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bruised-mint · 4 months ago

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Betting On Kisses

Pairing: Minho x Jisung, Minho x everyone Summary: Minho is dared to kiss every member blindfolded and identify who is who. Chaos ensues Word count: 4.2k - unedited TW: Suggestive and explicit content, swearing, kissing, first kisses, making out, getting together, alcohol, blindfolds, light angst, kinda fluffy, Minho-centric, Minho being a little shit, Hyunjin and Felix are BIGGER little shits, canon compliant, minor HyuniBini, minor ChanLix, post 2024 Contract Renewals

“Oh come on, this is a stupid idea. Of course he’s going to know which one is me.” Jisung is pouting, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he looks between Minho and Hyunjin. Hyunjin shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes after suggesting this in the first place - the this in question being a not-quite-sober challenge to see if a blind-folded Minho can figure out which member is kissing him.

“Will he really? You’ve spent that much time making out with Minho-hyung?” Felix chirps from his spot on Changbin’s lap, earning a scathing glare from his almost-birthday-twin.

“N-no, but- he’s my best friend! He’ll recognize me anyway.” Jisung sniffs, lifting his chin petulantly. Minho bites back a smirk.

They’ve been dancing around each other for years, flirting with danger through lingering touches, fond gazes, yearning lyrics. Minho and Jisung are as close as two people can be, two bodies housing one soul, but they’ve never dared to cross the invisible line that could jeopardize not only their careers but their entire team’s success.

That’s in the past now that they’ve just renewed their contracts, the ink of their signatures barely dry before Seungmin and Jeongin were shoving them all into their favorite barbecue restaurant and summoning rounds of soju and beer for the table in celebration. The party continued all the way back to the 3RACHA dorm, where they currently sit around the coffee table littered with snacks and empty cans and half-full soju bottles.

“Relax, Jisungie, it’s just a game.” Minho says, giving him a soft smile that's reserved only for his Jisung.

“Yeah, no one’s going to take Minho-hyung away from you with just a kiss.” Seungmin adds with a smirk. Jisung scowls at him, but before he can respond, Chan returns to the living room holding a baseball hat upside-down by the brim, shaking it.

“Okay, I wrote numbers on post-its and folded them up. Everyone, draw a number.” Chan instructs as he closes in, thrusting the cap at Changbin, who turns to look at Hyunjin, hand hovering in the air.

“Are you really okay with this, baby?”

Hyunjin snorts, bringing his hand up to cup Changbin’s cheek. “We just got permission to do whatever the fuck we want behind closed doors, and I think that makes all of this okay. Like hyung said, it’s just a game.” Hyunjin dips down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Changbin relaxes into it, hand finally reaching into the cap to pull out a wad of bright blue. Then Felix and Hyunjin grab a number one after the other.

Chan presents the cap to Jeongin and Seungmin, who each reach in for their numbers, and then Chan swivels to Jisung. “Two numbers remaining, Sung.”

Jisung rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms to grab one, and Chan takes the last one, flipping the hat backward onto his head. Minho shifts over to the free end of the couch, allowing Chan to sit beside him.

“Alright, everyone can look at their numbe- WAIT! Minho, close your eyes so you can’t see anyone’s reactions.” Chan leans over, pressing close, chin on Minho’s shoulder. “No cheating.”

Minho makes a face at him, but complies, shutting his eyes. “Fine.” The eye mask is pulled down from where it had been resting against his forehead, darkening Minho’s entire vision.

Chan’s body heat disappears, shifting far enough down the couch that Minho can’t feel the cushions move. “Okay, everyone reveal your numbers.”

There’s a brief silence, and then Minho hears a hushed murmuring, maybe from Changbin’s corner, he can’t really tell.

“Alright, I guess number one can start then?” Chan’s voice breaks the silence, and Minho hears Jisung scoff, but before Minho can process the meaning behind the noise, someone sits on the couch next to him.

A tender hand touches his jaw, turning his face toward them. Slow, hot breath fans over his mouth just as soft lips press against his own. The hand on his jaw trails up to his ear, laying flat and guiding Minho’s head to tilt slightly, allowing room for the lips on his to guide his mouth open. A tongue slips in, grazing his teeth to part, before dancing with his own tongue.

Fuck. Fuck, whoever this is, Minho thinks, it’s someone who kisses really well. A soft moan slips from his throat, and the mouth against his curves slightly. Annoyed at their amusement, Minho bites into the lip between his, their upper lip, and immediately realizes who is kissing him.

Chan pulls his lip from Minho’s teeth and changes the angle, licking firmly into his mouth, kissing him for a few moments more. Eventually, Chan seems to remember the point of the game and slows the kiss, one last soft press of his lips before pulling away completely.

