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Cold nips at Minho’s skin, his eyes squinting against the heavy flow of the fan placed straight in front of his face. A groan falls from his lips, skin somehow still sticky with lingering sweat. The fan seems to do nothing but pester him on each spin. At the sound, Felix turns his head, swiveling his makeshift gaming chair to the right and squinting at Minho.
“You can move it, y’know,” the younger says, pressing the spacebar on his keyboard to pause the video he’d been watching.
Minho knits his eyebrows, glancing at the fan once more before kicking it aside with one of his feet that’s propped up on Felix’s decorated, wooden desk.
They do this often—sit together at Felix’s desk. The younger has his own apartment and Minho likes to take advantage of the quiet space.
The fan, still plugged in, fights to spin where Minho had kicked it over, writhing against the wood surface. Felix hisses, lurching forward with a small noise of exasperation and picks up the struggling fan, propping it upright once more.
“Was kicking it over necessary?” Felix asks him, angling the fan so that the air won’t hit Minho and patting the inanimate object like it were his pet.
“Extremely,” Minho answers bleakly, “It made me angry.”
He’s sitting in one of Felix’s dining room chairs, body hunched and his feet propped on the desk in a way that will definitely give him back pain later. Whatever.
His eyes flicker to the video Felix paused. It seems like a tutorial of sorts, showing some video game that Minho’s seen Felix play before but he can’t quite place the name. The video shows an overhead of a few small characters, an animated landscape with a huge chunk of color-coded text across the screen pointing to a few small boxes near the bottom of the screen, and a step by step of a set of skills that Minho has no idea about.
“Don’t be so mean to it,” Felix scolds him, huffing and leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the seat so that his calves rest against the edge of the desk. “Weren’t you just saying you were hot, hyung?”
Minho runs a few fingers through his hair, calming the strands falling over his face. “It doesn’t have feelings, Lixie,” Minho says, ignoring his previous question.
Felix rolls his eyes, slumping back in his chair and reaching for his phone. He thumbs at the screen and opens his messages with someone.
A groan comes from the blonde, head tilting back in exasperation. Minho’s brow arches, arms crossing over his chest. “What happened?”
“Channie keeps complaining because he can’t ever get a hold of Jisung,” Felix explains, flicking his hair from his face. Him and Chan have been dating for a few years now—there’s no malice in his voice, just a bite of exasperation.
“Why’s he texting you about it?”
“Apparently I’m the only one Jisung will answer—which is total bullshit by the way, Jisung never answers anyone.”
Minho doesn’t know Jisung that well. They’ve talked once or twice when the whole group hangs out. Surprisingly, when they actually talked they got along fairly well.
Minho wants to get to know him. From what he’s seen, Jisung is fairly closed off, not as extroverted as some of the others. Even so, Jisung might be the hottest person Minho has ever met in his life.
But that’s besides the point.
“How come he never answers?” Minho asks, curiosity bubbling at his voice.
Felix takes a moment to type up another message, eyes scanning the screen. “He’s always got his headphones on. Playing video games on his computer,” Felix explains, words rushed like he’s irritated by it. “I’m like I always keep my phone near me and one ear of my headphones off.”
Minho hums in understanding. It intrigues him, Felix’s words. He didn’t know Jisung played video games.
What he also doesn’t know is why exactly he’s so interested in it—so suddenly curious.
Ignoring the end of Felix’s words, Minho asks another question. “Jisung plays video games?”
Obviously he does. Minho just wants to hear it again, make sure Felix isn’t lying, for whatever reason.
Felix blinks at him, clearly confused. Still, he goes on to nod and say, “yeah, like all the time. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“Mm. I don’t know him very well.” Minho rolls his lower lip between his teeth. Sets aside that bubbling interest and desire to get to know Jisung. “What games does he play?”
He catches Felix’s eye and pretends not to see the look of attentiveness in his gaze, the amusement. “I actually have no idea,” Felix tells him honestly. “He’s never really said anything. I know he doesn’t play League though, that’s for sure.”
“How come?”
“I asked him recently if he knew about it and he told me that he’s never played it.”
Minho hums yet again. He doesn’t know much about video games.
Felix decides to go on, glancing dark eyes up at the ceiling. “I’d assume it’s probably something intense. First-person shooter type stuff I bet. If he never hears any of the notifications with his headphones on. Gotta be super focused. Probably something like Call of Duty or Valorant, maybe,” Felix rambles.
Minho latches on to the games Felix mentions, sets them aside in his mind, promising himself he’ll remember them. For reasons that don’t exist, of course. He doesn’t care that Jisung plays video games. Not at all.
He definitely doesn’t plan on looking them up later. Find out what Jisung spends his time playing.
And unquestionably, this revelation does not make Jisung even more attractive in Minho’s eye. Not at all.
As Felix begins to babble on about him meeting up with Chan later, his and Chan’s relationship, and about their upcoming anniversary, Minho’s thoughts linger on Jisung. He wonders—silently— why exactly he’s never gone out of his way to try to talk to Jisung. To get to know him, at least.
From then, he makes it his mission to get closer with Jisung, to find out more about him. And especially, (because his interest is piqued) learn more about the video games Jisung plays. How hard they are, if Jisung is good at them.
Later that night, sitting up against his bed’s headboard, phone propped up against his thighs, Jisung is still on Minho’s mind.
Minho hadn’t expected to be going down a rabbit hole of gaming clips at midnight when he has class in the morning. Never in his life. Though, after his talk with Felix today, maybe he should’ve seen it coming, the compulsion and sudden appeal.
He’s been watching clips of people playing both Call of Duty and Valorant for almost an hour now, picking out ones with hand-cams especially, imagining it’s Jisung’s fingers flying across the keyboard rather than the YouTuber’s. With dexterity that makes Minho shiver, lithe fingers pressing on keys.
Minho can’t really stop his mind from wandering, from wondering. Wondering if Jisung’s fingers are as nimble and accurate as the ones he sees on his phone screen, if they’re just as precise.
Fuck.
