Chapter Text
When Seungmin makes it back home, he literally stumbles across his doorway, still out of it. He barely notices, only enough to catch himself, but he immediately hears Hyunjin’s laughter.
“Hard to walk after last night?” he jokes. He’s sitting on their beat-up couch, cross-legged and eating cereal. He’s tied his hair into two pigtails that Seungmin would tease him for under any other circumstances, even if he still manages to look unreasonably cute.
He doesn’t have the heart, now. Hyunjin’s comment, unexpectedly, leaves a feeling of dread weighing down his stomach, a sickening fluttering of his chest. Tears spring to his eyes, his face heats up, and he will do anything on earth not to have a breakdown in front of his roommate at 9 in the goddamn morning.
He tries for the pigtail jab. “Wilder night than you, huh, pigtails?” The gibe lacks some of its familiar fun, its teasing tone; Seungmin’s made himself sound too depressed, he realizes belatedly.
Mentally, he pans out how the next few minutes will go if he doesn’t get out of there: Hyunjin will ask if he’s okay. Seungmin will say yes. Hyunjin won’t believe him. Hyunjin will pester him for the truth. Seungmin will get frustrated. They’ll fight. They won’t talk all day. Hyunjin will edge into his room, pouty, later that night, maybe with a cup of ramyeon as a peace offering. They’ll pass out watching some drama, all forgiven and forgotten. Rinse and repeat with each poor decision that Seungmin makes.
Seungmin isn’t in the mood today, just wants to brush his teeth and turn the shower so hot that his skin scalds. Hyunjin opens his mouth to start the process; Seungmin cuts him off with a, “Sorry, man, just tired. Gonna go shower.”
Hyunjin clamps his mouth back shut and furrow his brows. In the end, he accepts it, and waves Seungmin off towards the bathroom.
Seungmin brushes his teeth as the shower reaches the appropriate, skin-melting temperature. He flings his shirt off, winces as he catches the dark bruise forming where his neck meets his shoulder. It looks like he’s been attacked—he has a flash of the night previous, staring blankly up at the ceiling while what’s-his-face from his English class attempts to eat him alive.
There’s something wrong with him, he concludes for the nth time in his adult life, to be so incapable of enjoying what is supposed to be a perfectly enjoyable thing.
He likes the idea of sex. It seems like a wonderful invention. Being so close to someone, experiencing such bliss… But every time Seungmin has tried it, he’s found himself counting down the minutes until it was done.
It’s not even his partners’ faults, he thinks. The guy he’d been with last night (Chan? he thinks vaguely) had been perfectly fine—better than fine. He was handsome, genuinely interested in Seungmin, and genuinely interested in his pleasure, as well. The handful of dates they’d been on beforehand had gone well. The second date had ended in a lovely time kissing and groping on Seungmin’s couch, the night he’d bribed Felix to take Hyunjin out, distract him.
So why had Seungmin hated sex with him so much?
Chan had offered to get Seungmin off the second he’d come down from his own high, but Seungmin had shaken his head, pushed him away with an apologetic smile. “You’re hard,” he’d murmured. “Let me help.”
Seungmin had shaken his head more firmly, insisting, “Let’s just kiss.” Chan had obliged, and Seungmin had felt too bad to tell him that he wasn’t the hugest fan of tongue. He should have, he knows, but it’s hard enough admitting to someone that you just want the sex to be over, even when his cock is hard.
God, he’s fucked up.
He’d not been disgusting by Chan, but he lets the shower burn away any trace of sex, any unsavory fluid or stench that might be tainting his body.
He feels better, more like himself, forty-five minutes later when he comes out in his own clothes, clean and fresh and hair still damp. He flops on the couch next to Hyunjin, who seems to be working on an art assignment for school.
“Whatcha painting?” Seungmin asks, letting his eyes fall shut. He feels exhausted now, the ordeal of his night having caught up to him.
“Ugh, more stupid still-lifes,” Hyunjin complains. Hyunjin’s professor has made them paint the most random of objects for his art class, and Seungmin has gotten to hear every complaint about it. He glances over at the coffee table; Hyunjin has set up his empty cereal bowl atop a few of Seungmin’s textbooks and scrutinizes it as he sketches.
“That can be your thing,” Seungmin suggests. “Just the guy who paints dirty dishes. You’re making a statement about… the futility of life. What’s the point in washing dishes, just for them to get dirty again?”
Seungmin is good at bullshitting; that’s why he studies literature, writes impossible papers about themes he pulls out of his ass. “I’m not gonna be the dirty dishes artist,” Hyunjin protests, though his eyes bounce nonstop between the sketchbook and the bowl as he sketches.
It’s as silent as it gets in the apartment, the only sounds Hyunjin’s pencils scratching out lines and Seungmin humming quietly as he stretches out, his feet in Hyunjin’s lap. It’s nice, it’s companionable, and Seungmin is suddenly grateful to have Hyunjin for a roommate, who knows how to leave him alone.
“So what was the deal with the guy?”
Nevermind Hyunjin leaving him alone.
Seungmin shrugs. “He’s nice. Too nice. I don’t think it’ll work out.”
