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Pretty Little Baby Boy

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Jimin exited the subway entrance at a brisk pace, his sneakers lightly thumping on the stone steps and the laces bouncing around in an off-beat rhythm. Having been down in the underground for such a long time, he had gotten used to the constant rumbling and clattering of the carriages he had been standing and sitting in, along with the random mixture of white noise that lingered in the air that varied from muted voices to announcements being called out from the tannoy system by a soft but rather flat-sounding female voice. Even exiting the system, he was able to hear the faded sounds coming from down below, though that white noise was soon to be rapidly replaced by a whole new volume of noise.

 

In the current late evening hours, the streets of Seoul were packed full of people doing dozens of things: from travelling home from work to going shopping, to visiting restaurants and bars and clubs for some fun. As he emerged from the system and reached the top step, Jimin could already see dozens of store bags swinging from hands and elbows, glowing phone screens illuminating faces with harsh blue-tinged light, or Styrofoam containers filled with a steaming variety of tea, coffee or hot chocolate even in the current summer heat.

 

Jimin had to quickly move away from the subway entrance to let more people enter and exit it, awkwardly side-stepping until he was out of the way and able to slip his phone free from his sweatpants pocket and join the endless crowd of the people too preoccupied with messages and social network updates to look where he was going.

 

As a result of the busyness, there was a considerable amount of conversation filling the air, which had all blended together into complete nonsense to his ears. He couldn’t really hear anything more than the occasional word here or there: hints of juicy gossip or shocking news, mumbled apologies and complaints that he would never find out the reason for. It was even harder concentrating on the voices when the music from the dozen stores surrounding the subway entrance was taken into account, blaring from brightly lit open doorways to attract customers like moths to the flame: pop, electronic, hip-hop and more becoming an experimental soup of a genre.

 

But as quickly as the sudden din took him by surprise, Jimin blocked it out to nothing more than annoying static as he unlocked his phone to check his KakaoTalk messages. He saw a dozen red bubbles yet only one of them mattered to him currently, so he clicked on the pinned chat jokingly titled ‘lil baby’ to see a pretty succinct message.

 

im outside let me know when ur on the streets k

 

Jimin hastily typed a reply to this, his thumbs skipping across the screen without much thought at all, and it seemed like he had only just hit send when a reply popped up on his screen.

 

hurry up

 

Jimin smirked at this, locking his phone and shoving it back into his pants so that he could carry on walking down the street. It would take him several minutes to reach the building from the subway, so, his boyfriend was sadly going to have to wait a little longer. He would have sent him a message boldly claiming this, telling him that he was worth the wait, but he just knew that Yoongi would find something even wittier to say in response and it was therefore rather pointless.

 

It was rather crazy how packed the streets could get even in the late evening hours, but after spending several years in Seoul, Jimin had gotten used to the hectic atmosphere. The capital didn’t seem to ever sleep and there was something rather enchanting about this fact. Jimin loved seeing the streetlights coming on at last to illuminate the sidewalks, quickly followed by the neon signs that filled windows and dangled from the exteriors of various joints: karaoke bars, fast food restaurants, bars, massage parlours and so much more. Sometimes, they were just simple words, other times they were symbols or company logos that were much more interesting to look at.

 

There was something strangely relaxing about it even when the streets could get so hectic, and Jimin loved wandering along the sidewalks after he was finished with classes in the summer evenings. Sometimes he liked to do so with food, or a beer in hand, just to help him unwind and sleep better.

 

If he didn’t get to unwind with Yoongi instead, that was.

 

The love motel was a rather small and discreet building, nestled around the back of a variety of stores, a coffee shop and an open newsagents that had rows of dozens of colourful magazines adorned with pretty and fresh-faced idols and newspapers covered in shocking headlines that held no interest to him right now. Despite being in a discreet location, the exterior was rather eye-catching to attract customers. The brick building had neon signs outside advertising the services in blood red, unmistakably a love motel because of the throbbing hot pink heart.

 

Jimin turned to go down the narrow alleyway to get to the entrance, catching sight of a very familiar figure a few feet away.

 

Yoongi was lingering on a step further down the alley, mostly hidden in the slight alcove with his hands shoved inside of his tattered jeans pockets and his head held low so that his black hair fell right over his eyes in that usual messy way of his. In the current heat of the evening, he hadn’t brought a jacket, was wearing just a white tee-shirt that swamped his thin frame and a pair of thick soled white and black creepers. He was dressed as casually as he currently was in his light grey sweatpants and hoodie, fitted black vest and sneakers, because there was no need for them to dress-up tonight of all nights.