He texts Changbin.
minho
do you know what types of video games jisung plays?
𖦏
Unfortunately, Changbin doesn’t answer until the following morning. He was probably sleeping (as Minho should’ve been). But the answer he gets is lackluster, not worth staying up that embarrassing thirty minutes with his fingernails between his front teeth, waiting for a response.
changbin
why?
do you play?
minho
no
just curious that's all
changbin
sorry hyung i have no idea
sung hasn’t ever mentioned it
you might have better luck asking seungmin
they’re roommates
minho
thanks
i’ll ask him
And on that note, Minho goes to class, thinks about Jisung the whole entire lecture, (because what else should he be doing) and wonders how he’s going to ask Seungmin about him.
See, the thing is, Seungmin is observant. Unfortunately, very observant. Minho isn’t quite sure how he does it, but somehow, if you have something you’re trying to hide, Seungmin knows. He always knows.
And if he doesn’t know, he’ll find out.
That’s where Minho’s problem arises. He doesn’t want Seungmin to find out that he’s interested in Jisung. He’ll be endlessly teased (as Seungmin does when he finds certain things out). And while Minho knows that Seungmin won’t necessarily tell anyone, he won’t shut up when he does find out.
Even so, he has no choice. He doesn’t have Jisung’s number. It’s not like he could just ask Jisung straight up. No, that would be…
Well. Minho doesn’t want to.
Later that same night, Minho texts Seungmin.
minho
sorry this is random
but do you know anything about jisung
seungmin
do i know anything about jisung
minho
…
Fuck, what is he doing?
Minho leans forward onto his dining room table, hand plastered to his forehead.
seungmin
i live with him
of course i know about him
minho
right yes
i knew that
seungmin
so is there something you were trying to ask me about
minho
oh yes
do you know anything about the video games jisung plays?
seungmin
uhh why
minho
i’m curious
seungmin
about what
minho
about what games he plays…
seungmin
hm
Not a moment later, Minho’s screen lights up with “Incoming call from Seungmin,” and he knows he’s fucked. Utterly, without a doubt, massively fucked.
Minho picks up, slowly, very slowly bringing the phone to his ear, eyes closed.
“Hyung,” Seungmin greets.
“Seungmin,” Minho responds, flat and not suspicious what-so-ever.
“So,” he starts. Minho can hear a tip-tapping from across the phone, like Seungmin is drumming his fingers on a surface. “You wanna date Jisung?”
“Excuse me, what?” Minho shouts, promptly blinking his eyes at the speed of light like it’ll help him understand. “Where the hell did you get that from?”
“Hm,” Seungmin hums, voice annoyingly flat and monotone. “You, Lee Minho, asking me if I know Jisung, my roommate, and if I know what video games he plays. Coming from you, who has never touched a video game in your entire life.”
Minho is silent, stunned, because what the fuck? How the fuck did Seungmin get he wants to date Jisung, from that?
Well. He wouldn’t mind dating Jisung. But really, he’s mainly just asking because he wants to fuck Jisung. And maybe go on a few dates with him. But that’s besides the point!
“I—” Minho sputters. “I’m curious. That’s all.”
“Just tell me the truth.”
“Fine. Okay, whatever,” Minho gives up, a heavy groan leaving his lips, slamming his forehead on the dining room table. “Sure, I wanna date Jisung. You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“I try to be.” Seungmin gives a small chuckle across the line. Minho feels like strangling him. “You think he’s hot, huh? I knew he’d be your type.”
“You need to shut up. Like really badly,” Minho says through gritted teeth. “Yes. I think he’s hot, and I want to watch him play video games.”
He doesn’t miss the way Seungmin stifles a laugh, a real one, from the chest. Just barely muffled over the phone. Minho’s eyebrows furrow but he says nothing.
“That’s interesting.”
“So…” Minho is stumped. “Do you actually know anything about the games he plays?”
“Not one bit.”
Minho groans so loudly that he’s worried his neighbors might hear. “I really dislike you,” he tells Seungmin, earning an amused hum. He hangs up, this is useless anyways.
Though, just a few seconds after he does, a text from Seungmin comes in. Minho’s eyebrow arches.
seungmin
xxx-xxxx
minho
is this jisung’s phone number
All Seungmin does is react to Minho’s message with a thumbs up.
Minho kicks his feet and bites back a cry of joy.
𖦏
Minho can hardly wait, can hardly conceal his excitement.
Because ever since Felix had mentioned Jisung in passing those few days ago, Jisung is all that’s been on Minho’s mind. Lingering there, lurking around the corners, peeking out when Minho leasts expects it.
And Minho wants him. Wants to have him, and more importantly, to get to know him.
Recently, Minho finds that Jisung takes up the most space in his mind at night time. When the lights are shut off and Minho is alone in bed, hands clutched in a pillow. He wonders if he’s ever on Jisung’s mind, if he even knows Minho by name.
His ego stings a bit at the thought—at the realization that maybe Jisung doesn’t even remember who he is. They’ve only met a few times, only met eyes once or twice, a passing glance.
Even so, Minho is determined. Set on wooing Jisung and calling him his. To see if his fingers really are that dexterous, to watch him play games while Minho’s body heats up and calls for him.
More importantly, Minho wants to know if Jisung will turn his chair around and give Minho what he needs when Minho asks. Not bothering to mutter a ‘hold on’, or a ‘just one second, I’m almost done’. Because while Minho does know Jisung by name and face, he doesn’t know too much about what goes on in the man’s head.
He aches to, though.
Which is why, at nearly one in the morning on a Friday night, Minho texts Jisung for the first time.
minho
hey jisung
this is minho
It’s a bit of a rash decision, especially since he hadn’t planned it out beforehand. Hadn’t thought his way through how he’s going to manage to text Jisung, who he’s only spoken to a few times, and ask him one, what video games he plays, and two, if Minho can come over and watch him play.
Minho swallows, resting his phone on his face until he feels a buzz.
It comes as a surprise. He was fully expecting to not get a response for a few hours. He remembers Felix’s statement a few days ago. Jisung never answers anyone.
jisung
minho! hey
did you need something?
