Park Jimin has worked hard to become a paralegal.
He read law books all the time when he was younger, and made the decision to enter the legal field when he was twelve. Granted, he was still a ways away from even entering law school, but at least he had his whole future set out for himself at a young age.
When he finally entered law school, he was one of the best pupils. The teacher’s pet, really, well-liked and even respected to a degree by his peers (although not so much when he kept getting perfect or near-perfect scores on assignments), who graduated as one of the top in his class. He could have easily become a real lawyer, but that just didn’t fit him.
Filing paperwork, conducting extensive research, and doing other such tasks were actually interesting to Jimin, and he would be right in the center of the legal world as a paralegal. Of course, his parents would have preferred him to go the “better pay” route as a real lawyer, but he’s too friendly to be a tough lawyer. As a paralegal, he’s more acquainted with people and he’s a people person, gets along with everyone, which is one of the reasons why he was hired to work at Jeon and Associates.
Jeon and Associates, one of Seoul’s biggest and most successful law firms, is Jimin’s first company. He’s been out of college for half a year now, has been polishing his resume since then, and he was chosen out of a pool of well-qualified candidates, all of them older and more experienced than him.
Guess fresh meat is a worthy risk.
Jimin isn’t going to be a true paralegal just yet; he’s going to train under someone else, who already has their own secretary, and pick up the pace there. Depending on his progress, those that hired him will put him under the direct employment of a junior partner in the firm.
For the first couple of months, Jimin works for Jeon Jungkook, son of one of the managing partners and a junior partner. He’s young, not to mention handsome and charming, and his personal secretary Kim Taehyung is the same. . . except for the fact that Taehyung strongly dislikes him because Taehyung has a crush on his boss and becomes oddly possessive over the course of a few months.
It is true, that Jimin takes up most of Taehyung’s responsibilities to a higher degree, but that’s because he’s supposedly “training” for when he’s someone else’s paralegal: Min Yoongi’s.
Min Yoongi is also a junior partner, older than Jungkook, and he’s supposed to be Jimin’s future boss.
If Jimin makes it that far.
Contrary to what people say about Jungkook being picky and upfront, he really isn’t like that. Jimin managed to crack a smile out of him the first time they met and they’ve gotten along well since then. However, Min Yoongi is picky and rather cold, though his track record is stunning.
Jimin admires his work to a certain degree, because Yoongi is able to incorporate outside information effortlessly in court and knows just what to say to have the offender or the other side tripping and stumbling over their own words. He’s good at his job, doesn’t take things personally, and Jimin respects that.
He thinks they’ll get along maybe, Yoongi will wish Jimin good luck or something, but Jimin’s pretty underwhelmed when he meets Yoongi in the first month.
The first time he ever met Min Yoongi, he looked the paralegal and and down and promptly claimed that Jimin wouldn’t last another week.
Min Yoongi is definitely upfront and isn’t afraid to speak his mind, even after that brief meeting.
Jimin did last another week, thank you very much, and he’s lucky that the people who hired him put him in contact with Yoongi, although he still spends the majority of his time with Jungkook. Putting you in Yoongi’s environment occasionally may help him get used to you, they had said, but Jimin wasn’t sure about that, not even now.
At least, when he met Yoongi a second time, Yoongi wasn’t hostile. He just cracked a joke and whistled in what must be amazement that Jimin had lasted this long, and he mock-clapped when Jimin uttered that he had been in the firm for over a month already.
Currently, Jimin runs small errands for Yoongi when Jungkook doesn’t need anything or when Taehyung can do something for him. It’s a pain in the ass, traveling between floors and hallways to get to each office, but now that he’s been here for quite some time, he’s gotten used to the walking.
Jimin’s at least made a friend since Taehyung doesn’t like him when he’s around Jungkook. His friend, Jung Hoseok, is on Yoongi’s floor, and he has a desk right outside Yoongi’s office. Hoseok is a secretary like Taehyung, but he oddly enough isn’t Yoongi’s secretary (which Jimin finds strange, but Min Yoongi is strange).
Hoseok is a people person just like Jimin, and they click instantly. They chat whenever they’re in a room with each other, especially at lunch or any other time they’re in the break room or when Jimin is free and can come to Hoseok’s floor. He doesn’t do Yoongi’s work yet, but Yoongi is beginning to give him small tasks for when the elder is feeling lazy or wants to go nap somewhere quiet.
It’s one of those days today where Yoongi decides to hand Jimin work because he’s conveniently on his floor of the building.
Jimin’s bending over the side of Hoseok’s desk with his hands cupping his cheeks, adamantly babbling with the secretary, elbows firm on the desk, both of them laughing in their conversation.
“So, like I was saying—”
“Park Jimin, stop flirting in the office and actually do some work for once,” Yoongi interrupts, appearing out of his office with several folders in hand. He ambles over in the slow, easy way he moves and then slaps the files down on Hoseok’s desk, inches away from Jimin. “Give these to Jungkook.”
The slap of the files startles Jimin, a late reaction to Yoongi’s voice, and he stands up with an affronted look. “Hyung, wait, I wasn’t flirting, I was talking—”
Yoongi cuts him off, a little smirk at the corners of his mouth, dismissing Jimin with a few flicks of his wrist. “Whatever. You have a job to do if you wanna get anywhere in this firm. Run along.”
Jimin blinks, but this is his soon-to-be boss so he doesn’t argue, picking up the manila folders and holding them to his chest as he scurries off when Yoongi dismisses him again. He’ll come back to chat with Hoseok, but he pouts on the elevator ride down to Jungkook’s floor, shifting his feet this way and that and mumbling under his breath on the ride until the elevator dings and he’s out.
Jimin wasn’t flirting with Hoseok, he swears by that. The person he would actually like to flirt with out of all people is Yoongi, and that’s a little embarrassing considering he was caught in a compromising position just now. He can’t help but wonder, on the way to Jungkook’s office, did my ass at least look good when I was bent over like that?
He’s heard the whispers, people don’t just like him for his personality, which is something Jimin’s been used to since high school. He’s a pretty boy, won’t deny it but also won’t brag about his looks, because at the end of the day it was his brain that got him this job and not his appearance.
Or so he thinks, anyways.
The folder is delivered to Jungkook without any hitches and Jimin returns to his original post at Hoseok’s desk, where the elder looks up at him with a smile. Jimin adjusts his glasses that have fallen down the bridge of his nose and he blinks at his friend. “What?”
“Don't think I didn't see you sticking your ass out for him,” Hoseok says quietly, a teasing tone in his voice as he organizes a pile of case folders.
Jimin flushes. “I didn’t mean it,” he mumbles shyly, but he sneaks a glance over his shoulder at his backside before his eyes fall on Hoseok. “. . . did it at least look good?”
“If he didn't look at your ass I'd be surprised. It's pretty impossible not to.”
“Maybe next time I should stick it out some more. . . what do you think?”
Jimin’s not ashamed of talking about this sort of stuff with Hoseok, but now that Hoseok has picked out Jimin’s possible crush on Yoongi, he’s going to be far more open about it from now on.
“And maybe you should just put a sign on your forehead that says ‘please fuck me, Min Yoongi’. Seriously, Jiminnie, you're shameless.”
“I’d let him fuck me,” Jimin confesses in a very quiet voice, and his eyes flicker up to where he can see through Yoongi’s office, through the glass walls where he can see the familiar mess of dark hair hunched over a desk. He looks away before Yoongi even notices, but he’s probably sleeping at the moment. “Although he’s rude, I kind of like how. . . brooding. . . he is. And he’s hot, don’t tell me you don’t agree because then I’d feel weird for thirsting for someone who is as tall as me and can probably scare away a puppy just by looking at it.”
“I mean, if you're into small, grumpy grandpas,” Hoseok teases, placing the folders into one of the outgoing mail slots on his desk. “I guess he isn't half bad.”
Jimin wrinkles his nose at first but takes Hoseok’s next sentence as a signal to continue talking. “Have you seen his hands? Now that I think about them. . .” he pauses, staring into the wood of the desk. “I could think of a lot of things where Yoongi’s hands would be welcomed.”
“Oh my god ,” Hoseok says with a laugh, shaking his head. “ You need to get laid if waxing poetic about Min Yoongi’s hands is what gets you going.”
“I kind of want to crack that hard shell of his, you know? See if there's a soft side.”
Hoseok snorts, turning to his computer screen and tapping his fingers over the keys rhythmically. “Good luck with that. I've never seen him get involved with anyone. Six months ago, he shot down a poor intern that confessed to him so bad the poor girl left crying and we never saw her again.”
“ That's because he's gay,” Jimin huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “I'm gay, I know when someone else is gay. Most of the time. Like, Taehyung's pretty obviously gay. I don’t think Yoongi hyung meets women or men who are shorter than him very often, I'm perfect for the job.”
