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strangersvecna · 25 days ago

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Open Up, Say ‘Ah’

Summary: “Ah, hyung,” he says. It’s whinier than he wants it to be. “Do you have to smoke in here?”

Pairing: Lee Minho x Yang Jeongin

Tags: smoking cigarettes, mild smoking fetish, spit kink, blowjobs, soft-dom!Minho, objectification, spitting in Jeongin’s mouth, blowing smoke in Jeongin’s face, pet names, kinda nasty please only proceed if you’re okay with the content!

Word count: 3300

*cross posted on ao3*

Jeongin smells the cigarette before he sees it.

He shifts on the bed, wiggling on his stomach awkwardly like some kind of seal until he’s looking in Minho’s direction. The window is propped open a couple of inches, despite it being freezing cold outside, and there’s an empty coke can resting on the sill—a makeshift ashtray that the older boy taps his cigarette against.

Jeongin gulps and frowns. His mouth feels dry, his cheeks hot; his toes are cold too, but that’s for an entirely different reason.

“Ah, hyung,” he says. It’s whinier than he wants it to be. “Do you have to smoke in here?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, bringing the cigarette to his soft pink lips and taking a drag, as if he’s trying to make a point. “It’s my room,” he puts it simply, smoke escaping his nostrils a second later. And he’s not wrong, and Jeongin supposes it really isn’t his place to even ask, but he’s trying to protect his self-preservation here.

“Okay, yeah,” Jeongin squeaks. It’s obvious and he’s pathetic. Minho will see right through him—he already has, if the mischievous smile he feels burning into his temple is anything to go by.

The younger boy goes back to his homework, absently chewing on the end of his pen like a dog with a stick. He isn’t reading though; isn’t even pretending to study for his midterm. Minho is too distracting. He can’t help but steal glances at him whenever he gets the chance, and each time it’s the same thing: he’s watching Jeongin as he smokes, this shit-eating, infuriating look on his face the entire time.

“Wanna come sit with me, jagiya?” Minho asks as he ashes the quarter-spent cigarette. The edges of his mouth curl into a little cat-like smile. Jeongin thinks his eyes could turn into slits.

Here’s the thing: Jeongin doesn’t like that Minho smokes, but he’s also developed an embarrassing interest. It isn’t his fault the boy he’s liked forever looks so hot puffing away on that stupid, deadly stick. Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately, depending on the moment—Minho has caught on. And Minho is stubborn, doesn’t let things go.

“Like…?” Jeongin trails off, eyeing where Minho is sitting on the only chair in the room—his desk chair that he’s rolled closer to the window.

“There’s a nice spot for you right here,” Minho hums and taps the floor in front of him with his foot. He’s wearing purple fuzzy socks, which are ridiculously silly but also so him that it almost makes Jeongin laugh.

The younger is too caught up in a slew of emotions to actually laugh though, instead clambering off the bed and kneeling clumsily in front of Minho. The elder spreads his legs to accommodate him, sitting lazily in the chair, slouched posture. It’s too casual for the way Jeongin feels, like a live wire that’s been buzzing since the moment Minho’s lighter clicked. He reaches out with his free hand and pushes Jeongin’s hair out of his face, smiling down at him in a way that makes the younger’s tummy flip.

“You’re so cute. Listen so well,” Minho grins, taking a long drag from his cigarette while looking Jeongin in the eye.

The younger gulps, his pants get suspiciously tighter. Minho tightens his grip on his hair, using the leverage to tilt Jeongin’s head back just enough that he’s looking at him. And then he exhales right into his face, the acrid smoke making Jeongin blink repeatedly as his eyes water, momentarily engulfed in the grey plume. It would take him by surprise if they hadn’t done this before, if he hadn’t already told Minho that he likes this. Not that he even has to say anything: the obvious bulge in his pants gives him away, the fact that he’s gone from soft to completely hard in a matter of two minutes.

Jeongin whimpers, feeling dirty bathing in Minho’s secondhand smoke, like an object—something the elder can use at his disposal. And he will, because Jeongin likes that and Minho likes giving his boyfriend whatever he likes. “Please, hyung,” he whines quietly, not bothering to be specific. Minho already knows what he wants.

“Okay, angel boy,” Minho smiles, so soft and sweet and adoring for someone who’s so good at degrading his boyfriend. Jeongin can't even pretend to snicker at the nickname when Minho is sitting up a little straighter in his chair, shimmying closer to the edge until the younger is right between his thighs. Minho pets his cheek, drawing a familiar shape into his skin with his thumb—a heart, he’d said dumbly in the past whenever Jeongin has asked. The younger boy had called him lame but only because he was blushing like an idiot.

