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It started over text, which didn’t seem as bad. It felt removed. They were at different colleges, so what did it matter? They couldn’t run into each other; they had no mutual friends. It wasn't like they were actually doing anything other than sending words that meant very little when there was no real action behind them.
I’ve been thinking about it again
about what?
About how wet you’d get before I even touch you
i’m in class
You’ve always been so easy to tease ~
I liked it even if I pretended not to
You always blushed so prettily when I made you feel stupid
Are you getting wet reading this, Jisungie?
stop it
Are you going to show me?
⸝⸝⸝
Jisung had been fifteen when they moved in together. Minho had been seventeen. They were as awkward as any teenagers suddenly required to cohabit, despite how much their parents forced them together and said they looked like they were blood siblings.
After a year or so, a friendship formed.
A year later Minho went to college.
Two years after that, Jisung went to a different college.
She couldn’t remember who called first, but that was probably deliberate on her part. There was a bigger chance that it was her. Not that it mattered, in the end. Minho picked up. The second time it happened, he called her.
⸝⸝⸝
She didn’t send him nudes. Ever. While she trusted Minho more than she’d ever admit, naked images of herself weren’t something she wanted floating around somewhere. She was too anxious for that, too self-conscious. What if his phone was stolen? What if he lost it? What if he looked at them in public and someone she knew happened to be close by? So she didn’t send nudes.
It didn’t deter him. It didn’t deter her, either.
I saw your IG post.
Cute dress
It looks silky. The lilac looks pretty on you.
So cute
i wasn’t aiming for cute ☹
What were you aiming for? Hot?
You know you’re hot.
hm
What, you want to hear that I couldn’t look away from your tits? You already know that.
i like it when you tell me
Were you wearing underwear?
no
Did someone take you home?
yeah<3
Did you keep the dress on?
yeah… he liked it
I’m sure he did.
would you have kept it on?
I would have ripped it off you in seconds.
⸝⸝⸝
She never admitted that she hated posting on Instagram. It would say too much. He’d know that every photograph was for him.
⸝⸝⸝
“It’s crazy, right?” Lix asked, baked and sprawled across Jisung’s bedroom floor.
They were meant to be packing for a vacation with Lix’s family, but they’d paused to smoke, and now they were too baked to do anything other than lie there on the old carpet. At seventeen, she still had a shelf of teddy bears near her bed. Minho was back for summer break, and his college sounded fun. Jisung was excited and terrified, and regretted not applying to the same college as him. At least she would have known one person, even if it was him, even if they were in different subjects, in different years.
“What’s crazy?”
“How fucking sexy your brother is.”
Jisung snorted, kicking out until her foot met Lix’s thigh. “Don’t be gross.”
“I’m being objective,” she said. “His sexiness is not subjective in the slightest. It’s like… fuck, I’m not smart enough for comparisons. The sun is hot, right? It’s not debatable. Like Minho being hot isn’t debatable.”
“Sure, Lix.”
“Your judgement is clouded; you’ve lived with him for too long.” She huffed out a sigh. “I swear, if you could look past the fact that your dad married his mom, he’s like, your exact type.”
“I don’t have a type,” Jisung replied weakly.
“Sure you don’t,” Lix said kindly. “And I don’t have that leather jacket you thought you’d lost in spring.”
“What the hell do you mean you have my leather jacket!”
⸝⸝⸝
The first year of college was humbling, inspiring, and just as terrifying as she’d expected. She learnt a lot. She learnt that she knew even less than she thought. She lost her virginity. She gained friends, and lost a couple. Contact with family was limited. She called her father every couple of weeks, but they’d never been particularly close. She talked to Minho more, but only because they had the same fucked up schedule, and she’d see him online in the early hours while she was procrastinating on an essay due at first thing in the morning.
They hadn’t spoken in person for months when Jisung first reached out, neutrally asking how ‘things were going.’
She didn't like to think about the last time she’d seen him in person, on her eighteenth birthday. It hadn’t been great.
He’d replied, surprisingly open to communication, and they kept it up. Not every day, not even every week, but it lasted.
And became worse.
⸝⸝⸝
They weren’t actually related. They were adults. It was all just talk. What did it matter if she thought he was attractive? What did it matter if he felt the same about her?
⸝⸝⸝
They’d been more like friends than siblings. Minho was popular and quiet, outrageous when the mood struck him, but even-tempered and kind. Good to women, and cleaner than most men, likely because he was raised by his single mother.
