Jisung laughed gently.
Carefully, a step crossed over the other, untwisting as that outfit presented itself so beautifully to the hacker relaxing on the younger's coffee table After a long (Exactly two seconds) debate over whether or not Minho wanted to see the outfit he had worn on the previous stream, Jisung had adorned himself with that thin gold chain looped around his waist like the glimmering leaflets of paint sparkled along his body, fluorescent gems, speckled like freckles along his bare chest, having settled for fitting the chains over a bare chest despite the comfy sweats he wore on his hips. Framing that lithe body. Eclipsing him in empyrean divinity. A god. An idol, something to be loved, held delicately, worshipped. Spinning around himself, time and time again to show off the outfit to the only spectator viewing him.
The only spectator seeing him as he was, like this.
These soft little giggles and pronounced laughters leaving his chest whenever Minho made a fast comment, quips that danced with the sparkles in his eyes and the tiptoed balanced of his spinning steps shyly showing off the body chain to him. Twinkles from the moving metal colliding on his skin, dazzling like heavenly chimes sprinkled in a breezy summer day; Honey dripped on watermelon slices cubbed to be pressed between parted lips, iced drinks cooled on park benches to pair with that refreshing fruit in all it's fine excellence, the intimacy of resting underneath the golden of that powerful sunlight with the most beautiful person to love. To hold delicately in his hands, even if he couldn't leave his apartment, Minho would have loved to take him to enjoy the heated days.
Whatever.
It's fine, no problem.
If he couldn't go out, Minho just had to bring that warmth to him. Either way, as long as he was with that camboy, he really didn't give a shit where they were or what they were doing.
How else had the opportunity to see him like this, all doe eyes and comfy clothes, being eased in the solitude of the midnight, cute little steps that bounced his hair, not doing anything besides feeling high off the artificial drug another's presence could be, anyway? His viewers? Nope. Chan, Changbin? Those fiends were heathens. HEATHENS. They wouldn't know being domestic and comfortable with another person if it spat in their faces. Felix? HAHAHAHAHAHA. As if. Minho was the only one who got to see Jisung like this; Relishing in a wave of paradise on his lips, the sunlight he could create with the faintest of his smiles. Taking them to the sun, beyond, past the horizon and through the stars, a brilliance he could never catch as much as he wished to follow after.
With another beam down to Minho, Jisung spun once more. Chains splaying out, rustling as they were disturbed from him like Arcadian feathers, an afterglow haloed around him as he came closer to the hacker with timid steps. His habit, biting into the bottom lip Minho found himself desiring to sink into during the day, during the night, he just wanted to kiss the man. He just wanted to kiss the hell out of him, hold him delicately in hugs, cuddles, even if he knew he wouldn't be able to stay without having to go farther. Even if he knew, he couldn't have those intimate moments, Jisung made that clear enough and Minho was determined to respect those boundaries, he still desired it in his mind. He still wanted to treat him like gold. Golden sunlight, asking him timidly, "Do you like it?"
"I do, it makes me happy," Minho admitted with a nod. His own uncontrollable upturn of his lips coming about him as he let each spin wind himself deeper into the other's dizzying traps. Layed out perfectly to keep snagging him by his cheeks, dragging him back to that apartment no matter the distance he had to that room, playing him like the foolish romantic he was to believe the grin on the camboy's face meant something.
Meant more than the beam of a hook-up anticipating when neither of them could withstand the distance the intoxicating poison begged for them to sever. But, wasn't that the truth? Jisung was popular, well-known, camboy. He always performed. Always grinned, simpered, challenged, he knew how to hook an audience and keep them on his line while he strung them along. Minho was no different. Where Minho paid in his hacking skills keeping that sunlight from being burned, the cookies he frequently baked for him, the few times he stayed a moment more to clean up, cuddle for a while before leaving (Yes! Aftercare! Finally! Which, Minho quickly learned Jisung loved to shove his nose into his neck and breathe there for a while. Something about how he smelled being comforting? But, shit it made all of this harder.). Minho paid, the same as everyone else. The same as his viewers, his followers.
To knock the depressing thoughts away from plaguing his mind, Minho stretched his hand out to the camboy. A palm that was happily taken up in delicate fingers which set down, curling into him, allowing the older to pull the camboy closer to where he sat on the edged lip of the coffee table. Grip leaving once the camboy's hands tangled up in his shoulders. Warmth from the fists bundled in the fabric of his hoodie radiating down, filling him with that demure tenderness he was infatuated with. Embracing him with those infectious glows as he let his hands slip on the smooth skin of the younger's chest and stomach. Fingers which asked for permission first, before palms met as well when Jisung gave him a fast nod. Beneath his fingertips, how addicting that man felt, no matter how many times he touched him.