Unexpectedly, he doesn’t question how exactly Minho got his number. Maybe Seungmin told him. Fuck, that wouldn’t be good.
Silently, Minho prays that Seungmin hadn’t let his desperation slip to Jisung.
minho
yes i was actually wondering about something
jisung
hm?
minho
so i was thinking about getting into gaming
like playing video games
and i heard you play video games
Minho slams his palm on his forehead and runs his fingers through his hair. He sounds awkward doesn’t he? Super awkward, for sure.
Like playing video games. No shit, Minho.
He grumbles to himself and watches the dots on Jisung’s side move as he types.
jisung
ah, really!?
that’s awesome
and yes, i do play video games
minho
ahhh
i just know nothing about computers
so i’m having quite a hard time
jisung
that’s okay!
there’s a lot of videos you can watch online that can help you
what games are you trying to play?
Minho puffs a sigh past his lips. Jisung is not being as helpful as Minho wants him to be. Minho wants Jisung to help him, not stupid videos online. He’s looked at videos already.
minho
the videos haven’t helped me
i want to play the games that you play
Jisung takes a long time to respond. Minho’s heart retreats to his throat, pulse throbbing. Fuck, why is he so nervous? He’s talking about video games for god’s sake.
jisung
hmm well
how exactly would you like me to help you?
For some reason, a strange sense of bravery passes through Minho. It’s now or never, he needs this.
minho
ah well
i was wondering if i could
go over to your place
and have you teach me
Minho doesn’t get a moment to shut his eyes and slam his head into a wall before Jisung is responding again, quicker than Minho expected. He expects Jisung’s response to be awkwardness, possibly letting Minho down softly, mentioning the videos again.
But it’s not.
jisung
alright!! that sounds good to me
i’m free tomorrow? i can send you my address :)
minho
perfect
see you tomorrow then
Minho wills his heart rate to go down.
He did it, he actually did it. Somehow, he managed to get a ticket right to Jisung’s place and he’s gonna be able to watch him game. Watch Jisung’s fingers fly over the keys and listen to him talk to Minho in soft tones as he teaches him. And Minho plans to be as clueless as ever, because why not? Because all he has to do now, is to somehow convince Jisung to fuck him.
Minho turns over and squeals into his pillow, legs kicking against the mattress.
𖦏
Evidently, Minho spends the following morning freaking out.
He takes a nice, long shower. Washes over every crevice and curve, makes sure he’s perfectly clean because Jisung deserves it. Deserves him, hopefully.
And of course, he dresses himself up, a light yellow sweater that covers the lengths of his palms and jeans that hug his thighs nicely. Cute, but not too evident at first glance that he’s going over to Jisung’s place with a plan to do something other than learn how to play video games.
He puts on makeup, too, not too much. Some eyeshadow on his eyes and blush on his cheeks.
And when Minho looks in the mirror, he thinks he looks pretty. Very fuckable, as well. If he were Jisung, he’d fuck himself. For sure.
Jisung had texted him a time and the address last night, so all Minho has to do is make the surprisingly short walk over to Jisung’s place. When he arrives—only fifteen minutes later—knocking on the door to the apartment, it’s not Jisung who opens the door.
It’s Seungmin. He gives Minho a once-over and laughs in Minho’s face.
Eyes shut, bending over, teeth flashing.
Seungmin doesn’t say a single word. Not one, before he’s grabbing his bag that seems almost strategically placed at the front door, and leaving. He slips right by Minho, doesn’t utter a goodbye, and leaves Minho stunned on the front step.
A few rapid blinks later, and Minho is forgetting about Seungmin all together. Because Jisung is here.
Unless of course, this was a setup. An excuse for Seungmin to laugh at Minho with no repercussions. And really, Jisung isn’t here, he’s waiting for Seungmin outside, laughing with him.
The thought is ridiculous. Minho brushes it off.
So, with a determined clench to his jaw, Minho makes his way inside, kicks off his shoes, shuts the door behind him and glances around the apartment with wide eyes. It’s pretty nice, strangely very clean, but nice. The decorations are cute, a few anime-themed things scattered around simple trinkets and things.
Minho hums softly under his breath and walks down a hallway, following the soft voice that echoes against the walls.
A door is cracked open, purple light seeping through the entrance. It’s Jisung’s voice, he realizes. And, with a concealed giggle, Minho peeks in through the cracked door.
Jisung is sitting at his desk, face pretty and rounded, headphones that look too big on him placed atop his head. He has a program that Minho recognizes as Discord, on one of his three monitors. His setup looks complex, if any of the videos Minho saw are to go by.
There’s LEDs everywhere, around his screen, along his walls. But it isn’t blinding, necessarily, more comforting than anything, the warm hues of the different colors blending together nicely. His keyboard and mouse seem to light up as well, glowing rainbow.
Jisung has one of his feet propped up on his chair, and the other on the floor, looking relaxed as ever as he chats away to someone through his headset.
He doesn’t seem to know that Minho is here yet, so, instead of barging in and giving away that he was spying, Minho knocks carefully on the door.
Jisung doesn’t seem to hear, doesn’t even cast a glance towards the door.
Again, Minho knocks, a little harder this time.
It takes a third, even harder knock, to draw Jisung’s attention. His big eyes flick up to the door and relax instantly, a smile curling its way onto his lips. Minho’s heart stutters distractingly in his chest.
Instantly, Jisung says, “Gotta go, see you,” into his headset and clicks once before pulling it off his head. He bounds to the door before Minho can push it open himself and peels it open for Minho, a warm look on his face.
“Who were you talking to?” Minho asks as he walks slowly inside the room, plush carpet nice on his socked feet.
“Ah,” Jisung laughs quietly, plopping back down in his chair, swivelling it to face Minho, who is still standing. “My online friends. Hyunjin and Jeongin. That’s— That’s their names.”
Minho’s eyes dart back to Jisung’s setup, now that he’s closer. It’s a bit awe-inspiring. He recognises a few figures from his favorite animes scattered around the desk.
