Let's get a few things straight.
One,
Jisung is cute as fuck. Babygirl. Changbin would be jealous if he knew this boy existed. They could have a battle for the best babygirl.
Two,
Jisung is a dangerous weapon of mass destruction when he finds out what buttons to press. And Minho had no idea his name could sound so beautiful until he heard the way it slipped from his tongue their next few meetings.
Thr—
"Hold this."
A stuffed animal slammed into Minho's face.
He laughed gently, catching the descent of the animal before he held it in front of him. The beady eyes staring back. Judging him as he held the stuffie delicately in his hands. Yes, this pastel blue tyrannosaurus rex with squishy talons and more marshmallow stuffing to fluff it up than the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, was identical to the stuffed animal he helped Felix in picking out for his friend's birthday around a year ago. Briefly, Minho assumed that both Jisung and Felix's friend were enthusiasts for stuffed animals, based off the few he had in his bedroom. Not many, just one or two here and there, including the dinosaur he was holding in his hands. Which, him being an enjoyed of stuffed aninals somehow was fitting for the camboy. More fitting than the more sensual exterior he tried to wear.
Was it childish? Absolutely, not. If anything, Minho thought the stuffies were fucking cute. He was honored when, a few nights ago when they were both coming down off that dream-like ecstacy thundering their hearts and clouding their minds with an unaltered bliss, Jisung decided to introduce him to his collection. Yes, introduce him. As in, show him each of the pillowy animals with his adorable little sweater paws pointing out their names, their interests, their birthdates, their ranking in which is the most cuddly, and which is most likely to crave the taste of blood, in which apparently the horse stuffie Mr. Scoots craves problems constantly.
Anyway, not the point.
Point was, Minho was holding the dinosaur plushie while they were... Doing whatever they were doing, which was currently joking and quipping back and forth while Jisung cleaned his bedroom up from the mess he made before streaming a few hours prior. Turning his eyes off of the stuffed animal and back to Jisung, who was scooping the mustard yellow hoodie Minho threw off of himself and onto the desk in the bedroom when he first walked through the door. The camboy hurriedly slipping himself inside the hoodie as it's color dwarfed him away, consuming him, devouring him entirely while he waddled around the room. Head popping up from the neckline with a small mewl of surprise tugging the fabric down, hair now tussled and messy from the hoodie, sticking everywhere with the static springing the strands eclectically.
Holding the tyrannous rex still while he watched Jisung bend over to grab a makeup brush off the floor, squeezing away behind his dresser to reclaim the runaway bristles trying to make a hasty escape to another realm. Enjoying the view he was given.
And subsequently being caught shamelessly checking him out when the camboy wiggled back out of the crevasse to continue his cleaning before he asked, "What color are my eyes?"
"Purple," Minho tossed and slapped the T-Rex into the fifth dimension, "Next question!"
"Don't slap Strawberry!"
"Oh, so I can slap you but not Strawberry."
"Stuffed animals don't have kinks?"
"Yeah... Strawberry though, he probably..." Minho trailed off, leaning back on the mattress as he propped himself on his side, an elbow digging down into the sheets beneath him.
Glancing to the dinosaur plushie now laid face down on the bedroom floor.
He scoffed, "Voyeuristic piece of shit."
Jisung sent him a look. Some semi-menaningful mix of a wordless 'seriously?', glare, and held back smile at the strange humor. Maintaining that eye contact as he slammed the make-up brush on his desk and playfully stomped to the plushie. Though he was subjected to the view of the dark hair clung to the back of his head, Minho's grin grew while he watched him walk through the strangely spacious room. Every time he tried to choke his smile down, his cheeks would burn. They would ache and long, wanting the pinching in his jaw to settle so could yield again to the blossoming feeling pooling in his ribs like a hot drink on an even hotter day as it sinks into his body. So they may prove and show off the foolish naivety Jisung brought back to him. So he may show off the grin that wanted to pull through. He tried to keep them down, he did try.