Jisung had been a difficult teenager. She was too smart in a lot of ways and too dumb in others. Her anxiety made her reclusive at times, and when she was overwhelmed she acted recklessly, but she felt everything very deeply. If someone was good to her, she was good to them. She valued friendship above all else. She wrote about sentimental love, and when she started college and finally wheedled her way into a music studio, she proved that she wasn’t as stupid as she’d feared. She was a fast learner.
They’d gotten along well despite their differences. They liked the same movies; they played the same games. Minho helped Jisung with assignments he’d already aced, and she helped him write apologies messages to his girlfriend when he’d forgotten about a date because he’d been baking for her. He picked her up on the extremely rare times she snuck out of the house to fuck her life up, and she covered for him when he left with her dad’s car and didn’t come back for two days straight. His camping trip with friends, remember? You said he could go months ago. He’d been with his boyfriend at the time. They’d never found out.
“Is it strange?” Minho had asked on Jisung’s sixteenth birthday, “to have lived alone with your dad for so long, and then suddenly I’m here with my mom?”
“Yeah, it was pretty strange at the start,” Jisung admitted. Minho had tried to escape her birthday party, and she’d understood it - her friends all blushed and giggled around him, and the only reason they’d found a moment of peace together was because the cake was being served. It wasn’t even cheesecake, because Jisung’s dad didn’t like cheesecake. It didn’t matter; Minho had promised to take her out for a slice after everyone went to bed. “I don’t mind you being here now, though.”
⸝⸝⸝
He came home for her seventeenth birthday and snuck her out for the second year in a row. They had three slices of cheesecake each, then watched a horror movie in an empty cinema and sat groaning and bloated and laughing every time one of them jumped at an obvious scare.
⸝⸝⸝
“I’m just glad you’re on speaking terms again,” Jisung’s dad said to her over the phone on her nineteenth birthday. “Minho came home for the weekend, and he mentioned you were getting on well. He said you’re the top of a lot of your classes. You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m just busy, dad. I don’t mean to keep any secrets.”
“I know, I know. Like I said, I’m glad that you’re talking again. We were beginning to wonder if you ever would.”
Happy Birthday! Minho’s text had read. You’re all grown up. I hope you have an amazing day and get all the cheesecake you could possibly eat. Let me know when you’re going home next and I’ll come along. Take you for another slice, haha.
Just the one? Jisung had replied.
As many as you like. Whatever you want.
It didn’t start that night, but a week later, during her belated party. She was drunk off her ass within an hour. As soon as the call connected, almost at dawn, whoever it was that rang, Jisung had slurred, “Do you think I’m hot, or am I driving myself crazy about you all alone?”
⸝⸝⸝
She knew she was pretty. She hadn’t always been, but that was just adolescence. She’d grown into her round face, and the slow build of confidence that came with college had helped her too. She learnt how to style her long hair, plaits and loose curls and a neat middle part, and she learnt how to do her makeup, all blushing pinks and golden glitter. She learnt what clothes suited her best - fitted on the top, to highlight her tits, her waist, and baggier on the bottom, to make her legs look longer than they were. Even as an adult she was waiting on that growth spurt.
“Pretty,” her first boyfriend had panted into her neck, overeager and clumsy as he fingered her for the first time, “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fuck, Jisung, I think we should get married.”
It hadn’t lasted. She’d stayed another three months, because despite his almost scary infatuation, he’d been good at making her feel good. He’d held doors open for her, he’d brought her flowers to class, and he’d taught her how to make a man feel good too. He was handsome and smart, and for a while that had been enough. When he’d brought up ring sizes, she’d ended it as kindly as possible. He’d turned away to hide his tears, and she hadn’t minded at all. He looked better in profile. He had a sharp nose. She’d always preferred that, for some reason.
⸝⸝⸝
They talked about it over messages or during a call. They talked. That was it.
“You want the truth?” Minho had asked that first time. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
And that was it. The call had ended with her heart fluttering and her face red and hot. She shouldn’t have called. Minho had a boyfriend at the time, which was bad enough on its own if they ignored everything else that was fucking wrong with the situation.
He’d dumped the poor guy the next day.
⸝⸝⸝
what’s fucking a guy like?
It’s like fucking a woman.
how can it be?
I like to top either way. It’s hot, tight, and wet.
I like anal with women too, so it’s fine. I don’t mind whatever.
do you have a preference?
with partners I mean
Not really. I like who I like at the time, and that could be anyone.
do you like anyone now?
Hm… I don’t know.
really?