“Well excuse me. Didn't know we had the human gaydar walking around the office,” Hoseok chuckles. “He’ll crush you like a bug, Jiminnie. Don't come crying to me when that happens.”
The weeks go by and Jimin only becomes busier, especially with his work for Jungkook, but Yoongi does continue to give him work to do and seemingly doesn’t allow him to take a break at any given point during the day to chat with Hoseok except in the break room.
Jimin vents to Hoseok and complains that Yoongi is giving him too much work when Jimin’s already preoccupied with Jungkook downstairs. He'll even give Jimin menial tasks, like sending him to go buy him coffee or make copies of something, and then proceed to fall asleep in his office while Jimin does his work.
(Which Jimin huffs and puffs about, but at least Yoongi’s warmed up to him.)
He's gotten used to going up and down the stairs between Jungkook’s floor and Yoongi’s floor, as well as Taehyung’s saltiness whenever he’s nearby, but Jimin's only trying to work. Taehyung is always unhappy whenever Jimin’s around, staring into Jungkook’s office constantly when Jimin is in there.
Jimin's learned to ignore the pettiness and when he's feeling nice, he’ll buy Taehyung coffee and wish him a cheeky good morning before he starts his day.
Usually, Jimin's mornings aren't busy, but he's called to Jungkook's office one morning before he makes the trip upstairs to see what Yoongi has planned for him, if anything.
Jimin approaches Jungkook’s desk and he nudges his glasses up his nose when he spots a large pile of folders on the edge of Jungkook’s desk.
“Sorry to call you in here suddenly,” Jungkook murmurs, sitting up in his chair. “You're good at organization, right?”
Jimin nods, eyeing the pile of folders. “I am. . .”
“Do you think you can give Yoongi hyung a hand then? I'm sure you've noticed by now how unorganized he is, but he's. . . overwhelmed right now. He might ask for help when you go up there, he might not, but go ahead and tell him you can help. I cleared your schedule with me today, you’re his as far as I'm concerned, so see what you can get done today and maybe tonight with him. I'll have Taehyung keep me busy today.”
Jimin feels his stomach flip when Jungkook states that he’s free for the day, although he's going to be stuck with Yoongi in his office for the majority of it. Which isn't really a bad thing, because Jimin doesn't mind being around Yoongi and his work; his might be an opportunity for him to get to know Yoongi, which is what Jimin has sort of secretly been hoping for for awhile now.
“Yeah, okay, I can do that. You'll know where to find me if you need me.”
Jimin smiles before taking his leave. As he opens the door, Jungkook calls his name and he turns around expectantly.
With that being said, Jimin scurries away with the folders in his hand, all of the documents in there already copied for him. Yoongi probably made Jimin copy these awhile ago, but now they're in Jimin's possession for him to keep or reorganize.
He passes Hoseok’s desk on the way to Yoongi’s office and the secretary quirks a brow as the blonde passes by.
“Where are you off to?” Hoseok asks from his desk, and Jimin swivels around but walks backwards towards Yoongi’s office.
“Yoongi hyung needs my help,” Jimin beams, swinging back around once he’s outside Yoongi’s office. He jostles the folders into one arm and knocks with the other, gently pushing open the door once Yoongi’s gruff voice gives him the OK to enter.
The junior partner is behind his desk, the Seoul skyline sprawling behind him through the floor to ceiling glass windows. The thin skin of his under eyes is dark and puffy, and his hair is unkempt and messy like he's been raking his fingers through it.
“Whatever it is you want, Park, I don't have time for it,” Yoongi grumbles, immediately turning back to the paperwork sprawled out in front of him once he sees who it is.
Jimin grips the folders and he gently closes the door behind him. Yoongi has the blinds closed most of the way to block out the sunlight. “I’m here to help. Jungkook-ah said you had a lot to do but. . . I can organize things for you. He said I’m all yours for the day so. . .”
“Jungkook needs to mind his own damn business,” Yoongi snaps. “If I wanted help, I’d have asked for it.”
Jimin chews on his lower lip. “You don't seem like the kind of person who asks for help, but you need it,” he surveys the mess on Yoongi’s desk, dark bags of his eyes and paleness of his handsome face. “I’m supposed to be your paralegal so. . . give me something to do.”
“I don't need your help. Go away, I've got a shit ton of things to do before I go to trial tomorrow.”
Yoongi’s eyes flash and Jimin leans back, staring down at Yoongi over the bridge of his nose. “You're not going to make it to trial if you're unorganized,” Jimin retorts, and he shuffles back to plop down in one of the two chairs placed at the front of Yoongi’s desk.
The paralegal drops the pile of folders straight on the cluttered desk, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi, whose gaze is burning as he stares at Jimin. He doesn't falter, scooting the chair closer. “I didn't sign up for this job to do nothing. You need my help, trust me.”
There's a long pause. It's a dangerous gamble, not listening and challenging Yoongi. Interns have been fired for less.
Yoongi leans back in his chair, letting his wrists balance on the edge of the armrests. “Alright, Park Jimin,” he says, amused. “Show me what you got.”
Jimin grins at the acceptance, but he's quick to return to his professional demeanor as he flips open the files and shakes away his nerves. “Alright, so—”
They work nonstop from morning until night, hours on end. The only breaks they take are for the bathroom, for coffee, and for when Jimin picks up the takeout they ordered at the front door to the building. Stacks and stacks of papers slowly diminish throughout the day and into the evening, and they’ve kicked off their shoes and undone their ties by the time they take a long break to eat at around seven.
Only stragglers are in the office still, or some who are still working on cases or planning for trial. Jungkook almost always stays behind so he’s most likely downstairs in his office, but Yoongi and Jimin have been left alone since the morning to finish their work. For the better part of the day, it’s silent, but by the evening Yoongi has turned on some classical music and they engage in conversation with one another.
It’s taken awhile for Jimin to get Yoongi to open up about himself, as Jimin’s already told the elder half his life story, so he perks up over their dinner, head help up in one hand as Yoongi talks. Jimin does listen to Yoongi, really, he does, but at the same time he’s too mesmerized with staring at the way Yoongi’s lips move when he’s speaking.
What Jimin catches up on is that besides playing piano and owning a dog named Holly, Yoongi does this. . . this thing where he scrunches his nose and it’s cute. He also does another thing where his tongue pokes out between his lips constantly and it’s distracting but Yoongi’s always looking down when he’s talking to Jimin and Jimin’s glad for that because getting caught staring at Yoongi would be embarrassing, especially when they’re close, sitting across the desk from one another.
He also likes to hold both chopsticks between his teeth when he flips pages and that’s when Jimin’s conflicted, doesn’t know if he should look at his mouth or down at his hands and it’s a struggle. Trying to not creepily stare at his soon-to-be boss is harder than the paperwork they’ve been doing.
Yoongi calls his name and Jimin blinks, dropping his chopsticks and pushing up his reading glasses. “S-sorry,” the blonde mumbles, and he meets Yoongi’s eyes for a moment.
It can be incredibly hard to read Yoongi’s facial expressions sometimes and unfortunately this is one of those times. “You should wrap this up and go home. It's late.”
Jimin shakes himself out of his stupor and stares down at the paperwork. There’s not much left, and he’s already organized most of Yoongi’s files. “It’s only, what, eight? I can keep going,” he replies quietly, sticking his chopsticks in the rice container and popping rice into his mouth, speaking when his mouth is half full. “Not like I do anything at home anyways. . .”
“No?” One of Yoongi’s eyebrows arches perfectly and hides behind his dark fringe. “No girlfriend waiting for you at home?”
Jimin’s eyes are wide at the question as he slowly swallows the rice, shaking his head. He laughs. “No, no girlfriend. There’s nobody at home. Just me.”
“Hm,” Yoongi muses, sticking his chopsticks into a container of rice and pushing it away. It's like he's surprised at this bit of information. “I can finish up here, just want to go back over these last few transcripts. . .”
The paralegal is curious, heart thudding in his chest, but he doesn’t push it. “Are you sure?” Jimin asks, standing from his chair and gathering his things.
“Yea, yea, it's Friday night. Shouldn't spend it cooped up in here.” Yoongi dismisses him with a few flicks of his wrist, as usual, already turning back to the papers in front of him.
Jimin shrugs his coat on and pushes in the chair, throwing away the trash near the door. Yoongi is still hunched over his paperwork, but Jimin stops when he opens the door. “Goodnight, hyung, good luck tomorrow,” he says from across the room, and he gets a grunt in return from Yoongi.
When he’s home, lying in bed later that night, he wonders about the question Yoongi asked. About him having a girlfriend.
Why would he ask?
Jimin’s heart is jittery and it takes him longer than usual to finally fall asleep.
By the time Monday morning rolls around, Jimin’s finds out that Yoongi’s won the case. All Jimin had to do was search online and there it was, pictures of court and even one of Yoongi, stoic and baggy eyed as usual, but looking satisfied.
