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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter V

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: Han Jisung is the bane of Minho's existence. Fuck Han Jisung.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, nudity

author's note: oooooh things are getting spicy bestiessss. thank you for all the love and the feedback, i appreciagte every single word. let's see where this goes 👀

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter IV - chapter VI (coming: friday, april 12, 3pm CET) >

Fuck Han Jisung.

Minho’s scalp is on fire, the midday sun bearing down on him where he sits at the bow of the ship. His hat lies forgotten in the captain’s quarters, but she’s currently having a strategy meeting with Hyunjin, so he doesn’t want to barge in just to get it. So here’s forced to bear it, beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, his skin burning under his black hair until he thinks he can feel the sunburn develop.

Then he hears it again. The stupidest fucking laugh he has ever heard, echoing across the deck, loud and shimmery and unabashed, as if its owner didn’t have a care in the world. What’s Han Jisung got to be so fucking happy about all the fucking time? Literally every time Minho sees the guy, he’s smiling. Or well, he is, until his eyes fall on Minho and then his smile always, without fail, dies a swift and painful death, crumpling until he’s looking at him with a barely contained scowl.

Minho flinches where he sits, lifts his arm and sinks his knife deep into the wood of the ship next to his legs with a dull thud. It shouldn’t affect him so much, the fact that Han Jisung arrived on the ship one day, as a prisoner, their biggest enemy’s nephew no less, all fancy clothes and expensive boots, pouty lips and flushed cheeks, and somehow wormed himself into everyone’s heart.

Minho has to admit he wasn’t very … focused that first day when they dragged Jisung into the room, his mind, and his dick, very preoccupied with the taste of his captain on his lips, the thundering of his heart as he allowed himself to leave his hands on her waist. Possessive, satiating something hidden deep in his chest that he didn’t allow himself to indulge in often, all too aware of the invisible line between them.

But he remembers Han Jisung’s arrogance, the scowl painted on his face that looked more like a petulant child than anything else. He also remembers the curl of familiar hatred in his guts when he spoke about his old crew, what they would try to do to him, remembers filing the knowledge away for later, to know just how painfully he would kill them once he got his hands on them – though Han Jisung somehow managed to sour even that with that fucking attitude of his, like he didn’t ever need Minho, quite the opposite. Arrogant asshole.

Minho lets his eyes wander over the deck, skimming the few groups of pirates sitting or working, until his eyes meet Jisung’s where he’s leaning against a mast, chatting to Felix. As per usual, the bright, gummy smile on Jisung’s face dims as soon as he sees Minho, the corners of his mouth falling, eyebrows furrowing and Minho suppresses the urge to snarl, spit onto the planks. Instead, he forces himself to look away, wrests his knife from the wood and drives it in harder, the plank splintering from the impact. When he looks back, Jisung has shifted, half of his perfectly shaped back now facing Minho instead of his face. And he seems to have recovered from Minho’s unpleasant presence, nay existence, his broad shoulders jumping with a silent giggle at something Felix must’ve said.

Felix. Felix, who had joined them after the captain had found him in that horrible whorehouse in Nassau two years ago, that still makes Minho shiver when he just thinks about it. He remembers the captain’s face when they heard his screams from the outside, and she had rushed in without a second’s hesitation, Minho himself hot on her heels, pulling the man who was forcing himself onto Felix off with a violent shove. Minho remembers because he had dragged the man out the door, hatred tickling his fingertips as he slit his throat and left him to bleed out slowly and painfully in an alley. By the time he’d come back, still wiping his knife clean from the filthy scum’s blood, Felix was already part of the crew, thanking him with sparkling eyes and a disarming smile.

Felix, who, for this reason, had never had a cabin mate – until Jisung. Minho doesn’t know how it happened, and he likes to pretend he’s not dying to know. But, of course, nobody volunteers the information. They’re all more than aware of Minho and Jisung’s … differences.

And they’re all on Jisung’s side, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Minho scowls at the surf. Jisung and Felix are inseparable. Seungmin greets Jisung with a soft smile, the rarest thing Kim Seungmin could hand out, patting Jisung on the back when he brings him food. Changbin and Chan sit next to him and pat him on the head when he offers them his leftovers. Hyunjin seems halfway to a serious crush on the guy, always making clothes for him and then dressing him up and running his hands all over Jisung’s body, gushing about his trim waist and thick thighs. And he’s pretty sure he heard Jisung’s stupid fucking laugh from the top a couple nights ago while he and the captain were … it doesn’t matter.

