Archive of Our Own

Just for the record, Jisung does not want to be here.

He was practically dragged from his dorm room kicking and screaming, if you count whining and complaining and generally being very annoying as kicking and screaming. He very well could have just said no—he is his own autonomous person, after all—but what else was he supposed to do when promised a free off-campus meal, paid for by his hyungs? As a broke college student, he quickly learned that there is very little he wouldn't do for a bargain as good as that.

Up to and including accompanying his friends to a stupid, Saturday night college party that is apparently unavoidable. A mandatory, non-negotiable stipulation in their friendship. In trying to get him to come along with them, his friends have told him it'd be good to expand his social circle as well as get out of his room and away from campus for a bit. Besides, who knows, he might have fun.

In the end, it was Minho's eager, hopeful eyes that convinced him to tag along. It wouldn't have been the end of the world if he went with their six other friends and left Jisung at home, but he also selfishly did not want to be the reason for his incoming rare, disheartened pout.

Besides, he's fully aware of the privileges he gets as Minho's best friend, and will be reminding himself of such if—when—he wants to go home early. If he pouts up at him through his eyelashes like he's done countless times asking him for something he wants, he knows Minho will fold quickly enough.

So that's where Jisung finds himself early in the evening, wedged in the backseat of an Uber between Minho (Jisung loves him, but his chronic man spreading is torturous) and Changbin (who seems to be in the midst of a bulking period). Apparently Hyunjin takes precedence for getting the spacious front seat, even though that was not what they decided on. Jisung already wants to go home and they haven't even made it off campus yet.

He glances over when a knee nudges his own. Minho is looking at him with a silent question, brows raised in a way that's somehow both expectant and patient. When Jisung doesn't respond with a significant look of his own, Minho cocks his head and knocks his knee again.

Jisung smiles, close mouthed, and it isn't entirely real, but it's apparently enough for Minho, who turns to look out the window again. He presses his knee against Jisung's once more, but this time leaves it there. Something in Jisung's stomach unclenches and settles, and he takes advantage of the close proximty to lean a little closer against his friend.

As soon as the four of them cross the threshold into the student-owned house for tonight's party, that uneasy feeling doubles and then triples into something much more reminiscent of dread. Or, more accurately, impending doom.

He doesn't turn around and head right back out through the front door, but it's a near thing. Hyunjin's arm around his shoulders, practically dragging him further into the house, certainly puts a stopper to any plans of fleeing.

Hyunjin all but drags him, trailing and stumbling, straight to the kitchen where an ungodly amount of various half-empty bottles of liquor take up most of the counter space. Jisung still has that uneasy feeling that something is going to go wrong tonight, but he knows alcohol will undoubtedly help. So he lets Hyunjin pour him a generous amount into a plastic cup, and hangs around so he can easily get a refill or seven.

He does not want to be here.

"Trying to end the night early?"

Jisung glances away from where he's been observing the crowd of people in varying levels of inebriation to find the comforting sight of Minho holding a matching plastic cup, a distantly amused expression narrowing his eyes. He indicates with his chin to the cup in Jisung's hand, of which he takes another drink, mostly just to do something with his hands.

"They won't try to get me to stay if I can barely stand," Jisung points out, wincing at Hyunjin's heavy hand. Minho just snorts at him and lifts his brows as if to say fair enough.

Three refills later, Jisung discovers that an easy escape is not in his future. He should have known by the anxious churning in his stomach and racing of his heart; nothing about tonight is going to go in his favour.

Felix finds him, and that's red flag number one. It's nice to see him without that distressed crease between his brows and his nose in a textbook, however; he's clearly been here for a while, his steps uneven, face flushed, and his words loudly coming out more than a little slurred.

Hooking an arm around his shoulders much like Hyunjin had done earlier, Felix drags him into the thickest part of the crowd. Jisung sends a pleading look over his shoulder, but Minho just laughs unsympathetically in his face, the bastard.

The second red flag is one Jisung happily ignores: someone brought to the group shot glasses and something that smells entirely too flammable to injest. Although he was planning on spending the whole night glued to Minho's side, he shares a glass with Felix anyway, taking turns knocking back shots until Jisung's head starts to swim and the night out starts to taste less and less like such a bad idea. Why was he so against this before?

The third and final red flag that Jisung has the cognition to keep track of presents itself well into the night once everyone is completely wasted. Some more so than others, but at least every person in the room has stumbled over the threshold of tipsy into drunk territory.

All of their judgements are seriously impaired by now, and it's made obvious by the reaction to Felix's suggestion of the next party game they should play. "Spin the bottle" is not a phrase Jisung expected to seriously pass his lips, but he seems to have forgotten that his friend apparently turns into a giggly teenager when drunk.

Jisung thinks nobody will go for it, surely, because they're grown adults for fuck's sake, but surprisingly enough the couple dozen people gathered in the small room seem rather into the idea, everyone either having left the room to find something less childish to partake in, or excitedly rearranging the furniture to make room for everybody.

That uneasy feeling previously dulled by the alcohol now returns, creeping up from the pit of Jisung's stomach. Like they have been all night, his eyes unwittingly seek out Minho's from where he's been conversing with a few of their other friends nearby. It's hard to gauge his reaction; he becomes even more unreadable when drunk. When he meets Jisung's gaze a second later, face flushed, all he does is grin in the way that has Jisung wanting to double over with a hand pressed to his chest as if that'll control the racing of his heart.