Jimin grabs two coffees in the morning and a bagel to go before he heads into the office. He goes straight for Yoongi’s floor, coat slung over one arm, coffees and bagel in hand. While he could settle with just knowing Yoongi won, he wants to ask how it went, hear from Yoongi personally. He knocks gently on the door before entering, and Yoongi looks up at him with raised brows as Jimin scurries over and sets one of the coffee cups on the desk, as well as the bagel.
“Good morning,” he chirps, straightening and motioning at the treats. “Thought you could use some coffee. Maybe a bagel. How’d trial go?”
“Went good,” the lawyer grunts, grabbing at the coffee cup and taking a long swallow. “Has anyone ever told you that you're entirely too happy so early in the morning?”
Jimin smiles wide. “You’re not the only one who’s said that.”
“I'm gonna need to finish this coffee before I even think about dealing with how bubbly you are.”
“Mhm, okay, you know where to find me. If you don’t eat that bagel, put it in the break room, I’m sure Namjoon hyung will eat it.”
It doesn't go unnoticed how Yoongi immediately scoops the bagel closer to himself, keeping it caged between his arms on the desk. “Fuck that. Namjoon can get his own bagel.”
Jimin sputters out a giggle. “If I had known you liked bagels so much, I would have personally delivered a bagel to you every morning.”
“Tryin’ to get on my good side, Park Jimin?”
I’ve been trying since day one, is what goes through Jimin’s mind but he just shrugs. “If I can’t get on Taehyung’s, then maybe I’ll get on yours.”
He bids his goodbye to Yoongi for the morning before exiting his office and he passes by Hoseok, who stares at Jimin with squinted eyes. Jimin looks back at the secretary curiously.
“Are you. . . Are you wearing tighter pants, Park Jimin?”
Jimin could count how many times he’s been called Park Jimin in the past ten minutes on one hand. He glances down at himself, fixes his shirt in one spot. “Dunno, maybe,” he sniffs, playing innocent. So what if this particular pair of pants is tighter?
“You are ,” Hoseok accuses, judging, but motions the younger over so he can lean across the desk and not shout across the hallway. “I guess Friday night went well? We were all taking bets on how long it would take for him to make you cry.”
At the revelation, Jimin scoffs, offended. “I’m not a baby! I’ll tell you how Friday went in the break room. I hope you didn’t bet against me, hyung, that’s mean.”
With a sassy little wink, Hoseok stands, grabbing his coffee mug for a refill as the two make their way to the employee break room on this floor. “So spill the beans!” the elder stage whispers, pouring himself more coffee as he speaks.
Jimin hangs up his coat and takes a sip of his own coffee cup. “I mean, we just did our work. But we ordered takeout and ate it together in his office and we kind of learned more about each other? I guess? But he asked me this question. . .”
He pauses, debating on whether or not he should tell Hoseok, but he tells him anyways. “He asked me if I had a girlfriend. Like, at home. And he seemed surprised when I said no. What the hell does that mean?”
“I can see why he’d be surprised. Someone as cute as you, as hardworking and friendly, should be snapped up by now. I don't know, maybe he just wanted to see if you were single? Without asking too bluntly? Did he flirt with you after?”
Jimin blushes faintly. “Don’t flatter me,” he mumbles, swirling his coffee around. “And no, no he didn’t. He was already dismissing me to go home, so after that I just. . .went home. I kept thinking about the question and how weird it was.”
“Ugh, Jimin . It was probably a test. Maybe he wanted you to stay!”
Jimin blanches. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even think of that—”
He mentally punches himself in the gut for that one. “I couldn’t stop staring at him, either. His face, his hands, his goddamn mouth —”
Hoseok laughs, shaking his head. “Ew. I'm disgusted. Things I don't need to think about this early in the morning.”
“I brought him a bagel and he was super protective over it when I said that if he didn’t want it, someone else could have it, like Namjoon. Is he usually like that?”
“I don't know . I'm not as obsessed with him as you are,” Hoseok says with a wink. “I never really see him eat if I think about it. . .”
“Hmm. . . alright. At least he’s warming up to me.”
“I like to think of it more like maybe you're the unsuspecting fly that got caught in his web, and he's just taking his time, wrapping you up to eat you later.”
That’s a very specific analogy Hoseok has come up with, but Jimin leans against the counter and sips his coffee. “I wouldn’t mind if he ate me, like, ate me out,” Jimin snickers, and he hears Hoseok moan his complaints. “Hey! At least I’m getting somewhere.”
“You are nasty ,” Hoseok wheezes, “What did I do to deserve this?”
Jimin pushes off the counter with his coffee in hand. “Go ahead and place another bet, let’s see what you can come up with.”
It’s a dare, but Hoseok’s willing to take it. “Okay, fine, but I’m sure he’ll make you cry soon enough.”
Jimin sticks his tongue out at the secretary before leaving the break room.
Over the next couple of weeks, Jimin jostles back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook, but he brings Yoongi a bagel every so often because apparently Yoongi hardly eats when he’s working. At least with more than coffee in his stomach, he isn’t so cranky and pissy like he used to be.
The firm is hosting a company dinner party for the upcoming weekend and all he hears in the break room for lunch is employees talking about it, how the open bar and expensive food they don’t have to pay for is the only thing to look forward to. Apparently these dinners are a big deal, and both Hoseok and Jungkook convince Jimin to come; after all, when was the last time he got drunk at a formal party?
The answer is college but Jimin tags along anyways.
He’s not afraid of socializing, and he flutters about the restaurant with ease, but he does stick to Jungkook’s side when they’re at the bar after dinner. Jimin could drink alone, but that would be a little weird, so he hangs out with Jungkook for the time being while Taehyung burns holes into his skull from across the bar. It’s unnerving, but Jimin just tosses back his mixed drink and focuses on Jungkook to piss Taehyung off or search for Yoongi.
Yoongi is horrible at socializing.
He’s been sitting in the corner with whiskey or some other liquor alone, and a tipsy Jimin thinks, hey, I’ll keep him company, like that’s the best idea he’s ever thought of in his life.
So, with his drink in hand, Jimin ambles over to Yoongi and plops down in the seat next to him with a grunt, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt as Yoongi eyes him quizzically.
“Hi,” Jimin mumbles lamely, but Yoongi’s amused.
“Hey,” the elder replies, eying Jimin’s half empty cup. “How many of those have you had?”
“More than I should have had,” Jimin answers honestly, peering into the mixture. “S’good though.”
Yoongi sniffs in the general direction of Jimin’s drink, wrinkling his nose at the fruity smell. “What even is that?”
“Some sort of vodka, strawberry syrup I think, other stuff,” Jimin picks the glass up and takes a sip. “I like to mix.”
That has Yoongi’s eyebrows raising, but he laughs and buries his face in his own drink. “Now that I didn't expect. . . Enjoying yourself though?”
Jimin giggles, actually giggles, and he sets down his drink and looks around. He’s not wearing glasses, has his contacts in, and his hair is off his forehead. “Mhm, this place is nice. But I’m tipsy. I’ll probably leave soon, call a cab or an Uber or something. . .”
“I'm gonna go soon, too. These parties aren't really my thing. I could. . . Uh, I could drive you home, if you wanted?”
It might be the lighting but it looks suspiciously like Yoongi is blushing , red dusting across the tops of his cheekbones.
Jimin blinks, stares owlishly at Yoongi. His drunk mind and his sober mind are telling him to accept the offer and he fumbles with his words for a few seconds before simply nodding. “S-sure. S’long as it’s not out of your way.”
“Nah, I don't mind. You live far?”
“No. Right outside Gangnam.”
Yoongi looks pleased at that, relaxing against the wall with a small smile. “Cool. I'm in Gangnam so it's not a big deal.”
Being alone in a car with Yoongi makes Jimin jittery and his knee jumps against the chair. He reaches for his drink and tips his head back, downing the rest of the fruity drink and setting the empty glass aside, smacking his lips once he’s swallowed. “When do you wanna leave?”
“I can chill here, avoid people until you're ready to go,” Yoongi replies, and it might just be Jimin but it feels like the elder watched him swallow that last bit of drink a little too intently.
“I’m ready,” Jimin states, voice a little raspy from the downing of the vodka-infused drink. “I’ve already talked to everyone I wanted to talk to for the night.”
Yoongi stands, steady on his feet, offering his hand to Jimin to help him up. “Where's your coat? It's freezing outside.”
Jimin accepts Yoongi’s hand, and he shivers inwardly when their hands touch. It’s only brief, his small hand in Yoongi’s larger hand, and it’s dizzying for a moment, but he rights himself and starts walking with Yoongi. “In the coat check room thing. Whatever the fuck it is,” his voice tapers off into a laugh but Yoongi gets what he’s saying.
They swing by to grab Jimin’s coat but he doesn’t put it on. The restaurant is warm, he’s warm, and he could use the fresh air.
