Work Text:
The heat is unbearable. It licks through him, clean and pure as acetylene, a desperation so dizzying it leaves him panting. On his back, his right leg pressed to his chest, three fingers pumping into his dripping asshole—so fucking wet, each move of his hand sparking a loud, embarrassing squelch. Three fingers and it’s not enough, his dick so hard against his belly, twitching with need, pre-cum pooling on his skin—each twist of his wrist, his mind stupid and glitter-soaked, his hips grinding back to meet his hand and it’s not enough, it’s not fucking enough, he needs more, his fingers are too short and he wants to come, he wants to come, he needs to come, needs someone else to fuck all this unrelenting and humiliating heat out of him.
It turns him woozy every time. He can’t think.
‘Please,’ he gasps again, even though he’s alone, even though he’s always alone and there’s nobody here to help even though he needs help. He doesn’t want to admit it. It is weak and he doesn’t want to be weak. But it’s been—he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but at least an hour, he thinks, fucking himself open, his mind liquifying with each denied orgasm. Weak, and small, and wanting.
His body slumps and he stretches out his leg, rolling on to his side, scrambling for his phone.
He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, but—
It’ll be embarrassing but need has wiped him clean of shame. Or, more correctly, the embarrassment is still there, coiling and slick in his belly, but the need is more pressing. The heat more overpowering.
His phone slips in his hand, his sticky fingers smudging the screen. Hitting call, he angles his fingers inside himself again, brushing over his prostate.
‘Hey,’ Jisung’s low voice drawls directly into his ear and Minho’s dick twitches again, a dumb little whimper slipping from his bitten lips before he can stifle it.
‘Minho-yah, you okay?’
‘Hhh—’ Minho’s eyes shut again, his throat bared, his asshole pulsing around his fingers—the sound of Jisung’s voice, the thought of Jisung and what he might be doing right now, maybe he’s not even home, maybe he’s out somewhere, picking up the phone but not expecting this. The thought of Jisung, his best friend, who is so stupidly hot and on Minho’s mind all the goddamn time—his self-assured cockiness, the way he moves his body, nice hands so much bigger than Minho’s own, and his voice—always his voice, God, and the things he might say if he were here, if they were together, if he wanted Minho in the way that Minho wants him.
And now he’s stupid and needy and so sick with desire he gave in and called him, even though he’s not supposed to, even though Jisung has never expressed this kind of interest, but Minho wants and Minho burns.
‘Minho-yah,’ Jisung says again, something strange and dark about his voice. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m—’ He licks his lips and coughs the dryness from his throat. His hips rock forward and he clenches around his fingers, his other hand grasping the phone even tighter. ‘It hurts. Jisungie, I, I—’ Another moan, all heat and animal, babbling, ‘heat, it hurts, I need—so hot, ‘m so hot, and, and—and empty, please, please—’
‘Oh, fuck.’ Jisung exhales a low groan. ‘You’re in heat, Minho-yah?’
‘Yes,’ he slurs, still thrusting his fingers inside himself, and Jisung can probably hear that—hear each wet, wet squelch of it, hear how desperate he is, how wet and needy and desperate for cock. God, Jisung’s cock—he wants it. He wants Jisung to fuck him. Wants him to fuck the pain out of him, fuck him sated, fuck him pliant and slack, breed him full of cum and mark him and own him, and—
Desire makes his head spin. He always gets like this—so desperate and worked-up, so needy for anything, and usually—usually he takes care of it himself, usually he makes sure to turn off his phone and leave it somewhere else, usually he isn’t weak enough to beg Jisung for help, but—
He needs him. Jisung who is so hot and once called Minho kitten as a joke and Minho had to pretend it didn’t make him instantly wet. That night, he got out the biggest dildo he owns and rode it, pretending the whole time it was Jisung.
‘You need my help?’ Jisung asks, slow and steady, like he’s enjoying this. Like he enjoys listening to Minho fall apart and beg, turning so dumb with heat he’ll humiliate himself just on the off chance that Jisung might give in and come help him out.
God, he hopes he’ll come. Please let him come. He doesn’t think he can get through this on his own.
‘It hurts,’ Minho whines, ‘it hurts s’much. I need—need—’
‘You need someone to come pin you down and fuck the heat out of you, baby?’
‘Hngfngf—’ The beast of arousal whorls in his belly and digs each of its clawed limbs into him.
‘I can’t hear you,’ Jisung says. ‘Tell me what you need, kitten.’