Feeling him, learning him for who his body was, rather than who he was. Who the camboy, Cheshire was. Not Han Jisung. Part of him loving the faint breaths and giggles that slipped from the other as he looped his fingers in the chains and slipped his touch beneath their links. Part of him hating that he couldn't hear those adoring bubbles under any other circumstances. The rest of him, completely crumbling in Jisung's hands, simply satisfied with being this close to him, this addicted to him, this lost within the beautiful feelings he gave him in such a short amount of time knowing who he was.
"Bunny," Jisung shifted on his heels a bit, fingers dancing on the fabric off his hoodie as Minho purposefully brushed over a sensitive spot on the center of his sternum he had quickly memorized early on juuuuuuuust to be a shithead. Just for the tease and pleasure the simplest swipes to that spot could bring that adorable man. Just to relish and mentally snicker at the airy giggles leaving the younger's mouth as he shined. Glowing so delicately in his hands, a precious soak of sunlight on his hands while he bubbled up, "That tickles."
"What? Doing this?" Minho kept teasing. Kept roaming his hands. Bit by bit, his fingers he knew were a few temperatures below freezing judged off the younger's little squirms and breathy huffs from his nose paired in-between the giggles. He could do this; Siting on the edge of the coffee table, the camboy standing between his legs as they knocked together, hands on his shoulders running up and down their length as their euphoria accelerated in his veins; Every single day, night, week, month, rain or shine, every second, every hour, if it brought him the same drunk daze he was currently experiencing. Completely wrapped up, encased, and Infatuate with the camboy as he glossed his fingers over another sensitive spot, "Touching here?"
Jisung squirmed, a gasped breath leaving him, "Stop."
Minho immediately ripped his hands away to his lap, gaze focusing up to the other's expression as his heart sunk far in his chest.
Did I hurt him?
But only receiving a puzzled look replacing the younger's wide beam.
Did he not like it?
"Why did you stop?" Jisung blinked at him.
"You said to stop."
"No, no, I mean, it tickles! It tickles so much, I didn't mean for you to actually stop, I would've used my safe word for that, it just, tickled, I want you to keep touching me. If you're comfortable with that?"
Oh.
Minho stilled, staring back at those fond eyes looking down to him.
Oh!
Thinking for a second.
"Oh! Yeah, I just— You said stop. I mean, I know we have... Y-you know, you have a safe word but, I still don't..." The hacker stammered out. Struggled. Miserably as he could feel a heat sinking into the tips of his ears. The lock of his throat something he hadn't expected, nor experienced, for about as long as he was an adult. Suddenly feeling so small. Feeling so young again, naïve and innocent to the sly tricks of the adrenaline pumping world, inexperienced against someone who thrived off of lust and gluttony for a taste of intimacy. As he gently came to hold onto that perfectly sculpted waist, gently pulling the camboy closer until he could feel the other bumping into him, while he explained to those sparkly eyes, "I don't like pushing it. It doesn't make me comfortable to keep going when you say stop."
"You're so kind?" Jisung's eyes seemed to sparkle even more. Glimmering, as if he was starting up at the mystical wild's of an unfamiliar world to explore, portals filled with strange creatures frolicking in flower fields, gateways overgrown with tangling vines of lustrous argent hung above their hypnotized heads like mistletoe spun above lovers during the holidays. His hands released, coming to loop around Minho's shoulders, forearms bumping the nape of his neck as he squished him into some strange envelope. An embrace, holding him close together, "It's not fair. You're gonna make me fall in love with you."
Even if his heart pinched, collapsing down as the paradise they built around them fell away piece by piece,
Minho winked up, doing his best to joke despite the uncomfortable void forming itself where his heart should be thriving, "That might be the plan."
"Don't tease me like that." Jisung confessed, "If you start to tease me, I'm going to start believing you. And then, I'll never become tired of you. I can see you for a thousand years and still never have enough of you."
Minho swears he had never been as quiet before in his life, than he was at that moment.
What could he say? What could he say to those beaming eyes that would match the yearning he saw when he met them through the barrier of their relationship, they weren't supposed to be in love, what could he possibly say to their beauty that would match those words? What could possibly match how extraordinary they made Minho feel in that second, how it made him melt into the floor below but at the same time be spread amongst the sky into the clouds, how it made him feel seen against a world that only ever knew him as the second choice, the forgotten option, the lesser known, hidden figure watching from beyond. How could he possibly match how they made him feel? How could he possibly match how alive the camboy made him feel? What could he say to return those words? What could he tell him?