“Oh, right!” Jisung suddenly says, beckoning Minho to get even closer. Minho moves to stand right beside Jisung’s sitting form. “So,” Jisung starts, “this is my setup.”
Minho knows that already, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, eyes already transfixed on the way Jisung’s fingers skim across the length of his desk. Fuck, they are pretty—Jisung’s hands. With thin and nice-looking fingers, possibly a little longer than Minho’s.
Minho swallows away the desire that bubbles up his throat.
“This right here is my PC,” Jisung tells him as he taps a large, rectangle-shaped box that sits atop his desk. “It’s got all the stuff you’ll need, the motherboard, the memory card, storage, CPU, GPU,” he goes on, and strangely, the sound of his voice has Minho’s insides stirring warmly.
“Then, these are my monitors,” Jisung motions to the two screens. Again, Minho knows what monitors are, but he doesn’t mention it. He knows what a keyboard and mouse are too, but still says quiet when Jisung begins to ramble about them. Where he got them, if it matters that Minho gets expensive ones.
“Most importantly though, have you ever played video games before?” Jisung asks him, his eyes finally parting from his setup to meet Minho’s.
And fuck, Jisung definitely just realized that the whole time Jisung was explaining his setup, Minho was looking at him rather than the items. Minho’s throat bobs in a sticky swallow, he doesn’t trust his voice, not when there’s heat pooling in his gut at the mere sound of Jisung’s voice, at the sight of his fingers moving.
“I haven’t, no,” Minho says, managing not to croak out his words.
“Ah, okay then!” Jisung rubs his hands together, almost like a fly’s. Minho blinks quickly, tries to shove away the arousal building in his blood at the sight of Jisung—probably the most attractive man he’s ever met in his life—talking about something he enjoys. “So, for gaming the most important keys are probably the WASD keys, the space bar, the number keys and usually E and F. The mouse is important too. It doesn’t take too long to get the hang of, though!”
Minho watches as Jisung points to the keys, and then stands up from his chair. He meets Minho’s gaze, and Minho wonders if he can see the burning in his irises. If he can sense just how desperate Minho is. Cause fuck, he sure feels it.
“Do you wanna try?”
“Try?” Minho echoes back, confused.
“The uh— Do you wanna try to use the keys?”
Minho gives a few blinks before nodding. He sits down in the chair when Jisung motions him to do so, and sets his hands on the table. From the videos Minho has watched of other people gaming, Minho knows exactly how his fingers should sit on the keyboard. But he chooses not to move, because he’d much rather feel Jisung’s touch instead.
Fortunately, Jisung does the very thing that Minho wants him to.
He reaches for Minho’s hands, dragging them lightly to the keyboard and spacing them apart with his own fingers, settling Minho’s thumb on the spacebar, his pointer, middle and ring on the WA and D keys. Then, Jisung guides his other hand to the mouse.
Minho feels so hot, so overwhelmed. He’s never gotten so turned on by something so simple as touch before. But his body burns, aches. Jisung’s hands are soft, smooth and bony.
“So, you’ll need to be able to alternate some fingers to press on other keys when needed. Like— Your middle finger has to be able to move to the S key when you want to go backwards. But, once you get the hang of it, it comes naturally.”
The smooth lull of Jisung’s voice, careful and concise, has Minho’s thighs trembling, squeezing together. Fuck, fuck.
“Well—” Minho sputters out. “Do you… Can you show me first? I— I wanna see you play.”
It’s a bit revealing, casting his desperation out so easily. But Jisung doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully. His eyes glaze over Minho’s face and he flashes a wide smile.
“Oh, okay!”
Jisung takes Minho’s spot on the chair and Minho retreats to the edge of Jisung’s bed, only a few feet away, facing the computer. Minho is nearly shaking with pent-up desire. He wants so badly to just climb into the chair and kiss Jisung senseless, to get it over with because he’s nearly quivering as he waits.
Jisung clicks around the screen a few times, seemingly pulling up a game.
And Minho is ready, so fucking ready to finally see Jisung play. To watch his fingers move easily over the keys and show off his skill to Minho.
Which is why, Minho is confused when he doesn’t see Call of Duty, or Valorant pulled up on Jisung’s computer, but rather, Minecraft.
His jaw stays slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed, as Jisung hums quietly, waiting for the game to pull up, because what? Of all the games Minho expected Jisung to play, Minecraft certainly wasn’t on that list. And where Minho was expecting something high-intensity, Minecraft definitely is not.
“Ah, I guess I can show you some of the builds we’ve made.”
Minho assumes the we is Jisung, Hyunjin and Jeongin.
When Jisung begins to run around his world, Minho is hardly paying attention. Rather, he’s baffled at the fact that of course, this isn’t some crazy game that he thought it would be, and secondly, that for some reason, hearing Jisung gush about his Minecraft world is turning Minho on more.
“I made this house,” Jisung tells him proudly, going into third-person, his character hopping around. His skin is an anime character too, Minho recognizes. “Took me awhile, cause we’re in survival.”
Minho clenches his thighs together. The build is cute, of course. But Jisung is even cuter, babbling about his house all happily, like he was just waiting for someone to show it to.
“It’s cute,” Minho manages to say. What he doesn’t manage is to conceal the wobble in his voice. “I like it.”
“Ah, really?” Jisung’s head turns around to look at Minho. And fuck, it has Minho’s heart bursting in his chest and something warm and silky coiling in his gut, stomach squeezing.
Minho offers him a small nod, a smile on his lips, doing his best to conceal the desire that threatens to escape.
Jisung proceeds to show him a few other things he’s made, a lot of them movie or anime references, talking about the various blocks he used, how hard it was to get them. And of course, Minho knows absolutely nothing about Minecraft other than the one time he’d watched Felix play it.
So, instead, Minho just listens to the way Jisung’s voice moves up and down with excitement, how low it gets, the rumble deep in his throat. Minho wants to hear it in his ear, wants to have Jisung on top of him, those pretty fingers running down—
“I can’t see very well from back here,” Minho blurts out.