‘Please,’ he gasps, ‘please, I need you, I need you, I need you, I need your help, it hurts, it hurts—’
‘All right,’ he says. ‘I’ll come help you out. I assume you’re at home?’
‘Yes,’ Minho says, ‘yes, I’m home, I’m—please.’ He sucks in another breath and whispers, ‘please hurry.’
Jisung exhales a laugh that sets Minho’s body on fire. ‘I’m on my way, darling. I don’t want you to come until I get there, okay? Can you be a good kitten for me?’
‘I’m good,’ Minho says immediately, spinning into obedience so readily—he wants to be good and deserving, wants to earn Jisung’s help, wants to do whatever he tells him to do. ‘I’m good. I won’t come. I can’t—can’t anyway,’ he admits, words fissured by a whimper.
‘You can’t come without someone there to fuck you, huh? That’s cute.’
‘Please,’ he whispers. ‘Please, I do, I need—need help, please, your help—’
‘I’ll be right there,’ he promises.
‘Thank you.’ When his fingertips brush over his prostate again, he gasps. His leg cramps up, so he pulls out his fingers to stretch it out, but then he feels so empty—he almost sobs as his hole clenches around nothing, his phone slipping from his hand, his body trembling with hot, hot need.
He shifts around and ruts into a pillow. He won’t let himself come, but the feeling is nice. Jisung said he’s not allowed yet. He’ll be a good boy and listen to Jisung. Jisung is on his way and he’ll take care of him, he’ll help him, he’ll make the pain go away. Jisung is so nice. Jisung doesn’t have to because—because they’re just friends. Minho has never asked anyone to help him through heat before. But he has liked Jisung for so long, has wanted him for so long. Everything about him is incredible—he’s funny and he’s wicked smart and he is, of course, obnoxiously attractive with that slim waist and toned abs and dark, dark eyes. Minho feels like he’s drowning all the time when he’s near him, and now—now Jisung said he’ll come help. He said he’ll fuck the heat out of him and maybe it means nothing. It doesn’t mean he likes Minho in that way, but at least he didn’t reject him. That would’ve been so crushing.
‘Shit, baby,’ Jisung says, suddenly there, and that was fast—that was so, so fast, or did Minho lose track of time? He might have. Desire suspends time, everything is so fuzzy, everything is all warped and soaked in glittery need, and he has no idea how much time really passed.
A whimper dies in his throat when Jisung touches his thigh. ‘Fuck, just look at you, Minho-yah,’ he says in a voice so rough it feels shellacked with arousal. ‘You’re flushed everywhere. You must be burning up.’
‘Hurts,’ he sniffles, pelvis tilting forward to drag his dick against the pillow again. Impossibly, he feels his cheeks burn hotter when Jisung catches his eyes. The intensity of his gaze augments the embarrassment sizzling in his belly. He licks his lips and another wounded sound tears itself free from his chest. ‘Hurts, ‘m—hot, and—’
Jisung moves closer and cages Minho against the bed. He scratches behind his fluffy cat ear and threads his hand through his hair. ‘I’m here now,’ he says. ‘Want to tell me why you called me?’
‘Ah—’ He groans when Jisung tugs his hair. ‘I, I—you know—’
‘You’ve never called me like that before,’ Jisung says. ‘You’ve never asked for my help with your heat, baby.’
Minho burns. He twitches, wants to curl in on himself and escape Jisung’s dark eyes trained on his face. ‘Um,’ he mumbles, eyes closing, something carbonated in his throat.
Jisung’s hand pulls on his hair again. ‘If you want my help, you’ll have to tell me why I’m here. Why did you call me, Minho-yah?’
‘Because—‘cause I’m in heat. ‘n it hurts.’ His hips rock forward and he clenches again, feeling wet and sloppy, feeling empty, feeling so fucking needy he can’t even think—wants something inside him, Jisung’s fingers and Jisung’s cock and, oh, God, he wants him to come inside him, wants it so badly his whole body trembles.
‘Why did you call me, Minho-yah?’ he asks again, the stress slightly different, and Minho—Minho whimpers.
‘Aw, come on, darling. It’s a simple question, really.’ He withdraws his hand, and Minho’s back arches off the bed, wanting it back, wanting to be touched. ‘Won’t you answer me?’
‘Called you,’ he gasps, ‘because—because it’s you. Need you. Need your help, Sungie, you—you can help me, you can, you can, you—I know you can, I know you would—’
‘Poor little kitty,’ he drawls, and he’s touching him again, his warm hand curled on Minho’s hip, his fingers teasing around his skin, thumbing at Minho’s slick, clenching hole, and—oh God, God, God, he shivers, he can’t stop shivering, because Jisung is here and he’s touching him and he’s saying, ‘need me to fill you up right here, do you? Need me to fuck all this heat out of you and breed you so full of cum you’ll be dripping for me?’
