 20 minutes for Hyunjin to arrive, but  god  he needed to get out of these handcuffs as soon as humanly possible.

“Ah- Shit, did I wake you up?” Minho muttered, nervousness narrowly creeping through his voice.

Jisung hummed through the phone, followed by a small laugh, “Nah, I was just napping, don’t worry.”

Napping at 11:30 PM?  Minho almost echoed, but decided against it, thinking better than wrapping himself in a conversation in his  state.  Minho offered a tiny chuckle, as if it would help him calm down. It didn’t.

“Jisungie, I– um,” Minho choked out, tripping over his words. Jisung made a noise of confusion, and Minho felt his stomach reel. He seriously contemplated throwing up, but figured it would be  much  worse if Jisung found him in a puddle of his own vomit.

Minho swallowed. “I–  Fuck,  I need a favor,” he sputtered, slamming his eyes shut as if it would make everything disappear. Mortification crept through his veins, picking at his skin.

“Yeah? What is it?” Jisung sounded strange, as if he could  tell  Minho was on edge about something. Minho imagined that Jisung's anxiety was emerging, possibly a subconscious shift of blame that Minho always carefully reprimanded him for.

“Uh– I just, I need help.”

Jisung paused after his words, likely processing. “Help? Minho, what do you need help with?” He questioned, confusion dripping through each syllable. Minho cursed himself silently.

“Ah–” Minho shifted on the floor, prematurely peering at the door, “Can you just help me out of something? I’m uh– I’m in my room.” Minho’s face flushed at his own words, attempting to hide his face in his hands intrinsically, only to remember where his hands were currently held.

He heard Jisung mumble something through the phone, – something along the lines of,  “Out of something?” –  other than that, Jisung did not offer anything but a small, “Sure,”   and Minho’s blood ran hot. 

Minho kept his eyes stuck to the ground, piecing apart the door’s base until it eventually swung cautiously open, too slow for Minho, as it gave him enough time to draw his gaze upward, meeting Jisung’s dark eyes.

It seems Jisung didn’t fully register everything until a few painful seconds later, realization slamming into him, the switch visible in his facial expression. As Minho had assumed, Jisung’s eyes widened, dragging up Minho’s seated body, lips parted in sudden surprise.

“Minho– What?” Is all he breathed out, and Minho quickly flicked his head down, shame slipping across his face, heating up his skin. Jisung fell out of sight as Minho’s gaze lingered on his socked feet, standing strangely still, differing from his normal, twitchy self.

Minho let out a shaky breath, likely from embarrassment, “I’m sorry  fuck,  I just,” he exhaled loudly, “I need you to unlock these for me.”

He let his eyes meet Jisung’s again, his  shittiest  idea by far. 

Jisung blankly stared at him, mouth still agape, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly, gaze locked on Minho like a deer in headlights. Minho felt his stomach sink further as his ears heatened, swallowing dryly.

“Unlock–Unlock wh–” Jisung faded off, babbling until Minho bent himself slightly over, chest nearing the floor as he raised his wrists to the air. He heard Jisung’s breath catch in his throat, a small “Oh,”  leaving his lips in return.

Minho took that as a signal to sit back up, as much as he enjoyed the safety that staring at the floor brought him. “The key is um– Right there,” He choked out, gesturing with his head towards the small metal object.

A small sigh escaped him as Jisung’s eyes finally left his frame, shifting toward the key, to then bend over and pluck it from the floor with little struggle. Embarrassment washed over him at the ease of it all, silently wishing he had spent more time attempting to pick it up, rather than facing whatever the  fuck  was going on.

Jisung didn’t speak as he made his way over to Minho, only distinguishable by the slight heavy breaths echoing in Minho’s ear when Jisung knelt behind him. Minho winced as his wrists were shifted beneath Jisung’s fingers, immediately receiving a whispered,  “ Sorry , fuck.”

Exhaling, Minho almost let himself laugh at Jisung’s nervous apology, only to then reel himself back in, visualizing being laughed at in Jisung’s place. He tightened his thighs closer together, feeling more exposed than ever as Jisung’s breath fanned over the back of his neck, followed by fumbling fingers trying to piece the key into the locked handcuffs.

The sound of release was audible by means of a small  click,  and suddenly, his hands fell to the skin of his ass, finally free from the tight restraints, the handcuffs sliding to the floor. Minho tugged his hands into his lap almost immediately, his own eyes widening at the angry red skin curved around both of his wrists.

Jisung moved to stand up behind him, casting Minho a look as he made his way to the door, eyes flicking cautiously around Minho’s room. Jisung didn’t utter a word, yet Minho watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed slowly in his throat, eyes landing on Minho again.

Minho managed to choke out a small, flustered, “Thanks,” embarrassment lodged in his chest, the warmth of his flush pricking sweat on his forehead. Jisung returned with a blink, and then a small nod, before rushing out of Minho’s room, the door swinging shut behind him.

Oh god,  oh god.

Minho’s stomach sank as deep as it could go, crumbling to the floor with an exasperated groan. He flipped on his back, eyes straining against the harsh overhead light, digging the backs of his palms against his eyelids.

Humiliation scorched through him like a wildfire, ripping apart his insides as he cursed himself over and over in his head. Thinking about it, it could’ve gone much worse,  or much better,  hypothetically.

Jisung kind of just… Stared?

Yeah, seeing your roommate handcuffed and barely clothed probably does that to a person. Though Minho silently appreciated that Jisung didn’t ask  why  Minho was wearing the lingerie,  or  why he was  handcuffed.

He tried to step into Jisung’s shoes for a moment, imagining himself walking in on Jisung, on the floor, tied up and leaving only a sliver up to imagination. When Minho’s gut flip-flopped, he shoved the thought away, in a far far away place.

There was no question that Minho found Jisung attractive, – as a best friend does – not that it  meant  anything. Minho was free to appreciate Jisung’s  attractiveness  without making things weird, sue him. 

Things were  definitely  weird now.

Once stars started bursting in the blackness of his eyes, Minho pulled his hands away, sitting up with a small stretch. It was only then that his eyes fell before him on the camera stand still propped up on the blanket, the camera still attached.

Minho’s eyes flew open,  fuckfuckfuckfuck.  Jisung  must’ve  seen it. At least he had managed to shove the box of sex toys back into his closet,  that  would’ve been worse for Jisung to see.

Still, how the  fuck  was Jisung supposed to assume what the fucking  camera  meant? On top of Minho being practically naked, handcuffed, and on the floor. 

Minho found himself missing living alone, for as much as he loved Jisung to death,  this  was going to become a serious problem.  How was Minho supposed to talk to Jisung tomorrow?  To make breakfast? (Like Minho normally does on Saturdays) 

Would it be weird if he skipped making breakfast? It would be weird.

Eventually, after soaking in a puddle of his own pity for a solid amount of time, Minho found his way to his closet, pulling off the straining lingerie and slipping into sweatpants and a random T-shirt he had found wadded on the floor.

The comfort of his bed was nice, at least compared to the ground. Sleep was far away, though, miles away from his fingertips, even when he flicked the lights off. 

Tiredness didn’t find him until hours later, after Minho had caved and watched stupid YouTube videos until he bored himself to death. 

Even so, sleep was unpromising, Jisung’s face burned into his mind like worn-out coals, and his body dripped with lingering shame.

-*-

Saturday morning comes, and as normal, Minho makes breakfast.

Jisung hasn’t woken up, – or at least emerged from his room – to Minho’s delight, wishing to prolong any interaction with him until further notice. During the time he took to shower and get himself ready for the day, – not that he had anything planned – Minho had made a decision.

He would completely ignore everything that happened last night, pretend it didn’t exist,  not fuck up and get embarrassed in front of Jisung,  (that one was important) and if Jisung wanted to bring it up, so be it.

Part of him assumed Jisung would keep it quiet, he was probably embarrassed too. Or maybe he was grossed out.  God,  Minho needed to stop thinking about Jisung being disgusted with him.

Really though, who wouldn’t be?

Then, the sound of a door opening ripped him from his self-deprecating thoughts and Minho did everything to pretend like the eggs he was frying were the most interesting thing in the world.

Footsteps shuffled from behind him, and from what Minho assumed, Jisung plopped himself in one of the barstools. Soft chatter emitted from Jisung’s phone, and Minho let himself relax.

“What’re you making?” Jisung’s voice picked up, and Minho’s shoulders tightened in surprise. After loosening them, Minho calmly slid out an answer, “Eggs.” 

Wow. Surprise.

He heard Jisung laugh softly behind him, “Just eggs?” 