Hyunjin snorts, rolls his eyes. “You’re complaining about a guy being too nice. The last guy was too boring, the guy before that chewed with his mouth open, then there was that guy whose hobby was chess, which is just too dorky… Aren’t you too picky, Kim Seungmin?”
Seungmin sinks into the couch, petulant. “I’ll settle for nothing less than perfect,” he whines, even as the same disgusting dread creeps into his chest. Chan had offered to cook him breakfast this morning; Seungmin had lied about having to work and dipped. He’s going to have to text him today, let him down, and he’s going to be so insufferably kind about it.
“By that logic, you should date me,” Hyunjin points out. He’s nonchalant, of course he is, the bastard. It’s far from the first time the topic had been broached.
The last time Hyunjin had had his heart broken, he’d crawled into Seungmin’s bed for comfort, sniffling, “I’ll just date you, you’d never do this to me.” Hyunjin has pretended to be Seungmin’s boyfriend when they spotted his high school ex at a club. Seungmin has fake-proposed to Hyunjin at a restaurant so they could split a free dessert.
In short, it’s nothing new.
“You’re older, you gotta buy me dinner,” Seungmin reminds him.
“I’m a starving artist,” Hyunjin says, not entirely joking, before focusing back on his sketch. There’s another blissful few moments of silence before Hyunjin tries again. “Not to harp, but you looked… not okay this morning. The guy didn’t, like, hurt you, right?”
It’s Seungmin’s turn to scoff. “Chan’s a gentleman,” he says sincerely.
“Chan? Australian Chan?” Hyunjin asks immediately, abandoning his sketch. Hyunjin has this annoying quality where, although he spends all day holed up in the art building on campus, he seems to know everyone. “You spent the night with hot, sexy, Australian Chan?”
“Shut up,” Seungmin implores. It’s too late to escape—Hyunjin has trapped him on the couch, caging him between his legs. “I’ve got to text him.”
Hyunjin gapes at him, incredulous. His hair is still in pigtails, and it looks ridiculous, but also incredibly cute. “You’re breaking up with Chan because he’s too nice?” Hyunjin sounds personally offended at the prospect.
No, I’m breaking up with him because, like always, it turned into sex and I just can’t do it. “Breaking up is a strong word,” Seungmin defends. “It’s not like we’re boyfriends.”
Hyunjin looks at Seungmin like he’s sprouted a second head, and Seungmin feels more acutely than ever that there’s something deeply, genuinely wrong with him. There’s nothing bad about Chan, of course. Seungmin had been ecstatic, if a little confused, when he had shyly asked him to go get coffee after their class.
His mood has soured now, and he pushes Hyunjin off of him. “I need to go to sleep, I think,” Seungmin mutters, and Hyunjin fails to make the obvious quip—Didn’t do much of that last night, huh?
He doesn’t say anything, actually, just watches Seungmin leave the room, looking concerned.
Chan is nice about it, because of course he is. It makes Seungmin feel worse, especially when he trudges into his English class on Monday and sees Chan nervously avoiding his eye.
But, time passes, Seungmin forgets the intensity of his aversion, rinse and repeat.
It’s Minho who introduces him to Jeongin, a friend of his from growing up. He’s visiting from Minho’s hometown, but Minho is unfortunately preoccupied with being whipped for Han Jisung, and fails to make time for his own friend.
So, it’s Seungmin who walks with him around campus, showing him around until Minho is done making sure Jisung finishes his history presentation. “Sorry Minho ditched you,” he apologizes. It strikes him that he shouldn’t apologize on Minho’s behalf, but he does it anyway. Jeongin probably deserves an apology, seems nice enough.
“Aw, I don’t mind, really,” Jeongin admits, kicking a rock. “Can’t complain, anyway. At least he left me with a handsome tour guide to show me around.”
Their tour ends in the men’s room, Seungmin pushed onto the counter of the sink to wrap his legs around Jeongin, attached by the lips. It’s fantastic, it’s hot. Jeongin’s grip on him is just hard enough, he smells nice, he can’t stop smiling into the kiss, which makes Seungmin’s heart pitter patter in a really obnoxious, dramatic way—
His tongue slips slowly into Seungmin’s mouth, giving him a chance to back away, and he does. “Sorry,” Jeongin apologizes immediately. “Didn’t wanna take it too far, just—”
“You’re fine,” Seungmin cuts him off, shaking his head. “Just—I like kissing you.”
“We were kissing,” he points out, and—oh. His smile is endearing. Dammit.
Seungmin comes up with a crack, it’s the only way to make it not awkward, not weird. Well, it’s not weird to Seungmin that he doesn’t like having other people’s tongues in his mouth, but he imagines other people might find it strange. “I don’t usually tongue near-strangers in men’s rooms,” he says instead, grinning at Jeongin.
He blushes, rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Me, neither, actually,” he admits. “Just, you’re—wow,” he says lamely.
Seungmin can’t do much more in response to that comment than blush. Rather than let Jeongin see, he tugs him back to his lips, fully prepared to make out with him until Minho comes banging the door down.
It’s not Minho who interrupts them, ultimately, but Hyunjin. Seungmin’s first thought: What the hell is Hyunjin doing in a library?