‘Hhh—’ He jerks, hips grinding back in a desperate but futile attempt to get Jisung’s fingers inside. ‘Hh, please, please, hurts, hurts s’much, I’m so—I can’t think, I need it so bad—’
‘You’re fucking dripping, sweetheart.’ He slides two fingers inside Minho’s asshole and crooks them just right.
Minho arches off the bed again, mouth open, drool cobwebbing down his chin, eyes rolled back because fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s already so worked-up, he’s already so close and Jisung only just touched him, and is he really going to come this fast, isn’t that embarrassing, isn’t all of this so pathetic, isn’t it so shameful how badly he wants this?
Jisung is so nice going along with it. Jisung is so lovely. Jisung rubs Minho’s prostate and makes him see fucking stars and Minho can’t stop whimpering, clenching down on his fingers, body quivering and something tight and hot and raw in his belly. He’s so close.
‘Baby,’ Jisung coos, ‘be good for me. I know you want to come.’
‘I want to come,’ Minho gasps, the words slurred from all the spit in his throat. ‘I want to come, please, please, can I come—’
He slips in a third finger and Minho mewls.
‘Show me how pretty you are when you come, baby,’ he says, pinching Minho’s nipple with his free hand. ‘I’ll still fuck you after, I promise. Need to make you come on my cock, don’t I? I think you’d be lovely like that, kitten. Fucked so full you go stupid from it. Want to go stupid for me, Minho-yah?’
‘Hhhngfuck,’ he slurs as his body goes rigid—so worked-up and dazed from Jisung’s touch and Jisung’s words and the hour of edging himself before this. His dick twitches and he stains the pillow with cum, and he can’t think, he can’t think at all, he’s so sensitive now and Jisung is still prodding at his prostate, milking him dry, still cooing and calling him a cute little kitty, so needy and desperate.
‘Must still hurt,’ he murmurs, thumbing at Minho’s spasming rim, ‘all that heat trapped inside you. Burning you up. We have to get it out, don’t we? You need me to fuck it out of you?’
He trembles. ‘Please—’ His voice is all cracked. He sounds fucked-out, and oh, the way he must look right now. He must be so flushed, his hair all messy, everything pink and shiny, and he is so, so lost in this tinselled headspace devoted to desperation, to slick, dripping want. ‘Please, hurts—’
‘Let me take care of you,’ Jisung says. The bed shifts when he stands up and Minho fights open his eyes to look at him. He looks—aroused. Minho is pretty sure he’s not imagining that. His pupils are blown wide and his jaw so tense, his gaze focused on Minho as he unbuckles his leather belt and pushes his black jeans down his thighs. He’s so hot. He’s so hot. Minho squirms, suddenly overwhelmed, suddenly overcome by tender affection because Jisung is so sweet doing this, Jisung is so lovely, Jisung is stupidly hot and his cock is unsurprisingly big and when he wraps his hand around himself, his groan makes Minho’s belly flip.
He whimpers. He feels so—small. He feels like prey. He feels cornered and caught and it makes a sick, delicious thrill zing up his spine, inflames the desire swirling through him, makes him twitch—already half-hard again, already dripping, already wanting more. Always. Always wanting more. Never sated, never fully satisfied, but Jisung—
Jisung will fuck him docile. Jisung will give him everything he wants.
He kneels between Minho’s spread legs and slots his hands over his hip bones, hauling him closer. He leans to the side to grab the open bottle of peach-flavoured lube and catches Minho’s eyes again. ‘You’re already so fucking wet for me,’ he says, and that mocking tone makes Minho gasp. ‘It’s not like we really need this with you in heat and dripping like this.’ He presses the bottle against Minho’s rim and squirts a liberal amount directly into him.
The feeling makes his eyes roll back. It’s desperately humiliating, and paired with the way Jisung chuckles so meanly—fuck. His dick gives another twitch and his asshole clenches which makes all the lube squelch and he burns so hot with embarrassment.
‘Please,’ he whines, ‘please, Sungie, want—want it. Hurts. Need you, I need you—’
‘I know,’ Jisung says. He throws the lube aside and taps his cockhead against Minho’s rim without pushing inside. ‘You need to be bred stupid like the needy little kitten in heat you are, right? But you’re just so cute like this, baby. You’re so fun to tease.’
