Holy fucking Hell.
That was the only thought circling through Jisung’s head. Because there was no way the man before him was not the devil.
Minho was dressed in the tightest leather pants Jisung had ever seen, and he had half a mind to think Minho had stolen a pair of his with the way his boyfriend’s solid thighs were straining against the material. His shirt was a sheer black lace, cinched at his waist with a series of belts that crossed over his shoulders too. His deep blue hair had been styled just the right amount of messy, fanning to one side of his forehead. The faint glitter adorning his eyelids accentuated his long thick lashes, highlighting where they fluttered in feigned innocence. Finishing up the look was his lips; glossed pink and curled into an uneven smirk, the left side of his mouth lifting higher than the other.
Jisung shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his knees drawing together and his hands coming to rest suspiciously on his lap. He felt unbelievably subpar to the ethereal being taking up a position at his makeshift stage, Minho waiting for the beat to start while his eyes graced the younger man watching him. Said eyes crinkled with mischief and his smirk grew when his gaze drifted from the faint blush on Jisung’s cheeks down to the hands placed precariously over his crotch. Jisung was seriously regretting wearing such flimsy sweatpants tonight.
When Minho said he’d planned a surprise for Valentine’s day he was not kidding, and Minho hadn’t even started dancing yet and Jisung could feel his mind growing fuzzy with need and want. He thought ‘surprise’ would just mean cheesecake and sex. It usually meant cheesecake and sex. Sometimes even cheesecake during sex. He was a simple man. Minho knew that and was more than willing to accommodate those simple wishes.
The way the heavy bass started resounding in their bedroom room, Minho moving with it too, had Jisung wondering if maybe he was too simple. Because looking at the leather belts wrapped against Minho’s skin – skin barely hidden under the black lace – made Jisung wonder what he would look like all tied up with those restraints and more. Then his mind marvelled at what it would feel like being all tied up in leather, helpless under Minho’s control.
He gulped and pressed his knees tighter together.
The melody started to mix in with the low, seductive bass and Jisung felt like he might melt when he watched Minho’s hands travel down his own body, trailing down his thighs while he sunk to his knees in a sensual drop. He rolled his body a few times in the air and then grinded down against the floor. Jisung felt himself biting his lip to try and keep himself grounded. But his heart rate was rising, and his breath was growing shallow as Minho started stalking towards him.
He was prey.
He knew it. Minho knew it.
He was a helpless woodland creature and Minho was a jaguar looking for a meal.
The high sound that escaped his throat under that predatory gaze confirmed as much.
Then suddenly there was a warm body on his lap, hips grinding down on his. Minho’s hands pulled on Jisung’s arms to settle them on his waist and Jisung’s immediate instinct was to hold tightly onto the soft skin, his fingers finding their way under the lace shirt. Then Minho’s hands continued to dance down his own chest while he rolled his body in time with the music. At this angle, looking up at the surreal man writhing away on his lap, Jisung was struck by three things.
One, Minho was the most handsome man he had ever laid eyes on and he could spend all day kissing along his sharp jaw.
Two, he was so woefully in love with this man, completely and utterly whipped.
Three, he could see Minho’s nipples through the lace and fuck he wanted to bite one.
He didn’t get a chance to though because the song built up again and with the change in rhythm a pair of lips found his, devouring to his core. Minho’s mouth was possessive and intoxicating and Jisung was downright powerless to the way his body responded. He was sure he was moaning too now. But the song was loud enough - or the blood rushing through his ears was enough – such that he couldn’t hear his whimpers over the way his heart thumped along with the increasing beat.
Minho’s mouth found his jaw and neck and collarbones, nipping as he never stopped his incessant rolling. Jisung couldn’t help rutting his hips up too now, chasing his high because Minho had him so unbelievably needy. He was sure he could come without the other even undressing him right now. Especially when Minho’s hands finally moved from his own body to Jisung’s, pressing in all the right spots to make the younger squirm.
The beat changed again.
It was building. Building more than it had that whole night. And Minho’s actions doubled with it. Jisung knew he’d be seeing stars soon. So close. So, so, close.
Jisung never got the chance to test his touch-free theory.
Because the build came to an end, and when it did, Minho threw his head back and arched his body as the beat dropped. Jisung would have thought he looked euphoric . . . If his orgasm hadn’t been stolen from him with the way his stomach dropped instead.
Jisung was slack jawed, completely frozen in surprise.
Minho righted himself from his arched pose, with the largest shit-eating grin on his face and his shoulders shimmying along with the new funky beat.
Jisung felt himself physically deflate as the words of the song registered in his ears,
“Wow. . . She’s hot.”
Jisung was right about one thing tonight.
Minho was the devil.
Minho laughed as he watched the younger blush a deep red from the roots of his hair to below his collar. He was laughing so hard that he couldn’t fight against the younger man roughly shoving him off until he fell sideways on the bed. His guffaws only doubled when Jisung stomped to the doorway, throwing up his middle finger with a “Fuck you.” Before he fled down the hall.
Minho made a mental note to thank Chan for helping him with that song mix as he continued to giggle at the ridiculous lyrics blasting over the speakers.
Did he just cockblock himself tonight? Probably.
Was it worth it? Absolutely.