He just doesn’t get it. What’s so fucking special about Han Jisung?! Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hyunjin’s mop of black hair emerge from below deck and make for where Felix and Jisung are chatting and Minho decides he’s just about had enough of the sun scorching his head, of Han Jisung’s stupid laugh.

He swings his legs onto the deck, wrenches his knife from the wood and sheathes it. He feels three pairs of eyes on him as he walks past the little group of them, but he doesn’t spare them a single glance.

Hyunjin will probably give him an earful later about being a grumpy asshole, but he doesn’t care. He’d take that over having to watch his mere presence drain all happiness from Han Jisung’s eyes for the second time in half an hour.

His legs carry him to the captain’s quarters almost on autopilot. Changbin gives him a nod as he raps his knuckles against the heavy door twice and pushes it open.

And God, she’s a sight for sore eyes. Legs propped up on the edge of her desk, her knitted coat wrapped closely around her, what he assumes is Hyunjin’s ration list for the next stopover resting on her knees, her plump bottom lip worried between her teeth.

She only briefly raises her head when he enters, gives him a small, entirely radiant smile, before she turns her attention back to the paper in her lap. Minho closes the door behind him carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his hat, sitting on the low settee next to her desk. But he doesn’t need it any more, ignores it in favour of walking over to her, coming up behind her until he can lean over her, his hands supporting himself on the armrests of her chair. His eyes run over the words on the paper, but he’s not even going to pretend like he’s reading it, his focus entirely on the way his chest is pressed ever so slightly against her shoulders, his arms resting on hers. The smell of rosemary and lavender and her that emanates from her hair much too faint for his liking from where he is, leaving him aching for more.

“We could afford two or three more crew,” she says, pensively, underneath him, “could really do with them, too, to upkeep the ship and have a better chance with attackers.”

He hums in agreement as she keeps talking, but he’s not really listening as he allows himself to succumb to the siren song of her presence, leaning down a little bit more until he can take a quiet, deep breath of her.

Her chuckle jolts him out of his reverie.

“Are you even listening?”

Minho absentmindedly hums again, a lazy grin spreading over his lips as he leans down, presses a kiss into her hair.

“Something something we should get more men, but you don’t know where to find them,” he mumbles, drags his lips down until they’re ghosting over the shell of her ear. Her little chuckle gives way to a delicious sigh that Minho wants to bottle for a rainy day.

“Like Jisung, he’s been a great addition. I wish they could all just wander into our hands like that …”

Minho freezes, his lips stilling on her warm, rosemary skin. The bliss of their bubble, her skin under his lips, burst suddenly and violently. Han Jisung. Again. He pulls back abruptly.

“Right.”

It comes out acrid. He turns around, busies himself picking up his hat from the settee, dusting it off carefully. He can feel her eyes boring into his back.

“Why do you hate the guy so much, Minho?” she suddenly asks, and he’s taken aback by the directness of her question. He scoffs, turns around and meets her eyes. She doesn’t look angry, just … like she’s trying to figure something out.

“Why do I hate him? Why does he hate me?”

The captain gives him a withering look.

“You literally nearly got him killed a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah? And he punched me for it, in front of everyone, so I considered us even,” Minho sneers, and he knows he’s being petty. But he’s had about enough of everyone being on his ass about not liking Han Jisung when Han Jisung has been fucking recoiling from him since the very first day …

“Well, did you ever apologise? I know we’re not the most conventional with our customs, but last I checked that would still be a decent thing to do,” the captain chides, and Minho feels anger bubble in his chest. Of course. She’s on his side, too. It hurts more than he can allow himself to admit.

“I did not,” he spits, the stiff felt of his hat crinkling between his tightening fingers, “I don’t know how I would, considering the guy flees every time I set foot into the same room as him.”

The bitterness rises in his chest, and he turns around, makes for the door before he takes it out on her and regrets it later.

“Fine, you win, we won’t talk about it,” she sighs, “I’m about to go over those maps we took from Han Yujun’s ships with Seungmin, do you want to stay?”

Minho recognises the olive branch she’s holding out, but the olive branch reeks of pity, and he’d rather die than suffer that from her. He doesn’t turn when he reaches the door and opens it.