‘Please—’ he whines, fingers clenching the bedsheet so tightly. Light pinwheels across the back of his eyelids and his hips gyrate, trying to make Jisung’s cock slip inside him. ‘Please, please, please, it hurts, it hurts,’ he babbles, completely undone, so dizzy he can’t think and can’t feel ashamed and just wants. Wants so much. Wants everything Jisung will give him. ‘Please, ‘m good, ‘m good, I’ll be good—’
‘You’re good,’ Jisung says, and then thrusts forward smoothly, fat cock splitting Minho open so perfectly, everything so perfect and hot and tight.
‘Fuck,’ he gasps, arching again, left leg kicking out and asshole clenching, clenching, clenching, feeling so full and overwhelmed and sensitive. ‘Ah, ah, ahhhngg, ‘m so full, ‘m full, ‘m full—’
‘Yeah, darling,’ Jisung groans, all raspy masculinity. He touches one hand to Minho’s lower belly and pushes down. ‘Oh, shit. Feel that, baby? Feel me inside you?’
‘You’re—’ A forceful tremor wrecks through him. He clenches around Jisung’s cock when he thrusts into him again, the pace sharp and deliberate, Minho’s toes curling because he feels so fucking full. ‘You’re—so deep in me,’ he gasps, hot everywhere, his mind seeping out of him, evaporated and glittery. ‘Please. Please, you’re so—’
‘You should’ve asked for my help earlier,’ Jisung says. He grabs Minho’s hips and he hauls him off the bed to meet the fuck of his hips and everything is so loud and wet—skin against skin, the humiliating squelching of lube and pre-cum, all of Minho’s dumb little whimpers; his need so obvious, the air fucking ripe and perfumed with the peachy scent, sex and sweat and heat.
‘We could’ve done this before,’ Jisung continues as he fucks into him. ‘I would’ve helped you out, baby.’
‘Please, please—’ Minho babbles, ‘I didn’t think—if you’d want it, if you—if you liked me, if you—’
‘Of course I would’ve wanted it.’ He leans down and smudges a kiss to Minho’s cheeks, then slants his wet mouth against his throat and sucks the tender skin between his lips.
Oh, God. He’s marking him up. He’s kissing a bruise on his throat and it’s going to last for days and it’ll be a reminder that this was real.
Minho shivers. ‘You would’ve?’ he asks, the seams of his body threatening to burst, all that desire inside him so close to overflowing. ‘You’ll—you’ll—next time? Next time, you’ll help me again?’
‘Yeah.’ He punctuates the word with another sharp thrust into Minho’s pulsing hole. ‘Fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight around me, it’s like you were made for this. Fuck, that’s—’ He groans and slots his hand against Minho’s belly again. ‘You were, weren’t you? You were made to be fucked like this—that’s why you go into heat, isn’t that right, kitten? Your body knows what it needs. You know it, too. Tell me, baby. Tell me you were fucking made to take my cock—’
‘Hhhhfgng,’ he slurs, eyes closed, cock-drunk and dizzy from everything. ‘I, I, I—’ He struggles to untangle his tongue. ‘I was made—made to—to, ah, fuck, hh, was made—made to take cock, made to—’
Jisung stills his hips. ‘Whose cock were you made to take, baby?’
‘Oh, God.’ He opens his eyes and when he catches Jisung’s gaze, he comes again. ‘You,’ he garbles as his body convulses with pleasure, ‘you, you, your, ‘m your—yours, Sungie, made for—made for you, I’m made for you—’
‘You are—’
Minho feels split open. Each nerve ending buzzes with raw sensitivity as Jisung fucks into him again, his grip on his hips so bruising, each thrust making Minho almost squeal.
‘You were made for me,’ Jisung groans. He presses down on his stomach again, but then snaps his hand away to tease his fingers at Minho’s stretched-out, sore rim.
‘Oh, God,’ he gasps as Jisung rubs his fingers at his sensitive skin, slowly grinding his cock into him.
‘You’re so fucking wet right here,’ he says, something almost—awestruck in his voice. ‘Fucking glistening, baby. You always get this wet? Dripping for me. Dripping ‘cause you need someone to come fuck all that desperate heat out of you, yeah?’
‘I, I—’ He clenches around Jisung and something trembles in his chest. ‘Always—always like this, always—always—’
‘Always this wet and needy? God, you’re—fucking perfect.’ A deep moan splinters his voice and arousal whizzes through Minho’s blood. Affection, too.
Jisung rubs his thumb along the bulge in Minho’s belly. ‘Tell me what you need, baby,’ he says. ‘Need me to fill you up with cum? Need me to pump you so full and use you like the heat-sick little kitten you are?’