Minho laughed alongside him, though his more nervous than it should be.  Fuck,  Minho needed to pull himself together. It was obvious now that Jisung didn’t care, from the way he so naturally slipped into conversation.

As Minho eased himself away from the threatening embarrassment that attempted to creep through his skin, he let out a more  normal  chuckle, “No, meat too.”

Jisung hummed softly.

Minho finished making breakfast in semi-silence. They didn’t talk after that, not that there was much to chat about. 

Well, there was definitely  something  to talk about .  Maybe not over breakfast. Maybe not ever.

When the food was plated and set, the two easily slid into their seats, and Minho started to smooth into conversation, more or so just him ranting about one of the students in his dance class who was getting on his nerves.

Jisung listened, as he always did, offering small nods and the occasional few words of input, though, the more Minho talked, the more he noticed the small glances Jisung constantly offered. It was continuous, every five or so seconds, Jisung’s gaze would draw up, linger, and then flick back down again.

Maybe Minho was thinking too far into it. 

Sometimes he did it when Minho wasn’t even talking, simply casting his eyes up from his food to stare blankly at Minho, as if it was the first time he had seen him, inspecting, observing. 

Eventually, when they finished eating, and Jisung thanked him for the food, Minho departed into his room, lounging in his bed and doing anything to pass the time. Normally, he would invite Jisung somewhere, like to go on a walk, or go shopping.

Rather, Minho found himself glued to his room, desperately clawing away from Jisung’s knowing gaze. It’s as if Jisung was piecing Minho together with his eyes, picking away at the  one  wall that Minho so desperately fought to keep up.

It was frustrating, soul-sucking, and  draining  to hide things from Jisung. Because he knew that at some point, Jisung would figure it out. Last night was only giving Jisung a push closer, handing him another piece of the puzzle.

But for now, Minho had his privacy, the safety of isolation. 

So as one did, he idly browsed the internet to waste away his time, shifting from platform to platform. Watching a YouTube video, responding lewdly to a few celebrities on Twitter to get his fans excited, and scrolling mindlessly through Instagram.

Not the ideal way to spend one’s Saturday, but distracting, nonetheless.

Distraction was good, enough to help him drift away from the worried corner of his mind that mercilessly supplied him with that familiar creeping dread that everyone around him  knew everything about him. 

Minho knew that he had to stream, preferably  sooner  rather than later. Getting off was by far the best diversion, especially when it brought him enough money to not worry about rent, or putting food on the table.

-*-

The flashing red light on the camera signaled that it was on, and the sudden flow of the chat signaled that he was live. 

“Hey everyone,” Minho chirped out, slightly adjusting himself where he knelt, on the bed this time, fingers sliding down his almost barren skin. He sat with his legs folded beneath him, knees parted to the camera, revealing the bright white panties between his thighs.

He shifted the mask on his face so he could see better, a simple white half-mask with bunny ears, blanketed with faux fur on the outside. Minho blinked sheepishly through the eyeholes, staring the camera down straight-on with hooded eyes.

As he waited for more people to join the stream, Minho mindlessly fiddled with the leather straps of his chest harness, white, to match his panties. 

“You guys like my outfit tonight?” Minho slid out, voice silvery, yet toned sweet. The chat flooded with answers, and Minho grinned a toothy smile.

[Looks good baby]

[yes now take it off]

[I’m already hard]

[would look better on the floor tbh]

Giggling his most real-sounding laugh, Minho fluttered his lashes, fingertips drawing up his thighs and sliding into the inside of them, barely brushing the silk panties, before drawing away.

Minho let out a small hum, his eyes flicking up to the camera, only to then take the bright purple dildo placed deliberately out of frame and put it down in front of him, blinking rapidly.

“I also,” he paused, moving a small remote into the camera’s view, “have this.” 

Having prematurely prepared himself, the vibrator sat deep in his ass, not on, but filling nonetheless. Minho let out a small whine as he shifted, the object pressing against his walls as he pushed himself farther back on the bed, making room to wrap a hand around the dildo, making sure the camera could see the whole length.

With that, he turned the vibrator on, to a medium setting, – to his chat’s request, – enough to stimulate him, but not enough for him to cum. 

Then, Minho lowered his mouth on the dildo, leaving a small kitten lick as the vibrator buzzed inside of him, back arching in reaction. “Want me to suck you off?” He asked, innocently peering upwards at the camera, both hands fitted around the base of the dildo.

The chat seemed overly enthusiastic about it, as they did with  most things.  So, Minho sunk down on it, lips wrapping around the silicone, using his own spit for a smoother slide. He began bobbing his head around halfway down, eyes locked on the lens.

Minho began to whine softly around it, throat pulsing as he tried to swallow away the drool leaking out the sides of his lips. The vibrator pulsed deeply in him, his thighs quivering in reaction. 

Only then did the sound of a large donation fill his ears, and Minho’s eyes flicked to the phone settled beneath the camera to read the message, mouth still wrapped around the dildo.

$$$ !!  [Take all of it in your mouth]

And Minho did as he was told, shoving himself down until his lips hit the base, the length pressing against the back of his throat and stinging his eyes with tears. Minho’s toes curled, allowing himself to slide up the length and push all the way down once again.

He continued this rhythm until another tip rolled through, telling him to increase the vibrator’s setting. Again, Minho followed instructions, lifting the remote as his head bobbed and heightening the setting,  almost  to the max.

As much as he could see, the chat was flooded with praises, telling him how  good  he was for them. 

Minho felt a little sick at their lack of reality, but not enough to stop.

Eventually, when the aching of his dick became too much, he rutted down on the sheets, letting out a gasped moan around the dildo, before removing himself completely from it.

Shuddering, Minho looked at himself in the lens reflection, pupils wide, lips rimmed with red. Desperation crept through him, half searching for release, and half to feel something other than the mind-numbing vibrations that made his body tremble against his will.

“Mmh, I need to feel you,” Minho mumbled out, lifting his finger to drag along the spit-soaked length of the dildo, eyes peering into the camera. 

When his viewers gave him a very eager go-ahead, Minho reached around him and slid the – now turned off, – vibrator out, lips falling open in a moan as the sensation left him.

Donations flew through the chat, and Minho read them while reaching for the bottle of lube, eyes flitting across the screen.

$$$ !!  [Get yourself fucked on your back like a good boy]

$$$ !!  [Take the panties all the way off, baby]

So, as naturally as he could, Minho slid a few pillows behind him and pulled the silk from his body, removing it completely from sight, placed far from him on the sheets.

“Am I being good for you?” Minho fluttered his lashes.

[such a good slut]

[God I’d fuck you so hard]

[fuck yourself already]

“Fuck me like the good boy I am.”

Once he was fully exposed, cock hard and flushed against his chest, Minho spread his legs further apart while slicking up the dildo with lube. Then, painstakingly slow, Minho slid the dildo in, gasping out a moan.

“Haah- So big,” Minho babbled, chest heaving as he pressed it all the way inside, giving himself a moment to regain his senses. He knew how impatient his viewers get, though.

With a choked moan, he began thrusting the dildo inside of him, unable to fully remove it from the way he was laying, but far enough to cause him to whimper when he shoved it back in. 

Slowly, he built up a rhythm, fucking himself deep with the dildo while whines flooded from his lips, mingled with the simple  ‘harder’  or  ‘so good’  to give his viewers the  experience.

His insides felt raw from the vibrator, and the dildo only amplified it, dragging along his walls and making his thighs shiver from pleasure. His eyes were hooded, pulled open just enough to stare into the camera while using his free hand to clutch the sheets beneath him.

Then, a buzzing ripped him from his daze. At first, he assumed the vibrator had turned on suddenly, but when his eyes flicked over to it, his phone caught his eye instead. Alit on the screen, was  an incoming call from Jisung.

“ Fuck,”  he breathed out, reaching over to grasp the phone in his hand, swiping away the call, but somehow not declining it, the icon dragging to the top left corner of his phone and lingering there. “My roommate is calling me,” Minho shuddered out, attempting to speak through the continuous thrusts.

As he fumbled to  actually  decline it, he watched a donation roll through,  his highest tip of the night. 

$$$ !!  [Answer the call]

The chat responded with similar enthusiastics, hyping up the donator for their  brilliant idea.  Minho thought the idea was fucking  terrible,  but his pleasure-driven mind did nothing to retain it, wanting nothing but to disappoint such a large tipper.

So, with a small noise of premeditated regret, Minho opened the call back up right before it would go to voicemail, and pressed accept. As it loaded, Minho continued fucking himself, all while pulling the phone to his ear, eyes falling shut.

Jisung’s voice then rang out, “Hey Min,” he simply chirped, though inhaling a breath to signal that he was going to continue talking. Minho clamped down on his bottom lip to stop a moan from bubbling out of his throat, throwing his head back slightly on the pillow as a means of distraction.