 

There was a pink bag nestled in the crook of his elbow, hugged defensively against his body as if to hide it from view. It looked like one of those cute shiny cardboard boutique bags, the ones that he was used to seeing hanging on the elbows or wrists of young women, but it was plain of logos or patterns. He couldn’t help but wonder what was even placed inside of it, seen as Yoongi hadn’t mentioned bringing anything with him on the phone earlier. He had his Polaroid camera shoved into his hoodie pocket, of course, because he always brought it with him, but he was clueless as to what his boyfriend might just have brought with him.

 

Jimin found a smile curling up the corners of his lips as he rapidly crossed the alleyway to get to him, the soft thumping sound of his sneakers catching his attention. Yoongi looked up sharply at the sound, his expression curious and eyes rounded, but when he saw that it was him instead of a stranger he returned the smile.

 

“Hey, you OK?” he asked as he stepped out of the alcove.

 

“Uhuh, I’m great; what about you?” Jimin asked in return, coming to a stop right in front of him.

 

“I was doing good, and now that you’re finally here I’m doing great too,” Yoongi replied with a grin.

 

It had been roughly eight months since they had first met, and Jimin could still recall the day so vividly in his mind as if it had been just yesterday.

 

The fateful night had been a cause for celebration, because it had been the night that he had graduated high school at last: eighteen years old, filled with excitement and hope for the future because everything had just seemed so perfect that day. When the ceremony had finished, Jimin and his friends had went to get food, and after food they had moved onto drinking at a local joint that had sold cheap liquor and even cheaper snack food. It had apparently belonged to one of the boys’ aunties or something (or that was what he had been claiming at the time) and they had all believed him. Whatever the case, it had been owned by someone that really hadn’t cared about a bunch of high school kids knocking back soju and cheap mixes whilst still wearing their uniforms.

 

Yoongi had been sitting in a corner booth on his own inside of the small restaurant, gnawing on his chopsticks more than the food that had been spread on his table and staring at him for longer than had been considered polite. Jimin had noticed this fact at several points and yet, no matter how many times he had smiled fleetingly at him, the stranger with the messy black hair and faint bags under his eyes had just continued glancing at him until he had been unable to shrug off the sensation of being watched.

 

So, Jimin had decided to approach him in the aims of finding out why exactly he had been staring at him the entire time, under the guise of going to the bathroom whilst his friends had been distracted with ordering more alcohol. It might just have resulted in an argument or even a brawl should Yoongi have been drunk and in a bad mood, or had been looking for trouble of some kind, but luckily for him that had not been the case.

 

Um, hey,” he had said as he had stepped foot to foot and had looked down at him.

 

Hey,” Yoongi had replied in return, whilst his gaze had rapidly shifted from his face to the spread of side dishes on his table over and over.

 

Are you a student? Did you graduate today?” Jimin had inquired because he had assumed him to be a loner, maybe a bit of a bad kid that had had no friends to celebrate with (or might just have failed to graduate).

 

Nah, I graduated a year ago. But I still remember the night, all of the celebrations. How could I forget; it was a great night. What’s your name, huh?

 

Jimin, Park Jimin.

 

Back then, Jimin had been too tipsy and naïve to ask why he had wanted to know his name. He hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t thought to ask him his name in return before giving his up. He had even been too immature to think of giving a nickname instead, had given his entire name in an act of childish innocence.

 

Jimin, I know the best way to celebrate,” the stranger had said as he had lowered his chopsticks and had stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. “Might help you get rid of a lil stress too, from all of those exams, y’know?

 

What does…does that mean?” Jimin had hiccuped, having been both captivated and confused in equal measures by the attractive stranger.

 

It can mean anything you want it to mean,” Yoongi had replied before he had stuck his tongue against his inner cheek to distend it provocatively.

 

Jimin had thought this statement over in his pretty tipsy state, and he had eventually arrived at the conclusion that Yoongi had been hitting on him.

 

So, he had wandered back to his table and had spent an entire hour thinking this over intently; thinking about what exactly he had wanted it to mean, thinking about if his friends had noticed their brief but intense interaction, and thinking about whether he had been able to trust the attractive young man with the pleasing rumble of a voice that had looked and been dressed like he hadn’t slept in several days. Jimin had stopped knocking back cola mixes and had instead mulled over the remains of a hobakjeon, and Yoongi had chewed mouthfuls of japchae and had stared at him the entire time.