Jeongin blinks up at his boyfriend, a shudder crawling up his spine as he watches him drag on his cigarette again. He inhales through his teeth, and his gaze never leaves his as he exhales towards him again. He whimpers, hands coming to rest on the elder’s thighs to ground himself, to keep stable. From above him, he can hear Minho’s tongue swishing around slightly in his closed mouth, gathering saliva. Jeongin feels like he could faint from the anticipation. His heart is racing and his fingers are pressing into Minho’s jeans.

Despite already knowing what to do, he waits for Minho to gently grip his jaw, to use his fingers to spread Jeongin’s lips. He taps on the younger boy’s bottom teeth, now straight and free from braces. Jeongin opens up, sticks his tongue out slightly to catch anything that potentially slips out, already planning ahead. And then Minho is leaning his head over his, face-to-face but still not close enough to touch. When he spits, a decent ball of saliva falls from his lips and right onto Jeongin’s awaiting tongue.

It’s objectively gross, maybe, but that’s part of what Jeongin likes about it. He likes feeling used by Minho, likes the intimacy that comes with having his boyfriend spit in his mouth, especially when he’s already using that mouth to partake in another bad habit. He can tell that Minho likes it too, likes the feeling of ownership along with Jeongin’s unwavering devotion. Likes that Jeongin will leave later smelling like his cigarettes and tasting like his mouth. It’s obvious in the way he’s looking down at the younger boy with wonder and adoration in his eyes, like his entire world revolves around Jeongin—the earth and the sun. It’s so loving for something so nasty.

Jeongin moans, not swallowing yet and instead letting the saliva pool at the back of his mouth, mixing with his own. He doesn’t think Minho is done with him yet, and his suspicion proves to be correct when the older boy tightens his grip on his jaw, keeping it propped open like a paper clip. He takes a final drag off what’s left of the cigarette and opens his mouth, sucks back a small grey ball in an instant. Jeongin presses his fingers harder into Minho’s thighs, whimpering and leaning closer, not wanting anything to be wasted. Minho smiles with amusement in his eyes before shifting even closer, a mere few inches away before breathing out a plume of smoke. It’s strong, pungent in Jeongin’s face, making him cough awkwardly in his throat without moving his tongue, savouring his boyfriend’s saliva in his mouth like it’s his favourite candy. Minho stubs out the cigarette on the top of the coke can next to him, dropping it inside.

Minho hasn’t spoken, but Jeongin can tell by the gentle swell of his cheeks that his mouth is probably pooling with drool, the kind he’d spit out on a dirty sidewalk whenever he’s out for a smoke break. Jeongin had whined about it being gross, but maybe it was just his way of grappling with the fact that it wasn’t going in his mouth. Fucking nasty. What a naughty, naughty boy he is.

Minho digs his fingers hard into Jeongin’s jaw, a rod wedged into a crank. This time, he leans in impossibly close, lips a mere few centimetres away from Jeongin’s. The younger boy feels his breath catch in his throat when Minho spits another wad of saliva onto his tongue, this one so much bigger than the last. It’s warm as it slips to the back of his throat to pool with the remainder that he has yet to swallow. Jeongin preens. He wants to jerk himself off desperately to the taste of Minho, to the smell of smoke radiating off of him. But he doesn’t, because his boyfriend didn’t say that he could.

“Swallow, my angel,” Minho says sweetly, and Jeongin whimpers before doing what he’s told. He gulps down the spit, whimpering at the feeling of it going down his throat. His hips jerk forward, humping against nothing but the air, rubbing his cockhead against the front of his pants.

“Taste good?” Minho asks, inching his socked-foot closer and closer, until it’s pressed right up against the bulge in Jeongin’s pants.

Jeongin moans, loud and unashamed. He jerks his hips forward, rutting against Minho’s foot with desperation. “Hyung, hyung,” he pants, eyes fluttering shut as he drops his head to rest his cheek against his boyfriend’s thigh. “Touch me, please.”

Minho coos, stroking Jeongin’s hair as he rubs his foot against his boner. “Does my baby’s cock hurt?”

Jeongin whines at that, ridiculously baby and pathetic. “Hyung!”

“What, angel? Haven’t I done enough for you? You’re so needy,” Minho teases in that voice he always uses, like he’s unaffected by everything happening despite the fact that his dick is hard too.

Jeongin can’t answer, just lets out a dramatic little sob as he ruts his hips forward. He grips Minho’s foot and holds it close to his crotch, firm enough to hurt, before humping it like a dog in heat. If his friends could see him now they’d never let him hear the end of it.