Minho’s mind spins. He clears his throat. “Am I allowed to guess right away?”

“If you want to.” Hyunjin answers from the other side of the room, earning a slap against his skin as someone whispers angrily. “What? He would know that’s not me just based on height alone.”

Minho grins, a hand reaching blindly towards the body next to him. He hits a solid chest, quickly moving up to find a jaw. “Hyung, you’re a very good kisser.”

Chan makes a sound of disbelief, the jaw in Minho’s hand dropping with it. “Wha- how did you know it was me?”

Minho trails a finger to tap on Chan’s lips. “I believe STAY calls these Bratz doll lips?”

Laughter erupts as Chan groans, pushing away Minho’s hands that grab at his lips. “Yah! Fine, you win. Who is second?”

Chan stands, the couch shifting, before a new body touches Minho’s knees. From the position, he thinks they must be sitting on the coffee table. He can’t discern anything about the person from just their knees, so he waits patiently for them to approach.

The lips that finally press against him are warm, but not hot like Chan’s. They move more stiffly, more reluctantly, staying firmly closed without seeking access to Minho’s mouth.

Definitely not Jisung, then.

Minho suspects it might be Seungmin or Jeongin, but before he can push for more, change the angle, the lips pull away, disappearing. The knees against his stay though, and Minho wracks his brain trying to narrow down which of his dongsaengs it could be.

“I have no idea.”

A couple of groans and whoops ring out as the knees disappear, the body retreating.

Chan clears his throat. “Who is thir- oh, okay then.”

Minho is pushed back against the couch a split second before a body climbs into his lap. Hands grip his wrists, thumbs at his pulse points, pressing them to his sides as a hot, wet mouth meets his. A spark of electricity zaps his brain.

This is Jisung.

Minho knows.

For no other reason than the way his blood sings in his veins.

Jisung’s lips slot against his, fitting perfectly in the empty spaces, filling the gaps with his warmth. Minho darts his tongue out first, eager to taste all of Jisung, and Jisung makes a small noise in his throat as he yields to him. The tongue that meets his own wraps around, coaxing Minho further into the warmth of Jisung’s mouth.

The thumbs on his pulse points move softly, caressing the throbbing of Minho’s pulse as his heart thunders in his chest. Finally he thinks. Finally, I’m home.

After years, Minho finally knows what Jisung tastes like.

Tangerines.

The faint reminder of their Jeju vacation suddenly bursts behind Minho’s eyelids, and he is flooded with visions of what could have been all these years - Jisung’s mouth on his, Jisung’s hands raking over his shoulders, Jisung’s body writhing under his as Minho worships him with his own hands, mouth, cock.

A flare of anger spikes at all the time wasted.

No, not wasted. Wasted implies that there was no point, no purpose to their suffering. Wasted implies that somehow all of their time together wasn’t still the best years of Minho’s life. Not true- while difficult at times, Minho is blessed beyond words to have had Jisung at his side all this time, even without the permission to touch.

But.

Now? Now they can be together with no restraint, no fear, no homophobic contract terms looming over their head (thank you Chan hyung for rallying for those rights), no judgment- well, it’s still Korea. There will be judgment regardless of what they choose to do.

Jisung shifts, pressing Minho’s head back, changing the angle of the kiss. A low groan escapes him, feeling Jisung’s chest against his. He aches to tangle his fingers in Jisung’s hair, to hold him by the waist and pull him tight against himself, but Jisung’s grip on his wrists prevents the movement. Minho is too delirious to fight back.

A wolf whistle rings out behind them, and Minho can’t help but grin into the kiss.

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough!” Chan calls out, laughter evident in his voice. Jisung pulls away reluctantly, and Minho takes a moment to catch his breath.

The body in his lap disappears, hands releasing his wrists. Minho hums quietly, head spinning.

Someone clears their throat.

“Well, Minho, any idea who that was?”

Minho bites back a grin, knowing he’s going to get an earful of complaints later, but nevertheless he responds, “Not a clue.”

A gasp (definitely from Hyunjin) breaks the sudden silence.

Minho tilts his head. “Who’s next?”

It takes a little longer for the rest of the room to recover. With his blindfold on, Minho can’t tell what exactly is happening, but finally someone sits next to him. A hand grips his chin, tilts his face to the side, and then their mouth is on his.

Poor form. Almost misses his mouth entirely. Doesn’t want to be here…maybe. Definitely not putting much effort into the kiss.

Also taller than him?