 

That night, Jimin had taken a rather large risk. Rather than having went back home with his friends, he had pretended to enter the subway line to jump a train back home, had loitered inside the line for a couple of minutes, and had then left to join up with Yoongi instead. The young man had been waiting for him outside of the restaurant, bundled up against the early spring chill having anticipated the fact that he would have accepted his proposal even when he hadn’t said anything more than the most vaguest of things to him.

 

But those hints had been enough for Jimin to have taken the risk.

 

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Jimin had found himself losing his virginity at last in a cramped and dark cubicle inside a karaoke bar across the block, the other man pinned underneath him on the leather sofa still mostly clothed with his knees hooked over his shoulders and his stomach slick with sweat and semen; Yoongi’s soft cries of pleasure having been muffled underneath the pounding music blaring from the sound system. The sofa had creaked and groaned the entire time, the strobe lights had been blinding and the terrible trot music unbearable, but when Jimin had climaxed to the sight of Yoongi lying underneath him with the flashing pink and red and green lights blending into his hair and reflecting off his too-wet eyes, none of that had mattered to him.

 

When he had pulled out, Jimin had expected that he would have been asked to leave the booth because all that Yoongi had wanted had been a quick and anonymous fuck and nothing more. It would have made sense, considering the fact that had been had been cruising the area, and he had honestly thought that the young man would have just exited the booth and left him sitting there almost guiltily.

 

But Yoongi hadn’t done that.

 

No, Yoongi had tugged his jeans back up with his shaking hands and he had asked him if he had wanted to stay in the booth with him for a little while, until their session had finished. Jimin had noticed the faintly anxious way that he had asked him, almost as if he had anticipated him to have said no, to have left just like he had imagined that he would have done.

 

So, Jimin had stayed with him even when the scenario had been somewhat unusual, awkward and amusing considering the reason that they had purchased the booth in the first place. He had covered some catchy songs and had acted cutesy to try and break the tension in the air. Yoongi had told him that he had a nice singing voice, that he hadn’t known anyone that could sing, and he had also been a little embarrassed to sing himself, even when he had brought him to the bar. But Jimin had liked his rather husky mumbles over the ridiculous beats of old trot songs, and he had liked the way that Yoongi had paused every now and again to look over at him, how he had revealed his nervous habit of wetting his lips and playing with the microphone constantly even when they hadn’t been singing even more so.

 

And so, Jimin had left the karaoke bar that night a changed young man, his loins still faintly tingling and a new number saved onto his phone.

 

Jimin didn’t know what it was exactly about him that had drawn Yoongi in back then, like a butterfly to a vibrant flower. He had been inexperienced, a kid still very much finding his feet and struggling to understand a culture that he had never been exposed to before. How Yoongi had even known that he was gay was beyond him, because he had always thought that he had hidden the truth well, but he had seen right through him that very first time that they had locked gazes in that preternatural way that he would never be able to understand.

 

Yoongi had ditched anonymous hook-ups in the rare and well-hidden saunas across the city just for him, refusing to lie on the floor of some dimly lit room half-naked like a piece of meat in the hopes that another man might choose him over the other selections for the night. He had stopped hanging around notorious cruising sites hoping to find someone to take back to a karaoke booth to “blow off a little steam” with like he had with him. Jimin might not have asked many questions, might not have delved too deeply, but he had learnt enough about the gay scene here in the capital through Yoongi to know that he didn’t want to know anything more than that.

 

Yoongi had just simply kept coming back to him, and Jimin had kept him cumming again and again.

 

Yoongi had started meeting him in various public places for dates instead, from restaurants, arcades and computer rooms, and through trips to karaoke bars and love motels and wherever else was safe for a little while, Jimin had started bonding and learning through him. He had found out all of the young man’s quirks, from his lip licking and fiddling habit to the sounds that he made when he was thinking of a word, and he had also discovered the different noises he made through his slack lips when the ability to tell him to go harder escaped him. He had learnt where Yoongi had little freckles scattered all over his body with his fingers and mouth, and he now knew enough about his preferences for food and liquor to be able to order for him without hesitation.

 

Sure, he had always thought that relationships were supposed to develop in different ways, like going on dates and getting to know the other person before fucking them in a karaoke booth within the first couple of hours of looking at them. That was what observing his friends and classmates had taught him, what dramas showed over and over without end. But his situation wasn’t the same, wasn’t something that he could replicate in that way no matter how hard he had tried as a teenager, no matter how much he had waited and had prayed for a boy to approach him and ask him out on a date like they did with the girls. But, however unconventional meeting Yoongi might just have been, it had been good for him in more ways than one.