There wasn't anything to say, and if there was, then the words that would have equaled the same feeling had tangled into a tumbled mess within his throat. Even if he wanted to say them, he couldn't. Even if he wanted to tell the other how unusual yet liberated he felt when he was with them, how he wanted nothing more than to hold him, touch him, kiss him, think of him, be with him, he couldn't say any of that. For a multitude of reasons, he couldn't say it. The words became locked inside him. Stuck behind the same blockade that was currently separating them.
No feelings.
He couldn't say how he felt.
Not when he knew the camboy wouldn't return those feelings.
But still, he could hold him in his hands. He could treat him delicately. He could act as if he was owned by that camboy, as if his heart, mind, soul, belonged to him, ripped him his body and held on by a chained collar containing him within an arms length of that man. He could believe him, believe the tender look to his soft gaze, believe those words were meant to be more than a payment for the work he did for the camboy to keep him safe and secured against the monsters wishing to put out that light. He could enjoy the warmth of the arms wrapped around his neck, the waist in his hands, the ecstacy they gave him while he was suspended on a high. He could offer his shoulder, offer his life, his love. But only for this hour. Only for the few hours he spent with him. Only fake it. Only pretend. Only force himself to fake his words didn't mean anything while he purred, "Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."
Force himself not to break apart while the younger pressed their lips together, hardly lasting more than a second, maybe less, as the other's lips brushed onto his. But it was enough for him. It was enough for him to believe every emotion packed behind his eyes, just long enough for his own heart to explode in his chest as he felt the thundering of another heartbeat through his shirt. Just long enough for his body to tense and release, the fright and worry condensing before imploding into joy. He wanted to scream with happiness. He wanted to hell, holler, belt at the top of his lungs that his feelings were reciprocated, without a care of who would hear him. He didn't care who would see them, or hear, all that matter was he had Jisung. He could have him.
For these few hours.
And nothing more.
Minho suffocated any other feelings in his chest in an instant.
Echoing that thought in his mind as Jisung pulled away with a hum, tapping their foreheads together as he whispered, "I want you."
"Hmmm, I don't know. Do you really want me?" Minho teased him. Joking, jeering, in hopes to ease the pain in his heart wishing he meant more. Wishing he didn't mean it as a physical love, a physical attraction, a physical want. Wishing that they could have something more.
Wishing that Jisung was as hopeless for Minho as Minho was for Jisung.
But knowing that wasn't the truth.
That could never be the truth.
And he had to stop himself before he really did become too infatuated with him to turn back.
"Yes," The camboy breathed softly against him. His words lost in the audible hitch in his throat, the crack of his voice deep in his chest as Minho moved to press pecks into the bare skin of his chest. Carefully dodging the frozen metal of the golden chains with his lips, butterfly beats against everywhere he could reach while he rubbed his fingertips in circles along his hips. His waist. The band of the sweats he wore, that adorable white with hearts along the side which made Minho's heart do flips within his chest as if that could truly mean anything to him. To either of them. To believe wither of them could admit there was something which pulled them together, lacing them together like magnets. Jisung let another breathy note as he nosed along the older's jaw, his faint exhales blooming tickles along his skin, "Yes, I really want you. I want you to touch me."
"Okay," Minho leaned back, easily forcing the younger away as he released him. Hands in his lap. Body reclined back to make a distance.
Then, poked his arm.
Jisung beamed wide, "What are you doing?"
"Touching you."
"That's not touching me."
"Well, picky picky. You didn't give me any other directions, my love."
Minho froze.
Ah.
His heart stopping to a screeching halt in his chest as he realized what slipped from his lips.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me.
'My love'.
Did he hear that?
Cautiously watching to gauge the other's expression.
A relief washing over him as the younger laughed again. More of that addicting sound from the depths of his throat that eased Minho back into the other's presence. Eased him into the warm hands that came to cup his cheeks, came to take him to paradise as his head was tipped up, as his eyes came to connect with the camboy's. So perfect. So beautiful, soft palms soothing his skin, kissing into him, as he wished to do nothing more than melt away at the other's wide smile. His wide beams, his glowing. His soft words, his soft fingers, his soft everything, and how badly Minho wished to crumble apart in his hands. Wished to be someone to those doe eyes, wished to be paradise to that man he revered. Jisung squished his cheeks a bit, making Minho's lips turn into a duck bill as he asked, "Why are you like this?"
"Do you like it?" The hacker joked through the squeak of his puckered lips. His voice coming more strangled then he wished it to be as he kept himself in that hold, "I can be more..."
"Hm? How can you be?"
"Quiet. Mysterious."
"I like when you speak, though,I love your voice. I could listen to it every day. Every night. It's so soothing to hear. So gentle, but playful. Enigmatic and charming, but teasing. Like moonlight."
"I can be more dominating for you," Minho removed himself from Jisung's hands, grabbing up the wrists in one hand as he mocked, "Oh yeah, baby~ Be a good boy, and sTrIp FoR mE."