He does not want to be here anymore.

Jisung is about to summon up his best pout, innocently widening his eyes in preparation to finally pull the pleading best friend card so as not to witness this mess unfold before him, let alone be a part of it, when Felix grabs ahold of him again. His grip is vice-like, pulling him backwards and pushing him down into a space between him and Jeongin.

It's then that Jisung realizes a huddled circle is forming, and it's taking all of his willpower not to jump up and flee the room, the house, the entire neighbourhood. He never should have left his room.

To make matters even worse, Minho takes a seat nearly across the circle from him, so all he can do is stare helplessly at his best friend still in conversation with someone else, and wish they were anywhere else but here.

This is a bad idea.

Hyunjin, of course, jumps into the middle of the circle brandishing a nearly empty bottle of exactly the kind of vodka one would find at a college party, unscrewing the cap and finishing it off with a wince. He holds it up afterwards to the group's cheers as though displaying a trophy he just won before setting it down right in the centre of their circle.

It takes longer than necessary for everyone to share their own modified rules for the game, claiming to make it more interesting: going counter-clockwise, they'll take turns spinning the bottle and kiss the person it points to. The kiss has to be open mouthed and minimum five seconds in order to properly pass the round. If one person doesn't want to participate with whoever the bottle lands on, then they both have to take a shot.

Simple enough, except Jisung doesn't want to be here. Even before the first person starts them off with the bottle spin, Jisung is boring holes into Minho's face, telepathically demanding his attention so he can wordlessly plead to take him home. That smile that's a little too sharp to be entirely innocent never leaves his face, convincing Jisung that he can feel his attention but is refusing to acknowlege it. The bastard.

Slowly but surely, Jisung does manage to loosen up as the game progresses. He finds himself hooting and hollering with the rest of the group, bursting out laughing when Seungmin lands on Jeongin of all people, both of them wrinkling their noses before and after their exactly five second kiss. He boos louder than the rest when Jeongin refuses to kiss Chan, going as far as to down both a giggling Chan's and his own shots. As far as college parties involving substance abuse goes, it is rather tame.

Well into the game, Jisung is honestly surprised it's kept all of their attention this long. Granted, a few people have left the circle, replaced by a few other curious wanderers wanting to join the supposed fun.

So far, Jisung has kissed a handful of strangers, Hyunjin, and a girl who used her hands too much, as well as put on quite the show with Felix, both of them using far more tongue than necessary. The only shot he's taken (aside from the several outside of his turn to keep himself drunk and happy) was in refusing to kiss Changbin. No way is he going to tongue a guy he sees as a brother.

He's hyper aware of any time the spinned bottle lands on Minho, feeling his face grow stiff and bitter as he watches his best friend give his subjects flirty eyes, laying on the charm thick as he pulls out all the irresistable stops during his kisses. There's no reason Jisung should be feeling this… weird about it—and only with Minho, no less—but that certainly doesn't stop the way he aggressively stares at the lack of space between Minho and whoever it is he's supposed to kiss. He just doesn't like it.

It certainly doesn't help that after every time either of them kiss another person, their eyes always find each other. Neither of them smile, they just regard each other as though to gauge the other man's reaction. He doesn't know what Minho finds in his expression, but Jisung can never seem to decipher anything in Minho's.

They've made it almost two full laps by the time it circles back around to Jisung's turn. Jeongin is just about falling asleep on Seungmin's shoulder, and Jisung is too busy distracting himself by laughing and taking pictures to notice who the bottle lands on. When he finally tunes back in though, he follows the direction it's pointing, up and up and up to…

Jisung's stomach drops. It leaves his body entirely, right out of his ass, and he's already made peace with the fact that he's never going to get it back.

Minho is staring right at him, his narrow eyes the most intense they've been all night. The cheering and jeering of the others around the circle fades to near whispers at the back of Jisung's mind, the roaring of the blood in his ears drowning it all out. The reality of his situation washes over him like a physical blanket, overly hot and completely suffocating.

Why should this be different than anyone else he's kissed all night—than Hyunjin or Felix? He's close friends with all of the guys, albeit undeniably more so with Minho, but that still doesn't mean it should be this big of a deal, surely.

Why this possibility hadn't occured to him earlier, Jisung doesn't know. Of course there was a chance, no matter how slim, that the bottle would land on one of them spun by the other. It's not like it matters, though. Jisung reminds himself that he's kissed probably half their group of friends before, anyway, all of them being pleasantly drunk or high enough for their inhibitions to be left at the bottom of the bottle or the butt of the joint.

And he enjoys it. He enjoys kissing, and he enjoys kissing his friends. Just the other week he let Felix shotgun smoke into his mouth for the entire joint they shared, and that night ended with them lazily making out on his bed simply because it felt nice and they were enjoying themselves.

And this doesn't have to be any different. It's Minho for fuck's sake, his closest and oldest friend. This'll be nothing.

But if that's the case—if that's what he truly feels—then why is his mouth suddenly dry, his heart racing faster than it has all night, his stomach twisting itself into knots and fluttering like a caged bird? Why is he simultaneously so eager to crawl across the floor he can barely stand it, as well as utterly frozen to the spot?