 

Yoongi had taught him how to kiss better than any of his forced past kisses with girls, where he had just pressed his mouth against theirs, eyes squeezed shut tightly and his entire body rigid with discomfort. He had shown him how to stretch himself gently and to take his time rather than rush and hurt himself, and he had praised and guided him over various hurdles like his first time receiving, which had been frightening and painful until Yoongi had cooed sweet words against his neck and had gently rocked in his hold until the waves of pleasure in his belly had drowned out the stinging stretch deep inside of him. Jimin had learnt how to give oral sex step-by-step rather than hoping for the best and trying to not choke and gag whilst a stranger’s fingers had pulled on his hair hard enough to hurt and he couldn’t pull off to breathe. No, Yoongi had stroked his hair whilst talking the entire time, had told him when he had been close to climaxing so he had been able to decide if he had been ready to let him finish in his mouth, and when he had he had wiped at his lips and chin tenderly.

 

Sex, Jimin had discovered, wasn’t some fast and emotionally-detached activity, but could be tender. It could be filled with embarrassed laughter and blushing cheeks, under the covers like it was in films. It wasn’t just rapidly thrusting into strangers in alleyways, tangled up in clothing and terrified and strangely excited at the same time that someone might see.

 

It could be normal.

 

He could be normal, at least when he was lying in a love motel bed beside Yoongi listening to the other man telling him about his classes and how he was convinced that music was addictive because of dopamine production in the brain or something funny like that; it was hard understanding Yoongi when he was falling asleep and his fingers had since ceased to stop stroking at the bumps and dips of his spine like piano keys.

 

Jimin realised that he had been staring at his boyfriend without saying anything, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, and so he reached up to ruffle at his hair and glanced back over his shoulder at the love motel entrance. The neon heart continued to throb like a metaphorical erection, set above the revolving glass door that revealed the empty lobby.

 

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” Yoongi suggested as he reached over to take hold of his elbow and steered him in the direction of the door, presumably because he had noticed him staring at it. “We can talk whilst ordering the room, yeah?”

 

“Sounds like a good idea.”

 

If there was one thing that Jimin had learnt over the last few months, it was that love motels were a blessing. They were basically anonymous, now that most of them weren’t even manned by humans but rather touchscreen machines in the entrance-area, and that meant that they could enter and exit at will without judgement. They were cheap and convenient unlike actual hotel rooms. It wasn’t like he could bring Yoongi back to his shared student apartment room, after all. Not when he slept on a fold-out sofa and his three friends went between the single bed and mattresses on the floor placed between bags of clothing and stacks of books and instant ramyeon cups and beer boxes; and Yoongi most certainly couldn’t bring him to his family home to use his bed. Therefore, love motels were like paradise for them. They could use the tiny box rooms on most nights, and they could indulge in the ones with amenities like a Jacuzzi, TV, wi-fi access and more when they wanted to feel more at home.

 

So, Yoongi pushed the door open and gently tugged him inside. This love motel was a favourite of theirs, and not only for the discreet entrance. It was cheap, the rooms were clean and pleasing, and the entire joint was manned by machines and women that cleaned it every day or so. That meant less interactions with people that might stare at them, which was always a blessing.

 

“You’re on a break now, right?” his boyfriend asked as he went right over to the machine. “Study break? Christ, wish I had that right now.”

 

“You study?” Jimin joked as he shifted to lean against the wall and watched his boyfriend work the machine.

 

“Ha-ha,” Yoongi forced out as he shot him a look. “I waited in that stinking alley for twenty whole minutes just to hear such stellar observations like that, Jiminie.”

 

“I aim to please you in every way I can, my little baby.”

 

Yoongi sighed at this term of endearment as he turned back to the machine, which was just like an ATM and built into the wall. The screen was glaringly bright and quite large, to let users see clearly, as well as fit all of the touchscreen buttons and display photographs on. The rest of the lobby was little more than a small square, with concrete flooring and plain white walls, but the hallways and rooms were more decorated in the form of potted plants, wall art and colourful paint.

 

“Great, some idiot fiddled with the screen, already booked a room, and left without cancelling,” he muttered as he stared at the screen for a moment and then moved to hit it and backtrack to cancel said booking. “‘Lil baby’, y’know I hate that, right?”

