The Celebration at their Dorm
After the victory, the team heads to their dorm for a private celebration. Music blasts through the speakers, the table is filled with snacks, and bottles of soju are being passed around.
Felix
Felix, already a little tipsy, throws an arm around I.N. "We’re the best team ever!"
I.N
I.N laughs. "We really are."
Hyunjin
Hyunjin, dancing dramatically, spins into Jisung. "Come on, producer-nim, dance with me!"
Han Jisung
Jisung shoves him away. "Not when you’re flailing like that."
Meanwhile, Minho leans against the couch, watching the chaos unfold. He’s had a few drinks, maybe too many. His usual sharp gaze is a little unfocused, and his smirk is softer than usual.
Seungmin
Seungmin nudges Jisung. "You might wanna keep an eye on your ‘rival.’"
Han Jisung
Jisung glances at Minho. "He’s fine."
Minho nearly falls over while reaching for another drink.
Han Jisung
Jisung sighs. "Never mind."
As the party winds down, Minho is clearly the drunkest one. He’s slouched on the couch, muttering nonsense.
Han Jisung
Jisung grabs his wrist. "Come on, let’s get you to the room."
Lee Know
Minho blinks slowly. "Han Jisung… my rival… my enemy… my—"
Han Jisung
Jisung groans. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get up."
Somehow, he manages to drag Minho into the their room and helps him onto the bed.
Han Jisung
"Sleep it off, dumbass."
But as he turns to leave, Minho grabs his wrist.
Han Jisung
Jisung hesitates. "You’re drunk."
Lee Know
Minho pulls him closer. "You’re always running away from me."
Han Jisung
"That’s not true."
Lee Know
Minho laughs softly. "Liar."
Before Jisung can respond, Minho tugs him down—and suddenly, their lips crash together.
Jisung’s eyes go wide. He means to push Minho away, to yell at him—but he doesn’t.
Because Minho’s lips are warm, desperate, needy.
And somehow, Jisung kisses back.
Hands roam, breath hitches, and before either of them can stop, they’re tangled together, pressed too close, hearts racing.
Lee Know
Minho whispers against Jisung’s lips. "I hate you."
Han Jisung
Jisung pants. "Liar."
And then they kiss again.
The kiss deepens, all hesitation melting away. Jisung’s fingers grip Minho’s shirt, pulling him closer, while Minho’s hands trail up Jisung’s back, desperate and rough.
The alcohol buzz makes everything feel hazy, intense, electric.
Minho flips them over, pinning Jisung against the bed. His breath is heavy, his usual sharp demeanor replaced by something raw, something vulnerable.
Lee Know
Minho leans in, lips ghosting over Jisung’s ear. "You drive me insane."
Han Jisung
Jisung shudders. "Good."
Minho captures his lips again—harder, more desperate. Jisung's mind is screaming at him to stop, to think, but his body refuses to listen.
Their hands roam, bodies pressed too close. The room is too hot, too small, too much.
Jisung’s heartbeat pounds in his ears as Minho’s lips trail down his neck, leaving marks that he knows he’ll regret later.
But right now? He doesn’t care. Because Minho is touching him like he’s something fragile, something important. And Jisung—he craves it.
Minho’s lips move hungrily against Jisung’s, hands gripping at his waist, pulling him closer—like he’s afraid to let go.
Jisung tilts his head back, letting out a shaky breath as Minho’s lips trail down his jaw, then his neck. Each kiss is burning, leaving traces of heat behind.
Jisung’s hands find Minho’s shoulders, fingers digging in as their bodies press together. The bed creaks beneath them, but neither cares.
Lee Know
Minho whispers against Jisung’s skin. “You’re impossible.”
Han Jisung
Jisung shivers. “Then stop kissing me.”
Lee Know
Minho chuckles darkly. “No.”
His lips crash against Jisung’s again, deeper this time, more desperate, more real.
Jisung’s mind is spinning, his heart racing. This is reckless. Stupid. Dangerous. But he doesn’t stop. And neither does Minho.
They move together like they’ve done this a thousand times before, hands tangled in each other’s hair, breaths mingling, bodies pressing.
Jisung’s hands slide under Minho’s shirt, fingers ghosting over warm skin. Minho groans softly, biting Jisung’s lower lip. Everything is heat. Everything is too much. They don’t stop.
Not until their breaths are ragged, their bodies exhausted—until the alcohol wears off just enough for reality to start creeping in. But for now? They just keep getting completely, hopelessly lost in each other.
Minho’s breath is heavy, desperate. His fingers tremble slightly as he pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.
Jisung barely has time to react before—
Han Jisung
Jisung gasps. “Lee Minho! Did you just—”
Lee Know
Minho grins against his skin. “It was in the way.”
Han Jisung
Jisung scowls. “That was my favorite shirt, you psycho.”
Minho doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against Jisung’s collarbone. Then another. Then lower.
Jisung shudders, fingers digging into Minho’s arms.
Every kiss is a silent confession.
Minho’s lips trail over Jisung’s chest, over his racing heartbeat.
Han Jisung
Jisung lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”
Lee Know
Minho looks up, eyes dark. “Then I’ll regret it tomorrow.”
And then he’s kissing Jisung again, deeper this time, more possessive, more real.
Their bodies press together, warmth melding into warmth. But somewhere between the feverish kisses and tangled limbs—
Their movements slow.
Jisung’s breath steadies. Minho’s grip softens. Until suddenly—
They’re just holding each other.
Minho buries his face in Jisung’s neck, his arms tight around him.
Jisung’s fingers trace slow circles on Minho’s back. The room is quiet, only their breathing filling the space.
Lee Know
Minho mumbles sleepily. “Don’t run away in the morning.”
Jisung’s lips curve into a small smile.
They fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Comments