The three of them look at each other in stunned silence for a few seconds. Hyunjin wasn’t expecting to walk in on his roommate kissing some rando, and neither were Seungmin nor Jeongin expecting to be interrupted so quickly.
Seungmin breaks the tension. “Uh—Hyunjin, this is Jeongin. Minho’s friend. Jeongin, Hyunjin. He’s my roommate.”
The tension is not entirely broken by introductions, if Hyunjin’s awkward nodding is anything to go by. “Right,” he says slowly. “Minho was looking for you.”
“Oh,” Jeongin says awkwardly. His hand is still gripping Seungmin’s thigh, and Seungmin nearly weeps when he releases it. “Right, then. I’ll, uh, see you around, Seungmin?”
Seungmin stops him from going, grabs his shoulder. “Hyunjinnie, do you have a pen?” Seungmin asks. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at him, but tosses him one anyway. Seungmin catches it, grabs Jeongin’s hand, and scrawls his number on his palm. “Text me, Jeonginnie, yeah?”
Jeongin’s face is still a bit pink, but he’s grinning broadly at Seungmin as he exits the bathroom. His smile is really something, Seungmin thinks, just wow—it’s like it lights up his entire face.
“Are you kidding me, Kim Seungmin?” Hyunjin is on Seungmin the second the bathroom door swings shut, yanking him from the counter. “Minho is going to kill you!”
“Minho doesn’t own him,” Seungmin says defensively, crossing arms over chest. “Besides, he’s too smitten with Jisung to care for long. Jisung will have my back, anyway.”
Hyunjin pulls him bodily from the bathroom, tugging him in the direction of the exit. Seungmin’s content to be dragged, though he’s a bit curious what’s gotten Hyunjin so worked up.
Hyunjin doesn’t stop until they’re in front of the library, then he wheels around. “And what’s going to be wrong with this one?” Hyunjin asks. “He smiles too much, maybe? He kisses too well?”
Seungmin’s head is still spinning from the kiss, so that’s not fair. “He’s a pretty good kisser,” he admits, grinning at Hyunjin.
“He’s Minho’s friend,” Hyunjin insists. “You can’t just toss him away once you get tired of him. Believe it or not, I do actually like having you as a roommate, even though you’re bad at cooking and you sometimes forget to turn the sink off, and I can’t have Minho skinning you alive.” He pauses, considers Seungmin seriously. “I can’t afford full rent myself.”
“You can barely afford half rent,” Seungmin reminds him, trying to get out of the conversation. He likes Jeongin a lot, wants to think it could be different with him. It’s been months since Chan, long enough to forget how uncomfortable he was the last time he’d tried to have sex.
Seungmin has had sex before, of course. It was alright the first time it happened, though he was more excited to get the first time out of the way, shedding his societally-ascribed virginity. It had been nothing special, though he can’t say he particularly regrets it. The more sex he had, however, the less magical. It became burdensome, a chore.
When he has sex, he hardly wants to finish. It seems more trouble than it’s worth, the pleasure not outweighing the labor involved and, honestly, he has better things to be doing.
It’s not like he doesn’t jerk off, either. Not frequently, by any stretch, but at least once a month he’ll get enough of an urge to rub one out quickly in the shower, always clinical and quick, neat.
But, no, it’d be different if it were someone he really cares about, he thinks. He could care about Jeongin. And then sex could become this magical, incredible thing, the floodgates would open and he’d finally realize what he’d been missing out on. He could be normal.
Hyunjin interrupts his train of thought again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Seungminnie. I know you.”
“No,” Seungmin says firmly. “Jeonginnie’s different.”
Jeongin is different, at least in terms of how he makes Seungmin feel. They meet at a café for coffee, and talk about everything, nothing. Jeongin tells Seungmin some very interesting stories about Minho that he makes immediate plans to use as blackmail. Seungmin tells Jeongin some of Hyunjin’s blondest moments, and he nearly snorts americano out of his nose.
After a couple of hours, Seungmin has to escape to the bathroom to call Changbin, to beg him to take Hyunjin out somewhere, anywhere.
Changbin is a true bro, and Hyunjin is nowhere to be seen when they stumble into the apartment, already attached at the lips. They don’t even make it through the pretense of putting a movie on; Seungmin tugs Jeongin onto the couch and he follows easily, crashing onto Seungmin like he can’t stand being separated.
There are butterflies unlike anything Seungmin has ever experienced fluttering all through his torso, and they suddenly divebomb as Jeongin bites at his lip, sucks it between his own. This is the part that Seungmin loves, that he craves, and Jeongin is so, so good at it. He smiles into the kiss at Seungmin’s reaction, and his heart skips a beat.
“Stop being so cute,” Seungmin mutters into the kiss, winding his fingers through Jeongin’s hair. It’s soft, because of course it is—what about this boy isn’t perfect?
Jeongin tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls back and Seungmin barely contains a whimper. “No, that’s you,” he says decisively, pecking his chin before he trails a line of kisses down his throat. It’s usually the point at which Seungmin breaks out of the happy daze of kissing, but Jeongin is gentle, his teeth barely grazing at his skin, and Seungmin thinks he’s going a little crazy.
Jeongin giggles at the out-of-it, dazed look on Seungmin’s face. “Oh, baby, you just really like being kissed, don’t you?”