 

“I know, but I like it, and so I’m going to keep calling you it,” Jimin retorted with a mischievous grin. “Also, I know that you got so excited when I called you it that time that you-”

 

“Jiminie, shut up-”

 

“went “I’m your lil baby”,” he continued, trying his hardest to impersonate his slurred Daegu dialect. “Over and over until you came, so-”

 

“So, study break,” Yoongi said, speaking over him to distract away from this topic and making him snort laughter.

 

“I’m on a study break for a week as of tonight, so, that means I’m finally able to sleep normal human hours. I’m free from probability and statistics for a little while at least.”

 

Yoongi rapidly hit buttons on the screen without asking him, browsing the room options and prices just like always. His tongue was sticking out his mouth ever so slightly, the tip curled up against his upper lip in concentration, yet Jimin knew that he was also listening to every single word that he was saying at the same time.

 

“I should study but I’m pretty certain that I’ve got this, so-”

 

“No, you should study,” Yoongi spoke over him, glancing away from the screen to hold his gaze. “Seriously, study. I know you got this, but it’s better safe than sorry. Yeah?”

 

“Hmm, sure,” Jimin hummed before cocking his head, a stray lock of hair falling over his brow. “I mean, I was hoping that it meant that we’d get to spend more time together but if you want me to study then OK…”

 

Yoongi’s lips twitched at this remark, his fingers hovering over the screen as he tried to think of something to say in response. He had trapped him with it and they both knew this fact, but the other man was just as witty with his tongue when he wanted to be.

 

“Study plenty, ‘cos spending time with me can be a reward for your hard work,” Yoongi said as he turned back to the machine and carried on tapping on the screen.

 

“Oh, it’s the best kind of reward,” Jimin agreed with a laugh.

 

Yoongi grabbed his wallet from his jeans, pulling his card free to scan it over the screen and complete the transaction. As he slipped it back into his wallet, a slot in the bottom of the machine popped open and a series of sounds echoed from inside it: a soft thump followed by a clattering noise. Jimin hunkered down to lift the partition, pulling both the key and the complementary guest bag free and then straightening up again. It was a paper bag, folded and taped shut, and it likely contained several little packets of lube, a condom or two, and maybe something nice like a sachet of massage oil. He passed Yoongi the key so that he could lead him to the room, because he had no clue what number he had ordered.

 

“I hope they didn’t add just flavoured and heated lubes like last time,” Jimin muttered as he followed him to the staircase, moving the bag from hand to hand. “They’re sticky and impractical, not to mention bad to use with condoms.”

 

“Like that even matters,” Yoongi retorted, sparing a quick glance back over his shoulder at him.

 

“I wasn’t talking about us, I meant in general,” Jimin explained, glancing up from the bag so that he didn’t end up tripping on the first step.

 

Yoongi escorted him up onto the first-floor to their room, slipping the key in the hole and twisting it hard to budge the rather dry lock. He stepped inside first, shifting the bag from his elbow so that he could move over to the bed and dump it on the mattress. Jimin followed him inside and closed the door shut, sliding the little lock in place to seal them in.

 

The room that his boyfriend had chosen was one of the cheapest options the motel had on offer. It was really just a cubicle because they needed nothing more than that, a small box of a room with a bed and bathroom area separated by way of a curtain, the furniture consisting of a single side table and a fan placed across the room. The flooring was light wood, the walls were a nice milky pink shade, and there was a print of blooming flowers hanging on the wall above the bed. Though Jimin was aware of the fact that there were subtle reasons for choosing tightly bloomed roses instead of fields of grass, it was still preferable to the prints of erotic female nudes (or the even seedier and rather creepy photographs of headless full breasted women) that he had seen in the past.

 

“Turn on the light, Jiminie,” Yoongi called out, the room currently illuminated by just a small window.

 

So, Jimin shifted to run his hand along the wall to find it. When he pressed the switch the overhead bulb lit up, casting a rather unexpected but pleasing pink-tinged light over them.

 

“Oh, that’s nice,” he remarked in a quiet voice.

 

For some reason, this made Yoongi laugh as he sat down on the bed, bending forward to tug at his laces so that he could remove his shoes. Jimin stepped on the backs of his sneakers to get out of them too, not bothering to undo the loose knots, and then he moved to join him on the bed.

 

“What’s in the bag?” he asked as he eyed it curiously, gaze running along the silken knotted ribbon at the top.

 

“What’d you think?” Yoongi retorted, moving to tug on the ribbon to start unravelling it for him.

 

Jimin glanced through the open gap in the bag to see starched white cotton and a flash of bright red tartan, and that was when he realised what he was looking at.