“I ordered some food,” Jisung continued, “Want me to come bring it to you? It’s from that one sushi place you like.”

Minho’s eyes flew open, lips falling agape in turn, and it took every bone in his body not to let a whimper slide out. “N-no,” He managed to return, voice strained.

Jisung let out a noise of confusion, “No?” Minho could practically hear him raise his eyebrows and do that blinking  thing  he did when he didn’t completely understand. 

“Like– No, you don’t want it, or no, you don’t want me to bring it to you?” 

Minho squirmed where he was lying, somehow shifting his hips in a way that shoved the dildo directly onto his prostate. As quick as he could, he pressed the phone into the sheets, hopefully muffling the moan that ripped out of his throat.

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as he drabbled out a response, voice labored and breathy, “ Fuck,  D-don’t bring it,” he sputtered through a curse.

Jisung let out a small, “M’kay,” tone still lingering with heavy confusion, though Minho  knew  Jisung wasn’t stupid enough to have no idea what was happening on the other side of the phone.

Minho slammed the dildo into his prostate with no remorse, stomach tightening as heat pooled in his gut. “I– I want it, though,” Minho stuttered, nodding frantically to nobody in particular.

“Minho, are you good?” Jisung eventually asked, sounding more concerned than anything, though Minho  swore  he could hear a smirk through the phone.

“I’m f-fine, yeah– Just–” Minho wasn’t completely sure what he was trying to say, mind so clouded that he couldn’t see past the pleasure building in his stomach, begging for release.

At some point, Minho couldn’t hold it anymore, back arching over the bed as he sputtered, “ Fuck,  I’m– Fuck,” his words were whispered, barely audible, and Minho fumbled for the hang-up button, successfully pressing it before he came across his stomach with a throaty moan.

Pleasure ripped through him, painting his chest in white while his vision clouded momentarily, phone still clenched between his fingers.

When he recovered from his high, Minho slid the dildo out shakily, thighs trembling with oversensitivity. He sat up, breathing heavily as he drew his eyes over his phone once again, reading the stream of chats that flowed on his screen.

[Fuck, that was so hot]

[that was insane, lol]

[I can’t believe you actually answered]

[god ur roommate probably knows how much of a whore u r now]

Minho propped his phone up against the camera again, swiping away sweat from his forehead and putting on his best,  totally   not humiliated,  face.

He leaned closer to the camera, tilting his head, “I hope my roommate doesn’t get the wrong ideas,” he giggled sweetly, swallowing down the nauseating feeling that began creeping up his throat.

“He bought me food,” Minho sheepishly recounted, letting his streaming personality slip back onto his face, “ –Asked me if he should come bring it to me.”

As Minho would have assumed, that chat  loved  the idea of that.

[maybe he couldve helped u out]

[what would you have done if he walked in on you??]

[You should’ve told him to come in]

Minho did  not.

The cum on his stomach started to dry, and Minho felt the stickiness of post-orgasm wash over him. With a small chuckle, he winked at the camera, “Maybe next time I’ll invite him,” an empty promise, just enough to have his viewers expectantly crawling back to his next stream.

Minho ignored the way his gut twisted at the thought.

“Anyways, bye-bye for now, see you next stream,” Minho blinked, a small smile creeping onto his lips, though it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

Minho ended the stream before he could even read the farewells left for him in the chat, and once that blinking red button turned to gray, Minho curled himself into a ball, groaning against the sheets.

God,   why did he fucking do that?

Minho prayed to every god that he didn’t believe in, silently hoping that Jisung was shallow enough to not comprehend what Minho had done. Maybe he just wouldn’t ever come out of his room, never look Jisung in the eyes,  ever.

Routinely, however, Minho dragged himself up and put away his things, as well as tearing his sheets off the bed and into a pile, before slogging his way to the connected bathroom and showering off the ick of post orgasm.

Once he stepped back into the foggy bathroom, hair wet, towel wrapped around his waist, Minho decided to stop bombarding himself with curses. It was  fine. It was fine.

It was fine, except for the fact that Jisung saw Minho in lingerie, unlocked his handcuffs,  and  heard him fucking himself over the phone.

Fuck.

Minho didn’t go out into the kitchen until an hour later. The styrofoam food container was placed on the counter as expected, half empty, likely from Jisung’s own serving, and luckily, Jisung himself was nowhere to be seen.

Still, out of fear, Minho swiped the container from the counter and rushed back to his room, shoving the door shut behind him to escape any possible interaction with Jisung, at least for tonight.

Classes would start back up tomorrow. Fortunately, Jisung had a morning and afternoon class on Mondays. Minho knew he couldn’t run forever, but by hell, he would run for as long as he fucking could.

As he dug into the cold sushi left in the container, Minho shivered at the thought of  actually  talking to Jisung about what was going on. There were three ways it could go.

One, Jisung confronts Minho about being a camboy, Minho is humiliated, and Jisung kicks him out of their shared apartment for a breach of his peace.

Two, Jisung confronts Minho about being a camboy, Minho freezes up, runs away, and never looks Jisung in the eyes again.

Or three, Jisung confronts Minho about being a camboy, and thinks it’s hot as fuck.

Maybe the third one is a stretch. Ignore that one.

Still, it ends in Minho getting  fucked over.  Possibly  fucked,  but again, ignoring the third one.

But, no matter how much he tries to push it away, the overwhelming thought of Jisung finding what Minho is doing  attractive,  –  no matter how foolish it is to imagine, – is doing  something to Minho.

Minho set the sushi container on the top of his trash can, reminding himself to throw it away later as he stood to replace his sheets, then to lay down on the fresh set. 

With his thighs clenched together, hand shoved between them, Minho drifted to sleep, thoughts swarmed with Jisung, and only Jisung.

-*-

Minho’s finding it hard to ignore the staring.

He could deal with it at first, especially when it was limited to simple glances, but he couldn’t  take  the lingering gaze on him at all times. Especially now, as Minho and Jisung lay pressed together on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, and Jisung keeps  looking  at him.

Minho can’t think of any reason other than he  knows everything.

It would make sense, from the endless glances, the whole  curious  look in Jisung’s eyes at dinner, as if he was piecing Minho together. No matter if he’s reading everything incorrectly, the entirety of it is  itching  at Minho, a pestering jab at his chest that is too present to ignore.

Before Minho could even open his mouth to say something, Jisung beat him to it, his voice quieter than normal, barely audible over the movie playing in front of them.

“Minho, why are you all twitchy all of a sudden?”

He sounded rather disinterested, maybe  too  disinterested. Minho chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his eyes straight ahead, watching in his peripheral vision as Jisung turned his head towards him.

With a blink, Minho responded with the most confused tone he could muster, “What do you mean?”

Minho flicked his head to meet Jisung’s eyes locking. Jisung raised his brows, gaze shifting between Minho’s left and right eye. Minho felt  exposed,  as if all of his secrets were strewn between them.

“Minho,” Jisung returned, a  warning , “Don’t play dumb.”

Minho wasn’t dumb.

In the blink of an eye, Minho found himself caving, dragging his hands to cover his face, humiliation washing over him, “God, you  know,  don’t you?” He could feel the heat of his flush beneath his fingers, painting his skin in the dark light.

Jisung shifted beside him, hands moving to wrap around Minho’s wrists, tugging them away, even after Minho’s noise of defiance. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Minho was hot with shame, the tips of his ears dusted with red as he glared at Jisung, eyes falling narrowed with a displeased expression. “Jisung, don’t play dumb,” he imitated.

Eyebrows twitching upward, Jisung drew his gaze over Minho’s face, “Know what, Minho?” Minho could tell that Jisung knew  exactly  what Minho was talking about, his eyes flashing with a beguiled delight that drove Minho insane.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jisung’s lips curled upward, his head tipping to the side to blink slowly at Minho, providing absolutely nothing. His gaze was telling, though, a final confirmation that sent Minho’s stomach sinking into the floor.

Pulling his eyes shut, Minho groaned softly, head falling back onto the couch cushions, “ Fuck , I’m sorry,  god  this is so embarrassing.” Wanting anything but to see Jisung’s expression.

Beside him, Jisung puffed out a small noise of amusement, sending a swirling wave of frustration beneath his skin. “Don’t apologize,” Jisung murmured, and Minho hesitantly opened his eyes, curiosity stemming in his gaze.