As they approach the exit, Yoongi is tying the belt of his dark trench coat shut, and looks at Jimin with a small frown. “Coat on. Now.”
Jimin whines, wanting to protest that he’s warm, but he begrudgingly hauls his coat over his shoulders and looks up at Yoongi. “There. It’s on.”
Jimin freezes up at the praise, at that pet name, but Yoongi is already opening the front door and waiting for him expectantly. The blonde stumbles after him, can’t make sense of what just happened, but Yoongi doesn’t leave much room for thinking. Even as they walk out together into the cold, Jimin’s mind is reeling over what just happened, and it’s like he’s momentarily forgotten how to function.
The valet in front of the restaurant scurries away to retrieve Yoongi’s car, leaving the two standing on the sidewalk. Yoongi’s breath makes little white clouds of smoke in front of his mouth, eyes slitted like a cat’s as he peers over at Jimin. “If you puke in my car, you're paying to have it detailed.”
The joking jab has Jimin snapping out of his blank stare and he laughs weakly, staring at Yoongi’s expensive car as it’s pulled to the curb. “I won’t, I’m just. . . tipsy.”
Yoongi actually opens the passenger side door for Jimin first, letting the paralegal slide onto the dark leather seat and then closing the door behind him. It only takes a few seconds for the driver’s side door to open and Yoongi swings himself inside with a muffled grunt.
“Oh,” Jimin whispers, and he promptly tells Yoongi his address, watching as it’s plugged into his car’s navigation system. He leans back against the seat, exhales as he runs his fingers over the curve of the rich leather underneath him, cool to the touch. This is an expensive car, Jimin knows it. And he likes it. Likes to see Yoongi driving it.
The silence hangs thick between them, and as they come to the first of many red lights, Yoongi thumbs on the power to the radio. “Pick whatever you want to listen to,” he says gruffly, placing both hands back on the steering wheel.
Jimin isn’t sure what to choose, thumbing over the stations until he picks out something that he can work with. It’s just some random channel, but it’s loud enough for them to still hear their thoughts, but Jimin sort of doesn’t want to listen to what he’s thinking because it’s not appropriate. Definitely not suitable when he’s this close to Yoongi.
“You okay over there?” Yoongi asks, breaking Jimin out of his thoughts for a moment. “Never seen you so quiet.”
“Huh? Oh. . . yeah,” Jimin’s palms work against his thighs, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles of the tight pants. “I’m just thinking. Don’t mind me.”
All he gets is a soft grunt in reply, and Yoongi keeps his eyes fixed on the road for the duration of the drive. It doesn't take long —maybe ten minutes or so— for them to pull into Jimin’s apartment complex. Yoongi whips the car into a parking spot out front and throws it in park.
“You gonna be okay getting inside?”
Jimin doesn’t want to get out, but at the same time, he does. He’s in some sort of weird limbo, and he settles on one side by not getting out of the car, though he does unbuckle.
“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, chewing on his lips in debate. The music is quiet, Yoongi is holding the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting casually on the gear shift. Jimin knows, right on the surface, that any advance on Yoongi may result in being fired, but fuck, fuck does Yoongi look good, and Jimin can’t be imagining all of the sexual tension between them—
He reaches out and places a hand on Yoongi’s knee, the elder shifting in surprise, his dark eyes flickering over to stare at Jimin. But Jimin doesn’t stop, cautiously trails his hand upward, locking eyes with Yoongi, watching him closely as he squeezes Yoongi’s thigh between his fingers.
Yoongi hasn’t yelled at him yet, is holding his breath, but he does make a noise in the back of his throat when Jimin brushes his hand over the front of his slacks, touch more hesitant here unlike his confident touches on Yoongi’s leg. Jimin exhales shakily but when Yoongi doesn’t shove him away, he palms Yoongi once. That pulls a sharp inhale from the elder, and Jimin can feel him squirm against the soft leather of the seat. It's almost unnoticeable, but Yoongi spreads his legs slightly, angles his hips up.
The air between them is charged, and Jimin presses down harder with his hand. Yoongi groans under his breath and Jimin ghosts over his belt. “T-tell me to stop, and I will,” Jimin utters, swallowing thickly. “But I’ll keep going unless you say something, hyung.”
All Yoongi does is nod, does that thing where he flicks his tongue out to wet over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth when Jimin's fingers get to work undoing his belt buckle. Jimin uses one hand, prying back the belt and popping open the button of his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper.
Once the zipper is down, Jimin slides his hand into Yoongi’s slacks and palms him once again, watching with interest as Yoongi’s grip on the bottom of the steering wheel tightens, hips jumping forward into Jimin’s hand. His legs shift when Jimin presses down harder, hiss of air escaping his lips.
“Let me blow you,” Jimin exhales, rubbing over the forming tent in Yoongi’s boxers.
Another nod, this time Jimin does incite more of a reaction: hissed “holy fuck” under Yoongi’s breath, head knocking back against the headrest as the younger strokes him through his boxers, base to tip.
Jimin likes the reaction he’s getting, and his tipsy self is giddy as he reaches past the layer of Yoongi’s boxers and wraps his fingers around Yoongi, inhaling sharply as his cock springs free. The younger strokes base to tip once more, this time without anything in the way, swiping his thumb across the pretty pink head, and saliva welling up in his mouth.
He wants to compliment, make some sort of comment, but he keeps quiet and pulls back. Yoongi stares forward as Jimin shrugs off his coat. It was only going to get in the way. Once his coat is off, tossed on the floor, Jimin leans forward and presses his thumb down on a bead of precum pooling along the tip.
Yoongi holds his breath and he shifts in the seat when Jimin runs a fat stripe along the underside with his tongue, lips wrapping around the head briefly. Another muffled noise escapes Yoongi but Jimin continues, pressing sloppy kisses all along his length until he’s hard underneath his fingers.
Jimin pumps Yoongi once more with his hand and then parts his lips further, jaw going slack as he wraps his lips around Yoongi’s cock and slowly sinks down to the base. His throat constricts for a moment, gag reflex almost making him choke, and he stops once Yoongi hits the back of his throat. Breathing once and then pulling back up with a little ‘pop,’ strand of saliva connecting his lips to the flushed tip.
He looks up, sees how dark Yoongi’s eyes are, how flushed he is, petal pink lips parted to draw in a breath. “ God ,” he groans, raspy with arousal. “It's always the sweet innocent ones.”
Jimin draws his puffy lower lip between his teeth, Yoongi’s low, raspy voice igniting fire in his veins. He’d reply back, probably retort with how he actually isn’t really all innocent like everyone has him out to be, but he answers by ducking back down and taking Yoongi’s cock in his mouth once more.
He bobs his head tentatively at first, and he dares to lock eyes with Yoongi as he suckles on the head, licking kittenishly down his length then back up. Teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves under the crown with his tongue.
The position is slightly awkward with the gearshift digging into Jimin’s ribs as he leans over the center console, and Yoongi is half pressed up against the driver's side door, pressing one hand over his mouth to stifle any noises. The other hand threads into Jimin’s hair, not pulling hard, just a gentle pressure keeping the paralegal between his legs.
Jimin moans when Yoongi’s fingers tangle in his soft locks, and he keens forward at the touch. He shifts to the left slightly to avoid the gearshift, and if the windows to this car weren’t heavily tinted, it would be obvious to see him, see them, and Jimin groans quietly when his own hard cock rubs up against the center console.
He hadn’t even realized he was hard, not until now, but with every bob of his head he rubs into the console, providing enough friction for an orgasm of his own to approach. Jimin’s become more sloppy, lets more obscene noises echo in the car, hollowing his cheeks as he bobs his head faster. Yoongi’s grip in his hair tightens gradually and hushed moans escape the hand covering his mouth.
“Jimin,” Yoongi gasps, tightening his hold on the younger’s hair and grabbing onto the steering wheel with his other, “shit, I'm gonna— I'm not gonna last.”
Popping his mouth off for only a second, Jimin glances up through his fringe. “I got you,” he rasps, and he’s bending back down to finish off Yoongi, picking up the previous rhythm easily. He presses his hips down for friction as heat courses through his system, every one of his moans traveling through Yoongi’s body, making the elder shiver and swear under his breath.
When Yoongi comes, his whole body trembles, a throaty groan spilling out from between his lips. His hips kick, nails scratching at the leather covering the steering wheel and against Jimin’s scalp. Jimin swallows every last drop and milks Yoongi of everything with his hand stroking the base. He stills for a moment, swirling his tongue around the tip until Yoongi’s oversensitive and hissing, pulling away to let Yoongi come down from his high.
While Yoongi recovers, Jimin shamelessly rubs out an orgasm of his own, and he whines when he releases in his pants. His boxers and the front of his slacks become wet, warm and sticky, and his body shivers when the ecstasy leaves his system.