 

When Jimin had first made a joke about wanting to see Yoongi looking ‘pretty’, the other man had made a sarcastic remark in return about how he was already pretty; his lips pouting out in a spoilt fashion. But, over time, he had started asking little questions here and there about what he had meant by that, seemingly curious and maybe even a little eager to find out.

 

So, he had told him exactly what he had been imagining in response to these questions: lace and silk, frills and bows and all things soft that Yoongi had never worn before. Jimin had wanted to see him wearing pretty things because he only ever saw him wearing leather and denim, or nothing at all. But pretty things had progressed that little bit more with every curious question until he had told his boyfriend that he really wanted to see him wearing a skirt, one that revealed his thin thighs and pulled in around his slight hips, that could be matched with stockings or tights or nothing at all.

 

Jimin really didn’t know why he had settled on telling Yoongi that he longed to see him wearing a skirt, just that he really did want to see such a sight. It was both exciting and a little bit naughty to imagine him wearing one, he supposed, and he had always had a penchant for female clothing himself (though that had been when he had been a little boy and hadn’t really understood such things).

 

That was why Yoongi had brought a schoolgirl uniform to the love motel with him, which he was quite clearly going to wear just for him.

 

“You wanted to see me looking pretty,” Yoongi retorted as he shifted to fold his legs on the bed, his feet now bare of his creepers. “I’m gonna make myself so pretty you’ll cry.”

 

Jimin stared at him dumbly, his words sinking in slowly because he was still surprised that he had actually brought such an outfit with him. His boyfriend either didn’t notice his staring or chose to ignore it, reaching inside the bag to root around for something. Was there seriously a schoolgirl uniform in that bag right now? He had to move to glance and double-check just to be sure, seeing the same starched collar of the blouse and tartan pleats of the skirt inside the bag.

 

“Is today my birthday or something?” Jimin asked in a confused tone.

 

Jiminie,” Yoongi dragged out with a smirk, pulling his hand free to place a random assortment of makeup containers down on the bed.

 

“Seriously, is it my birthday? It feels like my birthday right now,” he continued as he returned the smirk. “I can’t believe this! What kind of surprise is this- oh my god! You’re actually going to wear a skirt right now? Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

Yoongi spread out several makeup containers and brushes on the mattress, along with a compact mirror, and Jimin studied them to see tubes, pots and pencils. It seemed that he was going to not only wear the outfit, but that he was going to apply a light layer of makeup too, just to make himself all the more prettier. The fact that he had several products, including base and powder, seemed to show that he had some knowledge of makeup that went beyond lipstick and eye-shadow. That was somewhat surprising, not only because he had willingly decided to dress-up for him, but because he was also going to put extra effort into it by applying makeup to complete the look.

 

Was the makeup for him, or was that just a little indulgence for himself?

 

Yoongi grabbed the tube of base first, squirting a liberal amount of soft pink cream out onto the back of his hand so that he could add dabs onto his nose, cheeks, brow and chin. Then he raked his hair back off his face, holding it in place so that he could start massaging it into his skin in smooth circles. He did so slowly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he spread the thick cream onto his skin. He already had a flawless complexion without it, the kind of complexion that Jimin envied greatly, but it seemed that Yoongi also knew that makeup set best on a base.

 

Jimin slipped his hoodie off whilst he did so, pulling the camera free from the front pocket. He folded the hoodie up on the side table, added the camera on top, and then he shifted to fold his legs up on the bed too. He wanted to get comfortable as he watched him working, highly curious and fascinated by his boyfriend. He wanted to see how well he actually applied the makeup because he looked to have some experience with this, and maybe, just maybe, he might get a chance to experiment and put some on his face too. He knew for a fact that he couldn’t apply mascara or eyeshadow without ruining it, but he might just be able to apply a smidgen of lipstick or gloss for him.

 

“Having fun?” he asked with a soft smile, placing his cheek on his drawn-up knees.

 

“You’re the one witnessing me making art,” Yoongi retorted as he smoothed his fingers across his cheek, placing his warm palm against his skin for a few seconds before he resumed smoothing it in place. The base had left a lovely dewiness on his skin, had added a soft hint of pink to his tone rather than wash him out with that hideous grey tint like some products seemed to do. “You tell me.”

 

“Art? I don’t know about that, you already look like a masterpiece to me,” Jimin quipped.

