Restrained pants met his eardrums.
Gasps deep in the other's chest, strained as they caught up with the sweltering reddness enrapturing the clammy body.
Those addicting sounds coming faintly from the headphone speakers lowered around his neck, the mild volume nearly washed out by the swishing of the running faucet. The quiet whispers, digital glimmers of sinful shudders skimming the length of his satiated spine, nerves nipping nuzzling tremors through the warmth still fuzzy in his mind. Still coming down off that ecstacy high the camboy surged him with. The waterfall of the bathroom sink pouring over the face towel he was wringing out, the sweat clinging to the back of his neck as his drenched hand wiped the salty sting of sweat from the nape of his neck, those brief sounds hungering his mind again, keeping him connected to the sunlight on the other side. Waiting within the pixels of the laptop screen for him to return from the unfortunate task of cleaning up.
Faintly, as Minho shut the faucet off and shook the rest of the chilled water from the rag, the quickest thought flickered through his mind.
How perfect it would be, to hear those noises for himself.
Instead of relying on the coded information, picked up by crackling microphones on the device he used, transferred by those programmed encryptions sealing their hidden lines away from prying eyes, received, decrypted in mainframes uncovering the illicit secrets kept shied in their own careful paradise. Instead, knowing that person he was rapidly growing fond of was laid across his mattress, waiting for him.
To be able to touch the smooth skin which teased and flushed in vivid colors underneath his fingertips. To be permitted to roam over those expansive plains stretching across his sternum, from collarbone to collarbone and the dipped skin between their lissom pride, sensitive touch between hip to hip spanning below his navel, the crevasse of his untouched jaw begging to be nibbled and marked up, his thighs, how they would feel wrapped around him as they shaked. To be allowed to revel in the basking beauty of the work of art that human was, an effigy cast by gilded gold, perfectly molded into the aureate figure, that aureate voice. Melted alloy that burned tenderly into his skin. An alluring grin which spread on those sculpted lips, struggling and parted with their thrashing breaths.
Each nerve lit alight with that blazing sunlight. Running over him softly despite the late hour they met on those calls. A sunrise, neon haze in the sky after dark.
This guy is going to be the death of me.
A light grin pulled on his lips as he shook the clean rag out one more time, folding it over the metal faucet to drip dry what remaining water was retained in the fibers.
"O-oh, hi!"
Minho furrowed his eyebrows at the faint voice cutting in over his headphones. An abrupt ending to the peaceful rhythm of the ebbing huffs flowing in and out of the serene space spanning between their silence, a breathless laugh chasing after the words only causing him to stare at his own reflection in puzzlement. As if the man standing in the mirror would have a clue to who the camboy was greeting so cheerfully. As if he would receive more than his own curiosity, the slight frown on his lips and the crinkling on his forehead, back to him.
He quickly wiped his hands dry and pressed off from his spot inside the confined space, slowly drawing the bathroom door closed behind him as he poked his head into the length of the apartment's hallway. Checking back and forth. Looking through the pathway as if it was a street, scanning for any incoming traffic to slam into him and knock him off balance. Knowing the area was clear, he scurried off, steps shuffled against the statics filling carpet as his hands pulled at the drawstrings of his favorite white hoodie he always went to instead of anything else he wore. Fumbling with their dangling ropes in an idle way, tying them up around his fingers, threading them, looping them like yarn around knitting needles as he found his bedroom at the end of the way. An odd sliver of light coursing into the hallway he walked, pouring from the door opening in a slight crack. Big enough for a small body to slip through.
Even stranger because he knew he pulled his door as shut as possible without clicking the handle into place.
He stepped into the room.
To see a fuzzy creature on his desk chair, front paws pressed onto the laptop's keyboard, sniffing as it twisted to look at the angled screen.
Jisung giggled softly over the headphones again, "Hello there cutie. Are you Gummy?"
The black cat meowed at the laptop.
Then rammed her head into the web camera, screen bopping up at the forced intrusion.
"It's nice to meet you too!"
Minho sighed softly, trudging over to the laptop and wrapping his hands around the furry midnight. Though she squirmed out of his grip, again stepping with her murder mittens on the keyboard and rubbing her body up against the screen as she purred. Chattering up to Minho who kept trying to grab the liquefied animal clawing into the laptop keys. He argued with her, booping her nose as he fought, "Seriously, Gummy? This is what you're doing with your life? You're a freeloader and an attention seeker? Don't get your stinky hair all oover me fookin' keybard ya bastard."
Gummy meowed up at him.