Across the circle, Minho hasn't moved an inch. He's perched on his knees, staring at Jisung with those blazing, unreadable eyes, like he's waiting for Jisung to make the first move. It's nearly impossible to gauge what he's thinking, not showing any particular sign of eagerness nor reluctance.

But rules are rules, and Minho doesn't look revolted at the prospect of kissing him, so Jisung is not going to back down. It's not like he's repulsed by the idea, either, not like he'd be kissing a brother, as he knew it would have been with Changbin. There's no need to back out and take a shot, so he tentatively gets on his knees and inches forward into the circle. As soon as he starts going Minho is on the move, crawling forward to meet him.

Jisung is much slower this time around, not being overly seductive nor very nonchalant, his movements more stilted and uncertain than before. Minho meets him halfway, stopping only once they're close enough to share the same air.

Quiet enough so only Jisung can hear, he whispers, "You don't have to."

There's his last out. He could back down, laugh in the faces of the people gathered around who are all waiting for them to get on with the game, claiming he was never going to do it and that he just wanted to see their reactions. He could give in to the roiling nerves in his stomach and take a shot instead. He could leave tonight being none the wiser of what it would be like to kiss Lee Minho.

But, albeit grateful to Minho for reading his emotions and caring for him even while drunk himself, Jisung resolutely shakes his head. He's resigned to the fact that their first kiss together will be while completely wasted, during a silly game, and while all of their friends and even more strangers are watching.

But again, it's not like it matters. They're friends, and friends just kiss sometimes.

And, okay sure, maybe Jisung has fantasized about kissing Minho before, and maybe on numerous occassions; thought about what it might feel like, wondered if he might taste as good as he's imagined—but surely that's something everyone thinks about their friends?

Either way, he may as well recognize the opportunity for what this situation is. And if there's anything Jisung has learned in his two and a half decades of living, it's that if an opportunity presents itself to you, you take it with both hands.

So, kneeling on the hardwood floor in a house of some friend of a friend of an acquaintance of Chan's, Jisung takes Minho's face in both of his hands and pulls him in. As soon as their lips connect, he immediately begins counting, making sure they don't go under the time limit and have to start again.

One.

He remembers another rule being that the kiss has to be open-mouthed when Minho confidently licks at the seam of his lips. Jisung instantly opens for him, welcoming the intoxicating feeling of teeth on his bottom lip, tugging gently before once again being replaced with his lips.

Two…

Jisung kisses back like it's the most natural thing in the world—automatic, second-nature. It may as well be.

Then Minho adds tongue again, sliding it against Jisung's and in doing so making him exhale a hot sigh into his open mouth. It's slow; lazy yet purposeful. He lets Minho take the lead, dimly aware that he might very well be shaking like a damn leaf.

Three…?

Jisung's mind is wiped clean when he feels one of Minho's hands reach up to gently wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss even further. Jisung automatically brings both of his own hands up to clutch at Minho's shoulders, needing something sturdy to ground him to this spot, to this moment.

He forgets entirely that he should be counting, especially when Minho lightly plays with the short hairs at the base of his skull, sending small shivers down his spine. Or when Minho passionately licks into his mouth like he wants to taste every inch of him, leaving not a single spot unexplored.

Or especially when Minho uses his other hand to run a path up and down Jisung's torso, his stomach muscles clenching instinctively. It's somehow worse than if he actually touched him, skin to skin.

Jisung doesn't know how much time actually passes, but it's far too soon that Minho gently sucks his bottom lip into his mouth one last time before releasing him and pulling away. Jisung barely registers that lopsided grin of his when he follows Minho forward, dazedly attempting to chase after his lips. That is, until he remembers where they are and what the hell just happened.

He suddenly feels entirely too exposed, can feel the dozens of pairs of eyes drilling holes into his body from every side, and it feels like they can truly see all of his organs, his racing heart, can read all of his thoughts and observe his exact feelings.

Jisung licks his spit-slick lips, swallowing hard in a way he hopes doesn't look like he just gulped, and rushes back to his spot at the edge of the circle. A burning heat more intense than he's ever experienced rises from his chest, climbing up his neck to his face as if he just stuck his head in the oven.

It certainly doesn't help matters when Felix grabs onto his arm and starts shaking him back and forth, yelling with a lot of expletives, something about crazy and hot and holy fucking passion, man! Good to know Minho's ardency shone through, past just the two of them and into the watchful eyes of their audience.

He ignores Felix as best he can and hugs his knees to his chest, staring at his toes for the entire next turn. But, as always, his gaze is magnetized to one specific person, and it's only so long that Jisung can keep his eyes away from Minho. His eyes seek him out once again, only to find the man already staring back with a gaze burning almost as intensely as the heat blanketing Jisung's skin. As severe as it is, it's also unnervingly unreadable.

Did he absolutely hate it? Does he wish Jisung had been the one to back out, not wanting to do it himself out of fear of being rude? Was his uttered "You don't have to" really just Minho's way of asking him to back out, and Jisung had totally misinterpreted it?

He involuntarily tightens his arms around his legs, willing himself to shrink smaller and maybe—hopefully—disappear altogether. He's about to start his very own internal pity party when he catches the flicker of Minho's eyes following the movement of his tightening arms before darting back up to his face.

And there it is. A flash of… something else, of an actual readable emotion. It's there and then gone a second later, but there isn't a doubt in Jisung's mind of what he saw: palpable, unmistakable hunger. Minho's narrow eyes are dark with it, heavy lidded and covetous.

