Want So BAD ; Minsung Smut (COLLAB)

really want it so bad

If you had asked past Jisung his thoughts on the upcoming date with Minho, he would've spiralled into a panicky mess for the umpteenth time. 

To him, every single detail mattered. 

Even what to wear. 

So, in just two hours, Jisung had bombarded Felix with endless texts and pictures. Pictures of possible outfits to wear today were all that took up the entirety of their conversation. 

And of course, Felix being the best friend and sweetheart he is, meant that he had responded to each image with something along the lines of enthusiastic emoticons and teasing remarks. 

In the end, Jisung had settled for something relatively simple, but at the same time, he made sure it flattered him completely. 

But, turns out, none of that had mattered at all. 

The 'date', from Jisung's perspective, went amazing, regardless of any outfits displayed just to desperately catch the other's attention. 

Jisung's body has never buzzed so much in his life. Minho was such a huge tease, so obvious and bold compared to his persona within work; finally winking at him instead of stinky Hayoon and laying his hands on Jisung's waist with no shame whatsoever. 

That was when they played snooker. 

"Ah... is now a bad time to tell you I don't actually know how to play?" Jisung had asked, blinking at the overly large 'stick' in his hand. "What's this stick so long for? And why are there, like, twenty of them over there—" 

His oblivious nature caused Minho to laugh, at least. "It's called a cue stick, actually," he corrected him, "and you use it to pot the balls. First, come here. I'll teach you what the suitable positions are." 

Then Jisung walked over to him obediently, and was taught. Well. Not really. He wasn't exactly paying attention. 

"Are you telling me to bend over this table right no—" 

"No, I'm making you bend over right now," Minho chuckled, before pushing him face-first against the table, palm pressed down on his lower back. "Unless you don't want to play this game?" 

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. What Minho said seemed like a joke at first, but now he's—he's— 

"Hhh," Jisung bit down on his lower lip. Somehow the balls didn't move one bit from their positions. But Jisung did. He was squirming beneath Minho's grasp. "U-Uhm— so— what do I do when I'm like this?" 

Jisung couldn't see Minho's expression from down there. He just hoped he looked pretty that way. Easy to break. 

Minho hummed and handed him the stick again. "Take your cue stick, and aim to break the triangle of red balls by hitting the white one first." 

If Jisung was to be honest, he had no idea what Minho had instructed him at that point. His mind was already hazed over from the heat emanating from the brunette behind him. Intentions bent. He was sure Minho knew what he was doing to him, anyway. 

"Since you're a beginner... honestly, just aim and hope for the best. You're alright." 

"Do I— do I really have to stay like this?" 

"Yes, Han-ah," Minho told him. "You want to have a chance of winning, don't you?" 

Jisung couldn't have won, anyway. Minho was just teasing by allowing him to think he had a chance. The man is crazy good at snooker. Which, of course, was unfair from the start. 

"Careful. You don't want to accidentally knock one of the balls from their positions. Or else... that's a foul. Won't get you anywhere at all, sweetheart."