Seungmin’s stomach lurches at the endearment. He barely manages to keep his cool, though his face heats up. “Like kissing you,” he murmurs, embarrassed. Jeongin saves him by bringing their lips together again, gentler this time.
Jeongin slides off of him and they’re face-to-face, both of them barely fitting on the worn couch. Seungmin flails, thinking he’s about to fall off the edge (and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?), but Jeongin catches him by the wrist, tugs them firmly together.
They’re pressed together, from chest to legs, which have tangled together indiscriminately, and Jeongin doesn’t let his wrist go. “Come here,” he murmurs, and guides Seungmin’s lips to his own.
Seungmin is all too content to lose himself in the kiss, Jeongin keeping him firmly on the couch, connected at every possible point they can be.
Things with Jeongin go so well that Seungmin forgets to have a crisis about it for a couple weeks.
They go on a crazy amount of dates—to cafés, to diners, to parks, to the movies—but somehow don’t tire of each other. Seungmin especially likes the movie dates, because he almost invariably ends up in Jeongin’s lap, and something about kissing in a dark theater is even nicer than doing so on Seungmin’s couch, crowded against the wall of one of the campus buildings, in the backseat of Minho’s car…
They are unfortunately required to go on double dates with Minho and Jisung. Not that Seungmin doesn’t love his friends, but taking them together is best done in small doses. He and Jeongin bond over the whipped expression Minho gets anytime Jisung addresses him, make a game out of imitating it whenever he’s not looking.
They’ve not done anything more sexual than grind against each other while they make out, and Seungmin gets the idea that Jeongin’s waiting for him to be ready. Hence: the crisis.
Drinking with Hyunjin is a mistake, as always. But Jeongin had to go back home for the weekend, his brother’s birthday or something, and Seungmin has barely had any time to spend with Hyunjin lately.
“It’s no fun if you’re all mopey,” Hyunjin complains, swinging around a mostly empty soju bottle.
They’re a couple hours into the evening, and the alcohol, as always, has made Seungmin want to find someone to make out with. He supposes other people get horny, but he’s just always wanted to make out with someone after half a bottle of soju, has done it at more than a few parties. He misses Jeongin.
“You see Jeongin all the time,” Hyunjin continues, his bottom lip pouting out. “What about me?”
“You wanna make out?” Seungmin asks, knowing Hyunjin won’t take him seriously, not when he’s seriously seeing Jeongin.
Sure enough, Hyunjin sways and giggles, falls into Seungmin’s lap. “Yes, dear, kiss me.”
They dissolve into more giggles, and Seungmin bends over to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s hair. He’s not typically the most physically affectionate of friends, but it changes a bit when he drinks, he thinks.
They end up on the floor, staring at the ceiling and passing a bottle between them. “Surprised you haven’t found fault with him yet,” Hyunjin murmurs, pensive.
“He’s pretty perfect,” Seungmin murmurs back. His eyes are getting heavy, the room spinning a bit too much.
“Too perfect,” Hyunjin teases. He rolls over, flinging an arm over Seungmin’s waist, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Don’t have sex with him.”
Seungmin jolts unexpectedly. “Huh?” he asks, whipping his head to face his roommate.
Hyunjin pouts—he’d been perfectly comfortable, nestling against Seungmin’s shoulder, and he’d ruined it. “Surely you’ve noticed,” he says, squirming more insistently into his side. “All these boys, whenever you end up breaking it off, it’s right after you spend the night with them for the first time.”
It’s the alcohol, Seungmin thinks, that makes the tears spring to his eyes. He’s done a great job so far of ignoring the fact that he’ll have to go further than kissing sooner or later and he’ll probably have to drop Jeongin straight after, because Jeongin is perfect and deserves someone who actually wants to have sex with him—
“Seungminnie, honey,” Hyunjin soothes as the tears start to fall. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply any—"
“I don’t want to have sex with him!” Seungmin admits, letting Hyunjin pull him into his shoulder, wet his shirt with tears.
Hyunjin doesn’t make him talk immediately, just lets him draw big, gasping breaths and rubs his back soothingly. Seungmin doesn’t cry often, and he doesn’t think he’s ever cried in front of Hyunjin. The fucking alcohol, he thinks.
Hyunjin waits until he’s calmed down a bit, until he’s no longer sobbing into his T-shirt. He says gently, “Seungminnie, why not? You seem to like him a lot.”
“I do,” Seungmin nods, tears still streaming. “I like him so, so much, Jinnie.”
“Are you scared you won’t be good enough?” Hyunjin asks. “It’s hard, when you like someone that much, isn’t it? But Jeongin is so sweet, you could probably bite his dick off and he’d thank you.”
Seungmin chokes a laugh out from between tears. “No, no, that’s not it,” he mutters, swiping under his eyes and trying to control his breathing. He probably looks ugly, blotchy face and runny nose, but Hyunjin doesn’t tease him, not now. “I don’t like having sex.”
“I knew some of your exes were probably atrocious in bed, Minnie, but all—”
“No, Hyunjin,” Seungmin says firmly, shaking his head. “It’s not whether they’re good in bed or not. I just don’t like sex.” It’s something he’s never said out loud before, and oddly, it’s a relief. The world didn’t end because he admitted it. Hyunjin doesn’t even look disgusted with him, and Hyunjin is the type of person to unapologetically wear his disgust on his sleeve.