“No, thanks, I’ll see you at dinner.”

And with that, he walks out and straight to his own quarters, where he locks the door and buries himself in his book and his self-pity until the memory of Han Jisung stings a little less.

And by the time he makes his way back to the captain’s quarters a few hours later, he does feel better. He also feels more than a little sorry for how he reacted earlier. He could’ve been with her this whole time, just the two of them in their world. Maybe she would’ve leaned against his chest as they looked at the maps, allowing him to bury his face in her neck, pressing wet little kisses against her irresistible skin until she went pliable in his hands, ignoring Seungmin’s knock in favour of sinking between her legs and making her cum on his tongue.

But instead he had let Han Jisung get to him, again, and what did that get him?! He vows to himself that he won’t ever let it happen again, but that is easier said than done when he walks into the empty corridor and the person he sees through the half open door is most definitely not Seungmin.

“Could it be somewhere super specific? Like the Indian Ocean or the North Sea or something?” Jisung’s voice floats through the air. It’s deeper than Minho’s own, he can’t help but notice.

The captain hums, quietly, thoughtfully.

“Because … I mean, I’ve only ever been once, but I’ve seen maps like these of … of groups of small islands or archipelagos.”

Minho noiselessly tiptoes closer, until he has a clearer view of the room.

Night has fallen and the candles in the sconces all around the room bathe the desk, the settee, the captain perched on the corner of her desk and Jisung leaned over it in a warm, sensual light. She looks like a dream, the candlelight giving her an ethereal glow, softening the hardness in her features, softening everything about her usually wound taut body until Minho thinks he can feel her under his fingertips. Minho should know. This is his time to be in her room like this. But now the flickers of the flames instead bathe Han Jisung in their warmth, radiating off his soft, wavy hair, dipping the planes of honeyed skin exposed by another one of Hyunjin’s creations in a layer of gold so undeniably attractive, Minho wants to throw up.

“Seungmin has cross-checked them with every single one of our maps,” the captain mumbles, pointing to a stack of paper on the edge of the desk, Jisung follows her finger with a thoughtful look on his face. “And none of it lines up. Our maps are only a few years old, and Seungmin is one of the best cartographers out there …”

She slides off the corner of desk and walks over to Jisung and reaches across him to rifle through the papers and Minho watches Jisung’s eyelids flutter, gaze dragging over the expanse of her neck, then her back where her shirt has ridden up to expose the smallest sliver of the skin of her waist; watches his lips part when her arm brushes against his chest.

“Ah. Look,” she exclaims, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, entirely oblivious, and pulls the map towards her. She grabs another one to place next to it, gesturing between them and looking back at Jisung, who blinks at her for a second before lowering his gaze to the maps again. “This one seems to look really similar to this one we found on your ship. But, as Seungmin pointed out, it’s still not right. It’s not the same. And the scaling of these maps we got from your uncle’s ships just doesn’t … make any sense. From a cartography perspective.”

Jisung huffs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glares down at the desk with a deep furrow between his brows. He fixes the paper with a mean glare, like he’s trying to force it to give up its secrets by sheer willpower alone.

“I don’t even …” Jisung mumbles, a frustrated huff falling from his pouted lips, “I’ve never understood why he did this anyways. He would send these big ships, with crews of 20 people and someone like me on board, but the ships would mostly be empty … Well, except for these maps, it seems, maps that he didn’t even tell me about …”

He shakes his head incredulously, leaning over the desk again to inspect one of the maps, lingering on the meticulously painted edges of them with his ringed fingers. He leans his cheek in the cradle of his hand and sighs, absentmindedly shrugging off his jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair behind him and shoving the sleeves of his ruffled white shirt up his arms.

Minho watches the captain’s eyes follow Jisung’s movements, drag over his arms, his collarbones, the exposed V of his chest before it flutters up to his profile, lingers on his lips. Minho’s heart hardens into something unrecognisable.

The captain looks back at the maps, sighs, but it’s lighter now. She reaches out, gently pats Jisung on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there for only a second, but it’s enough for Jisung to straighten up with a start. He blinks down at her, stares.

“Just think about it, will you? Because Seungmin and I are at our wit’s end. You’re kind of our last chance …” she says, and Jisung turns to her, his face full of the same stubborn determination as that day when he had screamed at Minho to untie him.

“I promise, I’ll figure it out … we’ll figure it out,” Jisung asserts.