It seems to pull Jisung out of his trance, and he swivels his chair just slightly to look at Minho. “Oh,” he breathes out, something shiny in his eyes. Minho doesn’t miss the way his gaze rakes up Minho’s form, catching just barely on Minho’s thighs against his bedsheets. “You— You can stand?” He offers.
Minho ignores him.
Instead, he stands and pulls Jisung’s chair back just slightly, faces it forward and rounds the entirety of it until he’s standing in front of Jisung, in front of the computer. And, without a word, he sits right down on Jisung’s lap.
Jisung makes a garbled sound, his hands flinching, like he wants to hold on to Minho instead of the keyboard and mouse. Minho wants that too, but he doesn’t say anything, keeping his lips pressed together and his head facing forward.
A shaky exhale brushes against Minho’s neck and Minho can’t quite hide the smirk that seeps onto his lips. Luckily, he doesn’t think Jisung can see it.
Once again, Jisung begins to walk around his world, movements a little shakier, a little less sure of himself. This time, he doesn’t talk. Maybe he can’t. Maybe Minho on his lap has left him incapable.
Minho spends the time watching Jisung’s fingers on the keyboard. The way they press down on the keys, bending just barely, moving with practiced precision.
And at some point, when Minho can’t quite keep it in anymore, he murmurs in question, “does gaming make your fingers stronger?” He can’t help himself.
Jisung’s fingers pause on the keys, stutter once more. “I guess so?” That soft, rumbling voice comes from behind him, almost directly in his ear. “I— I play guitar too. So that probably helps as well.”
Minho’s mind blanks out. Empties out of one of his ears, pools on the floor. His modesty seems to escape as well, because he finds himself asking, “can I see them?”
“My— My fingers?”
“Yeah,” Minho exhales. His mouth is watering, body warm. So much so that he worries Jisung will find it suspicious.
Not that it really matters anymore. He’s already too far gone to back out. Not that he wants to back out.
Jisung seems to accept, because he leans back in the chair and takes his fingers away from the keyboard and mouse, placing them on the edge of the desk. Minho stays where he’s leaned slightly forward, because he swears if he gets any closer he’ll give in and rush things that don’t need to be rushed. Though, he can hear the roughness of Jisung’s breath and it gives him confidence.
And Minho, greedy as ever, takes the opportunity. He brings one of Jisung’s hands close, lets his fingers move around the lengths of Jisung’s. Rubs his thumb over Jisung’s knuckles and presses his own fingers between the gaps of Jisung’s.
It’s strangely erotic, Minho thinks. Both the sight and the silence.
He pretends like he doesn’t hear Jisung’s breaths getting heavier behind him, doesn’t feel them against his neck.
On a whim, because Minho is desperate and there’s clearly nothing else to do, Minho brings Jisung’s fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and slides two of Jisung’s fingers inside, the rough calluses of Jisung’s fingers rubbing deliciously against his tongue.
Minho barely hears the gasp that escapes Jisung behind him. What Minho doesn’t miss, however, is the obvious twitch beneath Minho’s ass, firmness under him.
Arousal slides through his body in a wave, slipping through his ribs and tightening in his stomach. Because fuck, this is so hot, and Jisung wants him too. If the hard-on against Minho’s ass is enough to go by, or that Jisung hasn’t pushed him away yet.
Actually, as Minho sucks harder on Jisung’s fingers, pushes them further inside, Jisung brings him closer. Pulls Minho back against him, back to chest. Minho feels his heart stuttering in his chest, his thighs twitching. Jisung’s free hand smooths up the length of Minho’s side, back down to his thighs.
And Minho grinds down. Rolls his hips against the bulge in Jisung’s lap as he moans softly around the fingers inside his mouth. Jisung presses them down against the back of Minho’s tongue and Minho nearly loses it.
His movements become harder, more determined, moving roughly on Jisung’s lap. Minho knows how much it affects Jisung by the hard grip Jisung retains on Minho’s waist.
“Did you really come here to learn how to game?” Jisung asks him.
The question is a little stupid. Because, with a lap full of Minho, Jisung is still thinking absentmindedly about video games. It’s a little amusing.
Minho spins around in Jisung’s lap and tugs Jisung’s fingers from his mouth. “Mm,” he hums. He doesn’t remember a single thing Jisung taught him. “Just want you. Is that a problem?”
Jisung’s eyes widen, and his hands dart to Minho’s hips as they begin to roll downwards once more. “Nope! Not at all!” He rushes out, eyes wide with lust, pretty lips parted.
Minho takes it as motivation to grind down harder, eyes drilling holes into the slopes of Jisung’s face as he rolls his ass harder against Jisung’s lap. The sound Jisung makes is heavenly, something between a groan and a moan, rough and silky as it drips from his tongue.
“God,” Minho breathes out, head dipping lower until their foreheads are pressed together. He can feel the warmth radiating from Jisung’s skin, the harshness of his grip on Minho’s hips, fingers digging into the fabric of clothes that Minho wants gone.
“You know,” Jisung starts to say, head lolling backwards just barely as Minho grinds down a little harder. “I never thought I’d have a chance with you, Minho.”
“Hyung is okay,” Minho tells him, movements slow and deep, rolling his hips in that sinful way that he’s learned from dancing. He doesn’t miss the bright flush on Jisung’s cheeks—it would be pretty hard to. “And really? I— I thought you didn’t know me?”
Jisung’s head tilts to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not like I’m holed up playing games all the time,” he defends, sounding a bit offended. Minho can tell he’s really not, though.
“Ah. I could’ve been fooled.”
“Wha— Is that really your first impression of me?”
Minho hums, grinds down with a bit more firmness, intent. Jisung bites down on his lower lip to stifle a noise, fingers tightening against the curve of Minho’s hips. “Not the first one, but like… The second,” Minho exhales with a giggle. “Felix was complaining about you never answering.”
A quiet groan falls from Jisung, obviously irritated at the mention. “My phone is always on the charger!” He deflects. Minho can’t help but grin, because he’s really not the one that cares about this issue. “I swear— I keep telling him and Chan that my phone is too far away to hear the notifications!”