Panting, Jimin leans back until he thumps against the passenger side door, his head pressing against the cool glass, mouth dropped open. His lips are slick with saliva, stray strand of cum across the corner of his lips, eyes glossy as they focus on Yoongi. They’re both pressed against the doors and Yoongi’s eyes are still heavy when they fall on Jimin.
“You just. . . holy shit,” Yoongi finally says, practically boneless in the driver’s seat, unable to formulate a complete sentence.
Jimin’s chest moves up and down with every breath he takes and he wets his lips and swallows. The taste of Yoongi still on his tongue. “Worth it,” he mumbles, and really, it was worth it.
After another minute, Yoongi is the one that finally moves. The leather creaks underneath him as he tucks himself back into his slacks, still keeping watch on Jimin out of the corner of his eye. “You good? You need me to. . .?”
The paralegal recovers from his state of bliss and a rosy flush creeps along his neck when Yoongi offers to reciprocate. “No, I. . .” Jimin stares down into his lap, where he can faintly see the wet spot where he creamed himself. “. . . that’s already taken care of.”
Yoongi swears again, but this time there's a bit of a smirk on his lips. “That’s infinitely sexier than it should be.”
Jimin chews on his upper lip and reaches down for the coat he discarded on the floor. “I blame you,” he mumbles, but it’s starting to become uncomfortable, the cum clinging to the fabric. He places his coat over his lap and closes his legs. “U-um. . .”
He’s not sure what to say.
Goodnight, thanks for letting me give you a blowjob outside my apartment? Hope you don’t fire me?
“Want me to walk you up?” Yoongi offers, clearly trying to dispel the awkwardness in the car.
Jimin shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I’m good,” his words are much less smooth than before, like his confidence has vanished. “Um. . . see you Monday? Monday morning?”
“Okay, see you Monday,” Yoongi unlocks the car doors with a press of his finger. “Sure you don't want help up to your place?”
Jimin shifts and pops open the door, still holding his coat over his crotch. Part of his shirt is untucked. “No, s’okay, I can walk,” he replies, and his eyes flicker up to his apartment building and then back down to Yoongi. “Goodnight.”
Yoongi bids him goodnight with what must be a smirk and Jimin waddles away and up the stairs, digging in his back pocket for his keys. Yoongi’s car still sits on the curb and it’s only when Jimin gets inside the building does the sleek, expensive car pull away, and Jimin rushes up to his apartment, coat awkwardly hanging in front of him.
That night, Jimin fucks himself and thinks about Yoongi as he does it. He thinks about Yoongi’s hands, what it would be like for Yoongi to fuck him, and he shamelessly comes more than once because of his imagination. But falling asleep is hell when Yoongi is on his mind, and it takes an hour for him to rid himself of any dirty thoughts before his head hits the pillow.
(Those dirty thoughts are gone when he sleeps, until he wakes up the next morning hard, and Jimin curses Min Yoongi for everything.)
It’s safe to say that Jimin is only slightly nervous walking into the building on Monday morning, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself when he makes it to Yoongi’s floor. Usually, Hoseok isn’t here until half an hour later, and Jimin hopes that he can put away his coat in the break room and busy himself with work from Jungkook before the secretary gets here, but it’s just his fucking luck when Hoseok is in the break room pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Jimin tries to quietly hang his coat up and then scurry away before he’s noticed, but Hoseok’s shrill voice calls his name and Jimin smiles wearily, turning around and pushing his glasses up.
“ I heard,” Hoseok says, not even bothering to say ‘good morning’, “that you and Min Yoongi left the party last Friday together.”
Jimin laughs, a nervous laugh that clearly gives him away. “Yeah, we left together. I was kinda drunk, he offered. Drove me home.”
He hopes Hoseok doesn’t question any further because if he does, Jimin will have no choice but to spill the beans.
Unfortunately, he's got no such luck.
“And?” Hoseok presses, leaning against the counter with the coffee pot behind him like he's got all the time in the world.
With a repressed sigh, Jimin fiddles with his hands. “. . . and I gave him a blowjob. In the parking lot. Outside my apartment.”
Hoseok chokes on his mouthful of coffee, sputtering and coughing, holding a hand on his chest to steady himself. “You did what ?” he shrieks, voice carrying in the office space.
Jimin rushes forward, reaching out for Hoseok to try and shut him up, panicking for a moment. “Shh, shhh! Don’t scream!” he hisses.
“You blew your future boss in the parking lot of your apartment complex ?” Hoseok whispers, well and properly shook. “You little hoe.”
Offended, Jimin opens his mouth and furrows his brows, but Hoseok’s damn right: he is a little hoe.
So he promptly shuts his mouth.
“Look, I was feeling confident and he didn’t push me away,” Jimin argues, “he liked it. And so did I because— nevermind. But he liked it. I know I give good head.”
All Hoseok can do is laugh and shake his head. “Holy shit. I guess your thirst finally paid off. Have you seen him yet today? Did he call or text you or anything?”
Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t have his number. I was going to go see if he was in his office now, but then you showed up. Why the hell are you here this early, anyways?”
“Early bird gets the worm, Jiminnie,” the elder chirps, wiggling excitedly. “Besides I figured you'd have some juicy gossip for me.”
“Of course,” Jimin huffs. “Well, I’m going to go to his office, let’s see how this goes. You’ll hear from me later.”
“I better!” Hoseok calls after him as Jimin finally leaves the break room.
Jimin takes a breather before making his way down the hall to Yoongi’s office. He peeks in through the windows, spotting the familiar clump of dark hair, and Jimin straightens himself and knocks on the door. There’s a moment of silence for Jimin to collect his thoughts before Yoongi tells him to come in, and Jimin slips into the office, closing the door gently behind him.
Yoongi doesn’t seem surprised by Jimin’s visit, but he sits up in his chair and sets his pen down on the desk as Jimin shuffles closer.
“Good morning,” Jimin says, loud and clear, stopping in front of Yoongi’s desk. He fidgets under Yoongi’s gaze and he clasps his hands together in front of himself casually.
“Morning.” Yoongi is wearing glasses today. Circle lenses that he peers over the top of to meet Jimin’s eyes. “I need that witness transcript for the Lee case by lunch.”
Jimin would like to believe that he’s not taken aback by Yoongi’s professionalism, but he’s caught off guard by it. Regardless, he does have work to do, and his nod is a late reaction. “Yes, of course, but—”
“And then,” Yoongi cuts him off, “I need the proposal for Hylus Systems proofed. Can you do that?”
The paralegal shifts his weight. “I’ll have all that done for you by the end of the day, but hyung—”
“Also, I'm interviewing a key witness in the Choi case at three. You should be there.”
It’s not like it’s a lot of work for Jimin to do, he can accomplish everything easily, but he has bigger concerns than his workload. “Anything else?” Jimin decides to ask, because getting cut off one more time is going to leave him flustered.
“That's all,” Yoongi finishes, turning back to the papers in front of him and then eying his laptop screen.
Jimin wrings his hands in front of himself but he places them on the edge of Yoongi’s desk when the lawyer shakes him off and refocuses on his work. Jimin likes how dedicated he is to his work, but he could care less about that right now.
“Yoongi hyung,” the paralegal gets Yoongi’s attention and keeps their eyes locked. “I want to talk about Friday night. In the car.”
Yoongi freezes, hands hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. But with a clearing of his throat, he leans back in his office chair, peering over his glasses again at the boy in front of him. “Okay,” he says quietly, waits for Jimin to voice his concerns.
The paralegal sighs.
“Do you want to act like it never happened? Or. . .do you actually want to talk about it to me, because right now I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall.”
“You want to talk about blowing me in my car in the parking lot of your apartment complex?” Yoongi shoots back, watching Jimin carefully. “Or do you want to pretend it never happened?”
Jimin sticks his tongue against his cheek. “At least you acknowledge it happened,” he contends, tapping his fingers on the desk as he comes up with another reply. “I mean, I can apologize for what I did, but I don’t know if I want to. Don’t think I need to. How do you feel about me, hyung? Not just as your employee, or employee in training. Be honest, because you know how I feel about you and if you don’t, then I’m just going to be upfront and say I’ve tried flirting with you since the first day we met.”
Yoongi leans forward, steepling his fingers together on the desk. “Is that how long you were waiting to make your move?” he counters. Just like a lawyer: answering a question with another question.
“Not that move in particular, but a move.”
This pulls a low chuckle from Yoongi, who seems to relax a bit. “Well. . .” he begins, “I remember the first day I met you, Park Jimin. I thought you were one of the most beautiful people I'd never seen. And I knew you were going to be nothing but trouble.”
Jimin hadn’t expected those words to fall from Yoongi’s lips. A brush creeps along his cheeks. “Am I worth the trouble?”
“Haven't decided yet. But so far the odds are in your favor.”
The blonde smiles. “Then does that mean I can flirt with you more?”
“I'll allow it,” Yoongi murmurs, almost allowing himself to smile.
“Is it at a price? Or do I just need to be secretive about it?”