Based on height, it’s either Kim Seungmin or Hwang Hyunjin, but again, Minho can’t really tell. The kiss doesn’t last long enough for him to suss out if it could be Hyunjin, maybe out of respect for his relationship with Changbin.

Either way, when they pull away and Chan asks Minho to guess, Minho opts to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I have a theory, but I need more evidence to support it.”

The next member to kiss him climbs into his lap too, which surprises Minho. They don’t weigh much, making him almost question if he was wrong about Jisung earlier. But this person leans in, touching their lips to his so softly. For a few moments, the kiss almost feels like a replay of Jisung, heads tilted to the same angle and a similar vigor behind the motions. But then, a long lock of hair falls forward and tickles his cheek and collar bone.

Ah. Yongbokkie.

Minho lets his hand fall to Felix’s outer thigh but doesn’t move otherwise, letting Felix control the kiss. His tongue darts out, teasing the seam of Minho’s lips before dancing back when Minho opens for him. Their lips move in sync, similar to how fluidly they move together on stage, complimenting one another.

Overall, a pleasant experience, Minho thinks. Perhaps if he didn’t still have the feeling of Jisung burned into his mind, he’d push Felix a little harder, get him whimpering into his mouth.

When Felix climbs off of him, Minho blurts out right away. “Yongbok.”

A round of laughter and Felix’s indignant squawk let him know he’s right. “How?!”

Minho tuts. “You’re so tiny, Bbok-ah.” Then he smirks. “Also your hair.” Felix swears under his breath, causing a few more giggles.

“Alright, Minho, two more. Are you ready for number six?” Chan asks, and Minho nods.

He hears movement and a few murmurs. Fingers card through his hair and yank his head back, pulling him against the cushions of the couch before a mouth descends upon him.

Where the fuck…

It startles him enough that he gasps, lips parting for a hot tongue to snake in between. After a moment, Minho realizes the mouth on his is…upside down?

Oh. They are standing behind the couch, Minho realizes, smirking into the onslaught of tongue and teeth and lips. The kiss is good, there’s technique and nuance in the movements, which can only mean one thing.

The height required for the Spiderman-style kiss and the experience behind it?

Hyunjin.

Minho is left just as surprised when the kiss ends as abruptly as it started. He’s pushed upright by his shoulders, and he shakes his head quickly to reorient himself.

“Well that could only be Hwang Hyunjin.” The snickering from the man himself as he slinks back to his seat confirms Minho’s assessment. “Which means that the kiss before Yongbok was Seungminnie.”

Chan’s squeaky laughs let him know he’s correct, despite Seungmin’s sudden insistence that it wasn’t him. “No, I was the first kiss.”

“Kim Seungmin, you’re such a liar!”

Minho laughs, picturing the way Chan is probably leaning over to swat at Seungmin, if the loud laughter coming from their main vocalist is anything to go by.

“Alright, last one! Minho, do you think you’ll be able to figure everyone out?” Felix asks this time, since Chan and Seungmin are still giggling and squealing at each other.

“Yeah, I need to confirm my other theories.”

Everyone falls silent when the couch shifts beside him again, the final member settling in.

Minho knows Jisung was the third kiss, even if he didn’t guess him. The second kiss was probably Jeonginnie but could have been Changbin. Hopefully whoever is kissing him last will be more obvious with something other than just kneecaps.

A hot flush of air fans over his chest just before the last mouth makes it to his.

The bottom lip that slots between his is so plush, Minho’s mind almost short-circuits.

Jisung?

No. No way. Minho was so sure earlier that he-

The lip moves, and a hand reaches out to stabilize his cheek. Something about the touch settles Minho.

His blood doesn’t sing. This isn’t Jisung.

Minho ignores the tumble of his heart, the quickening of his pulse at the knowledge that he knew Jisung’s touch right away.

A faint trace of a tongue over his upper lip regains his attention, but the mouth pulls away before Minho can react. The body next to him doesn’t move.

“Alright Minho. Make your final guesses.”

Minho contemplates. Who has a big lower lip? Not Jeonginnie, his lips are pretty balanced between upper and lower, if Minho remembers correctly. It must be Changbin.

“Dwaekki.”

Changbin lets out a small, disgruntled shout beside him, and Minho grins. “Ah. So then number two was Ayen-ah and number three was Jisungie.”

“Yes!” Felix yells, hollering as more laughter breaks. Minho pulls off the blindfold, smirking when he sees his members’ faces split into grins and laughter.

Well, except Jisung, who has a tight smile forced on his face. Minho reaches over to grab his hand. “Jagi.”

Jisung’s face falters momentarily before he shakes his head, a more genuine expression warming his features. “I knew you’d know which one I was.”