“Aish, Innie. You’re gonna rub your dick raw doing that,” Minho tsks, referring to the rough fabric of the younger’s pants. “Stand up.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Jeongin jumps to his feet, nearly throwing himself off balance with the head rush it gives him. Minho steadies him with two firm hands on his hips—cat-like reflexes—and a pointed look that silently tells him to be more careful. Jeongin doesn’t have time to be careful though, or the patience. He thinks he might faint if he doesn’t get his dick touched soon, and he’s not exaggerating. He could jump up and down and beg and cry but Minho has glued him to his spot with his pretty brown eyes.

“My mouth feels empty, Innie,” Minho whines dramatically. His acting is never great, especially when they’re doing a scene. Jeongin doesn’t care though, the pathetic twitch of his dick is evidence enough.

Minho unbuttons Jeongin’s jeans before yanking them down along with his boxers, freeing the younger boy’s red, angry boner. It’s such a relief Jeongin is worried he’ll cum right then and there. “I think that’s why I like smoking so much,” Minho hums, and Jeongin just furrows his eyebrows in confusion before the older boy elaborates. “Keeps my mouth busy. It holds me over until I can blow you again.”

Jeongin whines again, face burning red and eyes brimming with desperate tears as he looks down at his boyfriend. He can’t. It’s too hot. The idea of Minho liking to suck his dick so much that he has to keep his mouth busy when he can’t is absolutely ridiculous and probably one of the hottest thoughts he’s ever had.

“Can suck me all the time, hyung. All the time. I always want your mouth,” Jeongin groans and humps the goddamn air. Later he ought to be embarrassed about how worked up he’s getting, but probably not.

“All the time, baby? I don’t know how appropriate that would be,” Minho deadpans dumbly, reaching out to wrap his hand around Jeongin’s cock.

Jeongin gasps, hips lurching forward and deeper into the loose fist Minho is making around his dick. “What would your friends think? Probably that you’re a slut who just can’t wait, hm? Wouldn’t even realize that it’s me who wants to choke on your dick twenty-four-seven,” Minho is just talking now while he squeezes his boyfriend’s dick, and it’s working for Jeongin. The younger is about to whine all over again that he wants more, that he’s the slut his friends would probably think he is, but Minho doesn’t make him wait any longer.

“So pretty, Innie. How can I ever stop touching you?” Minho coos, jerking him off properly now. Jeongin can’t even speak, too overwhelmed and turned on by the boy who checks off all of his most depraved, horny boxes. He looks at his lips, his mouth, his cute little crooked bottom teeth. How was his mouth not the first thing he was attracted to?

“Please, please, please—“ he’s begging incoherently now, rabbiting his hips forward like he does to his own hand when he’s alone in bed. Minho cuts him off though by giving him exactly what he wants, wrapping those sweet, filthy lips around the head of his dick. He suckles at him like a lollipop, presses the tip of his tongue into his slit in a way that makes his knees buckle.

Jeongin whimpers as he looks down to watch his boyfriend, bunching the hem of his shirt up into his hands so that it doesn’t get in his way. That’s swiftly not enough though and he yanks it off as smoothly as he can without jostling Minho around. It looks a bit awkward for the older boy, who is still sitting in his desk chair and now leaning forward, finding an angle that isn’t killer on his back, probably.

“Feels so good, hyung,” he whines, watching more and more of his cock disappear into his boyfriend’s mouth until his nose is nestled up against his pubic bone, the short hair he has there brushing against it

Minho gives good head—like, the best Jeongin has ever received, not that he has a ton of experience. He really is good with his mouth though, keeping his cheeks suctioned around the younger’s length while he bobs his head, sputtering only slightly when he knocks against the back of his throat. Minho looks at him the entire time too, eyes extra dark and sweet through his lashes, like he’s a lot kinder than he really is—a look only reserved for Jeongin.

The older boy is holding Jeongin’s hips so tightly, bruising the pale flesh there. Minho is the one sliding down onto his knees but Jeongin is the one who feels helpless, lacking any of the control his boyfriend would have if their current positions were reversed. Maybe Minho realizes this, because he’s pulling off with a string of saliva and red, red lips, pumping his cock with his hand instead, as he asks: “wanna fuck my mouth?”

Jeongin almost sobs. His hands find Minho’s cheeks, needing something to hold onto. “Don’t know if I can, hyung,” he admits, voice breathy and wrecked and embarrassing.

Minho laughs, laughs in that silly way he does when he thinks something is genuinely funny. It makes Jeongin pout and squeeze his cheeks harder in retaliation, forcing his lips to squish together and form an ‘o.’ “Come on, jagiya,” Minho coos, gently taking his boyfriend’s hands away from his face so that he has the freedom to lean in again, to mouth at the underside of Jeongin’s cock, to suck on his balls. The noises are obscene; wet and sloppy, sucking noises mixed with Jeongin’s quiet moans.