His voice cracks when he whispers, ‘please.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Please,’ he repeats, embarrassment bubbling in his chest again. Even after everything, this is still so shameful, but Jisung is so—he’s so good. He’s making it so good. Minho’s brain is too foggy to string together anything coherent. ‘Please, please, Sungie, please—want you—wan’ you to come, fill me, need it, need you, inside me, please, please, I—I, please—’
‘Good boy,’ he says, ‘begging like that.’ He slots his lovely hands on Minho’s hips again and yanks him closer, thrusting into him hard and deep.
Minho’s eyes roll back again. He’s already come twice and he’s sensitive. Jisung feels so fucking big inside him and he manhandles him so easily and he’s talking about how wet he is, how tight and good, the perfect little kitten, how he wants to toy with him for hours and see just how desperate he can get, how he’d beg for permission to come.
‘Next time, yeah?’ he asks. ‘Next time I’ll edge you till you break. You want that, baby?’
He convulses again. Everything is hot, hot, hot, so hot, everything is slippery and soaked in pale pink need, everything is all body all bruising touch all animal heat all Jisung’s low drawl and hot groan and his cock inside him, throbbing, sluicing cum so deep inside Minho that he gasps again, feels raw all over, feels docile and lamblike and lovesick and—
‘Thank you,’ he chokes, hopelessly clenching down on Jisung’s cock to milk him dry, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you—’
‘There you go.’ He grinds into him, a slow roll of his hips, Minho’s toes curling again. ‘There you go, baby. Fuck. Just look at you—shit, you look so out of it. Pretty baby. My pretty kitten.’
‘Hhh,’ Minho whines, shuddery, refusing to meet Jisung’s eyes, shy despite the sex haze, the dumbed-down headspace he’s slipped into. ‘Hhhg, you—’
‘Baby,’ he coos, shifting to slip out, ghosting a fingertip around Minho’s clenching asshole. ‘Baby, fuck, there you are. There you are—’ He lies down next to him and pulls him into a hug, slotting their bodies together in a way they’ve done so many times before. His thigh fits neatly between Minho’s legs and he runs a sweat-sticky hand through Minho’s matted hair, the clip-on cat ears probably askew by now. ‘There you are. Good boy.’
‘I’m—’ He hides his face in Jisung’s T-shirt. ‘I’m dizzy. You were so hot.’
‘Me?’ he prompts. ‘What about you? Shit, I didn’t know it would be so—’
Minho licks his lips and shifts slightly. ‘It was—okay? For you?’
When he’d first suggested this, he’d been embarrassed. He spent months only thinking about it, fantasising in secret, unsure how to ever bring it up. It’s hard enough to tell your boyfriend you would like to roleplay anything, but wanting him to call you kitten and fuck you through your heat? Yeah, how do you ask for that?
But Jisung was lovely, of course. He didn’t even laugh. Maybe his expression was a little amused, but he reassured him, said it was okay, of course they could try that out.
‘It was more than okay,’ he promises and kisses Minho’s forehead. ‘It was really good. It was stupid hot, what the fuck. You were so—desperate.’
‘Edged for like an hour,’ Minho mumbles, the reassurance glowing through him. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. And loved, he thinks. How lucky to be loved by Jisung. ‘It got me all—God, I couldn’t think. I felt like I really was in heat or something. It was—I don’t even know how to explain it. Like, in my head, it was so real. And you—you were so good. You made it so good.’
‘You made it so good, too.’ Jisung kisses him again, and Minho whines softly. He needs a shower, or an hour-long bath, but he can’t figure out how to move his body. It’s gone soft, just a gooey pile of limbs and satiation.
‘You were stupid hot,’ Jisung says. ‘When you called me. You sounded so out of it.’
‘I was.’
‘I promise it was more than okay for me too,’ he says. ‘Okay? It was great. I’m so glad we did this.’
‘Me too,’ Minho says, the words tumbling into a sleepy sound. ‘And you said—um, said you’d help me again next time. With m’heat. I don’t have to go through it alone.’
Jisung’s fingers tighten in Minho’s hair and he shifts, his thigh pressing harder into his crotch, which makes him shiver. He’s too sensitive. He can’t go again, but—
‘You won’t have to go through your heat alone any more, kitten,’ Jisung murmurs, nosing against Minho’s throat, kissing the love bite he gave him earlier. ‘I’ll fuck you through it every time, yeah? Just the way you need. Keep you full and stupid just the way you need.’