It does something to Jisung's stomach—a low, swooping sensation like nothing he's ever felt before. He bites his lip, hard, and watches as Minho's eyes again flick almost imperceptibly down to follow the movement. His stare is unflinching, unblinking; instead of feeling exposed like earlier with everyone's prickling and invasive eyes on him, Jisung just feels a strong tug in his gut, the need for those eyes to stay on him fogging up his brain.

All these years having known Minho and now finally, finally, he knows what those perfect, pink, beautiful lips taste like; how they feel moving against Jisung's; how hot and wet his tongue is when it slides against Jisung's. He was a fool for thinking he could just let his best friend kiss him like that and carry on like it was nothing.

It's downright impossible to pay attention to any of the next rounds, his attention focused solely on the man across the circle. He has half a mind to hope the bottle doesn't land on him again, because he certainly will not be attentive enough to catch on. Not with Minho staring at him like that.

They don't even make it another full lap around the circle before Jeongin fully passes out, draped across Seungmin's lap. The crowd has been dwindling for a while now, everyone slowly losing interest and leaving to find something else or to make out without the pretence of a game guiding them.

Jisung leaps onto this opportunity like a lifeline, springing to his feet and hastily bidding Felix goodnight. He ignores his friend's calls asking where he's going and why he's leaving so early (if an hour after midnight can be considered an early departure), all but darting to the front door without a single glance back.

He orders an Uber alone, relieved when nobody follows him out before it pulls up across the street. It's a short ride back to the dorms, and he all but collapses into his narrow bed immediately upon entering his room, although it takes a while for him to actually fall asleep. His head is still swimming from all the alcohol, and his heart races every time he hears even the quietest sound outside the door, body tensed and waiting for Minho to walk through the door.

Even if he wasn't entirely on edge about the return of his dormmate, Jisung's mind won't let him think of anything but the kiss, anyway. As if he's thought of anything else since it happened to begin with.

He slowly reaches up to brush a feather-light touch against his lips, reminiscing about the sensation, how soft and warm Minho's lips were against his. How slowly he kissed, how gently, as though he wanted to savour every moment, as though he wanted Jisung to feel good above simply following the rules of the game.

Of course, he is still drunk and that's surely affecting his convictions and thought processes, but he can't help but want to do it again, can't help but want more. Without an audience this time.

His own desire for more shocks him, makes him wonder where the hell all of it is coming from. He's never thought of any of his friends that way before, or at least not to this extent.

It's gotta be all the drinks still in his system thinking for him. That must be it.

Except… maybe it isn't all that shocking as he originally thought. He does recall having that same weird feeling as earlier, that almost odd sense of disappointment, or displeasure at having to watch Minho look at other people the way he was, kissing other people with what Jisung thought was too much feeling.

He's felt that way before, watching Minho leave their room some evenings, telling Jisung not to wait up for him because he's going on a date. Or when Jisung happens to see him on campus, about to run up and greet him, only to see that he's engrossed in an overly friendly conversation with another person.

Jisung has always thought he was, admittedly, a little jealous that he had to share Minho's time with other people, but that's just how their all-encompassing friendship works. They enjoy spending as much time together as possible—that's why they requested to be roommates at their college, and why they're already making plans to find a place together after they graduate.

But Jisung never considered what might happen if—or when, he supposes—either of them started dating or got into a serious relationship. In his mind it's always just been the two of them, was always going to be the two of them—Jisung and Minho, until the end of time.

And now adding that kiss into the mix, the desire that sprouted maybe not quite from nowhere…

Jisung's head hurts. He already took Advil before bed, but it hasn't kicked in yet, and now he's in that weird, uncomfortable state between not quite drunk anymore but not at all sober. His mouth is all dry and pasty, his stomach keeps churning unpleasantly, and he's sweating like he's stuck in a furnace.

He's still contemplating leaving his bed and running to the bathroom, at the very least just for the feel of the cool tile on his skin, but before he can make up his mind he hears a key slide into the lock on their door. He goes completely still, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending like he's been passed out for the past twenty minutes.

He listens to Minho tiptoe around the room, hears the rustle of fabric as he changes clothes, the running of the sink and flush of the toilet from their connecting bathroom as he gets ready for bed.

Sleep still doesn't find Jisung, not even after he listens to Minho's breathing even out, not after he tosses and turns for another hour. He resigns himself to the fact that he likely won't be getting any sleep tonight, and dreads the conversation that might find them in the morning. Or worse yet, the silence so awkward it's suffocating.

As it turns out, the following morning did not bring an unpleasant conversation, nor a stifling silence between the two. Jisung was on edge the entire morning, but Minho acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, so Jisung tried following his lead. He's certain he was unsuccessful, but Minho graciously didn't comment on any of his odd behaviour.

He tells himself he should be relieved as Minho comes home and immediately begins recounting something that happened in one of his classes, flopping onto his bed and generally behaving like his normal self. Their kiss may as well have not even happened as far as he's concerned.

Except it's been days and Jisung still can't stop thinking about it. Hasn't thought of anything else, not for longer than a couple of hours at least. He doesn't understand how Minho can just move on like that. He was there for the kiss, wasn't he? Why isn't it affecting him the way it's hanging over Jisung like a heavy storm cloud, forever in that unforgiving limbo stage where it's impossible to tell if it will storm or give way to blue sky?