He tried to silence them behind a vacant gaze that trailed up and down the other sauntering through the room. Jisung had a sway to his step and a rebound to his heels, a gliding grace as he stepped which was intoxicating to watch. His hips would gently move from side to side which accented the dainty glow of his waist hidden by the hoodie. Whenever he had to pass by a ledge threatening to knock him over, he would simply shift on the ball of his heel, the rest of his body following suit in a silk-like ripple.
The camboy ripped the plushie off the ground.
Marched to Minho.
And forced the stuffed dinosaur out to him.
"Apologize."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, do it," Jisung thrusted the dinosaur's big schnozzle into the hacker's face.
"But Strawberry gets to watch you undress every single day and I am very jealous of him!" Minho whined up to the younger's sweet chuckles. Gradually prying the dinosaur out of his hands as he set it down gently beside him on the mattress, ensuring that neither of them would accidentally knock the plushie off the edge. Coming to hold delicately onto Jisung's wrist as he fought back his own gentle laughs with a bitten bottom lip and a twitching smile, Minho started to pull the camboy to him, toward him from where he stood at the side of the bed, Jisung gladly listening as he crawled to him, "He also gets to cuddle you, and get kisses from you, and be loved by you, and probably, gets to sit up and watch scary movies with you, and get to be wrapped in your arms, and wake up next to you, and—"
Jisung promptly shut him up with a kiss.
Gentle, lips lingering on lips to move in their rhythmic delay. Shutting off Minho's train of thought as he fell into the bliss of the other's touch. Playful, like riding scooters through the suburbs he grew up in at dusk when he knew he should have been home for dinner long ago, piggyback rides on Chan's back after house parties turned to ravers and his head wished to leave him throwing up in the gutter before he took his ataxia seriously, the tight hair ties he kept on his wrist while he refused to cut his hair in those hot days, hula hooping for hours in the backyard while he refused to give up the challenge of how long he could keep the plastic circling his hips, rashes on his glossy top lip from freezing popsicles in the summer, orange cream soda hair while the breeze brushed his strands back.
The breeze, now Jisung's hands that combed his hair back from his forehead with raking nails tingling his nerves alive. Hesitating, tangling up in the back while Minho cupped the side of the younger's face, gripping onto the space below his ear in the kiss to sink deeper into his lips. And, desperately, tried to keep the support of his elbow steady so their weight wouldn't topple them both over. So he wouldn't have to break from the bliss that was Jisung's kisses; The same feeling from him that those late summer nights used to give him.
Both of them having to pull away. Coming up from beneath their dazed affection to gasp for air as they were left breathless.
Allowing their moment to suspend gently between them. Minho, refusing to let go of the gentle grip he kept on Jisung's neck? Jaw? Ear? What would this placement be called, anyway? His palm sinking into the thundering of the veins in his throat as he swallowed down loose breaths, his fingers dancing in the gentle maroon tint of the midnight hair, dancing waltzed steps along the line of his ear in his thumb and the nape of his neck on his other fingers. Simply, memorizing him. Soaking him in. Drinking him. Bit by bit, trying to imprint how the younger felt on his hands. His curiosity being returned by Jisung releasing the strands of hair, coming to glide his fingers over the older's cheeks, cheekbones, jaw, his nose, his gaze following every trailed path they blazed like wildfire on his anticipating skin.
But Minho choked up, murmuring back to those lingering lips as he joked, "Love, if you touch my face with your hands I'm going to get pimples."
"I can touch you elsewhere then," The camboy uttered back to him.
"Like...?"
Jisung suddenly shoved his hands underneath Minho's shirt, squeezing gently at the bit of squish on his navel as his eyes glittered and he raved, "Like your cute little stomach!!! So adorable!"
And another kiss.
Another that tipped him a little harder, pressed a little more into him as his bottom lip was sucked and nibbled gently by the younger.
And as his arm beneath him gave out with the uncomfortable angle, collapsing both of them as the kiss broke for the second time. Minho flopping back onto the cozy bedsheets, simply opening his arms to be invaded by the other as Jisung gave up and readily snuggled atop him. Body to body. Jisung close enough that he could feel the intrusion of the hoodie strings and the metal tips closing them off pressed into his chest, close enough that he was able to slide a hand down to the younger's back to balance him as Jisung dangled on a forearm, the hand that slid on his stomach beneath his shirt peacefully causing him to squirm. If the camboy noticed how badly he was trembling, whether with excitement or with anticipation, he couldn't tell. But his face felt warm, and his hands refused to stay still on one place. Sliding up and down the spine.