Really. Do you like anyone?
no
i have a first date tomorrow, though…. i’m nervous
Don’t be. If he’s worth your time he’ll be on his knees by the end of the night.
hahaha what do you mean?
like proposing?
No.
You know what I mean, Jisung. No ring, just his mouth open, his tongue flat.
oh
If you’re going to put out, make him work for it. You’ve always been too nice to losers.
including you?
Especially me.
⸝⸝⸝
She’d continued that conversation the next day, after her date. After she’d put out, and she hadn’t made him work for it.
when you take a girl on a first date, are you on your knees by the end of the night?
For a girl like you I would be.
She’d been too scared to continue. Too scared of the ache inside of her, the empty feeling that she hadn’t even escaped with her back arched and her hands fisted in bedsheets that smelled of cheap deodorant and weed.
“How was the date?” her roommate Hyunjin asked upon her return.
Jisung had shrugged and wandered through to the shower. She was pleasantly sore, but she couldn’t see it happening again. His room was too messy, and the way he spoke about his ideal family dynamic perturbed her. He expected his girlfriend to do the cooking. Jisung couldn’t fucking cook. She could barely use the microwave.
“Tell me,” Hyunjin begged when Jisung got back to their room. “My standards are too high and I’m horny. Was it good? Did anything happen, or was it just dinner? You were gone too long for just dinner, surely.”
“We had sex. It was good.”
“Good? Give me something to work with!”
Jisung sighed and started the gargantuan task of brushing her hair. “It was doggy style. I don't know, he was pretty rough, but it was good.” At Hyunjin’s annoyed look, Jisung got defensive. “I don’t have another word for it, sorry! It was just good, that was it!”
“He’s not the one.” Hyunjin flopped back onto her bed. “The real love of your life will make you squirt, I know it.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I have intuition.”
“For squirting?”
“You doubt me now, but I know. You’ll see that I’m right when the time comes.”
⸝⸝⸝
They just talked. That was it. It didn’t mean anything. It would never be more than what it already was.
what’s your favourite position?
I’m boring. I like missionary.
you’re not boring
I am in this. I like to see my partner’s face.
What do you like best?
i like being picked up
maybe that’s silly but i like it
It’s not silly at all.
Of course you like it. You’ve always liked feeling dainty.
have I?
Remember when I’d collect you from those parties and you’d make me carry you to the car?
i guess i’d forgotten
I didn’t forget.
are you strong?
Are you asking if I still go work out? Yeah. I still dance too.
cool
I can pick a girl up and make her feel dainty, if that’s what you’re asking.
cool
Cool
don’t make fun of me
I’m not
I like picking people up too.
Against the wall, a door… I like making my partner feel helpless in a good way.
you like being in charge?
Sure do
i like the opposite
You’ve always thought too fast, Jisung.
It makes sense that you want someone you can trust to look after you so that you don’t have to think at all.
⸝⸝⸝
They were just talking, so it was fine. It became more personal, more direct, but they were still just talking.
thoughts on period sex?
Same thoughts as regular sex. I like sex.
Jisung sat there with her cramps and sulked. She’d heard sex helped, but she didn't know any men that wanted to try. Her last boyfriend fainted at the sight of blood, and the boyfriend before that thought that one tampon stayed inside of her for the entire period. When she’d asked him to fuck her, he’d frowned and said, ‘If the tampon is there, I don’t think I’ll fit.’
When she replied to Minho and told him that, she expected him to find it amusing.
If he were a real man he would have fucked you.
a real man like you?
Just like me.
have you done it before?
Yeah, a lot.
is it wetter?
Of course it’s wetter, but that doesn’t mean you get to skip the foreplay.
i take it no oral…
No oral if the man is a coward.
wow Minho
I like eating pussy. That doesn’t change if you’re on your period.
you’d still eat someone out?
Yeah.
wow
She told herself they were still talking in hypotheticals. You didn’t mean you, it meant whatever faceless person Minho was picturing with a pussy. It didn't mean Jisung.
i want to try it
I want that for you, too.
⸝⸝⸝
When Jisung finally showed Hyunjin a photograph of Minho, Hyunjin baulked.
“That’s your brother?”
“Stepbrother.”
“Jisung, he’s… this is maybe the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Ever.” She turned on Jisung so quickly it startled Jisung back a couple of steps. “You can’t tell me you’ve never seen him naked. How was it?”
“Hyunjin, what the hell!” Her attitude was reminiscent of Lix, and what she’d said about Minho when they were nineteen, and Lix suddenly knew how to express how she felt about him. ‘My clit would be a burnt fucking stump if I lived with this man.’