He cocks his head. “What don’t you like about it?”
Seungmin considers. It’s messy, first of all, and he’s never found that aspect of it hot, just a little gross. Orgasms feel nice, of course, but not nice enough to justify all the time required. It’s a nice thought, though, making someone you love feel so good, but Seungmin just prefers other methods of showing love.
In the end, he shrugs. “It’s just not my thing.”
“So… are you attracted to Jeongin? Sexually?”
Seungmin has to think again. Jeongin’s cute, he’s hot, he makes Seungmin’s stomach swoop and heart race. He loves, loves kissing him. He even liked the time or two they’d grinded against each other, though neither finished. Seungmin, personally, hadn’t felt the need to, though Jeongin had readjusted himself and breathed heavily against Seungmin’s neck until he’d calmed down.
But has he given much thought to sucking his dick? To letting Jeongin fuck him? Honestly, no, and thinking about it now, he’s almost positive he doesn’t want that. He’d like to make him feel good, to see him come apart and whimper his name, but not if it means the whole ordeal of sex. Seungmin just can’t get into it.
“I don’t know,” Seungmin concludes. “I don’t… think so? But I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to anyone like that.”
Hyunjin frowns. “Do you jerk off?” He pauses, considering. “Oh my god, that’s why I never hear you!”
Seungmin grimaces—is it something Hyunjin has noticed? That he never hears his roommate masturbate? “I do sometimes,” he says defensively. “It’s not a big deal, just, like… a release I need.”
“What do you think about when you do it?”
“Uh…” Seungmin thinks, eyes rolling up as he considers. There’s nothing much that comes to mind. It’s pretty clinical, a necessary physical release and nothing more. It’s not even really sexual, for him. His train of thought during the act usually boils down to Okay, almost there, a little more… “Nothing? Just like, oh good, I’m almost there.”
“Hm,” Hyunjin hums, considering his roommate in a new light. Somehow, even though Hyunjin can be a little judgmental, he doesn’t feel judged at all. Hyunjin shrugs. “Well, okay.”
Seungmin stares blankly. “What do you mean, ‘okay’? Isn’t this a problem? What am I supposed to do?”
“You could be a grownup and have a conversation with him about it.”
Okay, ouch.
Hyunjin’s logic provokes Seungmin. “How am I supposed to tell him I just don’t want to have sex with him?”
Hyunjin mocks Seungmin’s tone. “Hey, Innie, is it okay if we don’t have sex? I’m not comfortable with it.” He gives Seungmin a pointed stare, to say Oh yes, it is that easy.
It’s not that easy, Seungmin thinks, and he casts his eyes downward. “I think I’d rather just muddle my way through sex than risk losing him over it,” he mutters, wringing his hands. It had felt like a relief at the time, but maybe he shouldn’t have told Hyunjin, he thinks.
“Seungminnie, you shouldn’t force yourself to do something you clearly don’t want or like.”
“But Jeonginnie would like it,” Seungmin argues.
“I think Jeonginnie would like for you to be happy,” Hyunjin says impatiently. “And if he doesn’t, then he’s a jerk who doesn’t deserve you. And I’ll happily make out, cuddle, and be celibate with you. It only happens, what, every time we get drunk in this apartment?”
That’s not entirely true, Hyunjin has also offered to suck his dick before, which Seungmin has, understandably, turned down. “Yeah,” is all Seungmin can offer in response, still pretty sure that he can’t tell Jeongin about his hangups.
“Well, is there anything you like about sex? Anything you like doing?” Hyunjin asks.
Seungmin shrugs noncommittally. “I kind of like grinding while we kiss. But I don’t really want to finish, and I definitely don’t want it to turn into sex.” The floodgates open, and more tears stream down his face. “And, like, I feel like I’m leading him on and like I’m a jerk for getting him all excited and then not following through on anything because, like, isn’t that really mean? And then—”
“Hey, hey, calm down,” Hyunjin soothes. “This is why you should talk to him.”
“And I hate having tongues in my mouth,” Seungmin continues, pouting. “It’s gross.”
Everyone has a quintessential yet traumatizing high school kissing story, Seungmin thinks; his is the time the shortstop on his baseball team had all but shoved his tongue down his throat at a party. His breath had reeked so much of beer that Seungmin nearly puked.
Even in… less traumatizing scenarios with kinder partners, the feeling of a squirming tongue invading his mouth makes him shudder. Hyunjin doesn’t tease him for that, either.
“Well, that’s okay,” he says. “You’re allowed to not like something like that.” He pauses. “Do you do that with Jeongin?”
“Sometimes, yeah,” he mutters, pulling his knees to his chest.
“Maybe start with telling him you don’t like that, yeah? And work up to the bigger stuff,” Hyunjin suggests.
“Yeah, maybe,” Seungmin says noncommittally.
“Seungminnie,” Hyunjin’s tone is stern. “Promise me you’ll bring it up, okay? Just see how he reacts, and if he’s a jerk about it, I’ll kill him.”
“Yeah, okay,” Seungmin agrees, and he lets Hyunjin pull him back against his side, press a kiss to his hair.
