Chapter Text
"Do you want me to wear gloves?" Minho says, pulling a box out of his backpack. Black, the label says. Just like the jeans he's wearing, the t-shirt he's got on. The boots he took off. Jisung almost said he should keep them. He looked like he stepped out of Jisung's screen and onto his doorstep. Dark, intimidating, powerful. Like the pictures on his profile. But real, somehow. Jisung wasn't sure he would be. Too good to be true. Or maybe he was but he'd want Jisung to pay him. Jisung might have, honestly. Look at him.
Minho went barefoot instead, which was worse for Jisung's dick. Kneeling up on Jisung's bed, between his legs, feet tucked under him. He's still got the rest of his clothes on. Had Jisung take his off. Jisung's hard against his hip even though Minho hasn't touched him yet. He can't help it. He hasn't come in three days.
"Why?" he says. "For safety?" Minho was good about that. Made them exchange numbers, had Jisung text a friend. One of the most embarrassing things he's ever done, sending Felix Minho's information. Now he'll want to know everything about him.
"No," Minho says. "Well it could be. But some people just like them."
Jisung looks at the box. He's never thought about it. Maybe he's been watching the wrong porn.
Minho takes one out, slips his fingers in. "They like how they look," he says, pulling the latex tight. Stretching it over the heel of his palm, snapping it around his wrist. Jisung flinches. Minho grins. "Or feel." He rests his hand on Jisung's thigh. Touches him for the first time. Slides it up, up, inching towards Jisung's erection. The latex is smooth against his skin, cool, foreign. How would it feel around him. Just a little further and he'd find out. "They're good for medical stuff."
Jisung lifts his eyes. "Huh?"
"Playing doctor," Minho says, and Jisung pictures him, calm and clinical. Inspecting his patient. Jisung doesn't know how he's going to get through this. He's going to come as soon as Minho touches him. With anything. "What do you think?"
He looks back down to Minho's hand. It's so dark against his skin. He does kind of like that. Might like the way it feels, too. He doesn't know. He's lightheaded. Might lose the ability to pick soon. "What do you?"
Minho's fingers slide over his hip, to his side. Trace the last few letters of his tattoo. E-F-I. The artist had worn gloves like that. If it had been Minho for those eight hours, handling and marking him, Jisung would have been in trouble. "Maybe next time," Minho says, bringing his hand back, sliding the glove off his wrist.
Jisung's cock gives a twitch. Next time. He's not sure he's going to survive this one.
Minho pulls something else from his bag. "You will want this," he says. Lube, brand new. He's glad Minho brought his own. Glad he didn't grab the one from his drawer. He'd have to have Minho put the gloves back on. "We might be here a while."
It's good Jisung is lying down because he were standing he'd be swaying, losing his balance. "I don't know about that," he says, and he's not sure how loud it is. There's only ringing in his head. "It might be over fast."
"Yeah?" Minho pours some lube in his hand. "Sensitive?"
"Yeah." He always has been. One of the reasons he's had trouble with this. He wants to, he does. Draw it out, make himself wait. But he starts touching and before he knows it he's coming. "And it's been a few days."
Minho's hand wraps around him and Jisung's hips push into it. His other palm pushes them down. "Hold still," he says. His hand is still too, just loose around the base of Jisung's cock. "A few days since what?"
"Since-" Jisung curls his fingers in the bedspread. "Since we said."
Since Minho messaged him and Jisung thought it must be some kind of trick. That he was being catfished. Since Minho asked what interested him and Jisung rushed out bondage spanking humiliation praise edging choking, closed his eyes and hit send. Since Minho said that's a lot for a first time and do you want me to pick? Jisung didn't ask if he should hold off until today, he just did it anyway, wanted to wait for Minho. Wanted his next orgasm to come from him.
"So you haven't been touching," Minho asks, "thinking about this?" His hand slides up, and Jisung sucks in a breath. He doesn't even touch the head. Stops right below it.
Jisung shakes his head. He's so close already. This is going to be over so quick. "No."
"Do you do that a lot?" Minho's hand slides back down. "Hold off?"
"No, I'm not-" He loses even that train of thought as Minho's hand goes up again. Holds for just a second, falls back. Jisung swallows. Minho does it again, that same rhythm. Okay. Maybe he won't embarrass himself. "I'm not very good at it."