 

Yoongi struggled to keep a straight face at this, not only because it was rather embarrassing but because he quite clearly liked hearing it. Sure, they both knew that it was a hyperbole aimed at making him laugh, but he had still been intending to flatter him with regardless. Jimin had learnt that it could be pretty hard complimenting his boyfriend very quickly. Yoongi denied, joked, and just flat-out played down absolutely everything about himself to avoid being given compliments, because he got embarrassed by them. So, naturally, that meant that he had to compliment him at every given chance just to annoy him.

 

As soon as he was finished spreading the base, he grabbed one of the pots to unscrew the lid and placed it back down on the bed. Then he selected a brush with a rather large and full head of white bristles. Yoongi’s hand was visibly shaking as he dabbed it into the powder, hovering it in front of his face for a moment before dabbing it against his nose. The bristles brushed against his skin softly and when he moved to get more onto the brush his hand was still trembling in the fingers in a way that he couldn’t help but notice.

 

“What are you nervous for, hmm?” Jimin asked as he reached over to take hold of his wrist, pulling the brush free of his fingers so that he could take hold of his hand fully. “I don’t think you were shaking this much the first time that we, um…you know. What’s up?”

 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Yoongi retorted in a defensive tone, reaching over to try and grab the brush from him again.

 

Yoongi,” he dragged out, cocking his head to study his expression intently and holding the brush out of his reach. “What? You can tell me, can’t you?”

 

“It’s just…what if I look stupid?” Yoongi asked in a quiet voice, sucking his lower lip in to gnaw at it with his teeth viciously. “What if you take one look at me and start laughing ‘cos I look fucking stupid, huh? Or ugly?”

 

Jimin felt his fingers loosening around the brush so that it dropped to bounce off the mattress. His boyfriend was far too busy staring at the pots and brushes to hold his gaze, his fingers still trembling ever so slightly in his hold.

 

Yoongi was scared that he was going to laugh at him if he wore a skirt? That was the reason why he looked nervous, why he was shaking and avoiding his gaze? He was putting all of this effort into dressing-up for him and yet he was worried that he might not like it, that he might laugh because the end results would be amusing or unattractive. It was so absurd that Jimin struggled to think of something to say in reply for a moment, his lips moving but no words coming out.

 

“Yoongi, why would I laugh at you?” Jimin asked in a quiet voice, moving to take hold of his hand in both of his and gently squeezing it. “I wanted to see you wearing a skirt because I thought that you would look pretty in one, and I still do. I don’t think wearing skirts is funny, not even if you’re a guy. I think that you’ll look really pretty, and the fact that no one else will see you wearing one makes it special. Just for me, right? Like how I sing for you sometimes and no one else.”

 

“You ever wear a skirt before?” Yoongi asked in a quiet voice, his eyes still studying the makeup pots intently.

 

“As a kid, yes,” Jimin replied honestly, stroking his hand between his fingers. “I used to dress-up, used to do fashion shows for my mum and her sisters. They used to love it, I used to love it, it was fun. I loved getting told that I looked cute enough to eat and having them squeezing my cheeks and wanting to put little scrunchies and bows in my hair. She didn’t care at all, I was her pretty little prince and if her pretty little prince wanted to smear sparkly lip gloss on his lips and wear a pink tutu, then she couldn’t ever say no.”

 

“What made you grow outta it?”

 

“Ballet lessons. I wasn’t allowed to wear a tutu, no matter how much I cried and begged my instructor. I started wearing leotards instead, they’re so much more manlier.”

 

Yoongi snorted at this and, just like that, Jimin knew that he had managed to make his hint of nerves go away. It might have been the result of him knowing that he had once worn makeup and dresses, or the fact that he realised that he wasn’t going to laugh at him. He didn’t really know, but as long as Yoongi felt at ease again, that was all that mattered to him.

 

“Have you ever worn one before? Or, is this the first time?” Jimin asked in a whisper-soft voice. “Is that why you’re so nervous?”

 

“I’ve worn ‘em before,” Yoongi confided, grabbing the brush so that he could resume applying the powder onto his face. “My mum caught me in her bedroom once: lipstick all over my face, wearing her stockings and a pair of heels with this fucking ugly dress on.”

 

“How ugly?”

 

“It was so ugly, Jiminie, straight outta the eighties or something, but it fitted me so good that I kept putting it on. I liked rocking my hips from side to side and feeling the skirt swinging around my thighs. I liked how it pulled in around my waist nice and snug but was so light and loose on the bottom, and it had a kinda scooped neckline so that I could put on her necklaces too. I liked that part, the jewellery, especially all of the rings. I, uh, I used to actually pick ones to match what I was wearing, if you can believe that?”