At first he thought it was just part of his hangover, some sort of leftover drunken attraction that would go away by the next day. But then the next day reared its face, and the next, and Jisung is still agonizing over it.

Every time he tries to erase it from his mind, to force himself to get over it and move on, the memory of it bubbles back up to the surface and he's left in an odd state of jumpiness and desire. He'll feel the phantom press of his best friend's lips against his own, remember the feeling of the first time Minho slid his hot, wet tongue against Jisung's, how it felt to have his lower lip sucked into Minho's mouth only to be released a moment later, bitten red and swollen, with a gut-swooping pop.

He tries not to be, but he can't help being a little awkward around Minho. He wants things to go back to normal more than anything, but every time he tries to have a normal conversation with him, all he can feel is Minho's mouth hot against his and all he can see is that smug, knowing smirk in the face of Jisung trying to take more.

So, Jisung deals with it the best way he knows how: he starts avoiding Minho. He throws himself into his studies full force, staying in a corner of the library or the music room with Chan and Changbin until he's practically dead on his feet. And when he happens to be in the dorm at the same time as Minho, he's more often than not pretending to be asleep for a power nap in between classes or claiming he needs his rest for an early morning the next day.

It's clear that Minho had noticed his odd behaviour, but is apparently too decent to call him out on it. For now.

He has noticed that Minho's approach when dealing with Jisung going through something is to give him the space he needs first, giving him the room to figure his shit out alone. Eventually though, if Jisung hasn't sorted out his problem before long, Minho will step in and try to help, or at least nudge him in the right direction.

Which Jisung normally appreciates more than he knows, but it's not really like Jisung can confide in him about his problem if his problem, in this case, is Minho. Or, at the very least, is about him.

"Jisungie," Minho says now in that soft tone Jisung swears is only ever directed at him.

They've shared hardly more than a few words to each other for the past few days, and Jisung, once again pretending to be asleep with his facing the room and Minho, tenses at the tone. Is he really trying to have this conversation right now? Jisung was actually attempting to fall asleep while simultaneously pretending to already be deep in dreamland.

He doesn't answer—doesn't twitch, doesn't even breathe—in hopes that Minho will take the hint or give up.

But then he says, in the same tone, "Jisungie, I know you're awake."

Shit. Should Jisung double down and continue pretending to be asleep? Minho could just be saying that without actually knowing, for all Jisung's aware. Or should he give in and finally be honest for once?

He hears rustling and a creak from the other bed across the room, and his body makes the decision for him, automatically twisting around to see what Minho is doing. He mentally cringes to himself; he should have known he'd fold this easily. When it comes to his best friend, Jisung is all too attuned to every movement, every twitch, every breath he takes.

Minho is sitting up now, legs dangling off the side of his bed as he stares right at Jisung. No chance in hiding now.

Jisung sighs and slowly moves to mirror Minho's position on his own bed—albeit more hunched, his head ducked in a clear display of sheepish guilt, caught red-handed.

"You've been avoiding me," Minho says, and it's not a question. He says it like he's stating a fact, yet the words are still so gentle.

It makes Jisung cringe, a grimace on his face that he tries and fails to turn into a shamefaced smile. He considers protesting, but ultimately thinks better of it. Minho has known him for nearly a decade now, knows when he's lying, what his bad habits are, and most importantly what he's feeling with just a single glance. Jisung may as well be an open fucking book to him.

Since it wasn't a question, Jisung doesn't respond; instead, he lowers his gaze to the small grey carpet beside his bed. They both know it's the truth, anyway, so there's no point in lying to both of them with fruitless denials.

Quietly, so softly Jisung thinks he might not have heard correctly, Minho utters, "You're still thinking about it, aren't you. The game, the kiss." Again, it's not posed as a question.

Jisung snaps his head up so fast he feels something tweak in his neck. He's ready to defend himself, to apologize as needed. Although, he's dimly surprised to find that he's only sorry that him thinking about it could be making Minho uncomfortable, not for the kiss itself. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

But upon taking in Minho's expression, he's relieved to find that the man is not uncomfortable, nothing like it. Those intense, narrow, unblinking eyes sear nonsensical patterns over every inch of Jisung's face. Like he just wants to take him in, as if Jisung is the unreadable one.

Once again, they both know the answer, but Jisung still feels the need to respond, to finally come clean. He doesn't know how much more he can take of this internalizing and agonizing over a five second kiss with his best friend.

So he swallows hard, audibly, and ever so minutely nods his head.

He half hopes Minho doesn't even catch it, but is immediately grateful that he does (of course he does) when he licks his lips, biting on his lower one, and digs his fingers into the sheets atop his bed. Even quieter than before, he whispers, "Me, too."

Jisung's head is swimming and there's too much blood rushing to his face. He hasn't been the only one thinking about it. And, taking in Minho's rigid posture and the white knuckled grip on his sheets, it has been affecting him in a similar way as Jisung. Much more than he's been letting on, anyway.

Jisung doesn't know what to do, isn't sure what this means. Neither of them are moving, still just staring at each other with a tension so thick he swears he can see it running between them.

His heart rate picks up when, finally, so slowly it's nearly agonizing, Minho stands and walks over to him. It's a small room, made even smaller by all the emotions and truths now out in the open, but the distance between their beds feels like miles instead of the couple of strides it's always taken before.