Minho can feel his arousal building to something he’d consider neediness, a pull in his chest, a prodding at his gut.
“Jisung-ah,” he tries.
It doesn’t catch Jisung’s attention.
There’s a pout on Jisung’s face as he continues rambling. “I’ve told them so many times. They just don’t believe me, saying I just need to—”
“Jisung-ah,” Minho interrupts him, a little louder this time. “I believe you.” The lull of Jisung’s pretty lips is too hard to ignore, so on the end, he tacks on, “come kiss me already.” It’s a little whinier than he wanted it to come out.
Jisung looks a little surprised, a little embarrassed, too. But he doesn’t hesitate to let a hand trail up Minho’s body, aiming for his nape. It’s warm against Minho’s skin, and so are Jisung’s lips, when Minho leans down.
Soft. Jisung’s lips are so soft. Bitten and wet against his own. Minho moans into the kiss, pushing closer until he’s certain he’s as close as possible to Jisung’s body, their faces smashed together. He tilts his head to the side, desperation growing rapidly.
Minho gasps when Jisung bites down on his lower lip, and moans when Jisung uses the opening to slip his tongue inside Minho’s mouth, behind his teeth. He licks along the seam of Jisung’s lips as well, their tongues brushing, moving against each other.
And Minho can hardly get enough. It’s intoxicating, the drag of their lips.
Minho fists the front of Jisung’s T-shirt and immediately finds that he wants it on the floor. He doesn’t hesitate to break their lips apart and tug it over Jisung’s head. Jisung does the same to his own, the two tops landing in a heap on the floor.
As soon as the clothes are discarded, their lips are on each other again. Minho sucks on Jisung’s bottom lip while Jisung pants against his mouth. He can feel the hammer of Jisung’s heartbeat, strong and grounding in his chest.
Minho grinds down even harder, moans muffled as he searches for friction. Their clothed cocks press together with the movement and Minho can’t get enough.
“Jisung, Jisung,” Minho whines, breaking the kiss when he can’t breathe anymore. He tosses his head back and Jisung’s hand returns lower, joining the other, which is now on Minho’s waist, aiding the movements of Minho’s hips.
“Hyung,” Jisung echoes back, a groan. Minho’s cock leaks in his pants, throbs and aches for touch.
Minho lifts up slightly and reaches for the waistband of his jeans, undoing the zipper. He finds it almost impossible to take them off, though, because of the way he’s sitting. And the slight creak that the chair gives when Minho moves too much is a little concerning.
Small laughs leave their lips when Minho gives up on his pants and plops back down on Jisung’s lip, pace returning. It feels messy, despite half of their clothes being on, despite them only having kissed each other. Or maybe Minho just feels more desperate than he has maybe ever.
“Nnh,” Minho moans, hiding his face in Jisung’s shoulder as he grinds their bulges together. He swears he can feel the heat of Jisung’s cock through both of their pants, the slight throb it gives. “Did Seungmin know?”
“Did Seungmin know what?” Jisung asks, more breathless than Minho has ever heard him.
“W-when… When I came in, he already had his stuff packed. Left right when I got here,” Minho explains, his own voice broken, interrupted by small noises of arousal that he can’t quite stifle.
Jisung seems flustered, well, more than before, at Minho’s words. “Ah— I might’ve asked him to go stay with one of our other friends for tonight,” Jisung tells him. Minho slows his grinds to a deliberate roll of his hips, slow-moving and sensual.
“Did you really?”
Jisung nods. “Yeah.”
“So you wanted to fuck me tonight, then?” Minho asks. It’s a bit of a silly question, considering he’s sitting in Jisung’s lap and grinding on him. Because who wouldn’t want to fuck Minho in this state?
“Well of course. I always wanted to.” Minho feels his brain malfunction, stutter and give up, at Jisung’s words. “Tonight was just very promising.”
“I see,” Minho says. He can’t conceal the breathless, wrecked state his voice has resorted to. “You planned on swooning me with your Minecraft gameplay, huh?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Unfortunately for Minho, it did. Worked very well, in fact.
“Can’t argue with that.” Minho shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just too good at Minecraft. Knew I needed you.” As Minho speaks, he runs a finger along Jisung’s chin while Jisung’s eyes track the movement of his lips.
A small sound escapes Jisung, a sigh. His cock twitches beneath Minho, just barely noticeable.
“I like when you say things like that.” Jisung’s voice is rough, gravelly, his eyes hazy with lust.
“Like what?” Minho tilts his head to the side and inches closer. He can feel Jisung’s heavy breaths against his mouth. “That I want you?”
Jisung’s hips jerk up slightly. His hands squeeze down on Minho’s hips, getting him to roll them harder, faster. “Uh-huh,” he breathes out.
The arousal in Minho’s body boils, bleeding through his fingertips and oozing through his stomach. “Well I do,” he tells Jisung, hips moving with intent, a goal. “Want you so bad. Wanna sit on your cock, Jisungie. Please.” His composure slips away, falls from his throat without warning, voice pitching higher with every word.
“R-right now?” Jisung asks, pupils blown. His hips keep moving, like he’s chasing Minho’s movements.
“Mm,” Minho hums, leaning down. He mouths at the skin of Jisung’s neck, moans wetly against it and bites. “Sooner rather than later.”
There’s a moment where Jisung doesn’t seem able to respond, head tilted backwards, a whimper on his lips as Minho marks him up, mouth working to kiss pretty marks into Jisung’s tan skin. Hands crawl up Minho’s ribcage, then back down.
“We— We can’t just do it on my chair!” Jisung says, voice heavy.
“Why not?” Minho asks. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea. If Jisung is, though, he doesn’t mind moving. “Isn’t that hot to you, Jisung-ah?” He speaks against Jisung’s throat, lips slick with spit.
“W-wha—?”
“Fucking me on your gaming chair?” Minho grinds down his hips for emphasis, earning a stuttered whine. “Getting reminded of me every time you sit here?”