Hyunjin, at least, was more polite about it. “I’m not judging you at all. If you’ve seriously never pictured him naked, please tell me your secrets. I want that level of self-restraint. I want to masturbate to him now.”
“Stop objectifying my brother!”
“Send him a picture of me, I don’t mind if he does the same.”
Jisung moped after that, and remained pouty until Hyunjin relented, apologised, and bought Jisung bubble tea. She didn’t know why the suggestion bothered her so much, but it did.
She touched herself that night, when Hyunjin was staying late at her studio to finish up a painting. One hand against her throat while the other circled her clit, she thought about Minho as she’d last seen, in the Instagram post she’d shown Hyunjin.
His hair was lighter and longer than it had been since they’d last met. He looked broader, sturdier. His clothes fitted him well, even if they were plain and entirely black.
She thought about the Minho she knew. Kind and courteous and always too soft with her, with his veiny arms and his wide hands and his cutting profile and his cute teeth. She gasped as she pressed two fingers inside of herself.
He liked missionary. She thought of him hovering over her, hands bracketed beside her head, her legs around his waist. His cock, hot and heavy, resting on the divot of her hip. I think you’re gorgeous.
She convulsed through her orgasm and blinked away tears when it was over, disgusted with herself and with him.
⸝⸝⸝
when i ask you invasive questions you shouldn't tell me the answer
Why not?
it’s wrong
Why does that suddenly matter now?
She didn’t have a response for that. I fucked myself while thinking about you, and now I feel guilty about it. She’d rather die than tell him. She’d rather die than admit it felt just as good as sex with other men, as infrequent as it was. She always messaged him the day before a first date, as though he could convince her to cancel, as though he’d want to. She’d rather die than admit she wanted him to.
Jisung, talk to me.
i have a date tomorrow
Oh? I hope it goes well.
do you?
I want you to be happy, baby. Yes I want it to go well.
She didn’t want him to want that. She wanted him to be jealous. She wanted him to want her in the same burning, selfish way she wanted him.
⸝⸝⸝
She called Minho afterwards. Not full of self-hatred, exactly, but resignation. The date hadn’t been good. The sex hadn’t been good. The only time she’d gasped with any authenticity was when they’d rolled over and he’d pushed inside from behind, and she’d closed her eyes to pretend it was Minho.
“How was it?”
It had been weeks since they’d last called. His voice was as sweet as she remembered. “Kinda crappy.”
“Crappy? That’s not good. What happened?”
“We went to the movies; the film was bad. We went back to his apartment afterwards and watched another movie, which was pretty good. The sex was… fine.”
“Fine?”
“Just fine.”
“Hm.” So little was said, but it was full of disapproval.
The sound made Jisung laugh softly. “What?”
“It’s just sad. You’d think if a guy was going to shoot his shot he’d know how to load the gun, but maybe I’m mistaken.”
“It wasn’t awful,” Jisung murmured. She hadn’t hated it, but that was about all she could say. He’d been an okay kisser. He’d made sure she was wet before he fucked her.
“Did you cum?”
She stared at her dark ceiling. “What?”
“Did he make you cum?”
She swallowed. When she glanced over, Hyunjin was still staring at the screen of her laptop. Jisung could faintly hear the music coming from her headphones. She didn’t know how to answer him.
“That’s a no, I take it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does. Did he cum? I know he did because men don’t end a date if they don’t cum. He should have shown you the same courtesy.”
“Because you’re so different.” This was too much. This was passing the grey area she could excuse.
“I am,” Minho said. “Jisung, if it were me you wouldn't have been able to walk the next day. You’d still be feeling it now.”
Her stomach tensed. “Liar.”
“Why would I lie about this? I hate that he didn’t make you feel good. Fuck, I’m angry.” He laughed disbelievingly. “You seriously didn’t cum at all?”
She tried to keep her breathing even and pressed her legs together. “I didn’t cum, but it still felt nice.”
“Nice,” Minho scoffed. “Sex shouldn’t be nice. Did he eat you out? Did he make sure you were begging for it before he fucked you like you needed? How wet were you?”
“Stop.” It came out weak, barely above a whisper.
“Tell me.”
“It was fine,” she repeated. It was still quiet, almost a plea for him to leave it alone. She pressed her legs together more tightly. “He didn’t eat… me, but I was wet. It was fine, I promise.”
“How wet?”
“Dude.” They shouldn’t be talking about this. They couldn’t.
