Han Jisung, a struggling music producer, is completely smitten by a handsome, cold bar back by the name of Lee Minho. He hates the way Minho makes him feel, and after learning about Minho's past, Jisung wants to hate him even more, but can't help ho...
There is a lot of discussion about cheating in this chapter, along with non-explicit sexual content with arguments/yelling, lots of cursing, and confrontation. Please do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.
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Jisung can feel Minho's hot breath against his skin, sucking kisses with grazing teeth as they leave bruises on his lower neck. He's carefully grinding on Minho, hands struggling to remain complacent as they move from his thighs to the back of Minho's neck, trying his best to stay upright as the elder moves with him.
It's achingly slow, tender; everything Minho wanted as he set the pace, holding Jisung by his waist shamelessly. Minho's teeth grab at Jisung's skin feverishly, licking long stripes down his throat and over his collarbones, pressing kisses to his chest and ears, grinding upwards and into him, listening to the bundle of noises that escape the back of Jisung's throat.
"Y-Yes, hyung." Jisung's head tilts back, leaving Minho more access to paint his throat in purple bruises.
"Tell me–" Minho groans against Jisung's skin. "Tell me how good it feels."
Jisung is tilting with the Earth on its axis, pooling with lust and pleasure all at once. He bites his tongue, forehead beading with sweat as he tries to quiet the noises building in his chest. If Minho was still wasted, Jisung sure as hell couldn't tell.
"Use your words, Jisungie."
"Oh my god–" Jisung breaks, tilting his head back down, forehead greeting Minho's. "It's s'good, Minho-hyung. I–. . . fuck. I like you so fucking much."
Minho was too drunk to care about the lingering confession sitting at the end of Jisung's words, swallowed whole by the urge to pin Jisung to the bed and paint him in bruises only he could see.
"You want me to take over?" Minho asks almost endearingly, words laced with lust. Jisung groans again, thighs burning from the consistent ache of grinding down onto Minho.
"Please–" Jisung feverishly nods. "Just want you. Just want you s'bad."
Minho readily switches them, laying Jisung on his back quickly, drunkenly moving to find Jisung's hands. Jisung complies, holding his hands above his head just for Minho to pin them there.
Jisung was drunk on wanting Minho, pleading for him to start moving with babbling words.
"Shh, Jisungie," Minho coos with a drunken laugh. "They're gonna hear you."