The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but before Minho can respond, Changbin wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him into his chest, shouting about something that makes Minho remember that holy shit, they are drunk.

Jisung reaches over for a snack, busying himself with munching on food and talking to Felix, avoiding Minho’s eyes for the next hour. It isn’t until Hyunjin drags Changbin to his feet and shoves him toward their bedrooms that things start to settle down.

Innie and Seungmin are slumped against each other, watching something on a phone when Chan smacks his own thighs after Minho rolls his eyes at some bad joke he makes.

“Lix, do you wanna stay with me tonight?” Chan asks, glancing over at where Felix is laying with his head in Jisung’s lap, letting the other run his fingers idly through his hair as Jisung plays a game on his phone one-handed.

“Mm. Sure, Chris, if that’s okay with you.” Felix murmurs, eyes still closed. Chan smiles softly.

“It’s always okay with me, baby.”

Chan sends Minho a knowing glance, darting his eyes to Jisung and back, then tilting his head. Minho sighs, watching as Chan stands and walks over to collect Felix into his arms and shuffle him to his room.

When Minho glances over at the maknaes, Seungmin is resting his head on Jeongin’s shoulder with Jeongin leaning on top of his head in return. They’re both asleep, phone abandoned on Jeongin’s belly.

“Jisungie, help me get these two laying down?” Minho asks softly, breaking Jisung’s concentration.

“Sure, hyung.”

Hmm. Hyung. Jisung doesn’t always use honorifics with Minho, even when he should. Minho knows what this means.

Jisung is in his own head.

They stand, Jisung locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket, before they reach their two youngest and separate them. The couch is long enough that they can slide Seungmin to one end and guide Jeongin into a reclined position at the other, covering them with blankets.

“They should be fine like that, right?”

Minho turns to Jisung, who seems a little spaced out before answering with a soft hum. Jisung turns, padding towards his own room without another word, leaving Minho floundering in the living room alone for a few seconds.

Then Minho is following him, catching the door that Jisung doesn’t fully close behind himself, clicking it shut once Minho is in the safe confines of Jisung’s room.

He’s always liked Jisung’s room. It’s cozy, with dark blue curtains and a few soft blankets tossed at the foot of the plain white bed. His guitars are lined up in hangers on the wall and some of the anime figures he’s bought on shopping trips with Minho clutter the shelving unit next to his dresser. A mirror over the dresser is stuffed at the edges with polaroids and filmstrips from their travels, many of them just containing Minho and Jisung alone.

For so long, it’s been the two of them, dancing around each other, ignoring the magnetic pull between them.

“Jagiya,” Minho calls, watching Jisung stiffen as he reaches into his dresser. Jisung turns his head, shooting a glance at Minho over his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Minho breathes out a soft note of contemplation, moving to sit on the bed. “Alright, what’s wrong, Sungie?”

“Wrong? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Jisung says, chewing on his bottom lip immediately afterward. Minho levels a blank look at him, waiting the requisite ten seconds it takes for Jisung to break. “Hyung, why did it take you so long to figure out it was me?” Jisung whines.

Well, he knew this was coming. He’d willfully chosen not to identify Jisung’s kiss immediately. Minho sighs. “Sungie-”

“No, I don’t care if I’m being a baby about this, I’m your best friend, I’m your Jisungie, your jagiya, your…” Jisung trails off, hands dropping. Minho bites back a grin.

“My what?”

Jisung huffs, shooting a glare at him. “Don’t change the subject! I can’t believe you didn’t know!” Jisung turns to pace, hands flailing as he word-vomits all of his thoughts.

“Sungie-”

“You figured out Hyunjin and Felix right away! And Changbin didn’t take too long either.”

Minho tries again, raising his voice a little. “Sung-”

“Even Chan-hyung! And God, don’t even get me started on that kiss with Chan-hyung, what was that?!”

“Jagi-”

“Is there something going on with you and hyung because I-”

“Jisung!” Minho finally yells, despite the late hour. Jisung turns to him, eyes wide with confusion and hurt. Minho sighs again, bracing for impact. “I knew it was you.”

Impossibly, Jisung’s eyes get wider. His voice comes out as a whisper. “What?”

“I knew it was you right away.” Minho stands, hands spread wide and taking slow steps toward Jisung, afraid to spook him. “Okay? The second your lips touched mine, I knew. Hell, I probably knew even before that, but my brain was still processing that you were kissing me.”

He steps up to Jisung, so close that their breaths mix and he can see the rabbiting of Jisung’s pulse in his neck. He reaches a hand to the skin over the vein, petting down the expanse of Jisung’s throat as he swallows tightly under his fingers.