“Were you dripping? Did he lick it off your thighs? I can’t believe he didn’t taste you. A girl as sweet as you? I don’t understand. How many fingers could you take?”
“You can’t ask me shit like this.”
“I can,” Minho said, back to soft. “I’m your big brother, aren’t I? I have to make sure you’re being taken care of in my absence.”
She needed to hang up. She needed to block his number. They’d gone too far. “You’re fucked in the head.”
“Did he use a condom, baby?”
She was fucking pulsing. “Yes.”
Minho sighed. “After all that disappointment he didn’t even breed you? My poor girl.”
She hung up. Her hands were trembling when she scrubbed her face, palms damp.
The light flicked on, making her jump.
“Jisung? You okay?” Hyunjin asked, pulling her headphones off.
“Yeah, fine,” Jisung managed. “Just a shitty call.”
Hyunjin hummed sympathetically. “Your date?”
Jisung forced herself to nod.
“Just ignore him, you don’t have to pick up. Why don’t you text Minho? He always makes you feel better.”
She couldn’t, not anymore. She knew that.
⸝⸝⸝
I want you to find another man and try again.
See if he does better.
If you don’t cum, you need to call me.
⸝⸝⸝
She'd just turned eighteen when they stopped speaking.
Minho took her out for another forbidden slice of cheesecake, and this time it was just the one. The store only had a single slice of New York style left, and they ate it together in Minho’s shitty Toyota, parked a couple of houses down from their own.
“How does it feel to be eighteen?” Minho asked.
“Like seventeen, really.”
“Maybe nineteen will feel different, since you’ll already be at college.”
“Did it feel different for you?”
Minho blinked at her slowly. “A little.”
He’d come back from college just for her birthday. It meant more than she could ever say. “Thank you for the cake.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled then, small. “Happy birthday, Jisung.”
She’d kissed him.
It was her first kiss, and clumsy. Their noses knocked together hard enough to make her eyes water. As soon as her brain caught up with her and she realised what she’d done, moved to pull away, but his hand came up to cup her head and keep her there.
He threaded his hands into her hair and kissed her back.
His lips were soft and bitten, and he tasted like her favourite dessert, like her birthday cake of choice, like the best night of every year. He licked into her mouth with slow, deliberate reverence, and when she let him in he moaned, so deep and guttural that it woke her from her daze.
She yanked herself back and pressed herself against the car door, panting. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, high pitched and already on the verge of tears. “Minho, I’m so sorry.”
He was already starting to frown. “Sorry? Jisung-”
But she bolted from the car before she could hear the rest. She ran home and locked herself in her room. Minho knocked a couple of times, but he didn’t try to come in. He called, but she didn’t pick up.
By the time she woke up the following day, he’d already left for college again.
⸝⸝⸝
The air outside was cool, but it made her dizzier. Her head felt comparatively hotter and when she slumped over the metal railing of the fire escape, she could barely hold herself up. Two weeks had passed. It was the longest they’d gone without speaking or messaging in a long time, almost a year.
Calling Minho was second nature. It came naturally, even if she couldn’t lift her head.
When he picked up, it was loud. Really loud, like he was in a bar or a crowded room somewhere, a female voice laughing close to the speaker, someone else further away shouting in a jeering tone.
“Jisung?”
“Hi,” she managed, staring down at her own feet. Her old, untied sneakers. Why hadn’t she tied the fucking laces? She could have tripped and fallen to her death. She still might. “I did it.”
“Did what?” The laughing got closer; someone high pitched and whiny asked Minho to hang up the call. When he spoke again it wasn’t to Jisung. “This is more important, stop it. I’m going outside, I’ll see you in twenty. Yeah, just leave it in the fridge.” Another pause, a creak, a close. Then Minho, louder and softer, and once again with his attention back on Jisung. “You okay? You don’t sound it.”
“I did it,” she repeated. “Did you see the photos on Instagram?”
Minho hummed. “Since when do you wear low-rise jeans?”
“They’re in style again. Not that you’d know.” She hadn’t picked the outfit with Minho in mind, but she’d known he’d like it in an abstract way. A pale, satin crop top and her wide legged, low-rise jeans. Her hair was down, her makeup minimal. She looked casual and cute, and she knew it. She’d even changed the bar in her belly button, removing the usual gold and replacing it with a silver butterfly. Her nipples were visible through her shirt in the photos that she’d posted. In the second one. Hyunjin had a hand over Jisung’s waist and her tongue at the base of Jisung’s throat. In the third one they were both being carried by Chan, who just looked happy to be there, as lovely and supportive as he was.