Jisung met him with the same grin, though not malicious in the slightest. Minho avoided his gaze, dragging his legs up to his chest, glaring at the ceiling above, “I just– Fuck, I can’t believe I–” 

Minho’s face was still flushed, painted with lingering shame, unable to finish his sentence. He couldn’t see Jisung’s face, though, from his silence, Minho assumed he was deep in thought. Strangely, he found himself extremely interested in what Jisung might be thinking about.

Maybe he was plotting how to kick Minho out, or possibly the best way to tell him how gross it was. Or maybe…

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it,” Jisung eventually said, tone cautious, as though he was testing the waters. 

Minho couldn’t fathom why Jisung would need to be careful right now.

“I don’t,” Minho huffed, reluctantly shifting his gaze so that his eyes met Jisung’s. He watched Jisung’s eyebrows raise in the slightest, head tipping against the cushion.

“So why’d you bring it up?”

Minho pressed his lips together, frustration bubbling in his throat, “Cause you kept fucking  staring  at me.” Jisung’s face contorted into a smile, chuckling lightly, though the flash of  teasing  in his eyes shifted Minho’s gut.

Jisung only hummed in response. Minho didn’t know what it was supposed to mean.  Annoying.

“Are we gonna keep watching this?” Jisung eventually said, the recollection that they were watching a movie returning to him, and Minho dragged his eyes to the screen.

“Oh,” he breathed out, “Yeah, sure.”

Jisung didn’t kick him out. Jisung didn’t yell at him, or call him gross. Jisung  also  didn’t say that it was hot,  fuck, Minho needed to stop thinking about that.

Relief washed over him as they slipped into silence, normalcy returning as best as it could, even if the air around them hung with  something.  Whatever it was, the sensation was comfortable enough, allowing Minho to rest, to quiet his thoughts, even for a second.

-*-

Minho couldn’t wait off on his streams anymore.

It had been several days, several days of his viewers moaning and groaning on Twitter about his lack of presence yesterday. Minho apologized profusely, claiming that he was extremely busy as of late.

(He wasn’t.)

The threat of Jisung is what really loomed over his shoulder, a newfound nervousness that Jisung would walk in on him, or he’ll do something stupid and need Jisung’s help. Minho wouldn’t fuck up again.

Tonight was like any other stream, Minho sat on his bed, red lace clinging to his skin, hands placed firmly between his thighs as he eyed up the camera as well as he could through his half-mask, fluttering long lashes while waiting for his viewers to join the chat.

“Hi everyone,” he sweetly tipped his head to the side, “Sorry for not streaming the past couple days.” The pout on his face must’ve worked well enough, because the majority of his viewers reacted well to his apology.

Minho hummed, tilting the camera a little further down to reveal his thighs, as well as the red socks that drove up his legs, held up by a matching garter. “I figured today… We would do something different.”

“I thought, since I was gone for so long,” Minho stared innocently into the lens, “I would let you guys pick everything I do.”

Enthusiastic comments ripped through the chat, praising Minho for his  brilliant  idea. He knew it was wrong to give them so much power, but Minho wasn’t stupid, he would just pick and choose the ones  he  wanted.

It was easy money, really, all Minho had to do was listen to the biggest donations, ignore the nasty ones, and he would be  loaded  by the end of the stream.

He  had  been falling behind on rent, this was his out.

So, Minho fell into a routine, reading the top donation, deciding if he  actually  wanted to do it, and based on his decision, follow the request, or pick a new one. The first few donations just asked him to suck off the dildo, or to jerk it off while grinding himself against the mattress,  easy.

Though, he couldn’t really deny the next donation, –  if he wanted to, that is –  it was his largest of the night.

$$$:  [finger yourself for me whore]

Minho fluttered his lashes, barely even acknowledging the degrading word, pulling the lube closer to him, and shoving the dildo away. It was a relief, honestly, that a donation of this size wasn’t some crazy shit. Resting at the top of his donation board for the night, it would be  pretty  hard to miss it.

So he did as he was told, bringing himself to his knees and spreading them wide, slathering lube across his fingers before reaching around and sliding his pointer finger in.

With agape lips, Minho gripped the sheets below, gasping quietly as he slowly thrust his finger in and out, thighs twitching as he dragged against his walls, skin brushing against the lace panties that he had shoved to the side of his ass.

It had been a while since he had fingered himself on stream, usually using a plug, or doing it beforehand for a quicker stream. Minho had forgotten how delirious it made him feel, meeting his own fucked-out gaze in the lens.

He swallowed at the sight of himself, slipping in a second finger after the majority of his chat begged him to do so. Minho let out a moan as he began to carefully scissor himself, eliciting a whimper as the pads of his fingers barely brushed against his prostate.

Snapping him from his trance, his phone buzzed against the sheets from where it was propped up against the camera stand. Minho hesitantly flicked his eyes down, worried for a minute that someone was calling him.

Instead, to his sudden surprise, a text from Jisung slid from the top of his screen. Minho felt his stomach twist, blinking rapidly to try and read it. Though disappearing before he could see what it said.

His gut told him to ignore it, to respond after the stream, but his brain thought otherwise, and seconds later, Minho was leaning over, closing the chat and opening up his and Jisung’s messages.

Minho’s eyes widened visibly at the text, trying to determine if he was reading it wrong, or that his activities on stream had somehow made him feverish. Heat spiked beneath his skin, pooling in his stomach.

Jisung:  fuck

Jisung:  you look so good baby

His entire word flipped on its side, and Minho found himself drawing out a small, shaky breath. 

God ,  was Jisung  watching?

Maybe he had meant to send it to someone else, somehow. Though Minho  knew  there was no need for delusions right now. His eyes naturally fluttered up to the camera lens, blinking through it as if Jisung was staring right at him.

Minho had no time or thought to mull over  why  or  how  Jisung was watching the stream, and instead, whimpered at the inclination, mouth falling open slightly.

A fire started in his stomach, making his dick twitch at the thought of Jisung watching him, and  liking it.  Maybe Jisung was hard right now, touching himself at the sight of Minho so blissed with his fingers inside himself.

Swallowing, he fucked his fingers inside him harder, dragging a loud moan from his lips, rutting down on the mattress in reaction. Precum soaked through the lace, leaving Minho to shiver, breath loud as his chest rose and fell.

His phone buzzed again. 

Jisung:  put another finger in

Jisung:  i know you can take it

And Minho could, Minho could take it. He  would  take it, just for Jisung.

Something in his stomach twirled at the notion of listening to Jisung instead of his chat. Guilt, maybe.

But as Minho slid a third finger inside, all he could think was how  good  it felt, how the stretch burned through his body and sent heat to his cock, a moan ripping from his throat.

Heat swam through his skin, eyes boring straight into the camera, hooded and needy. He pushed himself back on his fingers, finally slamming into his prostate. Whines bubbled out of his lips as he fisted the bedsheets, knuckles white.

Jisung:  minho

Jisung:  put your fingers in your mouth

Jisung:  wanna see if ur really listening to me

His eyes widened slightly at the request, casting his eyes back up at the camera before bringing his free hand to his lips, carefully sliding his pointer and middle finger into the soaking-wet heat of his mouth and leaving them pressed against his tongue.

Saliva pooled in his mouth, and Minho closed his lips around the digits, lashes fluttering as he stared into the lens, pupils blown.

Jisung:  fuck

Jisung:  suck on them

Minho’s stomach flipped at the praise, immediately complying. As requested, Minho hollowed his cheeks, ignoring the drool that seeped out of the corners of his lips. Instead, he focused on looking pretty for the camera, still fucking himself on his fingers.

Jisung:  god, minho

Jisung:  just a slut for me, arent you?

Sheepishly, Minho nodded at the camera, not bothered by the fact that his chat would have no idea what he was agreeing to. Minho’s heart thrummed in his chest, cock twitching needily underneath the fabric of his panties.

Minho tugged his bottom lip in his teeth for a moment, peering deeply through the lens, “I’m ready, tell me what to do next,” he breathed out, voice high and silvery. To his viewers, it would seem like Minho was asking  them,  but Minho wasn’t talking to his chat.

Likely obvious from the way his gaze continuously flicked down from the camera to his phone, and then back up, Minho wanted Jisung to tell him. 

Jisung:  ride the dildo baby

And Minho did exactly as he was told, slipping his fingers out with a small whine, before reaching over and grabbing the dildo from where he had discarded it earlier, thighs twitching with anticipation.

Without asking first, Minho slid off his panties, not bothering to see if his chat wanted him to or not.  He didn’t care,  not when Jisung was watching. His desire-filled brain couldn’t seem to grasp  why  something in him ached to follow all of Jisung’s directions, or why he felt so aroused from the thought of it.

Rather, Minho was busy lubing up the dildo and grasping the base of it, eyes fluttering to the camera as he perched himself over the top, lips falling open as he held himself up. His cock throbbed against his stomach, dripping with precum even without being touched.