The captain gives him a devastating, lopsided smile, one that makes the tips of Jisung’s ears turn pink and Minho’s heart drop into his stomach.

“Give me some of your optimism, please,” the captain chuckles, but it’s soft, her cheeks warming in a way that makes Jisung’s pout stretch into a sweet, conspiratorial smile. He leans into her, bumps her shoulder with his playfully.

“Hey, you’ve got me now. How could we ever lose?” Jisung chokes with another sickeningly sweet smile that makes his cheeks puff up and Minho watches his fingers brush against hers where they hang next to one another, how he extends his pointer finger to drag over the back of her hand, watches their eyes catch on each other for just a broken moment too long and Minho burns.

He turns abruptly because he knows he can’t stand any more of it, his mind filling with images to torture himself, of Jisung leaning in, kissing her in the golden candlelight that’s his, running his tongue over the seam of her lips, her soft sinful hands on Jisung’s body – his world spins, legs uneven as he stumbles down the hallway, the throbbing wrath in his guts driving him down the stairs, through the living area where he ignores Changbin’s incredulous call of his name and straight through the mess and into the kitchen.

The swinging doors slam against the wall with a loud crack and Felix nearly jumps out of his skin, drops the wooden spoon into the pot he was stirring. Sauce splatters all over his apron, and he curses, gives Minho a dirty look, but Minho has no patience left in his body. The captain. His captain. Not her. Why her?!

“Your little charity case is trying to get into our captain’s pants,” Minho barks out, probably loud enough for anyone lingering in the mess to hear. He doesn’t care. They should all know the audacity of their new favourite.

“Who?!” Felix asks, incredulous, fixing Minho with an infuriatingly patronising look.

“Your little charity case. Your pet. Fucking Han Jisung,” he spits out and Felix’s eyes widen before they narrow again, this time much less friendly.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Minho, he’s not my … what the fuck?!”

“Whatever,” Minho interrupts him, waves his hand dismissively rolls his eyes, “what matters is that he’s trying to get into the captain’s pants.”

Felix’ eyes narrow even further.

“I don’t understand what you of all people are trying to say with that.” Minho’s clenches his fists so hard he hears a knuckle pop.

“He hasn’t even been here for a year, and he’s already trying to seduce the only woman on the ship. It’s preposterous, it’s disrespectful, it’s …”

Felix shakes his head and turns back to the pot, decisively grasping the spoon, stirring whatever he’s cooking with all the calm in the world. He doesn’t even look at Minho when he finally speaks.

“Well, does she want him, too?” he asks nonchalantly, and Minho’s vision goes blood-red. When he comes to, there’s sauce spilled all over his shirt and his hands are wrapped around Felix’s throat, straining against him where Minho has him pinned against the wall, harder than he knows he should. But Felix is just glaring back at him, coughing, but unfazed in his fury. His foot kicks out and painfully catches Minho in the knee. Minho almost welcomes the pain.

“I can’t believe you would take a stranger’s side over all of us, over the captain who saved your fucking life,” he screams and Felix’s eyes narrow to slits. Behind Minho, the kitchen doors slam open again, and then he’s being dragged back, away from Felix whose voice cuts him deeply.

“Don’t pretend like this is about the captain, you fucking hypocrite,” Felix yells, “you’ve been fucking her for years.”

Changbin is in front of him, his hands on his chest, pushing him away from Felix and muttering calming words when Felix delivers the final blow.

“You’re just scared she won’t want you any more when she finally realises what an asshole you are. When she realises there’s someone much nicer out there.”

Minho thinks everyone in the room might hear his heart crack cleanly in two. He shoves Changbin to the side and lunges at Felix again, shoving him into the wall so hard he hears Felix’ head thunk against the wall, hears Felix’ hiss of pain. He can’t see Felix’ face, can barely make out the contours of the kitchen, tears of rage in his eyes blinding him. Changbin grabs him again, his arms locking around Minho’s middle, lifting him off the floor as he carries him away.

“I fucking hate you,” Minho screams, legs thrashing, trying to get out of Changbin’s iron grip. He barely recognises his own voice, so shrill and vengeful. Another tear makes a track down his burning cheeks, “we should’ve fucking left you there.”