Seungmin gets his chance the very next time he sees Jeongin. They’d done very little but kiss since he’d returned. Jeongin had pressed Seungmin against the door the second he’d come over, and they’d scarcely moved. Seungmin’s knees are a little weak; he thinks Jeongin might be the only thing holding him up.
They’re murmuring between kisses, little missed yous and don’t leave agains. Seungmin is pretty sure Hyunjin is home, though locked safely in his own bedroom, and he hopes dearly that he can’t hear his soft whimpers when Jeongin rucks his shirt up to touch his bare skin.
Then, Jeongin’s tongue presses against his own and he’s out of it, tensing up and freezing. He’s usually better at hiding his reactions, but Hyunjin’s suggestion has gotten to him, and it’s all he can think about.
“You okay, baby?” Jeongin murmurs, pulling away. He’s massaging his scalp with the hand that’s not rubbing his bare hip, and his hair is adorably fluffy; Seungmin wants to thread his fingers through it.
“Fine,” he chokes out instead. He tries to smile, but it might be more of a grimace, he thinks.
“No, what’s on your mind, Min?” he insists.
“It’s stupid,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He tries to lean back forward to connect their lips, but Jeongin leans back.
“Nuh uh,” he rejects. “Tell me, sweetheart.” The terms of endearment don’t make it any easier; they still never fail to make his head swimmy, and the fact that Jeongin is still pressing him against the door absolutely does not help.
Still, he promised Hyunjin, and Hyunjin will be there to pick up the pieces when Jeongin thinks he’s weird, or picky, or ridiculous, so Seungmin goes ahead and ruins his life. “I just… I don’t love… you know, the tongue.”
Jeongin doesn’t laugh, or wrinkle his nose, or get angry. “Oh,” he says. “You should’ve told me earlier, Minnie.”
And that’s that. Jeongin locks their lips back together, kisses him with every bit of the passion they’d shared earlier, and keeps his tongue to himself.
Seungmin breaks away. “Wait, really?” he asks incredulously. “That’s it?”
Jeongin cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not—you don’t want to—you don’t think it’s weird?”
Jeongin shrugs. “You’re allowed to not like something,” he says, eerily echoing Hyunjin’s words. “Why would I force you to do it if you’re not into it? I like kissing you this way, too, and it’s even better if I know you’re enjoying it.”
Seungmin’s going to faint, he thinks. Hyunjin had been teasing when he’d called Jeongin too perfect, but he really, really, must be. Seungmin in no way deserves this boy.
“Oh,” he realizes. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know, I always felt I was being unreasonable…”
Jeongin smiles, strokes Seungmin’s cheek with his thumb. “It’s not unreasonable to tell me what you like and don’t like. You can’t expect me to always tell. But I can tell you like kissing, don’t you? You make such cute noises for me, baby.” He presses their lips together again, chastely, but Seungmin turns pink anyway. “I don’t know if I’ve managed to make it clear, but I kind of like you a lot, Seungminnie.”
Seungmin likes Jeongin a lot, like a near-unreasonable amount. He would tell him so if he didn’t fear his heart would explode if he did. “What if there was something really big I didn’t like?” Seungmin asks, treading dangerously close to the edge of hypothetical. “Would you still like me a lot, then?”
Jeongin rolls his eyes, as if the notion is ridiculous. “So long as you like me, I’m okay with all of your dislikes.”
The topic of sex doesn’t come up for another week. Hyunjin had privately rejoiced with Seungmin about the so-called tongue situation, and Jeongin faithfully keeps his tongue in his own mouth, doesn’t even bring it up again.
Good things don’t last, and Seungmin is backed into a corner one regular Wednesday night. They’re back to making out like teenagers, rolling across Seungmin’s bed, pausing their kissing only to giggle. The bed squeaks a lot, and Seungmin wonders vaguely whether Hyunjin can hear from his room. He decides that he can, thinking back to the number of times he’s heard similar noises from Hyunjin’s room.
Seungmin realizes that he’s hard once Jeongin’s thigh purposefully presses against him. It feels pretty great, the pressure, and he gasps against Jeongin’s lips. He should stop him, he realizes, make some excuse, but God, does it feel good, whining and grinding against his thigh.
“Good boy,” Jeongin murmurs, brushing his hair from his face, and it unexpectedly works for Seungmin. From anyone else, it would take him straight out of the mood, but Jeongin does it so effortlessly, so naturally. “Shh, can I make you feel good?” he shushes. Seungmin is making an awful lot of noise, whining and whimpering and moaning.
“You are,” Seungmin manages, throwing his head back and gripping Jeongin’s arms tightly. “Just like this.” He doesn’t normally care about finishing, knows he’ll probably regret it after when his underwear is sticky and gross, but Jeongin just makes him feel so good.
“Pretty boy,” Jeongin coos. “So good for me.” His thigh moves away, and Seungmin could cry. But then his hand is right there, his palm moving against him, and Seungmin is pretty sure he’s going to die.
This is further than he’s ever managed to make it without hating it, and it’s because it’s Jeongin, he’s pretty sure. Who knows, maybe he’s cured, maybe he’ll finally be able to enjoy sex like a normal person instead of finding the whole thing tiresome or gross.