Jisung’s skin is hot, sheened with sweat. His heart races beneath Minho where their bare chests are pressed together. Jisung’s breath hitches, and Minho pulls away from his neck, glancing at the expression on his face. His eyes burn with arousal, but still, he says, “I probably wouldn’t ever be able to see it the same…”
A grin peeks at Minho’s lips, fighting off an amused chuckle at his words. “Are you really that concerned about your chair, Jisung?”
Jisung gives him one blink. His lips part, and then another. And then comes the sheepish look on his face, a bit embarrassed to admit it.
The smile on Minho’s lips breaks out fully. He slides his arms around Jisung’s neck as best he can with the way he’s sitting. “Take me to the bed,” he says softly, a bit teasing.
Jisung does as he’s told, sitting forward and standing up, taking Minho with him. Hands hold the bottoms of Minho’s thighs as he’s carefully set down on the bed a few feet away. When his grip is loosened, Minho kneels on the mattress, watching Jisung crawl onto the bed.
Minho meets him halfway, kneeling in front of him and returning his arms to Jisung’s neck, slotting one of Jisung’s thighs between his own. Their lips crash against each other, breaths hot and panting.
They sit there for a while, kissing wetly, moans slipping from throats. Jisung’s hands squeeze and knead Minho’s ass and Minho can’t help but grind down on his thigh, desperation crawling through his body.
Suddenly, Jisung is pushing him down, gentle as he falls against the pillows, a gasp punching from his lungs. Jisung parts his thighs easily, pushing them apart. He’s quick to tug Minho’s pants off, a desperate look in his eyes that Minho’s sure is reflected in his own.
Minho’s pants and boxers are discarded completely from his body, completely bare beneath Jisung’s touch, his hands roaming. Minho gasps as he feels Jisung’s lips on his skin, moving quickly, like he can’t decide what part of Minho’s body to give attention to.
His tummy, his thighs, his chest. Jisung takes one of Minho’s nipples in his mouth and Minho moans, arching slightly off the mattress, one hand clutched in Jisung’s hair while the other scratches along his shoulder blades.
All the while, Jisung’s fingers are gliding across his body, touch gentle as his rough, calloused fingers explore the dips and curves. And Jisung is moaning, noises escaping from him like admiring Minho’s body is getting him off.
“Can I open you up?” Jisung asks breathlessly, already reaching into his nightstand for a bottle of lube.
“Mhm,” Minho hums. He watches the way Jisung’s muscles stretch as he moves. “Show me what those fingers can do, Jisungie.”
Jisung flushes instantly, nearly dropping the lube as he’s bringing it to the bed. Minho can’t hide the chuckle that leaves him, a grin curling onto his lips.
“You’re so vulgar,” Jisung mumbles, though he’s sporting his own smile.
“You like it, don’t you?”
One of Jisung’s hands slides along the underside of his thigh, lifting his hips just barely. A pillow slips under him—Minho hadn’t even noticed Jisung getting one.
Minho doesn’t get a response to his question, merely a small smirk that spreads across Jisung’s face, shines in his eyes.
The grin on Minho’s lips drops instantly as he feels wet fingers brush against his hole. “Ah—” He gasps, tightening one of his legs around Jisung’s body. A fingertip presses into him and Minho’s head falls back, holding his other thigh open as Jisung sinks a finger into him.
“Fuck,” Minho moans at the feeling, wiggling his hips, trying to get Jisung to push it in all the way. Jisung is so slow, like he knows what he’s doing to Minho, driving him crazy. “Jisungie.”
The sound of his name seems to do the trick. Jisung slides his finger fully into Minho’s hole, thrusting languidly as his eyes drill into Minho’s face, flicking around, taking in every feature. It’s hot, having this much attention from Jisung at once.
Jisung is careful, concise with his movements. Murmuring a small, “Good?” before sliding in a second finger. And Minho feels just about ready to explode, the blood in his body roaring in his ears, heart pounding beneath his ribs.
Jisung’s fingers feel heavenly.
Just the right amount of pressure on his walls, long enough to reach places that have Minho whining and arching his back. Prodding into his prostate with calloused fingertips. It’s better than Minho had imagined, so much better.
Minho takes his fingers easily, lets him move at his own pace, stretching Minho with precision. Though, by the third finger, Minho doesn’t know how long he can take it. He needs Jisung inside of him.
“Ready—” Minho exhales. “I’m ready.”
Jisung presses a kiss to Minho’s collarbone and slides his fingers out, his own breath heavy and panting as well.
“You know,” Minho says, hands sliding up Jisung’s back. “You gaming really turned me on.”
“Ah, really?” Jisung asks, but there’s a look in his eyes—one that tells Minho that he knows. It is pretty evident, from the way things have turned out.
“Hah…” Minho laughs quietly, a bit embarrassed. “It did. You were so excited. It was cute. A-and you’re just attractive.”
A giggle leaves Jisung. “Something hot about my superior building skills, huh?”
“Mm, something like that.”
Things move forward from there. Jisung presses a kiss to Minho’s lips and pulls off his own pants and boxers, leaving them both naked. He grabs a condom from the same drawer that the lube came from, still opened. He’s just about to roll it onto his cock when Minho stops him.
Minho rolls them over, clambers onto Jisung’s lap with a grin on his lips and puts the condom on Jisung’s cock himself. The touch sends a shiver through Jisung’s body, cock already leaking into the condom. Slowly, just as slow as Jisung had fingered him, Minho lubes up his cock, stroking his hand up and down with no rush.
He teases Jisung until Jisung’s hips are twitching upward and he’s whining softly. Only then, does Minho let up, positioning himself over the top of Jisung’s cock, moaning when he feels Jisung’s tip brush against his rim.
“You’re so hot,” Jisung exhales, his eyes raking up Minho’s bare body, hands squeezing at his thighs. The praise makes Minho keen, stomach swooping.
“Yeah?” Minho breathes out. He reaches down and takes the base of Jisung’s cock between his fingers, just barely sliding down onto Jisung’s tip, the head slipping past his rim.