Minho laughed. “What is it you did, Jisung?”
She closed her eyes and tried to breathe past the rock in her stomach. The tip of her nose was getting cold, but she couldn’t do much about that. “I found another guy.”
“Ah.” Minho didn’t feign ignorance. “Tonight? Just now?”
“I just got back to my dorm.”
“Are you in bed?”
“No, Hyunjin is talking to her dad. I’m on the fire escape.”
“Was he good to you?”
Jisung squeezed her eyes shut. “I couldn’t - I tried everything. I did, I swear I did.”
“Hey, I believe you,” Minho said softly. “What happened?”
“Nothing he did turned me on. Not the kissing, the - he tried biting, I asked him to pull my hair, he didn’t want to eat me out, but he fingered me, but it was too tight. It hurt.” She opened her eyes and looked at her sneakers again, unsure if it was despair or something else running with the alcohol through her veins. Picturing Minho hadn’t helped. “It was embarrassing. I blew him and came home.”
“So once again you let him nut and didn’t take anything for yourself?”
“I wasted his time, I had to-”
“What do you mean he wouldn’t eat you out? Fuck, Jisung, what kind of men are you looking for?”
Her chest tightened. The exact words he’d used were, eating pussy is for boyfriends, not hook-ups. “Don’t be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you. Fucking hell.” Minho blew out a short breath. “So you’re home now, or - on the fire escape, whatever. You haven’t cum at all? Did you finish yourself when you got back?”
This was mortifying beyond belief, and she knew in her heart that if the alcohol wasn’t between her and reality, she’d have already started crying. “Minho, there wasn’t anything to finish.”
“Then do it now.”
She stopped breathing. “What?”
“Do it now.”
“I… what the fuck are you saying? I can’t!”
“You can,” he said, back to soft. “You can, baby, I’m right here. I’ll be right here with you.”
“I can’t.” She curled further into herself and clung to the railing so tightly that it felt like it was cutting into her palm. She wanted this. He knew she wanted it.
“You can,” Minho said again, so unbearably warm. “Unzip your jeans. Don’t pull them down, though, or someone might notice you. Is anyone around?”
Jisung lifted her head for long enough to check for people, but everything was dark. Her dorm looked over a sports field, and it was empty. The only voices she could hear were coming from inside the building, behind her. She turned to check that the window behind her was closed, and the hall it opened into was also empty. “I’m alone.”
“Unzip your jeans.”
She released the railing and switched her phone to her left hand, cramped and cold as it was, and then braced herself with her forearm to keep her steady. Her right hand, shaking and hesitant, trailed down to the button of her jeans. She managed to get it open, but she stopped there and closed her eyes again. This was… it. There would be no going back if they did this. If she did this.
The zipper was old and difficult to tug down. When she finally managed it, Minho knew, somehow. Maybe her breathing changed. Maybe she gasped. Maybe he was watching her.
“Flatten your hand over your panties. Give yourself something to rub against.”
The lace was ticklish against her palm. Her stomach was tight. As soon as she pressed down, her hips twitched forward, and even the dull press against her clit was enough to make her bite her lower lip.
“Does it feel good already?”
She nodded before realising that even if she wanted him to, he couldn’t actually see her. “Yeah. Feels good.”
“Tell me,” Minho said. “When you’re alone at home, and my mom and your dad are out, what do you do to yourself? How do you make yourself feel best?”
Jisung moved her hand slowly and had to bite back a noise. “I watch porn.”
“Do you have a favourite type? A genre?”
Her abdomen was starting to pulse; everything was heating up. Even her nose didn’t feel the cold anymore, and she opened her eyes again to look at her untied shoes and the exposed back of her hand as her fingers pressed lower, hard against her entrance.
“Jisung, focus.”
She laughed, sick and full of awful want. She was so empty. “What?”
“Focus.”
Through the fog of her brain she tried to think about the porn she’d watched over the years. Good and bad, some questionable shit she’d rather die than mention, some so basic it felt almost like a cop-out. “What do you watch?”
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you and what you like. I want to know.”
She didn’t have a favourite porn star. She liked lesbian and straight porn, though she could tell when it was aimed at someone like her or someone like the guy that had tried to stick it in dry only half an hour ago. She didn’t have anything she looked for, beyond what seemed hot in the moment. What was the most common denominator? Only one thing came to mind. “I like mess.”
“Mess?”