With a shudder, Minho sank down, eliciting a guttural moan, and not stopping until he couldn’t push the dildo further. He gasped loudly at the stretch, panting harshly as a means to level himself, heat painting his skin.

Then, when he was ready, Minho began rising up, to then fall down, slowly building up a rhythm. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so  needy  on stream, already itching to speed up.

Minho bounced adeptly, as he has done many times, ripping moans from deep within his chest, hands fisting into the bedsheets in front of him. 

Jisung:  god youre so hot

Jisung:  fuck

Jisung’s words only spurred him on, wanting to  show  him how good he can be, driven by a strange desire to fall obedient at Jisung’s directions. Minho threw his head back, eyes practically rolling into his skull as he shifted his hips  just  enough for the dildo to press against his prostate.

Once he had found it, Minho continuously slammed himself back into the spot, thighs quivering with built-up arousal, ears practically ringing as his senses overloaded, clouding his thoughts.

Jisung:  so good for me

Jisung:  wanna fuck u so bad

Jisung:  youre unreal

Minho found himself whimpering loudly at Jisung’s text, cock jerking against his abdomen, precum sliding down his length at the notion. He only fucked himself harder, ignoring the stinging ache in his thighs that begged him to stop.

He brought his gaze to the camera, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could stare right through it, face drowned in a blissed expression. Moans slipped out of his lips every time he brought himself down, pornographic and lewd in entirety.

Minho imagined it was Jisung who he was riding, hot and slick inside him, hands grasping his hips as he groaned in Minho’s ear, muttering praises. The thought of it sent a shiver through his body, only pushing him closer to his orgasm, heat pooling in his stomach.

Jisung:  you can touch yourself

So Minho did exactly that, taking a hand and wrapping his fingers around his dick, hissing loudly at the contact. Minho continued to bounce on the dildo while sliding his hand up the entirety of his length, whines slipping past his lips.

“Please–  Fuck , please,” he babbled, his whole body heating up as it yearned for release. He wouldn’t yet, he wouldn’t, not until he was given permission.

Minho mouthed at the air, overwhelmed with pleasure until his noises were incoherent, driving himself further no matter how much he  needed  it. “ Hnng–  Wanna cum,  please ,” he begged.

Jisung:  cum for me baby

Jisung:  you did so good

With a wanton moan, Minho tipped over the peak, images of Jisung stained in his mind. He pulled his eyes shut as he came into his hand, white dripping between his fingers. All he could see was blazing hot pleasure, burned into the backs of his eyelids.

He continued riding the dildo until he physically couldn’t anymore, eventually sliding off and pushing it away, legs threatening to collapse on him as he moved back to sit in front of the camera.

His chest was still heaving by the time his orgasm had fully washed away, and Minho could tell that the ache in his thighs would be present tomorrow. 

Once the fog in his mind had dissipated, realization crashed into him like a tidal wave. His eyes landed back on the phone, back on the messages. Jisung hadn’t said anything after the last two texts, not that there was much to say.

Still, Minho swallowed thickly, leaning over to move back to his long-forgotten chat. He barely cared to read the messages, only looking back at the camera and saying his goodbyes, wanting to get off the live as quickly as he could.

When he pressed the button to end the stream, Minho surged forward to grab his phone, sitting back on his heels and opening his and Jisung’s messages. He needed to see if it was  real. 

And when his eyes met the same texts as before, his lips fell open in a small gasp of realization. One that he had somewhat met when he was streaming, but didn’t bother to mull it over until now.

Jisung watched his stream.

Jisung liked it.

Jisung told Minho what to do.

Minho listened.

Minho rolled the thought around in his head, not sure if he should feel extremely aroused at it, or weirded out.  How did Jisung even find his stream? How are they ever supposed to talk to each other again?

How is Minho supposed to look at Jisung without thinking about how much he wants to get bent over his desk for him?

Fuck.

Maybe he shouldn’t have looked at the message. By god, what the hell has this sparked within him? Every other  strange  thought of Jisung had been dismissed merely by the realization that Jisung wouldn’t want it.

Minho’s eyes traced over one of the texts, lingering on it, as if it would disappear if he blinked.

Jisung:  wanna fuck u so bad

Minho’s stomach flip-flopped as he re-read it, bending over to scream into his pillow.

Jisung  wanted  him, Jisung wanted to fuck him. Minho came at the thought of  wanting  Jisung to fuck him. Minho couldn’t even fathom where this might’ve come from, what might’ve hinted at Jisung’s sudden attraction to him.

The staring, sure, that was one thing, but Minho figured that was just because he was trying to figure Minho out, as he always did. Maybe Jisung was just horny, using Minho’s stream as an outlet to get rid of a boner. 

But  why  Minho? There were tons of better streamers out there, and  why on earth  did he text Minho? And by god, why did it turn Minho’s gears so much?

Minho won’t doubt that he has thought about Jisung that way, but it’s not like he would ever  do anything about it.  Not until now, when his creeping thoughts itched him to go down the hallway and get himself fucked for the second time tonight.

God, Minho needed to stop thinking.

So, routinely, Minho slipped into the shower, not allowing his eyes to linger on his bedroom door as he passed it, letting the hot water soak up his worries.

He didn’t stop himself when somehow, the thought of Jisung seeped through the cracks in his mind. Nor did he stop himself when he found himself drifting his fingers down his stomach, even if he  knew  he shouldn’t.

All notions to abstain himself slipped away as he tugged his fingers around himself, spilling into his hand with Jisung’s name on his lips.

-*-

The following day, Minho thanked every god to ever exist that his schedule was packed.

He felt a little bad about admitting how scared he really was. Not necessarily that it was wrong to be scared, but he  shouldn’t  be scared of Jisung, they were best friends, after all.

There was no need for Minho to hide out from him, but nonetheless, he found himself curled up on the couch in the dance classroom, watching Hyunjin as he ran over the moves they had learned earlier in class.

They were the only ones left in the room, Minho had no need to be there. Really, he should leave Hyunjin to practice by himself, free from distraction. Instead, not a single bone in his body cared to move, wanting everything but to go home.

Hyunjin finally turned to face him when Minho let out a sigh. Hyunjin looked somewhat annoyed to Minho’s eyes, head tilted to the side with his hands on his hips. He didn’t sound displeased, however, worry crept through his words.

“Minho, why are you still here?”

Frowning, Minho sat up, leaning his head against the cushion to stare up at Hyunjin as he walked closer, arms now folded across his chest. “To keep you company,” Minho blinked as if it was obvious.

Hyunjin shot him a look as he sat, crossing a leg, “Don’t lie, it’ll become a habit.”

Minho let out a small groan, pulling his eyes shut. “Did you and Jisung fight or something?” Raising his eyebrows, Hyunjin rested an arm over the top of the couch, watching as Minho opened his eyes and stared back at him.

“No,” Minho shook his head, though his dismay seemed to seep through the word.

With an eye roll, Hyunjin spoke again, sounding more annoyed, though untargeted, “Well whatever it is, your negative energy is  radiating  across the room,” Hyunjin’s lip jutted out into a pout, “I can’t focus like this, Min.”

Minho couldn’t contain himself, he  needed  to tell someone.

Cursing, Minho fully turned himself toward Hyunjin, back pressed against the armrest, “Okay,” he began, breathing through his teeth, “What would you do if some attractive guy was watching your live stream and texted you what to do during it while also calling you hot  and  saying he wanted to fuck you?” 

Minho inhaled a loud breath after he finished, meeting Hyunjin’s somewhat surprised gaze. After receiving silence and several rapid blinks, Hyunjin spoke up, “Well,  how  attractive is this guy?”

Of course he asked that,  Minho narrowed his eyes, and Hyunjin shot back an exasperated look. “He’s pretty attractive,” Minho nodded back, swallowing carefully.

Hyunjin hummed in thought, “I mean, if he said he wanted to fuck, I’d probably go fuck him.”

What a terrible idea this was,  asking Hyunjin. 

Minho hissed under his breath, eyes glancing away for a moment, then back to Hyunjin’s set gaze. Pressing his lips together, Minho blinked nervously, “What if the guy is your roommate and also your best friend?”

At his words, Hyunjin’s eyes flew open, “What the fuck?  Jisung  said that to you?” He leaned in closer to Minho’s space, mouth agape. “We’re talking about the same Jisung,  right?” 

Minho brought his hands to his face, groaning out a small, “ Yeah,”  into his sleeves, voice muffled by the fabric. When Minho peeked through his hands, Hyunjin looked dumbfounded, blinking back at him, as if he didn’t believe a single thing Minho said.