Jisung restlessly waits the eons it takes for Minho to finally reach him, mirroring his position when he sits sideways with one leg folded in front of him. Jisung is breathing hard like he just ran a lap around the entire campus, and he'd have half a mind to be embarrassed if all of his attention wasn't focused entirely on the man now sitting only a few inches away.

The expression on his face is one Jisung has never seen before, and he takes it in as best he can, committing it to memory. His eyes are dark, darker than he's ever seen them before. His lids are heavy with hunger, desire, want, and it gives the impression that his eyes are narrower than they actually are.

Jisung swallows thickly again. If they don't do something in the next few seconds other than just stare at each other, he is going to lose his mind. The tension is downright suffocating, and every fibre of his being is screaming at him to close the distance, to be nearer, to touch.

Without ever making the conscious decision to do so, Jisung's hand lifts of its own accord, but he stops it halfway to Minho's face. Suddenly unsure and feeling a little awkward, he hesitates. "Maybe—Should we…"

He's about to ask for another kiss—or several hundred more—since they liked it so much the first time, but every variation of the proposition sounds stupid or falls flat in his head. Thankfully, as always, Minho reads his mind and wordlessly does what they've both been craving for days now, or perhaps for even longer.

In the same swift movement, Minho reaches up to grab the back of Jisung's neck and dives in. Immediately Jisung melts into the kiss, letting out an involuntary sigh through his nose. It's less sloppy this time now that they're both sober, but not by much. The desperation, the pent up repression, the urgency, makes it messy, but Jisung wouldn't have it any other way.

He automatically wraps both arms around Minho's neck like it's the most natural thing in the world, and Minho responds by running his hands down the sides of his torso. The touches send small shivers down his body, making him press even closer. Jisung matches the pace Minho set, eager and enthusiastic, and feels a sizeable spark of pride blooming in his chest when it elicits the softest moan from the back of Minho's throat.

With strong hands, Minho pushes him backwards, guides him down so that Jisung falls against his pillows. As easily as breathing, they slide into their new positions like they've done it a million times before, Minho hovering over him as Jisung's legs bracket his waist. This new angle is perfect, allowing the kiss to deepen pleasingly.

Jisung instinctively arches into the touch when Minho reaches up under the hem of his shirt to roam his hands over his clenching stomach, up to his chest, and back down again. It's a full body reaction, his head tilting back against his pillow as his arms subconsciously tighten around Minho's neck, humming a high, pleased sound against his lips.

He takes advantage of Jisung's newly exposed neck by latching onto every inch of skin, kissing and biting and sucking everywhere he can reach. Jisung didn't realize how much he'd apparently been craving exactly this until this very moment, his skin buzzing and his body responding to every touch, every kiss, every look Minho rewards him with.

"Hyung," he breathes out, and he sounds so unbelievably gone even to his own ears. And then Minho lifts his head to glance up at him, and Jisung just about ascends to heaven right then and there. Minho's eyes are darker and heavier than ever before, desire downright pouring from his burning gaze. His lips are red and swollen and shiny from all the kissing, and the sight of it shoots a jolt of white-hot hunger low in Jisung's stomach.

He bites his bottom lip to keep any unwanted sounds from escaping, but it still doesn't stop his cock from twitching in his sweatpants. Oh god, they either need to slow down significantly or stop altogether, otherwise Jisung is about to embarrass himself greatly.

"Hyung," he says again, this time as a warning, except it comes out as more of a whine than anything.

Minho hums in response and trails a hand back down Jisung's side, the feather-light touch producing goosebumps all up and down his skin, causing him to jolt at the sensation. He squeezes his legs around Minho's hips and prays that he won't look down and catch sight of the effects of his touches—of him.

But, once again reading his mind, Minho's eyes follow the downward path of his hand and Jisung squirms under his stare, but that just makes everything worse. Minho's hand freezes and he fully sits up when he notices the humiliatingly significant bulge in his pants.

Panicking, Jisung tries to wiggle his way around Minho, at the very least to close his legs and pretend like they both hadn't just seen the obvious tent in his sweats, but Minho grabs onto his thighs, putting a stop to his squirming.

"Hyung—ah," Jisung says again, but Minho cuts him off with a hand pressed to his groin. He arches into the touch, slapping a hand against his mouth when a short whine escapes his lips, louder than the rest.

Minho leans back down with a cocky smirk, gently tugging Jisung's hand away from his mouth only to replace it with his lips. It's gentle this time, softer than he's ever kissed him before, and it's enough to have Jisung melting back into the embrace. He buries his hands in Minho's hair, partly to feel the soft strands running through his fingers and partly just to keep him close.

He gasps against Minho's lips when the man grinds down against him, Jisung's own hips bucking up to chase the feeling. He does it again when Minho groans out a quiet, "Jisungie," a heat nearly unbearable surrounding them in their own little bubble.

It's then that Jisung realizes Minho is also hard, his own cock a long, hard pressure against him, and that's the only other encouragement he needs to finally give in to what he's wanted to do for a long time now. There's no use pretending otherwise anymore.

Jisung nudges at his friend's shoulders until he takes the hint and sits back up, then rearranges them by pushing Minho against the wall lining the side of the bed. He then crawls forward to swing a leg over Minho's strong thighs so he's strattling his lap. Minho's lips are bitten raw and his eyes are filled with so much ardour it has Jisung twitching against him again.