“But you said-”

“I know, baby, I know what I said. I lied. I’m sorry.” He runs his upper lip between his teeth quickly, needing to feel the scrape of his crooked teeth in the soft flesh as some sort of twisted retribution. Jisung’s eyes flick down to his lips, licking his own unconsciously, drawing Minho’s attention to his mouth. “I’ll always know when it’s you, Sungie.” Minho murmurs softly before sliding his fingers up, around, to the back of Jisung’s neck to pull him closer.

Their lips meet, desperate and frantic as Minho’s fingers tighten on Jisung’s neck. Jisung whimpers a little, his hands somehow twisted in Minho’s shirt between their bodies, when did that happen? Minho’s head is spinning, his reality shifting under his feet at the sensation of Jisung against him in a way he’s yearned for since the moment he first saw him.

Minho breaks for air, barely time to gulp down enough oxygen to fuel him before he wraps his arms around Jisung, drawing him closer and swallowing down the soft noises he makes. One of Jisung’s hands makes it into his hair, tugging him closer with a low groan that splits his lips wide enough for Jisung to lick his way between them.

Is this what euphoria feels like? To get so drunk on a person that you feel like you’re invincible? Minho feels invincible. Minho feels like he’s going to explode, delight zipping through his body until his fingertips tingle against Jisung’s skin. Every neuron in his body is alight, synapses firing with carnal need.

Slowly, Minho spins them, backing Jisung up to the bed until his knees touch and the movement jostles them apart. Unbalanced, Jisung falls, scrambling to sit upright before Minho is straddling him and nudging him back to the mattress.

Before Jisung can blink, Minho bends forward to recapture his mouth, a needy, possessive kiss that wrenches Minho’s heart out of his chest, tears it to pieces, and remakes it in Jisung’s image. Hands grip his ass, trailing down to squeeze at the muscles in his thighs, and Minho can’t control the wanton moan he breathes into Jisung’s mouth.

“Jagi, fuck.” Jisung’s head falls back when Minho trails wet, sticky kisses to his jaw and over his Adam’s apple. Minho’s teeth graze the raised skin, earning him a breathy whimper that punches out of Jisung with a buck of his hips.

And he’s hard, pressed against the junction of Minho’s ass.

Knowledge that promptly causes Minho to malfunction.

With a groan, Minho rests his forehead in the curve of Jisung’s shoulder, lips smashed against the skin of his neck. Jisung’s breaths are heavy, chest stuttering under Minho’s weight.

“I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

Excellent, very romantic, Minho, good job.

Jisung makes a squeaky noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, gripping his fingers tighter into Minho’s thighs. “Yeah? Shit, I want that too.”

Minho lifts his head to look into his eyes. They’re hazy, clouded with awe and lust and beer and the approximately eighty seven thousand shots of soju Jisung took tonight. Curse you, Kim Seungmin. Minho pushes himself upright, peering down at Jisung. “Mm, but you’re wasted, babyboy.”

“‘M not.” Jisung slurs, hands traveling back up to Minho’s ass. “Let me fuck you to prove it.”

Minho laughs, high and joyful. He leans over to slot against Jisung’s mouth again. “We can fight over who is fucking whom first once you’re sober.”

In slow motion, Jisung’s eyebrows knit together. “I was going to argue with you some more, but I really didn’t think I was this fucked up.” Jisung blinks up at the ceiling. “I was fine in the living room, what the hell.”

“Why don’t we get some sleep then? We can talk more tomorrow, I promise.”

Jisung meets his eyes. “Will you stay?”

Minho cups his cheek, grazing his thumb over the skin. “Nothing could take me away from you now, jagi.”

Jisung lets him tug off his clothes. Minho ignores the way Jisung’s cock twitches in his boxer-briefs when he peels away the denim over it, ignores the way Jisung whines when Minho manhandles him under the covers, ignores how Jisung’s eyes rake over him with an intense hunger when he sheds his own clothes before climbing into the sheets in just his own boxers.

Their hands find each other, fingers interlocking when Minho pulls Jisung to his chest, curling around his favorite person and pressing soft kisses to the back of Jisung’s shoulder.

“Jagi?” Jisung’s voice is soft, a whispered promise of happiness in the silent darkness of the room. Minho hums a response, waiting for more. “I love you.”

His heart lurches, tumbling from its bony confines to spill on the soft cotton below. Words Minho has longed to hear, longed to say, spoken aloud in his favorite place wash over him and soothe every ache he ignored for years.

“I love you more, Jisung.

#minsung #minsung fic #minsung fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids #stray kids fic #skz fic

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