“God, I’ll just–” Minho sighed, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his and Jisung’s messages before sheepishly handing it to Hyunjin. He was silent while reading them, though his wide eyes and slack jaw revealed everything he was thinking.

“Holy  shit  Minho,” Hyunjin babbled as he handed Minho his phone back, “And you listened to him, too?”

A hot flush crept over his cheeks, staining the skin. It must’ve been enough of an answer, because Hyunjin began again, “Did anything else happen between you two before? Or was it like– Unprompted?”

“Well,” Minho swallowed, nervously glancing around, blush still present on his cheeks, “I kind of asked for his help to get out of handcuffs,” he muttered, shame dripping through his words, “ and  I was in lingerie.”

Hyunjin blinked back at him for a moment, processing, before he slammed his head against the couch cushion, “Minho  why  don’t you tell me things? Dropping a fucking bomb like this on a random Thursday?” He sounded more shocked than angry, to say the least, simply astonished at the reality of it all.

“And I kind of–” Minho began, and Hyunjin snapped his gaze back to him, “I  kind of  called him while streaming,” Minho shoved his hands to his face, fighting the urge to scream out of raw embarrassment of admitting everything aloud.

“You– You,” Hyunjin blurted, wrapping his fingers around Minho’s wrist and ripping his arms away from his face. “Minho,” he addressed, leaving Minho to reluctantly pull open his eyes, meeting a determined Hyunjin.

With his jaw set, Hyunjin spoke as though it was the most  obvious  thing in the world, “You  have  to fuck him.”

“What?”  Minho’s eyes flew open, startled by Hyunjin’s resolve. 

Rolling his eyes, Hyunjin groaned, “You  have to,  you said that you thought he was attractive right?” Minho swallowed, nodding sheepishly. 

“You gave him a taste of what he could have the first two times, then he found your stream, and  told  you that he wanted to fuck, and you’re still confused?” Hyunjin sounded amazed, as though Minho’s indecisiveness was the wildest thing.

Hyunjin’s grip stayed firm as Minho tried to cover his face again, cheeks flushed with a deep red, “What if he was just–” Minho attempted, though the words were lost on him.

“Minho, he  just  wants to fuck you,” Hyunjin stated, eyebrows raising, tone slightly unimpressed. Minho pressed his lips together, glancing away, “How would I even..?” 

Hyunjin grinned at him, “Just walk into his room and ask,” he shrugged nonchalantly, tipping his head to the side as he finally let Minho’s hands go.

They flopped to Minho’s side as he sat up from his slump, eyes widening, “No!” He shrieked, “That’s so embarrassing!” 

Narrowing his eyes, Hyunjin shot him an uninspired look, “Minho, you’re a fucking camboy, jesus, asking someone to fuck is  not  embarrassing.” Minho swatted Hyunjin’s chest, huffing in annoyance.

Hyunjin  wasn’t  wrong, necessarily, but Minho didn’t want to admit that.

“Something else, give me something else,” Minho shook his head dismissively, pulling his legs up to his chest. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, humming in thought. “Ask him if he wants to watch your stream.”

Minho looked dumbly up at Hyunjin, “He already did watch it, though,” he blinked, gnawing on his bottom lip.

With a chuckle, Hyunjin shook his head, grinning, “No, ask him if he wants to watch it,  in person.”  Minho couldn’t decide if he wanted to shrink into a little ball, or blush profusely (Even if he was already doing that).

The idea didn’t sound  awful,  though, and all Minho could respond with was a small, “Oh,” air puffing out of his lips as Hyunjin smirked, obviously pleased with his own answer.

“Now don’t be a pussy and  actually  do it.” 

Minho’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not a pussy,” he retorted, though all Hyunjin did in response was pat his shoulder and offer him a skeptical smile.

-*-

Okay,  maybe  Minho was a pussy.

His fingers lingered on the doorknob of Jisung’s door, brushing over the cold metal as he stared it down. He  shouldn’t  be so nervous, this was  Jisung  for god’s sake. Still, he couldn’t rid of the sickly feeling trapped within his throat, lodging itself inside until he could barely breathe.

Minho huffed, hand falling to his side as he glanced toward his door, open and welcoming. Then, he turned to Jisung’s door, closed and stomach-turning.  Fuck it, I’m not doing this.  Minho concluded, and he turned on his heel, barely making it a step before a voice rang out from behind the door. 

“Minho.”

It was Jisung’s voice, loud and clear, sounding rather bored. Minho sucked in a breath, deciding against responding. “Minho, I know you’re out there, if you want to say something just come in.”

Minho rammed his palms against his eyes, pulling them shut and resisting the urge to groan. Reluctantly, he let out a noise of defeat, turning the doorknob and swinging the door open, eyes falling on Jisung, who laid in his bed, laptop on his lap with his blanket haphazardly draped over his legs.

Jisung blinked up at him, eyebrow raised as his eyes dragged over Minho’s form, slouched in the doorframe, foot nervously twitching against the other. “What’s wrong?” Jisung tilted his head, worry clouding his eyes for a moment.

Dismissively, Minho shook his head, “Nothing’s wrong,” he dispersed, and Jisung’s expression shifted back to normal. However, confusion didn't leave his gaze, peering up at Minho with dark eyes.

Minho swallowed, “I’m–  Fuck, sorry ” he cursed under his breath, trying to regain himself.  God, why was this so fucking humiliating?  “I’m streaming later tonight.”

In a heartbeat, Jisung’s eyes fluctuated, falling slightly narrowed, lips twitching upward only for a second, leaving Minho to mouth at the air for a moment, jaw falling open until he shut it briskly.

When Jisung didn’t respond, and blinked those  fucking  doe eyes up at him, Minho continued, tripping over his words, “Do you– Do you want to watch?”

A grin seeped onto Jisung’s lips as he tipped his head to the side against his pillows, “I have been watching,” he simply returned, words firm. Minho couldn’t stop the flush that erupted on his face, even after he told himself that he was  aware  of this fact.

Since when did Jisung have so much power over him?

With a small shudder at the thought, Minho sucked in a breath, “I mean like–” he began, fighting to keep eye contact with Jisung, who didn’t seem to blink at all, “–Not through the screen.”

He watched Jisung’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat, visibly strained by the request. Minho felt himself naturally shrink down, clutching the doorframe harder. 

“I can’t.” Jisung finally said, eyelids fluttering for a moment as he blankly stared up at Minho, bottom lip drawn underneath his teeth.

Fuck, of course.  Minho’s stomach sank, nausea ripping through his insides as he tried to force it back down, knuckles painted white. “Oh,” Minho breathed out, embarrassment crawling up his throat and dripping into his tone, “Why?”

He tried not to sound too disappointed, letting out a puff of air as he tried to read Jisung. Instead of what he expected, Jisung had a small grin on his face, eyes narrowed in a pleased expression.

“‘Cause I can’t promise I won’t shut your stream off and fuck you into the mattress.”

Minho’s eyes flew open, followed by his mouth, agape, jaw dropped. His thighs twitched involuntarily at Jisung’s words, heat erupting in his gut and spreading to his face, coating his cheeks and the tips of his ears in a dark red.

He swallowed thickly, subconsciously flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, eyes trained on Jisung who looked up at him innocently, as if he hadn’t just said the filthiest thing to come from his mouth that Minho’s ever heard.

“Oh,” he dumbly breathed out again, heart hammering in his chest, “Okay,” was all he could muster up, drawing his eyes away from Jisung and leaving the room before he said something stupid.

Jisung didn’t make a noise as he departed down the hallway, shut himself in his room, and slid against the closed door, hands dragging across his face. With a groan, he hit the floor, head tipping against the wood.

He asked Jisung to watch,  Jisung said no,  but Jisung  still  wants to fuck him.

What the  hell  is Minho supposed to do about that?

Instead of thinking over his thoughts like a normal person, Minho decided to just turn on his stream. He had planned to do it later, but he  really  needed something to distract him right now.

It began as normal, Minho had changed into a dark blue pair of lace panties and a chain harness that connected around his neck by a leather strap, metal hanging loosely over his bare chest. 

He knelt on his bed, talking to his chat about what color lingerie fit him the best. Minho didn’t plan much for today,  not that he gave himself much preparation time,  and instead, asked his viewers what they think he should do.

After not many good answers, he ended up taking out one of his dildos, the semi-realistic one that was only the tiniest bit larger than his others. Once it was lubed up, Minho jerked it off, whispering praises and filth into the camera, eyeing it up with as much lust as he could muster.

He barely even noticed, when out of the corner of his eye, his door swung open. Minho’s eyes widened, watching as Jisung slipped into his room, staring blankly at Minho from the doorframe.