Visibly, Jisung's face scrunched up in a cringe, the hands Minho kept tied together in his grip limply flopping. Content with their placement, "Oh, that— that was awful. Awful. Don't ever say that like that again. But I like how you do it. I love that you're strong but... Soft. Soft and gentle, but assertive. It's perfect. You're perfect for me."
Perfect for me.
Minho choked up, the grip he kept on the younger's hands loosening as they slipped away.
No.
No, this isn't fair.
How could he keep pretending he saw Jisung as nothing more than a fuck buddy?
How could he, through these clandestine meetings and hours spent together, pretend he believed him to be nothing more than something to get off to?
He was perfect. In every way. And somewhere in those beautiful eyes in those late night hours, he could see the sunrise. Every sunrise and sunset, every summer day, come again with the passing seasons.
He thought he saw tomorrow.
He thought he saw every morning, day, and evening in the concentration of his eyes and the glimmer they held.
He thought he saw every yesterday, today, and tomorrow in the curl of his lips and the press of his fingertips on his skin.
He thought he saw every second, every minute, every hour, waiting in the hunch of his shoulders.
Jisung suddenly crouched down, knees hitting the floors beneath them as he called the older softly, "Bunny...? Is everything okay?"
He touched the bottom of the camboy's chin.
Slowly grabbing, wrapping his hands underneath his chin and jaw to pull him up.
To inspect those features so carefully.
To understand him as more than the man he knew him as.
Why Minho was so drawn into the other, he would never be able to understand. He would never be able to pinpoint what about Jisung caused his heart to flutter and his lungs to squeeze so quickly, so, so quickly, in the days they spent hardly knowing one another. It may have been that promise if mystery that alluded them. It may have been a gnawing feeling in his gut. It may have been any length of list of things that may have or may not have distinguished where the feeling arose from. From the emoticons in their first messages growing to learn one another, from the flourishing feelings in their phone calls connecting them through digital pixels and the speaker's in Minho's headphones, from their first failed meeting to their climaxed conclusion nights later, from the weeks that they met to slowly learn one another under the pretensed protection protecting them from a larger commitment, to now. That feeling started somewhere. And it grew.
Jisung swallowed, "Bunny?"
Bunny...
"Minho."
The camboy stilled.
His eyes slowly widening as his hands set on the coffee table to balance him from toppling over.
To allow him to come closer, ease between the older's knees, to let his eyes soften gently. Loosening, as he darted through the older's face. Head tipping. Tilting as that gentle curiosity let his eyes focus down to his lips.
The hacker corrected, "My name is Minho."
He didn't miss the hitch in his breath.
Or the fluttering of his eyelids as he stilled in the older's hands.
A silence coming between them as the settled into their own words.
Their own paradise growing around them.
Jisung leaned closer to him, moaning the breathy note of, "Minho."
The hacker nearly folded right then and there. Nicely bent over, would've bottomed right then and there. Fell miserably. Toppled over, flopped on his face, went dizzy with the younger's expression devouring him alive. Knees did not work. Stopped working entirely. Had to be put in rice. Rebooted. Turned off then on again. Alt-F4'd. Then never touched again.
He imagined what his name would sound like on the camboy's lips.
But he was not prepared for the bliss that shot him through the heart and left him for dead in the younger's hands right there and then. [A/N: Ha... Haha... :((((]
Melted while his mind raced,
aaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHDHHUSUHSJUAUZJAIZJSJWKSKZUUUAHAAHHHHH??????????????????????
"Don't... Don't say my name like that," Minho gulped. He was weak. Weak. Going loose against the eyes staring him down as he gripped desperately to the younger's jaw. The sweet little part in his lips. The escaping breaths and the eyes which sparkled with an oblivious blink go them. Wondering curiously up to the older, despite knowing exactly what he was doing. Minho scrunched his face up, teasing him gently as he rubbed their noses together, "You know what you did, you little shit."
And Jisung,
Being the little devil he was,
"Minho."
Did it again.
But deeper, farther in his throat.
But softer, gentler on his tongue.
"Okay, that's it," Minho sighed. Grabbing onto Jisung's arm to haul him up and away, "Come on."
The camboy sparkled, "To the bedroom?"
"To the bedroom. You need something to grip."
Jisung laughed softly, scurrying after Minho as he looped his arms around the older's waist. Chest hitting into back as they waddled along.
"Yay!"
《↑⇄↸↻⇂↬↖》
Sorry the update is a bit delayed this week :(
Also, question, at some point would you all like a chanlix or seunglix chapter? Or would you like to keep with minsung's relationship while hearing snippets of what's going on with the others, like it's been so far? I don't mind either way, it's not more work :DD Just depends on what you all want!