"Noooo, Bunny, don't take her away," Jisung laughed again, more of that melodic sound pouring from the headphones matched with the faint glimpse of the man he saw on screen; Bundled up with a big blanket around his shoulders, sweatpants on and a bare chest still flustered underneath the wrapped fabric as he grinned wide, "She's so cute!"
"Do you hear him? Do you hear how you've completely enchanted an innocent soul with your cuteness? Do you realize you've gotten another victim, you demon?" He finally hoisted Gummy up, the front paws splaying awkwardly out as if they could brace her. Minho muttered to the yellow eyes, "Why do you do this to me? Hm?"
The cat blinked at him, ears tilting back as she seemed to shy away.
He shook her a little bit. The cat wiggling miserably as she was suspended in that mid-air battle.
Still, no answer from her.
After a second, Jisung spoke softly,
"Bunny. Check your camera."
Minho pulled the cat into him, tucking her under his arm as he glanced back to the laptop.
To the screen tilted up. The frame of Jisung tilting his head away, a hand put up by his eyes to block his gaze.
To the camera pointed on him.
Minho dropped Gummy and launched to cover the webcam with his palm, "Fuck, I'm sorry!"
"It's okay, I didn't see your face," The camboy's words came quieter than before. His body curled away from the camera angeled on him, the hand that pressed to block his eyes away kept glued to the side of his features, "I didn't look, I promise."
"I'm so sorry, love. My cat..."
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. It's what you're comfortable with, not what I'm comfortable with."
Minho pressed his trembling palm harder onto the camera.
The grooves underneath his skin biting down into him. Their fastened jaw locking him firmly into that position in time, unable to break away from the ticking seconds knocking on the side of his skull as he statued there. Stuck rooted by the overgrown roses in his chest. Thorns which surrounded and pricked into his limbs as they reminded him not to move, not to breathe, not to look away from the black square in the corner of his screen announcing he had been completely covered up by his guiding hand, not tear his eyes from the other, the camboy, who dropped the blockade but still refused to look over to his device. Thorns which stabbed into him, bleeding his veins dry as his heart pounded hard in his chest. Each thump coursing through his entire body. Each thump ticking as firmly as the passing seconds.
He didn't see his face, right? Jisung said he saw nothing, and he was looking away, his hand was covering up his eyes and even now, he refused to look up at the screen. He refused to look back to the scene on his device, Minho yet to have given a solid answer forced through his choking up throat, unable to confirm whether or not he fixed his camera. Unable to force his muscles to cooperate to tilt the laptop screen back down to it's previous view facing the lower half of his body when he sat down in the chair. Unable to move out of that statued position for any reason. Because, what if Jisung did see his face? What if Jisung now knows who was behind the Jackalope name, what he looked like, how he spoke, he knew almost every inch of his body now, and he may have seen his face? What if he exposes his privacy? What if he sells his information to the other hackers wanting to put him at risk?
What if all of this was a scam?
A fraud?
What happens if Jisung saw him?
And why did he kind of want him to anyway?
How long have they been communicating now? A month? A month and a week? How long had they been doing these calls? One week subtracted from that time? Two? Is that long enough to say he trusted him? To say, it was alright to peel the electrical tape off the lense, to raise the angle of the laptop screen, to remove his palm, face him head on? Was it enough to say the other gave him an odd feeling; Wonderfully addictive in its sweet taste constantly stuck to his tongue, hooked like a steel fishing line clawed into his cheek, reeling him back in to the other's voice to become nothing but the throbbing mess of his heart in his hands? Was it enough to be stupid? To take a risk? To be the opposite of the safe, rational person on the internet he prided himself on being?
Eh, fuck it. Life is short.
Minho called him, "Love."
"Hm?"
He removed his hand from the camera and set it on the desk, the other busied with turning the volume of his headphones up to hear the other speak properly.
"You can look at me."
Although his hands quivered gently and his heart refused to settle in his chest, Minho didn't back out of his decision. He didn't speak otherwise or rescind the offer. Stealing himself against any comments the other may have made in the next few moments. Positive or, otherwise. Preparing for the worst, maybe for Jisung to suddenly drop the call, maybe for him to say a few kind words here and there before never speaking with him again, potentially being alright with it and giving a few nice compliments.
The camboy gradually put his gaze back to the screen.
Slowly—
Actually, not slowly at all, Jisung's eyes widened by tenfold as soon as he was facing back to his own device.
Completely quiet.