The last thing he hears is Felix scoffing out in disbelief before Changbin is dragging him from the kitchen, through the mess and the living room, Minho kicking and screaming in his hold all the way up the first flight of stairs, until Changbin kicks open the door to Minho’s quarters and throws him onto his bed unceremoniously. He crosses his arms and fixes Minho with a look so stern that it makes Minho falter, stare back at him petulantly.

“Minho,” Changbin warns, his face harder than Minho has ever seen it. He suddenly feels very small. “Minho, whatever it is that’s got you so fucked up that you’re fighting your friends, sort it out before you do any more damage. This isn’t cool.”

Minho’s vision is blurry with tears, and he tries, but there’s no way to will them down any more. When he opens his mouth to speak, a pathetic sob tumbles out.

“What is it about Han Jisung that has you all so fucking infatuated?” he chokes out, venom spilling out between the tears that are now running down his cheeks freely, “why is everyone on his fucking side?”

“Huh?! Nobody is on anyone’s side, there are no si–“

“Yes, there are!” Minho screams, sits up enough so he can jab a finger in Changbin’s direction. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been turning everyone against me. Prissy little pretty boy waltzes in and I question his motivations, and you all make me out to be the bad guy? When all I wanted was to keep you safe, keep us safe, like I have done for years. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you know what I’ve given for this crew?”

“Minho, …” Changbin mutters, and Minho thinks he can see a flicker of uncertainty in Changbin’s eyes. It adds fuel to the fire burning him from the inside out.

“It’s good to know what you all fucking think of me. Go canoodle with your new boytoy. I hope he’s as good with a knife as I am because next time one of you gets jumped you better not count on me any more …”

Minho knows it’s extreme, knows deep in his heart that he would never abandon them. But he’s tired. He’s so hurt, his heart feels like it’s bleeding.

“Minho, …” Changbin says again, and it’s even softer this time. “We don’t … we don’t want to choose sides. We don’t hate you. You’re … Minho, our Minho. Yes, you made a wrong call the other day, but we all know why you did it. We never held it against you. We just don’t understand why you hate him so much. He’s a good guy. Actually, I think you two would get along really well, if you just gave it a chance.”

Minho tries to scoff, but it comes out as more of a hiccup. He refuses to look at Changbin, just shakes his head at the floor.

“Well, I’m glad he’s a good guy, hope that works out for you,” he spits, bitterness laced in his voice.

“How is that what you took from what I just said?” Changbin asks, but then gives up. The fact that he does is a dull pang in Minho’s heart. “Fine, we won’t talk about him now. I just need you to know that you’re loved. By us. By all of us. Do you understand?”

Minho hears the allusion to her, but he knows that Changbin’s wrong. Because she doesn’t love him. Not like he loves her. Suddenly, he’s bone tired, his whole body aches with it as he turns away.

“Get some sleep, Min. And tomorrow, you’ll apologise and Felix will apologise and all will be well again.”

There’s silence, like Changbin is waiting to see if Minho will find anything else to say, but he doesn’t. He sniffles into the silence, his body aching with a pain so deep he doesn’t know what to do with it. Before he can even look up, door closes softly and Minho crumbles.

When the captain knocks later that night, calls his name, her voice a soft balm that he wishes he could let soothe him to sleep, he’s still sitting on the floor next to his bed, his limbs shivering with the ache in his chest where his heart should be. He doesn’t respond, lets her think he’s asleep. She leaves after a few minutes and Minho hates himself.

Jisung had never seen Felix angry before and god, he hadn’t thought it could be this bad, not with Felix’s usual soft, sunny demeanour. But no. It was terrifying. His sugary sweet smiles replaced by withering scowls, all turned inwards, muttering curses under his breath.

Jisung had come to dinner and found Felix like that, refusing to speak more than a few words, staring at his plate stony. Jisung was just about to succeed in wordlessly staring at Seungmin for long enough to get him to ask Felix what had happened, when the doors opened and Changbin made his way to their table. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and it made Jisung even more worried.

“Did you throw him overboard?” Felix asked, bitterness laced in his voice. Changbin gave him a pointed look and shook his head. Felix scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Too bad.”

Changbin, faced with everyone else’s puzzled eyes boring into him, heaved out a sigh.

“Felix and Minho had … a fight,” he explained, but Felix almost immediately cut him off.

“We didn’t have a fight, Lee Minho barged into my kitchen and picked a fight, there’s very distinct difference,” he spat, but Changbin seemed to have had enough. He slammed a fist onto the table. Felix’ eyes went wide.