They locked eyes in a silent conversation, and as Jisung shut the door behind him, Minho opened his mouth to speak, words of confusion lingering on his lips. But before he could, Jisung brought a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion.

Minho swallowed as Jisung’s gaze shifted to the camera, and then back up at him. He blinked back in understanding, drawing his eyes back to the lens, and continuing to stroke the dildo.

It was hard to focus as Jisung sat himself down in Minho’s desk chair, spinning it around so he could face the bed, eyes trained solely on Minho, expressionless, though strained, as if he was trying to refrain himself from something.

So Minho did what he did best, flicking his eyes to meet Jisung’s as he dragged his mouth over the dildo, lips wrapped prettily around the silicone tip, eyelashes fluttering up at Jisung.

He sank down, tasting the orange-flavored lube as it dragged against the inside of his mouth. As he did, Minho watched as Jisung’s eyes flickered down for a moment, sucking in an audible breath.

Minho felt powerful, as if he was an animal inside an exhibit, caged yet fascinating, entranced by Jisung’s gaze.  Jisung said he couldn’t watch, but he’s here.  The notion that Minho was irresistible to Jisung itched in his mind, his self-confidence skyrocketing.

Jisung leaned back in the chair with a small creak, legs spreading wider naturally, and Minho couldn’t help but notice the growing bulge underneath his sweatpants. 

Grinning, Minho bobbed his head on the dildo, eyes never leaving Jisung, hand planted firmly on the bed, fingers curled around the bunched-up sheets while the other wrapped around the base of the toy. Minho could tell that he was  affecting  Jisung, by the way his knuckles turned white from where one of his hands gripped the armrest.

Jisung's other hand rested against his face, head tipping into his fist, eyes hooded with arousal. Minho sucked in his cheeks, barely stifling a muffled moan as the dildo pressed against the back of his throat.

When a donation asked him to keep going further, Minho knew he couldn’t say no, popping off the dildo and moving it to the side. “I’ve got something to show you,” Minho hummed, bringing himself to sit on his feet, legs folded underneath him.

“I just–” Minho began, swiveling himself around so that his ass faced the camera, turning his head over his shoulder, “I just needed to feel full,” Minho muttered sheepishly, though a teasing grin slipped onto his lips.

At his words, Minho pulled away the back of the panties, revealing a similarly colored plug stuffed inside him. Subconsciously, he drew his eyes towards Jisung, who gaped at him with a slightly open mouth, hand moved to his thigh, grasping the fabric tightly.

Minho almost made a noise of surprise at how hard Jisung looked, but stopped himself as soon as it tried to force its way out of his mouth.

Eventually, Minho turned back around, sitting with his legs wide, calves shoved underneath his thighs as he picked at the bed sheets beneath him, gaze focused on the camera, though he watched Jisung through his peripheral vision.

“What should I do?” He asked his chat, eyelashes fluttering behind the mask, “I’ve been waiting all day for you,” Minho sweetly added, a smirk curling onto his lips. 

His fingers shifted to his bulge, lightly dragging his fingers across the panties. Minho let out a small whimper, a bit forced, but enough to get his point across, “I’m so sensitive tonight,” he whispered, choking out another sound as he pressed his hand down harder.

Tugging his bottom lip underneath his teeth, he slowly grinded against the mattress, “Just want you to fill me up so bad.” He didn’t normally talk like this to his chat, at least not this much, but it seemed to be riling Jisung up.

He heard Jisung mutter a small curse under his breath as Minho let out a small moan, and before he knew it, Jisung was standing up, looming over the bed. Minho’s lips fell open as he met Jisung’s gaze, staring deep into blown-out pupils.

Jisung’s eyes flicked between Minho and the camera for a moment, as if asking for permission. Minho bit his lower lip, but did nothing to stop the other.

In a flash, Jisung was reaching down, clicking the off button on the camera, and shoving it to the side. The bed dipped as Jisung knelt on the mattress, and Minho naturally slid back against the headboard, unfolding his legs.

They connected easily, Jisung climbing into Minho’s lap and straddling his thighs, one hand smoothing over Minho’s semi-bare chest, the other grasping his neck, warm against his skin, only to move up and pull the mask off his head. Minho shuddered, fingers threading into Jisung’s hair, tugging lightly on the strands.

Without even speaking, they both surged forward, meeting desperately, mouths locking in an instant. Minho’s eyes flew shut, drinking in the plush of Jisung’s lips, craving everything at once.

Jisung tasted sweet, like honey, the tang similar to how their lips dragged together, sharp yet smooth, aided by the spit and leftover lube left in Minho’s mouth, fully intermixing.

They pressed closer, chests flush, as if neither could get enough.

His body ached for  more,  letting his mouth fall open as Jisung bit down on his lower lip, complacently slipping his tongue into Minho’s mouth. The heat was intoxicating, melting into the way Jisung’s tongue explored his mouth, sliding against his teeth and tipping Minho’s head back further with the press of his thumb on Minho’s jaw.

He felt compliant underneath Jisung’s touch, letting Jisung turn his head to the side when they broke apart, admiring the string of spit that connected them. With heavy breaths, Minho let out a small noise as Jisung’s lips found his throat, dragging his tongue along hot skin.

“God,  fuck,  Jisung,” Minho breathed out as he felt the cautious nip of Jisung’s teeth between his neck and collarbone, hands fisting tighter in Jisung’s hair in response. 

“Yeah? Can I mark you up, baby?” Jisung slipped out, his voice low and husky against Minho’s skin. His question pulled a whine from Minho’s throat, the heat in his stomach erupting as Jisung sucked harder, “Please,” he answered, high and desperate.

He felt Jisung grin against his skin, scattering it with marks that Minho prayed he would be able to see tomorrow, egging Jisung further with hastier tugs. Right when Minho thought Jisung was done, his lips were dragging down Minho’s chest, littering his skin with kisses.

Jisung’s lips wrapped around one of his nipples, angling around the chains draped against Minho’s chest. Minho moaned lewdly at the sensation, hands leaving Jisung’s hair to pull the collar off and discard it.

Against his nipple, Jisung made a small noise of contentment, sliding a hand to twist against the other. Minho’s back arched slightly against the bed, receiving a small chuckle from Jisung, “You like that huh?”

Minho mumbled in agreement, brain gone mushy from sensitivity, “Jisung kiss me please,” Minho whispered, eyes slammed shut as his fingernails dragged along Jisung’s scalp.

Jisung didn’t hesitate to pop off Minho’s nipple, leaving it red and puffy as he pulled up to slot their lips together again, open-mouthed and sloppy, slick lips soaked with spit. 

The drag of Jisung’s lips sent Minho spiraling, body lit aflame, moaning into Jisung’s mouth as they pressed together. Jisung’s hips slid down, grinding down in a gratifying rhythm. 

Jisung’s fingers wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling Minho upward to meet his desperate hips while the other hand cupped Minho’s cheek, easily tilting Minho’s jaw as they sucked each other's tongues between their mouths.

Minho did nothing but comply, falling helpless underneath Jisung’s fingers, frantically trying to taste all of Jisung at once. “Jisung,” Minho whispered, breaking their lips apart with a small pop.

Meeting his eyes, Jisung looked like he craved Minho, as if he was going to consume him. Minho squirmed underneath his gaze, head tilting back against the pillows as Jisung loosened his grip, “ Please,  fuck me,” Minho breathed out, voice high and whiny, molded by want.

“God, I want to,” Jisung returned, eyes falling over Minho’s frame, desire swimming within his irises. Minho surged up to kiss him again, draping his hands around Jisung’s neck.

Muttering into Minho’s mouth, Jisung reached over across the bed, barely letting their lips part, “I’ve wanted to.” Minho keened, thighs shivering as the cap of his lube bottle popped behind his closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Minho murmured, “For how long?” 

Jisung grinned against his lips, hands tracing between Minho’s thighs, “Since the handcuffs, just didn’t realize it until later.” 

The blush on Minho’s cheeks heightened at the memory, dick twitching at the realization that Jisung found that  hot.  That Jisung wanted to  fuck him  right then and there. 

The noise he let out was whiny, purely driven by arousal, subconsciously spreading his legs as Jisung sat up, mouth left raw and bitten, jaw slack as he watched Jisung pick up the opened bottle of lube.

“Wait,” Minho stopped him, pulling himself up only slightly so that he could tug on the hem of Jisung’s T-shirt. “Let me see you first,” Minho requested, leaning back into the pillows as he blinked up at Jisung.

