coincidental | minsung

17

"Oh, angel," Minho near enough purred. "Need hyung to teach you?"

Another groan, but this one turned into a sharp gasp when Jisung felt a finger poke gently into the skin on his waist, sliding under the t-shirt Minho had lent him. Such a small, insignificant touch, but enough to make goosebumps flare up Jisung's forearms. 

"Look at me," Minho instructed. As always, Jisung obliged. 

Minho held Jisung's gaze as he added another finger; no longer prodding, now grazing along his waist. The way he looked at him seemed as though he was asking: Is this okay? Can I keep going? Jisung nodded. 

He couldn't pull his eyes off Minho even as the older angled his fingers closer and closer to the waistband of Jisung's sweatpants. Not even as the fingers paused at his hipbone and drew small figure of eights on the spot where the bone protruded. 

"Minho," Jisung mumbled. "Not sure how to do this."

Minho just shrugged. "Good thing I do."

Eased, gentle hands rolled Jisung so he was lying on his back again. Minho moved too, lifting and then sinking so he was straddling Jisung's hips. If someone had snuck in and sucked all of the oxygen from the room overnight, Jisung wouldn't have noticed. Breathing was not a priority for him right now.

Even less so as he felt the unfamiliar feeling of someone else's fingers slipping into his waistband and easing his trousers down. Minho was still maintaining eye contact. He broke it to fold himself in two, bending forward to lay kisses on the exposed skin around Jisung's hips. The kisses moved closer each time to the skin covered by Jisung's boxers. 

Jisung wasn't sure what to do with his hands, his eyes, his breath, his lips. Thankfully, Minho was as ever good at slipping into control. 

Before Minho could do anything else, he entwined one of Jisung's hands with his own, lifting the hand and using slender fingers to curl Jisung's fist into dark waves of hair. Jisung felt weak and his hand simply lay flaccid on top of Minho's head.

Not for long. The sensation of Minho blowing against Jisung's pants where a spot of pre-cum had already started to bleed through was enough to send jolts of electricity through Jisung's body. His fingers tightened in Minho's hair. 

"Good boy."

This only made him tighten more. So much, Jisung thought all of his bones would go brittle and snap, especially as those fingers returned to his skin again. Pushed the thin material of his pants down further. Allowed his hard cock to spring up, enough tension that it smacked up against Jisung's stomach. Jisung whimpered, and Minho smiled hungrily. 

"Use your words, Jisung. Tell me what you want."

Words? Jisung didn't know what words were. All he knew was this, himself exposed, Minho fully clothed and hovering impatiently above him. A breath on his crotch sent a shiver up his spine, sent words fleeing even further from his gasp. 

"I won't touch you till you ask me to."

"Minho- Hyung, please..." Jisung whined.

"Please? Please... Make you a cup of tea? Please get you some breakfast?" Minho faked innocence. 

"Touch me, please," Jisung asked through gritted teeth. 

Minho did; he glazed a finger lazily across Jisung's thigh, used one sharp nail to draw figures of eight along his stomach. He kept his eyes focused on his hands until a protesting groan brought his attention back up to Jisung. 

"I'm touching you, aren't I?"

"Minho, fuck, touch... I want you to touch my dick." 

Again, Minho did. He brushed one finger up Jisung's shaft and even this was enough to make Jisung's body twitch and his breath stagger through pouted lips. Not enough, though, another example of Minho being an irritating fucking tease.