“I don't usually mix my business and pleasure,” Yoongi says. “I’m sure you understand that we should be. . . discreet.”
“You know I like to mix,” Jimin can’t help but joke, though he does understand what Yoongi is saying. And he tries not to be giddy about it, the whole “we” thing. “But I can be discreet. Hoseok is the only one who knows that I had been pining after you, someone’s going to have to tell him to keep quiet too.”
At the mention of Hoseok, Yoongi scrunches up his nose. “Well, I trust you're more than capable of keeping his mouth shut.”
“Mm, will do.”
Jimin feels more relieved, now that they’ve talked about Friday, and he runs his palms flat against his sides. “So . . . I’ll see you at noon, then? With the Lee case?”
“Don't be late.”
“I’m never late.”
Jimin and Yoongi try to be discreet with their flirting and their personal relationship in the workplace and so far, they've done an okay job. Nobody except Hoseok is in on the secret.
They manage to flirt in private -privare as in Yoongi’s office- but sometimes one of them slips up and they have to cover for each other when that happens. Or watch the other wallow in embarrassment and joke about it later.
For instance, when Jimin is talking to Hoseok (who swears everything will be kept secret, scout’s honor), oftentimes Jimin will get distracted and sit there at his desk, holding a pen against his lips and placing it against his teeth as he stares at Yoongi in his office through one of the windows. More or less it's a little erotic and most of the time Yoongi doesn’t notice, but Hoseok will tap him on the shoulder and pull him out of a trance before anyone in the office notices.
Another time, Jimin disappears into Yoongi’s office during lunch and goes missing for a little bit. Jungkook comes to look for him, and he enters Yoongi’s office to ask where he is, and Jimin stops what he’s doing under the desk. Jungkook throws questions at Yoongi but eventually Yoongi kicks Jungkook out and shoves a hand in Jimin’s hair to signal him to get back to work.
That was a close one, but Yoongi is starting to throw caution to the wind as the weeks pass.
Jimin spends more time on this floor, given that his training period is nearly over, and he’s happy for that because Taehyung no longer stares daggers into his skull, except for when Jimin is working late at night in the office with Jungkook. But being on Yoongi’s floor also means Yoongi is less and less discreet, oftentimes grabbing Jimin’s ass when he’s passing him or whispering something dirty in his ear.
The one time Jimin is caught completely off guard is when he’s standing in the hallway outside Yoongi’s office, fiddling with one of the printers at his desk. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, and his glasses keep falling off his face because he’s bent over trying to refill the ink cartridges and get the damn thing to work. The door to Yoongi’s office opens but he ignores it, loading up the cyan and magenta colors successfully for the first time this hour.
Yoongi’s footsteps are mostly silent, so it's a sneak attack when he swats the seat of Jimin’s pants with the flat of his palm. It’s not a light smack, and it actually sends Jimin scooting forward and bumping into the desk, short yelp escaping his mouth.
He turns around, but Yoongi is already a couple of feet away, staring at Jimin innocently and curiously. Others in the office stop what they’re doing and stare at Jimin, and the paralegal flushes, righting his glasses and clearing his throat. “Almost got ink on me,” he clarifies, and everyone just shrugs and returns to their jobs except for Hoseok, who eyes both Jimin and Yoongi with suspicion.
Jimin glares at Yoongi and rubs his backside with one hand while pressing the print button on the printer. “Asshole,” he whisper-yells to Yoongi.
The lawyer crosses back, a file in hand, stops next to Jimin and leans in so it looks like they're discussing something work related. “You were asking for that. Bent over in those pants.”
Jimin is affronted, staring at Yoongi over the rim of his glasses. “If I were asking for it, I would be bent over your desk in your office,” he retorts quietly.
“Isn't that a lovely idea.”
“I’ve done it before, now let me get back to work.”
With a deep chuckle that only Jimin can hear, Yoongi steps away and disappears back behind the glass door to his office.
What an ass.
Jimin doesn’t see Yoongi for the rest of the day because Jungkook has a case file he wants Jimin to look over, the completion of the Jung case the firm is working on. But it’s Friday, Jungkook doesn’t want Jimin to stay too late, and so the paralegal bids Jungkook a goodnight and takes the elevator straight up to Yoongi’s floor.
It’s not terribly late, not even 7 o’clock yet, and Jimin wants to see what Yoongi’s up to tonight, or maybe just this weekend. He could technically ask on the ride home, as Yoongi picked him up this morning, but Jimin feels like prodding Yoongi with a stick before they leave. Could make the evening interesting.
They’ve been over to each other’s places before, Yoongi and Jimin’s apartment and Jimin at Yoongi’s penthouse, but spending time together outside the office isn’t a horrible idea, that is, if Yoongi agrees to doing anything; chaste or not so chaste.
Everyone has left on the floor except for Yoongi, and Jimin doesn’t even knock when he enters the office, nudging the door closed with his hip, copy of the complete Jung case in his hands. The lawyer glances up from his laptop screen as Jimin strolls forward, accentuating the sway of his hips on the short walk to the desk.
“Here's all the paperwork for the Jung case,” Jimin exclaims, sliding the folder over to Yoongi, biting his gums in hopeful anticipation.
“All of it?” Yoongi’s eyes rake over the younger’s form in a not so discreet way. “Even the transcripts?”
“Mhm,” Jimin hums, sliding around the edge of the desk. Yoongi’s dark eyes follow him as he comes to a halt next to where the lawyer sits. “You know I'm thorough with my work, hyung. Of course they're in there.”
“I love to reward employees for thorough work.”
This time, Jimin's obvious for attention, gnawing on his lips as he fixes Yoongi with a seductive gaze through his glasses. “How so? I'm interested.”
“Greedy,” Yoongi scoffs, pushing himself away from his desk to stand, stretching his arms overhead. Instead of moving to kiss Jimin, like the younger seems to want, Yoongi moves to where the shutters are pulled up, allowing the full view of Seoul at night to stream through the windows.
Jimin is embarrassed for leaning forward when Yoongi stands, and he blinks at the elder when he moves to stand in front of his windows. The paralegal clears his throat and pushes off the desk, following after Yoongi. The skyline of Seoul lay in front of them, twinkling lights and bustling cars reflecting through the glass and Jimin’s glasses.
He sidles up behind Yoongi, placing his hands on his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in circles at the nape of his neck. Pressing his chest to Yoongi’s back.
“What a nice view.”
Yoongi chuckles at that, side stepping the paralegal. “It's alright, I guess.”
Jimin turns. “I wasn’t talking about the skyline.”
“Then what were you talking about?” Yoongi shoots back, playing coy.
“How good we look together.”
Jimin closes the space between them and he loops his fingers around Yoongi’s tie to tug him down and nip at Yoongi’s mouth. His glasses bump Yoongi’s nose but Jimin takes Yoongi’s lower lip between his teeth, enjoying the little growl he receives in return.
“How good I’d look pressed up against the windows as you fuck me.”
They’ve both got a bit of an exhibitionist streak in them, but that is something new. Yoongi kisses Jimin harder, bullying him backwards until Jimin feels the cold press of glass through the thin fabric of his button down shirt. “Work for it,” Yoongi growls.
Jimin’s back arches against the glass and his hands reach out for Yoongi’s waist. He sucks in a breath and lunges for another kiss, shoving Yoongi right up against him, hips flush together. A sharp moan cuts through the air when Yoongi’s hands snake down and cup Jimin’s ass, fingers squeezing and kneading him through his tight slacks.
“Should be illegal for you to wear these pants,” Yoongi mumbles against Jimin’s mouth, using his grip to grind them together slow.
“Yea?” Jimin murmurs, the feeling of Yoongi squeezing him close causing his heart to pound faster as adrenaline courses through his system. “Then change the work dress code. Or come. . . and stop me from working out.”
The younger trails his hands up and he shoves Yoongi’s blazer off his shoulders, lacing his fingers around the nape of Yoongi’s neck as the kiss deepens into something hungrier, more heated. Yoongi bites at his bottom lip, sucking on the swell of flesh until Jimin whines and goes slack in his hold, held up by the thigh Yoongi presses between his legs.
“You haven’t been doing a very good job of being discreet,” Yoongi chides, dragging his lips over the sharp angle of Jimin’s jaw until he can take the metal of Jimin’s piercing between his teeth.
Jimin tips his head to the side and he shudders when Yoongi tugs on his piercing. “Explain,” he mutters, smoothing his hands down Yoongi’s shoulder blades, “because you were the one who slapped me earlier.”
“And you liked that, didn’t you?” Yoongi whispers, breath hot over the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Just like how the idea of me fucking you in this office turns you on.”
There's no denying that; Jimin is rather fond of the idea of Yoongi fucking him in his office, whether it be on his desk or against the windows or in the chair. They're alone as far as Jimin’s concerned. “You know me too well,” Jimin replies, rolling his hips against the forming bulge in the front of Yoongi’s slacks. “But you want me to scream your name when you fuck me senseless. Am I right?”