The moan that Jisung lets out is pretty and low, eyes fighting to stay open, stay looking at Minho. “Gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung asks as Minho sinks down onto him.
“S-so good,” Minho repeats, his voice quickly leaving him. Fuck, Jisung feels so good. His walls squeeze around the girth of Jisung’s cock as he lowers himself. Only when he’s fully seated on Jisung’s cock does he speak again. “Wanna be a good— Gonna be good.”
Jisung’s lips part around a groan, hips jerking upwards. It catches Minho off guard—how good Jisung’s cock moving inside him feels.
He takes it upon himself to begin lifting and dropping his hips, lips buried in Jisung’s neck, rolling his body, back arching into the feeling. Jisung fills him up so nicely, the sensation on another level. Pretty, low-toned moans echo into Minho’s ears, joining his own desperate ones.
“I’m— Fucking, hell, Jisung,” Minho whines, picking up his speed. He can feel Jisung so deep, reaching places that makes Minho’s body shake and tremble. Arousal burns through his bones, leaving him aching for more. He sits up, hands propped on Jisung’s chest and really starts to ride him, knees planted into the bed beside Jisung’s hips.
He rides him in earnest, panting loudly as Jisung’s cock slides in and out of him, breath hot as it leaves Minho’s lungs. His fingertips tingle, his thighs shake but he keeps going, keeps moving even as exhaustion builds up from how fast he’s going.
He just can’t get enough, wants Jisung deeper, harder. Jisung begins to thrust upwards into him, groans rumbling in his chest, meeting Minho’s movements. It’s too much, not enough, overwhelming in such a delicious way that Minho’s toes are curling and his eyes are rolling back.
At some point, Minho can feel his body failing to keep up with his ever-present desire, thighs burning and tired until he all but collapses on Jisung’s chest, whining.
“Tired, baby?” Jisung asks, and the pet name on his lips has precum dripping from Minho’s cock.
Minho nods, and Jisung flips them, places the same pillow beneath Minho’s hips and really starts to fuck him.
Minho cries out, back arching. “Fuck! Fuck, Jisung. Oh my god,” he moans, body trembling as Jisung thrusts into him. Jisung’s body looms over his own, holding himself up on one forearm while the other grasps Minho’s hip, fingernails digging into skin.
Minho’s hands scratch against Jisung's back, grinding down into Jisung’s movements, trying to get more of Jisung’s cock inside. “More, more,” Minho pleads. “Harder— Fuck.”
Surely just as desperate as Minho, Jisung does as he asks, grunting softly and quickening both his pace and the intensity of his thrusts. Minho sees sweat beading on his forehead, his neck, through his watery eyes, tears forming from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him.
Minho feels like screaming, like sobbing, like melting into a puddle and snapping in half. Jisung slams right against his prostate with every thrust, the sensations shooting through his body, up his spine.
“I’m already close,” Jisung tells him. The slap of their skin is loud, echoing through Jisung’s bedroom.
“Me too,” Minho tells him, voice high-pitched and whiny. Warmth builds low in Minho’s stomach, stirring in his gut and coiling up. “Gonna… Nnh, Jisung-ah!” Minho cries, cock slapping against his stomach as he’s jostled by Jisung’s thrusts.
Jisung wraps a hand around Minho’s cock and that’s all it takes for him to come, spilling in ropes over his tummy, lips parted in a silent moan. “Fuck,” he breathes out, soft ahs falling from his lips as Jisung continues to thrust into him.
His movements grow sloppy, and soon, Jisung is coming too, filling the condom as his hips roll and a shaky groan escapes him. After a few moments, Jisung pulls out and moves to flop down beside Minho, chest rising and falling rapidly.
In a little while, once they’ve both come down and Jisung has cleaned Minho up, Minho snuggles up to Jisung’s side and lets out a long, pleased sigh. Warm hands slide up his back and pull him close, lulling him to sleep, exhaustion catching up to him.
⛏
A few hours later, once they’ve both woken up—the moon shining through Jisung’s window, Minho is perched at Jisung’s shoulder, standing beside his gaming chair.
Jisung is playing Minecraft, a giggle on his lips. He’s been running around for a little while, explaining that he has a surprise for him. Once Minho sees it, his face lights up with a smile. A cat that Jisung has been searching for, attached to a lead as he runs back to his house.
Minho laughs and pecks Jisung on the cheek. “Is that for me?”
“Uh-huh,” Jisung says, eyes shining as he momentarily glances away from the computer to meet Minho’s eyes. “Do you like it?”
“I do.” Minho’s heart squeezes in his chest.
Eventually, when Jisung returns to his Minecraft house, he lets the cat roam around. And, after a few moments of crafting— which Jisung has to explain to Minho—he places a pink bed next to his own green one.
“Look,” Jisung says, sitting back in his chair and beaming at Minho. Minho doesn’t really understand it—the two beds next to each other.
“Hm?” Minho hums, tilting his head to the side.
“I made a bed for you,” he explains. “The pink one. I put it next to mine.”
Oh. Minho can’t help the happy giggle that leaves him. “Cute. I love it.”
“Now I can be reminded of you when I play,” Jisung says sweetly, his cheeks bunched up in a wide smile.
Ah, Minho likes him so much. “You’re sweet, Jisung-ah,” Minho whispers, leaning down. He places a soft, lingering kiss on Jisung’s pretty lips.
“Can I take you out somewhere?” Jisung suddenly asks, eyes wide. “N-not like… Now, but… We can do something other than me playing Minecraft in my room. Like… Dinner or something.”
Minho finds his nervousness endearing, amusing, considering the fact that Minho is already so gone for him. “I’d enjoy that,” Minho tells him, heart stuttering, face warm. “Not that I didn’t enjoy watching you play.”
“Ah, I’d say you did more than just enjoy it.”
Minho can’t deny it. So instead, with a flustered giggle, he just kisses Jisung again. A promise, a hope for the future. And also, something other than denial. Because god, Minho wants to see him play again.