“Wanna see you, sweetheart,” he says. “Wanna touch you.”
His hand unbuttons Seungmin’s jeans, tries to wriggle under the fabric, and he’s lost him, flipping off like switch. “Wait,” Seungmin says. He’s still a bit wild-eyed, his pupils blown in a way they seldom are. He’s hard, straining against his jeans, but the thought of Jeongin touching him, skin-on-skin, is… too much. Not bad, not bothersome, not gross, but too intense, maybe. He knows that he doesn’t want it, at least.
Jeongin’s looking at him with concern. Maybe he’d sounded a bit too forceful, a bit too panicked, and he scrambles to make it right. “Just, I—I liked what you were doing. Felt nice.”
Jeongin smiles, brings their lips together again, and presses his leg between Seungmin’s, though not as hard as before. It’s oddly comforting, in a way that Seungmin has never found something like this. “Okay, baby,” he says. “I didn’t mean to rush you.”
Dread fills Seungmin’s stomach unexpectedly, massacring the butterflies that had been there only seconds before. There’s still the expectation, no matter what he does, that they have to go further, have to go all the way, one day, and Seungmin hates it. His eyes swim with tears again, and he hates that, too, apparently his only response to having his sex aversion tested.
Seungmin opens his big, stupid mouth, intent on ruining things forever.
“I mean, I might not want that. Ever.”
Jeongin looks confused, and all the pressure behind his thigh dissipates, leaving Seungmin squirming unhappily below him. “What do you mean?”
God, stupid, stupid, stupid, Seungmin thinks in a panic, looking at Jeongin’s eyes and willing himself not to cry. He can’t take it back, can’t pretend like he didn’t say it. It’s not something he can really laugh off.
Oh, no, and he’s definitely going to cry, he feels it surging out of him uncontrollably as he tries to calm himself enough to talk. “I, just, um—like—so, I don’t really—like sex?”
Jeongin shifts his thigh immediately away from him, and that’s what causes the dam to break, tears pouring down his cheeks. He clutches at Jeongin’s shirt, hoping to God he doesn’t try to get up, walk out of his room and never come back. It’s stupid, but he wishes his thigh were pressing against him again, he’s absolutely aching.
“Hey, hey, it’s—shit, Seungminnie, come here,” Jeongin fumbles, wrapping his arms around Seungmin comfortingly, letting him shake against his chest with silent sobs. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” he soothes.
“I’m sorry,” Seungmin murmurs into Jeongin’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him, willing him to stay.
“No—no, Minnie, you don’t have to apologize for that,” Jeongin says. “Shit, I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”
He rocks Seungmin until he calms down, though he doesn’t pull his face from Jeongin’s chest.
“Is it—like—trauma?” Jeongin asks, stroking his hair.
There it is, the implication that he’s broken, that it’s some traumatic experience that’s made him like this, so abnormal. There isn’t, he just… he’s just like this. He shakes his head into Jeongin’s chest. “No,” he murmurs, voice still thick with tears.
“Okay,” Jeongin says, nodding. He pulls Seungmin from his chest, forces him to face him. “Well, do you want to talk about it now, or just cuddle and save it for another time?”
He’s not leaving. He has no intention of leaving, and a fresh wave of tears burns Seungmin’s eyes as a result. “You’re not gonna break up with me?” he sniffs.
“Break up with you?” he echoes, surprised. “No, baby, I like you. I’m not with you just to have sex. You’re—you’re funny, and cute, and really smart most of the time.”
“Isn’t sex important?”
“It can be,” Jeongin admits. “But it’s not the most important thing, not even close. You know what is?” Seungmin shakes his head, a bit childishly. “Making sure that we’re both happy and comfortable with what’s going on, yeah?” Seungmin nods, sniffles again.
“Let’s talk about it, then,” Seungmin murmurs, though he also takes the cuddling option, wrapping around Jeongin like a koala and nuzzling into his neck.
“Okay, well…” Jeongin racks his brain. “Is it okay for me to ask what you don’t like about it?”
“’s messy,” he murmurs. “And… I don’t know, it feels good, but not good enough. Like, to justify it. Mostly it just makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable.”
Jeongin nods, doesn’t even try to cockily change his mind with a But I could make you feel good enough. “That makes sense,” he encourages. “But you liked what we just did, yeah? Until I tried to, you know, touch you touch you.”
“Yeah,” Seungmin sniffles. “Can I have your thigh back? Felt nice.”
“Of course,” Jeongin says hastily, and there’s that delicious pressure again between Seungmin’s legs. He sighs, relaxes against Jeongin, though he doesn’t grind against him. “Do you like coming?”
“It’s fine,” Seungmin says. “More trouble than it’s worth, I think, but I kind of wanted to come earlier.” He pauses, wriggles against Jeongin. “I usually don’t, you know. That’s how much I like you, I think.”
Jeongin presses a kiss to his forehead, rubs soothingly up and down his spine. “I’m flattered. You already know I like you a lot.” He rocks with Seungmin a little, burying his nose in his hair. “So, you like this,” he says, flexing his thigh to demonstrate. “And I think you liked everything else, hm?”