She liked women covered in spit, squirt, lube, and cum. She liked tears. She liked someone to be in charge, to handle things with careful hurt. She liked thinking about herself being ambushed, dragged to the floor to be worshipped and ruined. The lace of her panties was damp. “Minho, I can’t.”
“You can,” he said, soft again. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Well, trust me now. You can do this, honey. You can. Tell me.”
“I like it…” Her breath shuddered out of her. “I like it when the woman is… when she’s used. When she can’t control herself because she feels so good, when she’s so out of her mind that she doesn’t want to control herself. I like it when she’s messy, when she makes a mess and when he – when they make a mess of her. When they make a mess on her. And she has to lie there and let it happen because she can’t do anything else.” She swallowed. “I like that.”
“Good girl. And what do you do when you watch porn? How do you make yourself feel good?”
“I have –” God. She’d used it with him in the house so many times, hands clamped over her mouth, legs shaking, towel on the floor. “I have a dildo.”
Minho hummed. “What about a vibrator?”
“No,” she forced out. “Too loud, you know how thin the walls are.”
“Text me your address in the morning, I’ll buy one for you.”
“You can’t buy me a vibrator.”
“Of course I can. Where’s your hand now?”
“Where you told me to put it.” She could feel the heat of her cunt against her palm. When she closed her eyes for too long she pictured Minho’s face, his smile, the cocky tilt of his head whenever he’d brought a girl home and kept her awake with the noise. It would ruin everything if she admitted she missed him. Not even in this sense, but in general. She missed him making fun of her, cooking for her, lying for her when she inevitably got herself into trouble. She missed him like a limb.
“Good. Move your panties aside. Start with one finger, hm? If he was rough with you, I don’t want this to hurt.”
As soon as she slipped a finger past the fabric she could tell how wet she was. Even the lips of her labia. There was no resistance when she slipped her finger in, even when she clenched around it. She was tight, but nothing hurt. It felt nice, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She pressed the heel of her palm against her clit and flinched away from the sensation. It was too much. Minho hadn’t said she could.
“Any pain?”
“No.”
“Amazing. You’re doing well. Add another.”
Her breathing was picking up. She added a second finger and it was just as easy as the first. She crooked her fingers and bit back a moan, rocking into the touch. She could feel it in her toes. She closed her eyes to picture Minho again, but instead imagined his lips at her ear, his hand covering her own.
“You sound like you’re enjoying yourself,” Minho murmured.
She rocked her hips again and built a slow rhythm. If someone walked past or wandered onto the field to smoke, they’d see her easily. It made it so much better, so much worse. “I am.”
“You’re imagining something, aren’t you?”
His hand pressing hard against her lower abdomen. Lips on her neck, teeth digging into her skin. His erection against her ass. “I’m so wet,” she admitted. “I could go back to him. It’d fit now.”
“No,” Minho said. “He’s not going to make you feel like this, baby girl. He’d ruin it.”
“Can I add another?” she asked, “Please?”
“One more.”
She had to bite back a moan when she added a third finger and felt herself clench down. It was a stretch. It ached. She’d seen Minho’s cock, though never deliberately, and knew it would be worse. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Imagining something?”
“I’m imagining how good it would feel to fuck you, Jisung. Were you expecting something else?”
She did moan then, loud and humiliating. “Is it the first time you’ve thought about it?”
Minho laughed breathlessly. “Not in the first hundred. You’re so sensitive, baby. There are so many ways I could fuck you. The night wouldn’t be long enough. Shit, I wish you’d worn a skirt so I could hear you dripping on the metal grating.”
She moved her hand faster, really starting to fuck herself. She didn’t know if it was loud enough for Minho to hear, but it sounded almost deafening to her. “Tell me more.”
“Yeah? So you can cum while you’re thinking about it? About me?”
“Please, Minho. Please.” She was so wet she could hear it. She could feel it soaking into her jeans. She still felt empty, but maybe that was because he was so far away. Maybe she’d always feel empty. “Please, I’m close, I’m so close.”
“The first time would have to be gentle,” Minho said. “I don’t want you hurting, not like that. You were at a party, right? Maybe we’d meet there.”
“Are we still –” She couldn’t ask. Are we still siblings?
“Always,” he said. “I don’t say anything to you, but I grab your wrist and throw you into one of the rooms with a lock. A bedroom, maybe a bathroom. You ask me what I’m doing, but I don’t answer, I just pull you out of those jeans and get on my knees. You put one foot on the bed, or the bath, or what the fuck ever. It doesn’t matter, does it, baby? Why would it matter? My tongue is already in your cunt, and that’s what matters.”