“Because you want everyone to know how good I make you feel, yea?”
Their lips lock again. Jimin scrabbles at Yoongi’s shoulders as their hips rock together, mouths moving in tandem. The younger’s breath hitches when Yoongi’s fingers dip past the waistband of his slacks, untucking the back of his shirt as cool fingers slide under the layer of his boxers. Yoongi’s hands are chilly, goosebumps prickling along Jimin’s skin, as Yoongi gropes him freely and drags a finger between Jimin’s cheeks.
When Yoongi taps the end of the plug inside Jimin, the paralegal groans against Yoongi’s lips.
“Look at you, baby boy,” Yoongi purrs, flicking at the plug’s flared base so that it brushes against Jimin’s prostate. “You have this in you all day? Stretching yourself out for me?”
Jimin keens, full-body shiver racking his frame. “It’s Friday, was hoping I’d spend time with you,” he mumbles honestly. While he has worn it before, it’s on the weekends he wears it at work because of the opportunities he might have with Yoongi.
With a soft grunt, Yoongi pulls away, slapping once at Jimin’s upper thigh. “Get on my desk. Take your pants off so I can see how pretty you look.”
Jimin’s obedient, already backing away from Yoongi and reaching for his pants, fumbling around for a few seconds as he takes them off. He keeps his shirt on, just takes off his tie and undoes the first couple of buttons, shoving aside Yoongi’s files and other such materials to make room on the desk.
He rids himself of everything except for his shirt and his glasses, which he adjusts as he hops on the edge of Yoongi’s desk, hissing at how cold it is underneath him. But Yoongi’s intense gaze has him heating up again in no time and Jimin shifts another couple of inches, leaning back on his palms.
But he plays coy, keeps his legs pressed together, ankles crossed, the bottom of his shirt held up with his teeth. His abdomen and lower half are exposed but Yoongi can’t see the plug from where he’s standing.
“You little shit,” Yoongi murmurs affectionately as he crosses the space between them. “I said you were going to have to work to get what you want. Where do you think all this teasing is gonna get you, hm?”
Jimin releases the shirt from his mouth to speak. “Hm?” he hums, flashing Yoongi a sly smile before dropping to his elbows and scooting back, raising his legs just enough in the air so that the plug is visible. He peers between his thighs at Yoongi. “You wanted to see this?”
“Yea, baby boy, I did.”
Yoongi smooths his fingertips over the naked skin of Jimin’s thighs, digging in and pressing down until the paralegal begins to spread them out, planting his heels on the edge of the desk.
“Like the view?”
Yoongi cracks the flat of his palm over Jimin’s inner thigh with a smirk. “Don't fish for compliments.”
Jimin grumbles low in the back of his throat, his toes curling at the slap. “But I love when you compliment me,” he tries to explain, which only earns him another slap, this one harder than the first.
“And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you like being punished just as much.”
Jimin’s inner thighs are red from both impacts but he’s hard, precum drooling over his abdomen. “ Hyung,” he rasps, “please fuck me.”
Sinking to his knees puts Jimin’s ass at Yoongi’s eye level. “I probably could,” he muses, gripping around the plug’s base and tugging just enough that it’s stretches Jimin’s lube slick rim. “Slide my cock right into this greedy little hole.”
Jimin is greedy. He’s greedy for Yoongi’s praise, for his attention and recognition and his touch.
With a muffled whine from Jimin, Yoongi continues twisting and tugging until the plug comes free with a gush of lubricant following after. Immediately, Yoongi gathers it up with his fingers and fucks it back inside, pressing two fingers into the knuckle. “But I think that you don't deserve to be fucked yet, baby boy.”
Jimin cries out a loud gasp when Yoongi twists the plug free and shoves two of his fingers in its place. He jolts, back bowing off the desk, chest stuttering when his muscles tense. “ Yoongi,” he breathes with a little whine, hole clenching around the digits. “W-why not?”
“Because you are a little tease,” Yoongi says, gently crooking his fingers. “And I think you deserve a taste of your own medicine.”
Groaning, Jimin’s head thumps back against the desk. “Better make the fucking worth it then,” he mumbles, spreading his legs just a bit wider so he can take Yoongi’s fingers deeper. He could take Yoongi now, wants to, but Yoongi is a fan of drawing things out, reducing Jimin to an impatient mess until he can’t take it any more. It’s infuriating, but the sex that follows the foreplay makes up for the frustration.
The lawyer swats at him again with his free hand, squeezing in a third finger at the same time. Jimin’s back arches clear off the desk top as Yoongi massages his prostate in slow, circular motions. “And mouthy to boot. Remind me why I put up with you again?”
Jimin’s thighs shake as Yoongi rubs against his prostate, his eyes practically rolling back at the sensation. His hips cant towards Yoongi’s fingers and his own press into the smooth, polished surface of the desk underneath him. “B-because I do all your work,” he stutters, “and because y-you love my mouth.”
Humming in affirmation, Yoongi works Jimin over with his fingers, wiggling his pinky finger in alongside the other three. Jimin is noisy , moaning without shame as Yoongi spreads all four fingers wide. The squelch of the push and pull is loud, lube smeared all over the backs of Jimin’s thighs.
“Jesus,” Yoongi swears, “how much lube did you use? Could probably get my whole fist in you.”
The paralegal glances up, the bottom of his glasses foggy with his hot breaths. His lips are wet with his saliva and the muscles of his thighs shake from being spread with four fingers.”Was horny a-at like, 4 am,” he pants, “a-accidentally — ah — used t-too much—”
He woke up early for some reason and evidently was horny, hence the plug that he’s had in since then. Sleepy and drowsy, he may have used too much lube, but that’s only going to make the slide of Yoongi’s cock better.
“Just—” Jimin adjusts and changes subject, his fringe starting to stick to his forehead as a thin sheen of sweat collects along his body, “get in me . ”
Even though he hates listening to Jimin’s demands and giving in too quickly, Yoongi is only human, self control hanging by a thread. It's the vision of Jimin writhing on his own sheets, fingers in his ass and Yoongi’s name on his lips, that causes Yoongi to reach his limit.
Withdrawing his fingers slow, Yoongi ignores the breathy, needy noise that Jimin makes, instead he busies himself looking for a condom in his desk drawer. “Roll over.”
Wearily but excitedly, Jimin follows the command, rolling over and carefully hopping off the desk so his feet are flat on the floor. His dress shirt still clings to his frame, loose around the collar and shoulders now that most of the buttons are undone, and he bends over the edge of the desk with his palms flat on the surface. Jimin swallows thickly and turns around halfway to meet Yoongi’s dark gaze, eyes flitting over his frame.
“You’re still dressed,” he points out, and his nose wrinkles slightly. Yoongi is still in his suit, shirt somehow tucked in neatly, hair only slightly mussed up from Jimin’s fingers. Yoongi still has his rings on and his expensive watch, which reflects in the frame of Jimin’s glasses.
“Don't you worry about that,” Yoongi says, slapping the foil packet on the desk within easy reach. With a steady hand, he works at his own belt, pulling the leather free of the buckle and sliding it through the loops in his slacks. “Don't good things come to good boys that wait?”
Jimin itches to touch, to turn around and peel Yoongi’s clothes off for him, but this is the last that he has to wait so he stays still. Yoongi knows he’s impatient, and Jimin leans more against the desk, eyes trained on the door ahead of him.
All Jimin can hear is the rustling of cloth, the sound of Yoongi’s pants falling around his ankles. The lawyer steps closer, slides his palms up next to Jimin’s spine to shove the paralegal’s shirt higher. “Look at that, you can be good when you want to be.”
Then Yoongi’s hands are gone and Jimin bites back a whine, shifting when he hears the crinkle of Yoongi tearing open the condom, the slick sound of him rolling it on. He should be ashamed, really, when Yoongi spreads his ass wide, spits on his hole, but all he does is angle his hips up and pant until he feels the blunt head of Yoongi’s cock sliding over his rim.
Jimin’s fists curl against the desk and he rocks his hips back to grind on Yoongi, but a hand digs into the curve of his waist and stops him from moving. There’s a cool twinge against his hot skin that lets him know Yoongi’s watch is pressing against him. He casts a glance back as Yoongi continues to rub his cock over his rim.
“Fuck me,” the paralegal pleads as Yoongi smooths his hand along the curve of his back. “C’mon, please —”
He chokes on the rest of his plea as Yoongi finally presses inside, stretching Jimin out with one smooth thrust. A moan rips its way from Jimin’s throat because he’s waited too long.
Yoongi fits snugly to the hilt and Jimin shudders, keening into Yoongi’s touch and arching his back when Yoongi draws his hips back and doesn’t relent when he slams back in. There’s an obscene squelch that follows and Jimin’s head drops between his shoulders, eyes flickering down to watch as his own cock bobs forward and rubs against the cool desk, smearing precum along the side.