"Making yourself wait?"
Each slide of his hand is the slowest second. Tick. Tick. "Yeah."
"Not very good at this either, are you?"
Embarrassment curls inside him, numbs his tongue. Thank god they're down to yes or no questions. "No." He's so bad. He wants to do it, he does. Sit in the heat of it, let it build in his belly, his cock. Stroke himself right to the edge and stop. Whine as the denial roils through him. Wait to touch again.
He wants it. But he can't make himself. He likes to come so much. He needs someone who won't let him.
"Can't control yourself." The humiliation burns in his belly, spreads all through him. He can't. "That's why you need me to."
His hand glides all the way up, past the head this time, and Jisung lets out an airy whine. "Ohgod," he says, trying so hard not to buck into him.
"You are sensitive," Minho says, speeding up the slightest bit. "Don't worry. If you come too fast I'll make you go again."
Jisung feels it then, drawing up inside him. "Please," he says. "Please." Minho's strokes get shorter, just up around his head, and there, like that-
Jisung has edged before. He hought he had. Peak and back off, right? Peak and back off. Makes the orgasm better. It has, when he's managed. But it wasn't like this. Like some kind of hollow place opening inside him. He looks at his cock, throbbing, flushed and wet, and it doesn't feel like it belongs to him. And they're only just starting.
"That was good," Minho says. "Again?"
Jisung nods. Looks up at him and back down at his cock, Minho's hand circling him. It's small. His knuckles are bruised, cut. Minho never said what he does for work. Whatever it is, there's no question he can handle himself. Handle Jisung.
His next three pumps are quick, rushing Jisung to the edge, so fast he forgets he won't be going over it. He reaches out when Minho stops, tries to finish himself off, but Minho catches him, holds him away from the ache of his cock.
"Careful," Minho says. "Don't make me have to tie you up."
The spasm in his belly is so strong it hurts. He has to look away, shut his eyes. Think of Minho tying his hands over his head, behind his back. Doing whatever he wants and Jisung can't stop him.
"You like that idea," Minho says. He knows that. It was on Jisung's list. It shouldn't feel like he's just discovering it. Shouldn't be this humiliating.
Minho's hand lies flat on his abs, thumb and forefinger framing his cock. "If you're good," he says. "I'll do that next time."
Jisung's knees draw up. He can't help himself. Next time. Minho coming with cuffs, with rope. What would he use. Jisung doesn't care as long as he gets something to pull against and know he's not going anywhere.
Minho's fingers start to settle around the base. "Wait!" Jisung's toes curl. He's too close. He doesn't want to ruin this for himself. Just a brush of Minho's hand and falling unpleasantly over the edge.
Minho's hand goes flat again. "Good boy." Jisung doesn't know if he'll ever be able to handle Minho touching him.
"Sorry," Jisung says, because this isn't the way this is supposed to go, is it? This can't have been what Minho wanted when he messaged him.
"It's okay," Minho says. Just his thumb grazes the base of Jisung's cock again. Jisung whines. "I could do this all night."
Jisung has to cover his face. He can't just say that. He can't believe Minho's even looking at him. Ever looked. That he found Jisung's embarrassment of a profile and messaged him. When Minho looks like, like, god. Like a wet dream. Someone he conjured up to do this to him.
Minho's fingers catch around him. Jisung watches them dragging up, under the head. His whole hand circling, staying. The tip so red. He'll come if Minho touches it. Puts his mouth on it. His soft lips and his crooked teeth. Maybe if he begs. Minho said he liked that.
The pad of Minho's thumb rests at the underside of his head. Rubs along the frenulum. Jisung feels like he's walking along the water line, gentle waves inside every time. "Minho," he sighs.
"You like that," Minho says, as lazy as his thumb moving over him.
"Yeah," Jisung breathes. He feels hypnotized, catatonic. Floaty. Close, suddenly. "Oh-"
Minho stops. Jisung's heart pounds through his body, his head. The emptiness is nice. What if he stayed like this all night.
"You're doing so well," Minho says, touching his thumb down again. "I'll get you there, don't worry." He draws spirals under the tip, wet from Jisung leaking on it. "When I'm ready."