“Ah,” she gasped, fucking herself faster. Her wrist ached, her gums ached, her abdomen felt too tight, she felt overwhelmed and horrible and so good, and she’d never felt like this with another man. It was half despair when she sobbed, “More.”
“More,” Minho repeated. “Greedy girl. You always want more, don’t you? And you deserve it. It feels good for me too, you know. When a pretty girl orgasms and I can feel her pulse around my tongue. It’s even better if my fingers are in her ass, but we’ll get you there. You’re greedy, so you wouldn’t settle for one orgasm, and why should you? That’s what I’m here for. One with my tongue, one with my hands, one with my cock. How many fingers can you take comfortably?”
“Three,” she said, “Four on a good day.”
“I’ll use three,” he said. “We’ll work our way up slowly. Maybe the vibrator I bought for you is in my pocket. If I press it against your clit while I finger you, how long do you think it’d take? Two minutes? One?”
She was going to burst. She felt a tear drip from her cheek and saw it land on her untied sneaker. “Minho.”
“When I stand back up and my face is wet, would you kiss me?”
“Yes.” She pictured it, his smug face, his raised brows, his slick, red mouth, his wet nose. “I’m gonna – Minho, I’m gonna cum.”
“Before I even press inside?” He lowered his voice, slowed everything down. “It’d be tight, but only because you’re not used to me yet. I wouldn’t use a condom; I don’t want anything between us. You wouldn’t mind, baby, I’d make sure you don’t mind at all. And when you’ve cum a third time, I’ll send you back out into the party with your nice jeans fastened and my cum soaking into your panties. The next time you’ll take four fingers. The time after that you’ll take five. We’ll keep going. Once we start, we won’t stop. Once I have you, that’s it.”
The moment she pressed the heel of her palm to her clit again she tipped over the edge. She came with a bitten back cry, clenching around her fingers with such force that it almost hurt, so intense and all-encompassing that she was left shaking, tears still running down her face, only able to breathe in fast, shallow bursts.
“There you go, good girl,” Minho said lovingly.
Jisung kept forcing herself to breathe. The aftershocks were like lightning, and she kept her hand where it was, her fingers still deep inside her pussy. She didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want everything to be over.
Through the fog in her head, she heard a door creak somewhere, and it took her a moment to realise it was on Minho’s end of the phone line.
“You came here to see me, and you’re spending the entire night out here, on the phone with another girl?”
It was the whiny voice from before. Jisung swallowed and focused on her breathing. Her nose was getting cold again.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’m talking to my sister,” Minho said.
Jisung squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, shit. Minho – I’m… I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be back inside in a couple of minutes, okay? We can talk then.”
“Okay.”
The door creaked again, and Jisung tried not to let the guilt consume her.
“I only met her this morning,” Minho said. “She invited me to a dinner party I was already invited to, but I like her determination. How are you feeling, Jisung?”
“Tired,” she said truthfully. “I’m getting cold.”
“You should go inside now, have a hot shower, then go to bed. It’s been a long night.”
She hummed.
“Are you going to listen to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Minho was warm again. “Text me when you’re in bed, all cosy and safe. Drink some water before you sleep.”
“I will.”
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Goodnight.”
“Night.”
They hung up at the same time. It took Jisung five minutes to figure out the mechanics of fixing her panties and jeans, then another ten minutes to figure out how to climb back through the window and get into the bathroom. By the time she made it back to her room, Hyunjin was already in bed, and she didn’t so much as blink when Jisung dropped her towel and climbed into her own bed naked.
“What were you doing out there?”
Jisung grunted into her pillow. “What?”
“You were outside for almost an hour.”
“I was on the phone.”
“Ah. Your brother again?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re really close, aren’t you?”
Hyunjin sounded wistful. She talked a lot about how nice it was to room with someone, since she’d grown up as an only child.
“We’re friends,” Jisung said. “I don’t know… I don’t know if it really feels like we’re siblings or whatever, but yeah. I guess we’re close.”
Her phone buzzed, distracting them both.
“It’s probably him again, making sure you made it to bed,” Hyunjin said, amused. “That’s nice. He sounds sweet.”
Jisung unlocked her phone, and it was indeed a message from Minho.
I’m taking her home. I’ll be thinking of you. <3
She didn’t reply. She was asleep before she could think of an adequate response.
⸝⸝⸝
The next morning, there was another text from Minho. She could barely read it past her raging hangover.
When do you go home for summer break?
Let me know and I’ll make plans to join you.