Fire ignites in his veins and his mouth hangs open when Yoongi slams into him again, his toes curling.
“God, Yoongi —”
Yoongi stays pressed inside, grinding his hips in slow circles as he reaches for Jimin’s hands, forcing them behind his back. With his elbows bent, wrists crossed at the small of his back and pinned, Jimin’s forced to lay his cheek on the desk, whimpering when Yoongi kicks his legs out wider, unable to brace himself against the brutal rhythm Yoongi sets with his hips.
There’s the slightest burn in his wrists but Yoongi holds him with one of his larger hands, the other secured tightly around his waist to force him back on his cock. Jimin leans into the desk, cheek forced against it, letting out a mantra of “fuck’s” and “ahh’s” and other high pitched noises that have Yoongi growling, ramming into Jimin until the fleshy sound of his hips smacking against Jimin’s ass echoes loudly throughout the office.
“God, fuck , I love your ass,” Yoongi pants, eyes fixated on how his cock disappears inside Jimin's body with each roll of his hips.
Jimin mewls in response, nuzzling his cheek into the desk. Moments later, Yoongi reaches that spot deep inside Jimin, and the younger thrashes and shouts in a stuttered voice, vision white at the edges for a second. Yoongi angles his hips and grips Jimin harder as he fucks into him, aiming for that spot, reducing Jimin to a bumbling and shaking mess.
“Y-yoongi, f-fuck, yes, yes —” Jimin hiccups, too delirious with pleasure to even care about how loud he is, how needy he is for Yoongi’s cock. An orgasm stirs low in his belly and Jimin’s volume only increases the closer he gets.
Yoongi digs his fingers into Jimin’s wrists and the curve of his waist, fucks him so hard the desk shakes, cages him in and presses down until he feels the paralegal’s body clench around his cock. Jimin trembles when he comes all over the side of the desk and Yoongi fucks him through it with a low growl. “Good boy. So good, baby boy, fuck .”
Jimin presses his forehead into the desk and his chest heaves. Yoongi chases his own end, snapping his hips into Jimin’s loose, pliant body until he comes, shoving his cock into Jimin and the younger shakes from the sudden oversensitivity, Yoongi releasing into the condom, pressed right up against Jimin’s prostate.
After Yoongi releases, he lets go of Jimin’s wrists and they fall to the desk, a little red from the hold. Jimin’s glasses fall from the bridge of his nose as he stands up, using his arms as leverage, sweaty fringe hanging in front of his face. He winces when Yoongi slides his softening cock free from his body, hears the lawyer tie of the condom and throw it in the wastebasket under the desk. Then Yoongi kisses his spine, right between the dimples of his low back.
Jimin straightens, the ache in his hips and spine rendering him wobbly at first. Gone is Yoongi’s boss demeanor, and Jimin fixes him with a shy smile, rose splashed across his cheeks. “S’what I wanted. Told you earlier I’d be bent over your desk.”
“So can we add psychic to your list of abilities now?”
At that, the paralegal laughs and swivels around, resting his back end on the desk. His skin is glistening with sweat, shirt rumpled and almost completely popped open. He’s ethereal , Yoongi thinks, but he’s certainly a troublemaker .
“Mm, guess so. But it’s the weekend, and we usually have sex on the weekends. . .just a prediction that we would today.”
Yoongi can't help but lean forward and kiss him once, sweetly, before he reaches for the box of tissues on the edge of the desk. “Should make you go a weekend without,” he gripes, wiping himself up and pulling his slacks back up around his waist. “Also,” he continues, scrunching up his nose, “you made a mess all over the side of my desk.”
Jimin glances over at said mess and leans forward to swipe a tissue and run it along the desk to clean the surface. Tossing the tissue in the bin. Flashing Yoongi a smile after, Jimin grabs his glasses and puts them back on. “There, all clean.”
Yoongi looks thoughtful as he threads his belt back through the loops. “How would you feel about wearing a maid outfit?”
The younger’s eyes flash and he stumbles as he slides his boxers back on. “W-what?”
“You know, a maid outfit. Have you come clean my apartment one weekend.”
A flush creeps along Jimin’s face. “Do you want me to do that?”
“It'd be hot.”
Jimin chews on his lower lip, reaching for his pants on the floor. “Then I'll do it. But it'll be a surprise, I'll be at your apartment one day already cleaning everything. You’d like that more, right? Come home to me in a maid dress?”
The idea is attractive, arousal coursing through his system. He had never thought of something like that, or even a dress like that, but he can find a nice, skimpy dress online. A dress Yoongi would like.
If Yoongi wants it, he'll do it.
Yoongi smirks, which means yes . “Stay with me tonight,” he says. “Go warm up the car and I'll meet you down there. Just gotta send one more email.”
Jimin smiles shyly as he pulls his pants around his hips and tucks his shirt back into his waistband. “Okay,” he hums, catching Yoongi’s keys when the elder tosses them to him. They’re going to have a sleepover. “Don’t keep me waiting~”
Yoongi just huffs and waves Jimin off, swatting him on the ass once before the paralegal straightens himself and exits the office with Yoongi’s keys in hand. He sees his reflection in the mirror of the offices as he passes and he can’t help but think, he looks like he just got his brains fucked out.
His hair is a tousled mess, cheeks still naturally flushed, his face dewy from sweat, clothes still disheveled with his tie loosely hanging around his neck.
Nobody should really be in the building except Jungkook, but he can avoid Jungkook.
Speaking of, there’s a case file downstairs Jimin needs to grab. He doesn’t want to take the stairs, but in order for Jungkook not to see him still here, coming down from the elevator looking like he’s done more than just visit Yoongi, Jimin’s forced to take the stairs.
And taking the stairs is a bitch.
Jimin wobbles down each step with a whine and makes it to Jungkook’s floor with great effort and successfully swipes the case file from the front desk. The light in Jungkook’s office is still on but Jimin hastily turns around and hobbles away towards the elevators.
He rounds the corner and he sees the elevator doors beginning to close, and Jimin thinks that it’s Yoongi, just stopped on this floor to see if Jimin was still grabbing the file, and Jimin makes it in time to stick his hand through the doors.
His surprise can’t be hidden when the person in the elevator is not Yoongi, but Taehyung.
He can’t back out of this one.
Taehyung’s stare is thick and Jimin tumbles inside the elevator, and he can’t meet the secretary’s eyes. He shifts his weight, plays with the loose ends of his tie, but the tension is so thick in the quiet elevator.
“S-sorry. . .”
He feels Taehyung’s gaze flicker, and Jimin’s stomach turns.
“I didn’t realize you were here.”
His voice is icy and Jimin shrinks back.
“I stayed back. Had. . . work to do. . .”
“ Work, ” Taehyung deadpans, and Jimin swallows.
The elevator comes to a gradual halt and Jimin slowly leaves once they’re on the first floor, and he turns to look back at Taehyung still inside. He wants to say something, say that no, he’s not with Jungkook , Taehyung shouldn’t have to worry about his petty little crush on his boss (it’s been obvious for awhile now), but they stare at each other intensely before Taehyung lunges forward and smacks a button and the doors close.
Jimin stumbles forward to stop Taehyung, but he’s too late.
He watches the elevator go up until it’s out of sight and then he groans, smacking himself in the forehead and standing there silently for a minute.
It’s too much to process. Too much for a Friday night when all his brain thinks is Yoongi.
Heaving a sigh, Jimin shrugs on his coat and leaves the building, pressing down on Yoongi’s car keys until the car beeps and he follows the sound. He unlocks the car and puts the key in the ignition to start the heat before slipping into the passenger’s seat, the cool leather soothing his aching muscles. His head thumps back against the head rest until the driver side door opens and Yoongi slides in.
“You alright there, baby boy?” he asks, tilting his head in Jimin’s direction.
Jimin shifts at the pet name and rolls his neck, looking at Yoongi through slanted glasses. “I ran into Taehyung,” he mumbles, “in the elevator. I think he assumes Jungkook fucked me. He’s pissed.”
“Him and Jungkook deserve each other, I swear to god,” Yoongi chuckles, shifting the car into gear and reversing out of the spot. “If Taehyung can't see that Jungkook is clearly whipped for him, there's no hope for either of them.”
“Maybe Taehyung will stop being such a bitch to me,” Jimin mumbles, pouting and folding his arms across his chest. But he doesn’t want to remain sour for the night, so he sighs and rests his hands in his lap. “Do you have food at the apartment? We can cook breakfast together.”
“You know I don't keep food, but we can stop at the store if you want.”
Jimin glances over at Yoongi and giggles. “But isn’t that too domestic for you? Buying groceries together, cooking breakfast in the morning, when I’m wearing one of your shirts?”
“As long as you aren't wearing anything else,” Yoongi teases, sliding a hand over to Jimin’s thigh.
Jimin places his hand over Yoongi’s and smiles, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sure I can make that happen.”