Seungmin hums in agreement, back in a blissful daze. He’s gotten the worst of his confession out, and Jeongin is still here, holding him and talking to him, and it’s all okay. “I don’t usually like that kind of talk, either, but it was kind of hot.”
“But you are pretty and good,” Jeongin insists, giggling. “Do you wanna come now?”
Seungmin shakes his head. “Don’t think so.” He’s content to shut his eyes, drift to sleep, when he has another thought. “Oh, God,” he remembers. “You’re probably—” Seungmin presses his own thigh up, and feels Jeongin’s cock, maybe not all the way hard, but at least partially.
“Don’t worry about me,” Jeongin denies, shaking his head firmly.
“But I—I don’t know, I got you hard, isn’t it shitty of me to… to not do anything?”
“Nope,” he answers immediately. “You never have to feel bad about that. And if you ever do wanna come, I don’t expect you to make me.”
Seungmin frowns. “Isn’t that selfish?”
“No, baby,” Jeongin insists. “I’m happy just spending time with you, making you happy. Now, you wanna take a nap?”
Jeongin is a perfect gentleman about it, and Seungmin has never felt better. He lets Seungmin guide them once they cross over into anything sexual, not wanting to push him into anything he doesn’t want.
Seungmin, it turns out, really likes grinding together while they kiss, grinding against Jeongin’s thigh, his hand. He finishes at least half of the time, and Jeongin more often than that.
One afternoon, as Seungmin is reading a novel for his literature class, his head in Jeongin’s lap, he glances up at him and asks, “Do you want me to jerk you off?”
Jeongin loses the level of the game he’s playing on his phone as his brain short-circuits. “You don’t have to,” he reassures immediately.
“I think I want to,” Seungmin says, putting his book down. “Can I try? Hyunjin’s class doesn’t end for another hour.”
“I mean—yeah, of course, Min.”
He lets Seungmin position himself how he wants. He slings a leg across Jeongin’s lap, straddling him, and pushes his sweatpants down for him.
He’s half-hard from the mere suggestion of a handjob, which he would normally be embarrassed about, but Seungmin doesn’t even comment on it. Instead, he swipes his finger at the little pearl of precum that’s gathered at the tip, and Jeongin’s full body shudders.
That Seungmin takes note of, and he cocks his head. “Did that feel nice?” he asks.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Incredible.”
“Hm,” he hums, before placing the finger in his mouth. Jeongin hardens even more, even as Seungmin wrinkles his nose at the taste. He doesn’t make a comment about it.
There’s no lube—Jeongin doesn’t even know if Seungmin owns any—but Seungmin spits generously into his own hand. And then he’s rubbing his length, wetting it with his spit, and Jeongin’s head falls back.
Seungmin chuckles a little at his reaction, murmuring, “Pretty, Innie.”
“Come here,” he requests, tugging Seungmin’s lips to his. Seungmin goes happily, humming against his lips as his hand keeps a steady pace.
It’s probably embarrassing, how quickly Jeongin is about to come, but it’s easier for Seungmin, at least. When Seungmin’s hand dries out, he moves it under their mouths, about to spit in it again. Jeongin takes his wrist and spits in his hand for him. Seungmin’s eyes go wide, but he faithfully returns his hand to Jeongin’s cock. “Good boy,” he praises, and Seungmin whines.
When he’s close, he can’t focus on kissing anymore, and his head falls back against the couch. Seungmin takes the chance to kiss his neck. Literally kiss, no teeth and no sucking, but it feels nice all the same, Jeongin thinks.
“Minnie,” he grunts, “close.”
“Oh,” he murmurs against his throat. Jeongin is still fully clothed—they both are—but Seungmin considerately rucks his shirt up to his neck so he doesn’t dirty it.
He comes with no further warning, and Seungmin pulls back from him to avoid the splatter. Seungmin’s hand keeps moving all through it, though he stops when Jeongin shudders, chest heaving.
Then he’s kissing Jeongin again, soft and sweet, though he lets his dirty hand hang in the air, not willing to touch anything with it. “Hang on,” he murmurs, slipping Jeongin’s shirt over his head. He scurries to the kitchen, and Jeongin hears him washing his hands off.
He returns with a washcloth and gently wipes Jeongin’s chest and stomach clean. “Do you want to shower?” Seungmin asks, raising an eyebrow.
He’s tired, exhausted, and he shakes his head. “Uh uh,” he denies. “Cuddle?”
Seungmin purses his lips, scrubs more insistently at his chest. Then, he hands him back his shirt and lets him put it back on before settling into his arms.
“Was it okay?” Seungmin asks as Jeongin’s arms tighten around him, as he nuzzles down into Seungmin’s hair.
“It was really good,” he says. “I didn’t gross you out with the spit, did I?”
Seungmin shrugs, not an easy task with an entire man wrapped around him. “It wasn’t too bad. Not different from my own spit.” He pauses, lets Jeongin press absent little kisses to his hair. “Did I… offend you? Like, not liking how you tasted or making you put a shirt back on before I cuddled you?”
Jeongin laughs. “No, no,” he says. “Not at all, baby. You’re perfect.”
Seungmin keens happily, settles further into Jeongin’s arms, content to nap until Hyunjin inevitably wakes them up, returning from his class.