“He may have picked the fight, but you also said some more than nasty things, Felix,” he rebuked Felix, a whose face turned an angry red. “And now we are going to stop talking about this, before more people get hurt, got it?”

Felix gave him a nasty glare through the burning of his cheeks but didn’t fight Changbin, only picked up his still mostly full plate and disappeared into the kitchen. Jisung met Hyunjin’s eyes, but even he just shrugged, and Jisung did his best to drop it. Later, he quietly helped Felix do the dishes, ignoring the questions and worry burning on his tongue. Then he quietly followed Felix into their cabin, quietly undressed and got ready for bed, peeking out from behind his book as Felix climbed into his bed and murmured a good night.

But now it’s the morning and whatever Minho had done to upset Felix must’ve cut deep because when Jisung arrives at breakfast, Felix is glaring at the slice of bread on his plate and barely speaks, slamming the kitchen doors closed behind himself when he’s done.

So when Jisung is in the bath later that morning and Minho walks in? The tension in his body pulls tight, and he can feel the confrontation coming from a mile away.

Jisung had chosen the middle one of the three bathtubs in the bathroom today, had washed almost half a bar of the pine scented soap into the water before he sunk into it, his back to the door, letting the hot water soothe the strain right out of his muscles. He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the door open and shut behind him. It was morning, after all, not unusual for the rest of the crew to start washing up. Though when the seconds tick by and there’s no other movement, Jisung starts wondering.

When he turns around, he makes eye contact with Minho, and Jisung’s body tenses up all over again.

He didn’t like being in the same room as Minho on any given day, but being here, in this small room, alone – it was more than uncomfortable. But true to his resolution, Jisung refused to budge, staring back at Minho defiantly, daring him to do something. After a few more seconds, Minho seems to make up his mind, his face hardening as he walks to the low bench and kicks off his boots.

Jisung frowns and settles back into the warmth of the water, sinking in until he can feel it tickle his earlobes. He forces his eyes to shut, but it’s hard when he can hear Minho move around the room, lighting the logs, passing by right behind Jisung to pick up a bar of soap, pouring water from the heater into the tub until he deems it full enough.

Jisung’s pretty sure Minho wouldn’t drown him in the public bathroom, but he can’t help but crack a careful eye open. Minho is facing away from him, testing the water with the tips of his fingers. Jisung is just about to close his eyes again before Minho can catch him, when Minho pulls his shirt over his head and Jisung’s eyes fly wide open.

His back is broad, milky skin pulled taut over planes of muscle that shift as his hands work the strings of his pants. With a shudder he notices the faded red tracks of nails running down from his shoulder blades, between the myriad of small, lighter scars dotted over his skin, and his whole face flushes when Minho shoves down his pants and the red marks trail down over his ass, round, perfect, flexing and jiggling a little as he moves in a way that has Jisung’s brain short-circuit a little bit, and then Minho turns around and …

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Minho’s hung. Even flaccid, his cock hangs hard and heavy and thick between his thick, muscled thighs, and Jisung blinks at it entirely stupidly for entirely too long before he forces his eyes up, past Minho’s abs and chiseled chest and dusty nipples (and a collection of love bites around his collarbones that make Jisung feel lightheaded) until his eyes meet Minho’s, who’s staring straight back at him with a condescending, shit-eating grin. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes Jisung slightly uneasy, and he flinches, embarrassment flushing his face. But he sets his jaw, pretends he doesn’t care, glares at Minho, dares him to say something, but Minho just quirks an eyebrow and kicks his pants off the rest of the way and gets into the tub – facing him? Jisung blinks stupidly. Why the fuck is he facing him?!

Dumbfounded, Jisung tries not to, but he still watches every movement as Minho throws his leg over the side and gets into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a happy sigh that shoots straight between Jisung’s legs and makes his traitorous cock twitch slightly. Jisung gives Minho one last dirty look before he leans back, closes his eyes again, does his best to look calm and collected as he spends the next five minutes trying to talk down the semi he’s sporting just from looking at Minho. Stupid fucking Minho. Why did he have to be hot?! Though he supposes if the captain was sleeping with anyone, she would be …

The nail marks, the love bites. It confirms it, doesn’t it, Jisung thinks, and there’s an ugly stab of jealousy in his heart. Well, technically, they could be from anyone, but with everything he’s heard … Jisung has to suppress a shudder when his brain conjures up the image of her sinfully beautiful body under Minho, her heat, her soft, plush lips, object of his own wet dreams, wrapping tightly around Minho, fingers digging into his skin as he fucks her deep and hard with those thick thighs and that giant fucking cock of his that would probably feel so good against his prostate …

His traitorous cock responds happily, chubbing up even more, and Jisung huffs out in annoyance.

