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"Stop moving, hyung." The words landed like a challenge wrapped in velvet. A command, yes, but also a question. Can you? Will you? Will you be good? Minho's whole body went still. He could break free. He was stronger than Jisung. They both knew it, had tested it playfully a hundred times, wrestling on this very couch or one of their beds until Jisung ended up pinned and breathless and laughing under him. He could wrench his wrists free, could ignore the hand on his stomach, could keep fidgeting until Jisung had to do something about it. But then Jisung wouldn't reward him. Wouldn't give him that low, pleased hum Minho so helplessly adored, those soft kisses pressed to his neck, that devastating good boy murmured against his skin. Wouldn't look at him afterward like Minho had hung the moon for him. Minho gets needy not even halfway through movie night. Jisung decides he can wait.

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