He was sure Jisung could feel how his heart scurried and scampered, skittering and springing in circles like the continuous turn of a record scratching against the pointed tip of a needle, stuck on loop in the moment as his face burned with the same fever his quivering extended to the end of his hands gripping onto Jisung.
Whether he did notice that heart betraying how the hacker started to accept how he felt about the slimmer man, he didn't vocalize. He didn't flinch. Blink twice. Didn't bother to pretend either of them felt more about the position they were in, or what they were doing, as Jisung just slipped his hand out from underneath the shirt. Rearranging himself to scoot up, flopping down with a heavy sigh as he admitted to the older pulling him to sit more normally from the strange perpendicular intersection they were keeping, "You make me feel all squishy."
"Squishy?" Minho repeated.
"Yeah. Squishy. Warm."
"You're so cute."
"Hm?"
"I said you look like a boot."
The camboy laughed a bit, his arms pressing him away as he came to look down at Minho gripping him. Squishy grin. Beautiful grin that puffed his already marshmallow cheeks Minho wanted nothing more than to bite into. That smile, more of that feeling, but differently. A smile like the sweet but bitter homely hearth of bonfires crackling in the night, sparklers lit up as their sparks echoed long in the fizzling pops they escaped off of, dancing late into the night with barefeet exposed after long abandoning tied shoes up on telephone wires, iced tea mixed with lemonade tangy but addicting to his tongue, driving too fast on empty highways while the windows were rolled down, that's what Jisung's smile felt like. It felt like nostalgia, memories, summer days, summer nights, getting lost in the pouring rain, causing harm which never lasted, broken hearts and fearful promises.
A body pressed against his. Guided hand through unknown territory he wandered with a curiosity only that camboy could satisfy with those sparkling eyes daring him to step farther into a wonderland he would never know. Sink farther into a rabbit hole he was forbidden from entering once he already tripped far into it's presence. Taking a chance on him, on his words, his mind, those glittery little eyes and a life pressed off from the ground to fly gently with a warm breeze rapturing them from their fears and worries. That, regardless of the thorns and bramble built up in rose gardens, unfamiliar glows from mushrooms threatening to spill their secrets, hidden pathways along the dark night, he could find his way. He could find his way home in this wonderland, this paradise, and he could thrive within their tickling clock banging against his skull.
"I'm kidding," Minho broke his exterior with a grin and wiggled them both a bit, hugging him tighter as he scooted farther back on the wrinkling bed sheets so neither of them would have to fall of the edge. Jisung finally coming to adjust himself to lay parallel with the older instead of the conch shell curl he was bundled up into. Minho admitted, "I said you look cute."
Through that admittance, he could still feel the pounding of his heart and the unsettled nerves from his fingertips.
The touch that glided over his stomach still felt alive as he wished for it's comfort to return.
And where he held the other, he felt the burn of the touch. His hands held onto his sunlight, spilling over his palms and fingers. He could never hold forever onto that slipping light. No matter how much he wished he could.
But Jisung suddenly sat up. Cautiously, his knees bumping into Minho's ribs and encapturing the fabric of his oversized shirt down to the mattress. Stapling him. Keeping him down, unable to sit up as well even if he wished to (Which, he didn't, you FOOLS! He was being sat on by a famous camboy, you absolute MONGREL, why would he disrupt this euphoria????). Regardless of the weight making it slightly more difficult to breath as he adjusted his head back on the sheets. Jisung fumbled with that disgustingly beautiful shade of yellow fabric, hoodie sleeves being pulled down around his hands again into concealing hiding spots. Sweater paws. Sweater paws that fidgeted together as the camboy refused to make eye contact again, "Can... you..."