“Wow, you’re so annoying you’re annoying yourself? Go figure,” Minho ribs from the other tub. Jisung’s eyes fly open. Minho is lying back, annoyingly muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, an annoying smirk on his lips.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jisung just grumbles out. He closes his eyes, leans back again, affecting an indifference as if his cock isn’t half hard and Felix’ anger isn’t bubbling through his veins.

“What? I’m not the one huffing and puffing at my own thoughts,” Minho says casually and Jisung snaps. He knows this will not end before he even finishes his first sentence.

“What is your problem, actually?!” he hisses, props his arms on the side of the tub and pulls himself up to a relaxed seat. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, too, like you did with Felix last night?”

Minho’s eyes shoot open at that, and Jisung notes with satisfaction that his confidence wavers for a split second. But before he knows it, Minho’s eyes narrow again, and he leans back, pretending to get comfortable against the wooden wall of the tub.

“Jesus, it’s worse than I thought,” Minho says, “you’re like his little lapdog. Yap yapping away. All bark, no bite.”

Oh, this asshole.

“No bite, huh?” Jisung spits, sits up so fast the water laps against the side of the tub dangerously. At least it gets Minho to finally open his eyes properly. “The bruise on your jaw you carried around with you for two weeks told a different story.”

Minho huffs out a laugh.

“Nothing more than a pin prick. I’ve been stabbed, kid, your little fist hardly did any damage.”

“Well, that’s great to know, then next time I won’t hold back when you pick a fight with my friend.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at Jisung, fixing him with his dark eyes, and it’s a little intimidating, to have Minho’s whole attention like this. But

Jisung stubbornly refuses to waver.

“Your friend?”

Jisung falters, and Minho catches it immediately, digs his finger deeper into his weak spot.

“You’ve hardly been here for three months, you don’t know what friendship means on this ship, princess.”

Jisung is half out of the water before the hated nickname is even fully past Minho’s lips. A wave of water splashes onto the floor and Minho’s eyes seem to dip down to his newly exposed stomach, the dip of his waist, for just a split second. At least Jisung’s not hard any more.

“Fucking stop calling me that,” Jisung hisses. Minho raises both his eyebrows.

“Why? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“You know full fucking well, why,” Jisung replies, his fingers digging into the side of the tub almost painfully, “you heard that fucker call me that the day you tried to get me killed, and you still decide to say it. You really are just a bad fucking person.”

Minho blinks at him, his face an unreadable mask. Without another word, he sits up, supports both his hands on the side of the tub and heaves himself out of the water. Jisung is speechless. Is he just going to walk away? He watches Minho towel his hair and scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. There’s no humour in it.

“What? Nothing?”

“I didn’t fucking try to get you killed,” Minho says, quietly, harshly.

Jisung shakes his head, heaves himself out of the tub as well, grabs his towel to wrap around his waist.

“Sure you didn’t,” he scoffs and Minho whips around, stares him down.

“All I do, everything I do, is to protect this ship, the captain, and the crew, okay? I didn’t know if I could trust you, so I kept you somewhere I could keep an eye on you. I was not going to let anything happen to you.”

Minho turns from him again, bending down to pick up his pants. Aggressively, he pulls them over his still damp legs. Jisung’s trembling with rage now, his fist balled at his side.

“Why would I believe you? You let that fucker punch me, you let him touch me.”

Jisung watches as Minho’s movements falter, watches his fingers tremble as he does up his pants. What does he have to be upset about? Jisung takes the moment to grab his own shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders, though it does little to quell the trembling of his body. He feels nauseous. The moist heat of the room makes him dizzy.

“Well, if you would stop fucking flinching away from me like I’m dangerous …” Minho starts, but his sentence trails off. Jisung scoffs in disbelief. He feels poisoned. Poisonous.

“You know, the captain always tells me that everyone on this ship is family, that you … we keep each other safe. Everyone keeps saying that you keep them safe. But I don’t feel safe.”