Suddenly shy under such a heavy stare, Jisung ducks his head, dark hair tangling with Minho's. "Is this okay?" he asks tentatively.

He feels more than sees Minho's rapid nod, their noses brushing. Jisung smiles at his eagerness, places his hands on his shoulders for balance before grinding down experimentally. Twin groans of pleasure fall from their lips at the new angle. God, this is so much better.

Minho encourages him to keep going by lifting his knees slightly and running his hands down to Jisung's ass, squeezing once before using his hold to guide Jisung to a steady pace. Minho meets every thrust with one of his own and tilts his head up to find Jisung's mouth, but they're both breathing too heavily to properly kiss, instead just panting into each other's open mouths. It's hot, and before he knows it, Jisung is already embarrassingly close.

"Hyung," he pants into Minho's mouth, "please." He's not really sure what he's asking for, he just knows he wants it, craves it, needs it.

Minho's hands tighten, now at his waist, and the words bubble out past his lips before he can even register them in his brain. "Want you to touch me." Minho's hips stutter and jerk, and he lets out a soft, high sound, almost a whimper. It goes straight to Jisung's dick as he locks that reaction away in his brain for later.

Pulling away just enough to properly look Minho in the eye, Jisung says, "Please touch me, hyung."

Minho closes his eyes as though savouring the moment, or maybe he's just trying to control himself. Jisung wishes he wouldn't.

Minho swallows thickly, bites his lip, digs his fingers into Jisung's tiny waist. Jisung can't believe he's been missing out on this for so long.

Burying his face in the crook of Jisung's neck once again, nipping and sucking at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Minho allows his hands to wander. He takes his time mapping out Jisung's body, roaming over every line and ridge and surface of his body like he wants to commit it to memory. Jisung shudders when he brushes his thumb over a nipple, keening and twitching when he does it a few more times.

Finally, god finally, Minho's hands make their slow descent back down his chest, his torso, his stomach, to at last toy with the band of his sweats. He dips his hands under his pants and past his underwear at the back to grab two fistfulls of his ass, and Jisung moans at the sensation.

"Hyung, please," Jisung whispers, begs, and it's then that Minho finally gives him what he wants. He pulls Jisung's pants down his hips far enough for his dick to spring free and for Minho to grab him in his hand. Jisung is embarrassingly wet with precome, but Minho doesn't seem to mind, far from it; in fact, he swipes his thumb over his leaking tip before licking it off his finger. Jisung's cock visibly twitches in the scant space between them, and he both kind of wants to die as well as really wants Minho to devour him whole.

Minho wastes no more time, spitting a generous glob of saliva into his palm before reaching back down to grab his length and jerk him off at a pace so fast Jisung's head swims. He nearly comes right then and there as high, breathy moans are punched from his chest. When he tries to jerk his hips in time with Minho's pumping fist, the man's other hand squeezes his hips to keep them in place.

They're not doing anything too crazy, but Jisung is still so overwhelmed in the best way possible. The feeling of Minho's hands on him like this is like nothing he's ever felt before, and he's distantly afraid he might never be able to move on from this. He can already tell he'll be craving this and more, always more, with Minho for the rest of his life.

"Close," Jisung gasps as Minho reattaches his mouth to his neck. "Hyung, I'm close. Please."

"Good, Sungie," he mumbles into his skin. "Come for me, baby."

Minho's hand around his cock squeezes even tighter, pumps him even faster, and when he sinks his teeth into Jisung's neck, that's all it takes for him to let out a high, borderline pornographic moan. He lets go of everything as his mind whites out, spilling his release into Minho's hand and onto his shirt. Minho pumps him through it, slowing to a stop only once Jisung is a shaking, panting, collapsed mess in his lap.

Jisung closes his eyes as he breathes through his comedown, opening them only once he feels a gentle hand in his hair, stroking the sweaty strands away from his face. He must look completely disheveled if how he feels is anything to go by. Again, Minho doesn't seem to mind, looking at him like he's the most precious thing to ever exist. It stirs something low in Jisung's gut, but it's weak underneath the heavy blanket of exhaustion.

He tucks himself back into his pants and moves to slide off Minho's lap, but as soon as he does, a rough groan escapes Minho's mouth, and Jisung glances down to see him still painfully hard in his pants. He goes to reach for him, more than willing to return the favour, but before he has the chance, Minho grabs his wrist, stopping him halfway.

Jisung glances up at him in puzzlement, but Minho, face red like he was the one who just had his world flipped upside down, shakes his head. "You don't have to."

"What do you mean? I want to."

Minho still looks hesitant, so Jisung decides to show him how serious he is. He shuffles off his lap and slides off the side of the bed, sinking down to his knees in front of Minho when he follows him curiously to the edge.

When he still looks a little confused, Jisung slides his hands up Minho's wide, strong thighs, his insides shivering at the solid muscle under his hands until he reaches Minho's waistband. He gives it a gentle tug, and surely Minho can't mistake his intentions now.

If the sharp inhale and clenching fists into the sheets are anything to go by, the message gets through to him loud and clear. "Are you sure," Minho breathes, and honestly, his display of restraint is impressive.

"Use me, hyung," he says, and those three words seem to do the trick, penetrating the last of Minho's resolve before he lets out an involuntary shudder and tentatively buries his hands in Jisung's hair.