Not even the rustling of the sheet to fix it from slipping off his shoulder. Not any gasps, huffs, gentle breaths, soft laughter, mocking laughter, jeering noises, scoffs, hums, blurts, nothing. A pure nothingness. No movement, no sounds, no signs of life existing on the screen. For a moment, Minho could have convinced himself the other's wifi had lagged out and dropped the call entirely. Or he hit the WiFi button and killed his connection, effectively running away from confronting the unusual situation. From Minho, having to look at his face for the first time since they met and corresponded, since they started calling, since their entire attraction to one another started.
In the silence, Minho smiled awkwardly at him, "Surprise...?"
Still, nothing.
Just,
Quiet.
After a moment, Jisung blurted, "Are you real?"
"What?" Minho furrowed his eyebrows together, forehead wrinkling up as he pulled his desk chair in and flopped down in it. Tilting the laptop screen to follow him, to keep on him, keep showing who he truly was behind the camera as the other's expression stunned and froze up. Hoping that being in the seat would be enough to control the rapid thundering of his heart. Hoping playing with the arm rests and tucking his legs up onto the chair like a butterfly would be enough to keep the ringing out of his ears long enough to enjoy this, to truly see Jisung's reaction to him. He smiled at the camera, noting how as soon as his lips quirked up Jisung's jaw went slack. Still he brushed it off and scoffed, "Of course I'm real?"
Jisung shook his head, it tilting to the side as he shifted forward. Closer to the screen. He murmured to himself, "No... No, you can't be. You can't be real, that's not possible, that's not fair."
The camboy leaned back a bit, his lips mouthing out a fast 'wow' as his mouth fell agape.
A sharp inhale came from him.
His voice continuing quiet over the headphones, words hidden beneath the thundering of Minho's heart. More mumbling to himself.
"You must have been hand crafted, you..."
Jisung scooted closer again, eyes clearly raking over the view he was given as he rounded out another wordless woah.
Glancing him up and down.
He bit into his bottom lip, a smile tugging on him as he scanned him over.
"I don't think I've ever seen something more stunning than you."
"Says you? You're fucking beautiful, love. I'm average compared to you," Minho slumped back in his seat and covered the warmth building up in his face. Trying to control the excited pumping of his jittering heart with every bit of will power he had left in him. His body slowly melting into puddy in the chair, dissolving away to a pile of mush underneath the glittery eyes staring him down with such a fond adoration. Such a disarming expression, forcing him to forget his worries, leaving his anxiety behind as he was sucked into those glimmers. Those big doe eyes that haunted his daydreams and clung to him closer than his own aching heartbeat in his ears.
"No, don't cover your face! I want to see you. I want to gawk at you," Jisung insisted, Minho listening to his request as he watched the camboy shove his hands down on the purple velvet beneath him. Fishing around him, hoisting the fallen fabric long slipped off of him, wrapping himself tightly up in the silky touch as if he was a burrito. A cozy little burrito, snuggling down into the concealment as he kept looking over Minho, keep glancing him up and down, taking him in during the tranquil silence passing between them. He wiggled a bit, another bite of his lips muting his words, "I want to meet you. I want to touch you too. Ugh, fuck, you're probably breathtaking in real life."
Minho admitted, "I want to meet you too."
"Can we...? I mean, we're both adults. We can make stupid choices. I trust you."
"We can, but, you have to agree to something," He held his fingers up to the camera, counting his requests off as he spoke, "No name. No pictures, I don't want any pictures of me, under any circumstances. I want to keep my privacy even if I'm meeting you."
"Trying to stay as anonymous as possible. Do you want to meet at my place then?"
"Letting a shady person into your house?"
"Mhm! I trust you," The camboy nodded eagerly to him. He wiggled again, drawing the blanket farther up over his shoulders as he bubbled, "If you were a shady person you would have already done something to me. You already know my name, you already know my address, you already know everything about me. If you wanted to hurt me you would have already done it a month ago."
Minho leaned forward onto the desk, closer to the laptop as he worried, "You're very trusting."
"Only to you. Trust me when I say that. You just... You make me feel comfortable, Bunny. I feel like I can trust you," Jisung hummed back to him, sending him a fast smile from the other end of the screen, the brief gesture enough to settle a reassurance into the older. The look enough to make him believe the younger was being honest, making him trust in the shimmery eyes that stared so softly at him, "I'll let you know when you can come over, okay?"
Before he could answer, Jisung gulped down another sharp breath.
"Fuck, you really are stunning."
Minho laughed softly, "I'll see you soon?"
"Very soon."
"This is a stupid choice, I hope you know that.
"I do. This is the dumbest thing I've ever done. So, let's make that stupid choice together. We're both dumb."
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