The sentence tumbles into the silence of the room, and Minho freezes. He looks like he’s been slapped. But Jisung isn’t done yet, the heaviness in his chest finally abating a little bit with every word of this he finally gets off his chest.

“I know you didn’t like me when I arrived. And that’s fine. But ever since then, you’ve shut down every single attempt of mine to bridge the gap between us. And then you tried to kill me …”

“I didn’t …” Minho whispers, but Jisung interrupts him, roughly.

“… you torment me by calling me what he called me, you leave every room I enter, refuse to even fucking look at me.”

Jisung would laugh at the fact that Minho even refuses to look at him now, only blinks at the floor, but there is no humour in this situation at all. Jisung feels broken open, red, and raw, in front of the guy who’s been making his life a living hell. Suddenly, Minho turns, grabs his shirt and pushes past Jisung. He shoves his feet into his boots and Jisung angrily realises that he just plans on leaving.

“Say something, you coward,” he curses, and Minho finally looks up at him. He looks devastated.

“I didn’t try to kill you, I … I didn’t realise that’s what that fucker called you … after my … after Felix … I … fuck, I_gut_ people like that, I cut them limb from limb, I would never … fuck,” he curses and rips open the door, makes down the hallway without even bothering to put his shirt on. Jisung follows him before he can think better of it.

He catches up with Minho only a few feet down the hallway, pulls him back by his arm and pushes him into the wall, hard.

“No, you don’t run away from this,” he spits and stares up at Minho, who’s unfortunately still a few inches taller than him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Minho blinks at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise, bunny teeth peeking out from underneath his top lip in a way that makes him altogether less intimidating and then clamps his lips shut, furrows his eyebrows, stares at Jisung with a frustrated desperation in his eyes.

“I don’t fucking hate you!” he hisses out, “You’re one of us now, and I would give my life for you just like I would for every other person on this ship, but you hate me because you’re scared of me and I can’t even blame you because everything I do somehow … ends up wrong with you.”

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to stare blankly and Minho shoves him back until Jisung’s back hits the wall. Except this time, it doesn’t feel threatening, not when there are tears of frustration glistening in Minho’s eyes. He lifts his hand, jabs his index finger into Jisung’s chest, his erratic breath fanning over Jisung’s face and Jisung’s heart rabbits in his chest. A drop of water drips from Minho’s raven locks, runs down his neck, pools in the dip of his collarbone.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me fucking crazy,” Minho breathes out and Jisung’s body moves before he can even realise what he’s doing.

Both of his hands wrap around the back of Minho’s neck, and he pulls him down, straight into his own parted lips. Minho makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, but Jisung doesn’t let up, digs his fingernails into the skin of Minho’s neck, presses his lips against Minho’s harder. When his brain catches up to his body, he tries to pull away, but Minho doesn’t let him, pushes closer, crowds him against the wall, trapping Jisung’s body between his strong arms and slipping his tongue into Jisung’s mouth. Molten hot need bubbles in Jisung’s gut and he moans pathetically. One of his hands skates down Minho’s chest, smoothes over his hot skin, thumb catching on Minho’s nipple and Minho hisses into his mouth. But it seems to shock Minho out of whatever it is they’re doing because suddenly, he pulls back, stumbles back a few steps and stares at Jisung with wide eyes.

Where Jisung is flushed and embarrassingly hard underneath the towel around his waist, Minho is deathly pale, and he doesn’t look okay at all. Jisung’s stomach drops.

“Minho?” he whispers, as gentle as he can.

Minho blinks rapidly, shakes his head, takes a few shaky steps backwards, before he turns and flees, runs up the stairs.

Hurried footsteps sound behind you as you push open the door to your office. You whirl around and come face to face with a flushed, wide-eyed Chan.

“Jesus, is everything okay?” you ask, your heart in your throat at how panicked Chan looks.

“Captain, I …” he starts, before he turns around, checking if there’s anyone behind him, “you have to promise me you won’t be angry with me for telling you this, but I can’t not tell you. Like, you’re our captain, you have the right to know, even though he will kill me for this.”

There’s a blind panic running through your veins as you stare at Chan.

“Chan, if you don’t tell me right now…”

“I saw Minho and Jisung kiss. Downstairs. Outside of the baths."

< chapter IV - chapter VI (coming: friday, april 12, 3pm CET) >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

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