Jisung, invigorated, shuffles closer and tugs harder, more purposefully at his waistband. Minho lifts his hips, and in one swift movement, his pants drop and his cock springs free. Jisung swallows hard at the sight, the sheer size of it, his mouth watering in anticipation.

He's leaking just as bad as Jisung was before, his tip an angry red. It takes everything in Jisung not to swallow it whole immediately.

He glances up through his lashes to gauge Minho's reaction; the man has the back of a retracted hand pressed against his mouth and his eyes are staring at Jisung so intensely, so hungrily, he's a little bit alarmed twin holes aren't being seared into his flesh.

Still maintaining eye contact, all Jisung does is grab ahold of his length, and already Minho's eyes are fluttering. Rapidly gaining confidence, Jisung licks a long stripe up the shaft before putting just the tip in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue and lapping at the precome beading at the slit.

He releases him with an obscene pop that makes Minho groan and that swirling return low in Jisung's stomach. He reaches up to gently tug Minho's hand away from his mouth, noting the indentations left in the skin from his teeth. Jisung guides his hand back to his hair and says, voice already raspy, "I'll tell you if you're being too rough."

Minho's eyes flutter shut at that, letting out a shaky breath, but he snaps them back open like he doesn't want to miss a single second of this. "Fuck," he whispers, his fingers tightening pleasantly in Jisung's hair. "Okay."

Then Jisung opens his mouth, tongue lolling out just enough to touch the plush of his bottom lip, and waits for Minho to take what he wants.

He starts with slow, experimental thrusts into Jisung's mouth, clearly still worried about being too rough. Jisung takes it all though, expertly using his tongue and expanding his throat the way he learned with previous partners and hookups. He's never felt more grateful for his past experiences than this exact moment, being able to make Minho feel good.

And it seems to be working; Minho is slowly losing control, thrusting in deeper and faster the more their combined effort brings him closer and closer to the edge. Jisung encourages him to take what he wants by hollowing out his cheeks, humming and moaning around the cock in his mouth and watching the way Minho's composure cracks down the middle.

He's panting and devouring Jisung with his eyes by the time he lets go of the last of his self-control, standing for better leverage and tightening his hands in Jisung's hair to hold him still, by doing so eliciting from him a genuine moan. Now fully unrestrained, Minho fucks Jisung's mouth who grips the backs of Minho's thighs as though it'll keep him from choking.

He holds on even tighter, peeking up at Minho through the tears on his lashes when the other man lets out breathy moans of his own around a panted, "Ah—Sungie, close. I'm close."

Whatever he must see in Jisung's eyes is what sends him over the edge, burying himself up to the hilt in his mouth. Jisung's nose presses against Minho's cum-stained shirt and he squeezes his eyes shut, valiantly trying not to choke around the ropes of come shooting to the back of his throat.

Before Jisung can register much else, Minho pulls out, his dick quickly replaced by his mouth, licking into Jisung's with a fervour not unlike everything else they've done with each other tonight.

"Hyung," Jisung rasps against his lips, a little scandalized despite everything they've done tonight.

Minho pulls away to regard him, looking blissed-out himself. Jisung must look utterly debauched—lips red and swollen, a mixture of saliva and come dripping down his chin, and overall just extremely fucked out.

Despite it all, Minho huffs a fond laugh, placing another tender kiss against Jisung's lips before resting their foreheads together. With a jarringly gentle thumb swiping the most of the drool below Jisung's lips, Minho brushes a kiss there like he just can't help it. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this." He punctuates the statement with another kiss.

Jisung leans into it, absolutely melting into the gentle touches like there's nowhere else he would rather be. Because there isn't. He could die happy, right here and now, in Minho's arms as he places the most tender, worshipping kisses all over his face.

"Me, too," Jisung sighs against his lips, and isn't even all that surprised to find that he means it. He doesn't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way his subconscious realized how much he wanted this from Minho. Now that he's aware of it, he knows that he won't ever stop wanting Minho in every way he'll give himself, in any way he'll let Jisung have him.

"Gonna have to buy Felix some flowers. Maybe write him a thank you card." Jisung's eyes have slipped shut, and they're both still kneeling a little uncomfortably on the floor, but he doesn't care. He'll undoubtedly have bruises on his knees tomorrow, but he wouldn't move for anything in the world right now.

He can feel Minho's eyes regarding him questioningly, confirms it when he peeks an eye open to see those brows furrowing gently at him. "None of this would have happened like this if it weren't for him suggesting that stupid fucking game at the party. I hate to admit it, but I feel like I owe him."

Minho just chuckles at him, knees cracking as he stands and pulls his pants back up. He holds out a hand for Jisung, hauling him back up before leading him to their shower.

They're too drained to do much more fooling around other than lazily making out, but Jisung wouldn't trade it for the world.

They help each other wash up and towel off, and it's so unbelievably domestic that it makes Jisung's heart clench if he thinks about it too long. Like a sort of unspoken agreement, they collapse into Minho's clean bed, his strong arms wrapped snugly around Jisung's waist.

And he'll get Felix chocolates, Jisung decides as he hangs in the balance between staying awake and succumbing to sleep. He'd give Felix anything as thank you for opening his eyes to the most important thing he could ever possibly want and now, apparently, have.