“Please, baby. Do this for me?” Minho asks so sweetly, like this is a treat for him rather than Jeongin, which is just—the younger doesn’t get it, but he’s happy to oblige even if he thinks he’ll last a total of another two minutes.

Minho grins and takes the head of Jeongin’s cock into his mouth again, sucking on it tenderly before sinking down further, further. He stops when he’s nearly at the base, which Jeongin knows he can usually reach no problem, before easing the pressure of his tongue against the veiny underside of his dick. Minho grabs the younger boy’s hand, bringing it to the back of his head and resting it there firmly, and Jeongin gets it. He tightens his grip, threads his fingers through his boyfriend’s soft strands of hair.

Usually, Jeongin is the one on his knees taking cock down his throat, but sometimes Minho acts like he needs this, like he’ll die if the younger boy doesn’t use his mouth as a wet hole to fuck. It makes Jeongin whimper, thighs shaking under Minho’s touch as the younger rolls his hips forward, into the tight heat of his mouth. His boyfriend groans, so pretty and turned on, so Jeongin does it again, and again, until he’s steadily fucking Minho’s mouth.

Around him, the older boy groans desperately between small choking noises that he makes—wet spit and precome jostling at the back of his mouth, little trickles escaping the corners of his stretched red lips. Jeongin likes this part, the mess of it. Usually he’s the one who’s being such a mess, but when Minho wants to suck cock it’s always like this. It’s all or nothing with him, with everything he does. Minho is black and white while Jeongin lives in the grey space.

“Ah, hyung, hyung,” Jeongin chants, hips rabbiting into his boyfriend’s greedy mouth. He’s holding onto his hair, keeping his head in place while he fucks his face with an intensity he’s usually too afraid to give. But Minho wants it so badly, and that’s what’s spurring him on—along with his own desperate pursuit of an orgasm. His boyfriend works him up so much, like an edging session without even being touched. Then, when they find themselves like this, it’s filthy and messy and wet.

The older boy looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He’s holding onto Jeongin’s hips, helping him keep up this relentless pace, even when he chokes and the younger boy wants to give him a break. This isn’t as natural for him, but he certainly doesn’t mind. He thinks his eyes could roll back into his skull with how good he feels, and before he knows it they just might.

That familiar knot builds in his groin. His muscles feel extra stiff, his grip extra hard, his fucking extra rough. He watches his boyfriend; his beautiful, sweet hyung, choking on his dick and rubbing himself through thin grey sweatpants. Jeongin is overwhelmed. When he comes, he can barely give Minho a warning. He cries like there are real tears falling from his eyes, and comes right into the older boy’s mouth.

Minho, to his credit, still catches it all without choking or sputtering up the way Jeongin would. It’s why he’s the best at giving head—or, partly. He drags warm fingers up and down Jeongin’s thighs, suckling at his cock like he can milk out a few more drops of his spend. It’s hot to watch, which is why the younger boy lets him tip him over the edge of overstimulation.

When it’s too much, he retightens his softened grasp in his boyfriend’s hair. “I can’t,” he whimpers, all pathetic and without forming a proper sentence.

Minho blinks up at him before giving him mercy, pulling his mouth slowly off of his softening cock. It hangs between his thighs now, glistening with the older boy’s saliva, the same Jeongin had been begging for earlier. He shudders just thinking about it, still smelling the smoke from Minho’s cigarette on them both.

“You really are so pretty, jagiya,” Minho hums, lips red and shiny and sore. He drags his hands down his thighs, his knees, all the way until his ankles. Then he grabs the boxers that are still pooled there, tugging them up but leaving his jeans. He’s so gentle when he tucks his cock back into the cotton fabric, Jeongin just whimpers from feeling so cared for. “There you go. Better, hm?”

Jeongin nods dumbly, feeling tired and spent. The buzzing under his skin has dulled down into a quiet hum, making his ears feel fuzzy, his brain hazy. It’s nice. Minho is the only person who can make him feel this way, the only person he ever wants to make him feel this way.

Minho stands up and closes the window. Jeongin hadn’t even noticed how cold it was getting in here, but when he looks down at his naked torso, his nipples are hard and his stomach has goosebumps. His boyfriend’s long fingers find his hips, giving them a squeeze. When Jeongin looks up at him, Minho is giving him this faux-serious look, silly and theatrical.

“I’m hard, jagiya. Are you gonna let me jerk off on your face?”

“Ah, hyung. Why do you have to ask like that?”

“Are you saying yes?”

“Yes.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #lee minho x yang jeongin #lee know #i.n #skz #mxm fanfic #lee know fanfic #I.n. fanfic

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