"Hm? Tell me," Minho tried to prompt him, hands gripping at his hips to keep them from shifting too much. He had more matters to focus on, such as what was causing the younger to suddenly retreat into his mind while he was usually bold, rather than how good it felt to feel suffocated underneath the other's weight while he shifted, and he knew Jisung shifted when he got nervous. Not the time. Don't be horny. Don't be horny. He pinched again at his hips, "It's okay. Talk to me."
"Can... I know... I know our relationship is, ummm... It's for sex. I'm for your pleasure," Jisung stammered and stuttered, stumbling over his own tongue as if or was foreign to his lips. The words which wanted to come out obviously not cooperating with him as he tried to spit the thought out as best as he was able to. Hands continuously spinning around themselves, pulling, tugging, fidgeting, forcing the fabric into twisted messes over his fingers as his teeth dug into his bottom lip. Digging, digging deep as his eyes darted around the room, "B-but is it okay if... I just, I've been, thinking about it... And I'm, I'm, I'm kind of tired, and... And, I know it's not... So you can, you can say no. We can, we don't have to."
Minho stayed quiet.
Waiting for him to find the courage in his huffed breaths to say what he needed to.
Waiting patiently, regardless of his own nervousness at the sudden shift in behavior.
A good thing? A bad thing? Something different?
Why was he so anxious?
"Can... Can you hold me?"
"Hold you?" Minho repeated to himself. Trying to process the request in his mind while he watched the nervousness on the other's usually assertive features. They had cuddled before, but not without the prerequisite of railing first. And not for very long, not long enough for either of them to mean anything by the affection. But, here Jisung was, asking for that closeness. To be sure he didn't mishear the request, Minho tried to clarify through the pure excitment flushing through his body at the chance to be close to him, "Like cuddles? Spooning?"
The camboy's seemed to search for something else for a moment, somewhere far in the room.
But he nodded.
"Of course I can. I can hold you tonight," Minho immediately agreed, cautiously shifting himself without being too vehement in the joy jabbing him in his heart at the chance to just admire him. To hold him close without strings or a need for something more. He slapped the bedsheets beside him, "Here, lay down."
"Is it okay if we do this?" Jisung wondered as he sunk down to the mattress.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because, I'm not..."
The camboy trailed off.
But he didn't miss the distance which grew in his falling eyes.
And he didn't miss the vaguely scared glimmer which flickered through them.
Be gentle with him.
Minho noted to himself as Jisung settled on his side, staying still as he allowed the hacker to bundle him up. Arm underneath his head as a pillow, the other wrapped over him like a safety harness baring him off. The palm Minho pressed into him pulling his back into his chest, the curled body easily slotting into his as if they were a set of cogs meant to fit against one another to function. His hand quickly being curled up while they settled, snatched by the feeling of cold fingers settled in a warm hoodie playing with his fingers as a gentle breath spilled over the pillow of his forearm.
Bliss.
Perfection.
But Minho made sure to hold him. Balanced between warm and loving, but not suffocating.
For some reason, he looked scared of this.
He scooted himself a little closer, the gentle breaths from the camboy bumping his spine down the older's sternum.
Be careful.
His mind echoed as he felt the tension in the other's muscles keeping him perfectly still.
Though that eventually eased out.
Jisung gradually melting in his arms as the moments went on. Minho's own happiness with the situation overbubbling as he had the opportunity to be in that warmth. Easing back into him, the camboy whispered, "Can you stay? Until the morning?"
"I can stay and hold you like this until the morning. I want to stay like this."
"You'll be here in the morning?"
"As many mornings as you want me."
"Minho."
"Hm?"
Jisung quieted.
Nothing but his gentle breaths spilling as he nuzzled closer to the older behind him.
The rising of his chest.
The falling.
The hitching.
How his sweater paws lifted to cover his face, even if he thought Minho wouldn't notice the redness they hid as the fabric muffled him, "Never mind."
"What's wrong?" Minho frowned, trying to ease him as he lifted to press a kiss to his shoulder, "You can talk to me. Are you uncomfortable?"
Jisung shook his head.
"Are you hurt?"
Another shake, still buried beneath his hands.
"Do you want me to let go of you?"
A weak, "No."
And the nearly whispered follow-up that caused Minho's heart to shatter,
"Just... Just don't let go of me yet. Please don't let go yet."
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