After pulling his shirt over his head, Jisung let out a small chuckle at Minho’s reaction, eyes dragging down his toned chest, “Better?” Jisung tilted his head to the side, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

Minho grinned up at him, sucking in a breath as Jisung lubed up his fingers. Once Minho gave him a nod of permission, Jisung slid down Minho’s panties with his clean hand, discarding them somewhere on the bed.

Heartbeat hammering in his chest, Jisung used the same hand to push one of his thighs upward, pressing it against Minho’s chest with ease. “You’re so flexible,” Jisung murmured, likely to himself, though Minho chuckled in reaction.

The grin on his lips was soon lost as Jisung popped the plug out of him, eliciting a surprised moan, legs twitching on the sheets as he fumbled to grasp something. His hands flew to Jisung’s shoulders, fingernails dragging across skin as his rim was circled.

Prematurely stretched from the plug, Jisung slid two fingers in with ease, eyes tracing over Minho’s face, who tugged his eyes shut to shy away from the gaze, his back desperately arching off the mattress.

Jisung’s other hand curled around Minho’s ankle, gripping tightly from where he shoved it against Minho’s chest while he began scissoring his fingers. Minho babbled incoherently, stringing out pleads and nonsense, a thick fog entrapping his thoughts.

“Fuck, you’re so– God,” Jisung shook his head, words coming out in a hushed breath, sounding dazed. Minho swallowed, moans tugging from his throat as Jisung thrust his fingers in and out, pushing in knuckle deep only to drag the digits out and shove them back in again.

Minho felt wrecked, lips left agape, pupils blown, “Hnng– Another–  Fuck,  add another,” Minho blurted, grip tightening on Jisung’s shoulders, who complied without a word, slipping his ring finger past Minho’s rim.

Once the third was in, Jisung began searching, curling his fingers upward until he finally prodded against the bundle of nerves that sent Minho spiraling. His back curved over the bed again, thighs quivering as a moan erupted from his throat, loud and desperate.

Jisung didn’t leave the spot until Minho was squirming, the pads of his fingertips mercilessly dragging over his prostate every time he thrust his fingers back in, his eyes hooded and filled to the brim with arousal.

“Jisung,  Jisung,  wait ,  I don’t wanna cum yet–” Minho rushed out, his orgasm creeping closer at solely the feeling of Jisung’s fingers inside of him. He whined as the digits left him, hole pulsing at the ache of being empty.

Bending down, Jisung kissed him hard, and Minho met with equal force, parting his lips further to allow Jisung’s tongue to slip inside, welcoming the heat with open arms. Moments later, Jisung broke them apart, breath heavy, “Where's your condoms?”

Minho motioned to one of his bedside tables, letting out a small noise as Jisung’s hands left his skin to crawl across the sheets and grab a condom. Minho watched him, swallowing thickly with anticipation.

Jisung returned to his space moments later, sitting between Minho’s thighs as he pulled his sweatpants and boxers off in one motion. Minho’s eyes drifted down to his dick,  it was bigger than he expected.

Probably as big as his dildos,  maybe bigger.  Jisung must’ve noticed his staring, because a grin crept onto his face, blinking down amusedly at Minho as he rolled the condom over his cock, following by coating it in lube.

Minho’s thighs involuntarily parted as Jisung grew closer, and Jisung didn’t hesitate to slide his hands to Minho’s hips, grasping the skin tightly. Minho’s hands slipped around Jisung’s neck, dragging him in for another kiss.

He couldn’t help himself, licking deep past Jisung’s lips, aching for a better taste. While Minho busied himself with sucking on Jisung’s tongue, Jisung lined himself up, drawing Minho’s legs over his shoulders.

Jisung broke them apart breathily, “Good?” He asked, eyes burning into Minho’s as he nodded in response. Jisung bent down to peck his lips, “Words, baby.”

Minho stared back at Jisung, entranced by the spit glistening on his chewed lips, “ Yes , please, Jisung, fuck me.” Fire erupted in Jisung’s eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he slid forward.

A gasp tugged from Minho’s mouth as Jisung slipped inside, legs scrambling to wrap around Jisung’s chest, fingers drifting behind his shoulders to drag against skin. A hot flame flared inside Minho’s stomach as Jisung pushed all the way in, not stopping until he was fully bottomed out.

Jisung paused, bending down to take Minho’s lips in his again. Minho squirmed, adjusting himself around the warm heat that pulsed inside him, several breathy whimpers tearing from his throat.

“You c-can move,” Minho sputtered, his limbs feeling mushy, thoughts diluted into nothing but  Jisung.  At his words, Jisung began thrusting, hips shifting slowly, building up a rhythm. 

As his thrusts sped up, Jisung began gripping tighter, hands snaking around Minho’s thighs, “So good,  fuck baby,  you feel so good,” Jisung praised, leaving Minho to whine loudly, cock twitching helplessly against his stomach.

“You like that, huh?” Jisung grinned, speaking breathily, “You like being told how well you’re taking me?” All Minho could do was whine in response, trying to nod weakly against the pillows.

Minho’s nails dug deeper into the skin of Jisung’s back, clawing at his shoulder blades as Jisung fucked deeper, throbbing against Minho’s walls, slick and audible. The moans Minho let out were lewd, helplessly trying to push himself closer to Jisung, to shove further onto his cock.

Jisung grabbed Minho’s thighs tighter, lifting them up and angling his hips. Suddenly, Jisung slammed straight into Minho’s prostate, evident from the way Minho’s eyes rolled towards his skull, pleasure flashing behind his eyelids.

He cried out Jisung’s name as his back arched, “Harder,  fuck,  harder,” Minho pleaded, meeting Jisung’s hooded gaze. Minho’s stomach twisted as Jisung stared back at him, face shadowed in the dim lighting.

Jisung listened, fucking even harder into Minho, tugging guttural moans from deep within his bones, nearing release. Minho’s body shivered underneath Jisung’s grasp, shaking with uncontrollable pleasure, jaw slack.

“You’re perfect, god,” Jisung breathed out, hand leaving Minho’s thigh to wrap around Minho’s dick, slick with precum and bouncing against his stomach. Minho whined loudly with overstimulation, heat pooling underneath his skin.

“Jisung– Gonna, I’m gonna–” Minho babbled, words barely pieced together, lost within his jumbled thoughts. Jisung only stroked him faster, timing it with his thrusts as he leaned down, kissing Minho’s open mouth.

They kissed into each other messily, sloppy with spit, and interrupted with moans, “Cum for me, baby,” Jisung muttered against his mouth, his words were all Minho needed to topple over the edge.

He came hard in Jisung’s hand, painting his fingers and stomach in white, thighs clenching hard with release, screaming with Jisung’s name on his lips, hot pleasure clouding his vision, splotching it until all he could see was bliss.

Jisung followed seconds after, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, thrusts slowing as he fucked them both through their orgasms. They breathed into each other’s mouths, chests heaving in tandem.

After they had come down, Jisung slid himself out, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash can. Minho pulled him closer and kissed him again, relishing in the way Jisung’s heartbeat hammered against his own.

“Fuck, that was insane,” Minho breathed out, stunned expression on his face as the fog in his mind began to dissipate, meeting Jisung’s gaze. Jisung stared down at him with nothing but pure admiration and agreement.

Minho would mull over  that  look later.

Right now, he wanted nothing but to embrace the heat of Jisung’s body against his own, sighing softly as Jisung placed himself next to Minho on the bed once it became too much to hold himself up.

Minho snaked his arms around Jisung, pressing his nose against the skin of his neck while throwing a leg over Jisung’s. Jisung gave a small sigh, possibly of relief as his hands found Minho as well, pulling their chests flush together.

Words slightly muffled, Minho mumbled into the crook of Jisung’s neck, “Jisung, what does this mean?” He sucked in a breath, “I mean– For us.”

Jisung was silent for a moment, presumably chewing over Minho’s words, “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” He paused, then murmured again, “If you want it to mean something, it can be whatever you want it to be.”

“But what do  you  want it to mean?” Minho blinked, his eyelashes tickling against Jisung’s neck.

“I’ll be fine with anything baby, as long as it makes you happy.” Jisung’s hands smoothed comforting circles against his skin, leaving Minho’s stomach swirling, “We don’t have to decide right now, either.”

Minho smiled softly, moving away from Jisung’s neck to meet his gaze, hands drifting to card through Jisung’s hair, “It won’t be weird between us, right?” Minho blinked, swallowing down the nervousness that crept up his throat.

With a soft hum, Jisung shook his head, “Only if we make it weird.”

Chuckling, Minho nodded in agreement, though a small frown slipped onto his face, “I do feel kind of bad for leaving the stream like that.”

Jisung’s lips curled up into a grin, eyes flashing with jest, “I don’t.”

-*-