 

Jimin could believe it, on account of the fact that he had also put a lot of effort into his childish looks. He might just have been four years of age back then, but he had wanted to look good and so he had always made sure to go for sparkly things because he had adored them the most.

 

“I’d pull out her box of jewellery and sit on the floor, rifling through it like a magpie just to find that one pearl pendant that would match the dress perfectly,” Yoongi continued, voice filled with a kind of nostalgic sweetness. “The day she found me she told me that we’d never talk about it ever again. She ran a bath, scrubbed the makeup off my face and told me that what I did had been naughty. When I asked why it had been naughty she replied that it was ‘cos I had used up all of her lipstick without asking. Great excuse, right?”

 

“You little thief,” Jimin remarked as he fastened the powder pot and started applying a dab of blusher.

 

“Anyway, she put all of her heels on the shoe rack by the front door from that point so that I couldn’t take ‘em without her seeing, if she was in the house that was. Some Sundays, I’d pretend to sleep-in so when she went to the market I could sneak ‘em off the rack and dress-up again. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to, but I wanted to and nothing could stop me.”

 

“How old were you, Yoongi?”

 

“Twelve, almost thirteen by then I think?”

 

Much older than a child, in other words. Unlike him, who had grown out of wearing dresses, feather boas and socks with bows on them, at the age of five years old, Yoongi had only stopped doing so several years ago. It had been roughly eight years since he had stopped sneaking into his parents’ bedroom so that he had been able to wear his mother’s dresses and heels, which hadn’t been that long ago at all. Yet, he had decided to dress-up again tonight, and that said something to Jimin.

 

It said that Yoongi trusted him, not only to reveal his past experiences, but to also show him a rather tender and vulnerable side of him that he had been forced to learn to hide and ‘grow’ out of.

 

“Did your dad ever catch you doing that?”

 

“My dad knew, he always had known deep down that there was something ‘wrong’ with me. He’s told me that he ain’t ever gonna accept it, but he ain’t gonna kick me out if I need shelter or disown me ‘cos I’m still his son, fucked up or not. That’s better than nothing, right?

 

“It’s the best outcome that we can hope for, except for that fabled acceptance,” Jimin agreed in a quiet voice. “What caused you to grow out of it?”

 

“I just grew outta it after a couple of months and stopped wanting to wear panties and heels and instead started reading whatever manhwa I could find that was remotely gay,” Yoongi explained as he finished smoothing blusher on the curve of his right cheek. “I read so much shite back then, Jiminie, I mean the most filthiest, degrading, nonsensical shite just ‘cos there’d be one of those double-spread scenes in ‘em that I just had to stare at. I’d stare until the lines were, like, imprinted into my brain and I could almost visualise the panels playing like a film in my head. It was the closest thing I could get to porn back then, and I had folders on my busted-up computer of scanned and translated manga pages of cartoon boys kissing and fucking. Y’know the kind I mean, right?”

 

“I know the kind.”

 

Jimin knew because he too had absorbed such content in his earlier teenage years: well-read but rather plotless manhwa with the gullible and oftentimes pathetically weak protagonist, who always ended up in strange scenarios that caused him to stumble onto the path of the cold-hearted sexy older male who had a ‘use’ for him that bordered on slavery disguised as business, usually for some kind of gang. From the get-go it had been so painfully obvious who was who in the pairing, which could never be described as anything remotely close to a relationship: the waify and young protagonist the very essence of a stereotypical bottom, and the strong and emotionally dead older character the demanding and rather frightening top. The kid would voice time and time again that he wasn’t gay, no, not at all, and yet he always ended up being pounded on a desk completely naked for reasons never fully explained in each volume.

 

Sound captions like thump and fap and squirt for some god unknown reason, filled in the spaces between their tangled skinny limbs. Their faces were always drawn caught somewhere between a scream of pleasure and a rictus of sheer agony, sweat and drool coursing down them in rivulets; their bodies contorted into positions that were impractical, painful and not at all compatible with real sex.

 

It was paradoxical, Jimin often thought. These characters, always denying or never addressing their sexualities to one another, but always engaging in aggressive sex with very few feelings attached that made their intercourse seem…cold, unloving, an itch being scratched and nothing more than that. Yes, he knew the exact thing that Yoongi was talking about because he too had secretly consumed such manhwa and manga to feed his curiosity and urges, all the while taking in messages about himself that he was now starting to unlearn every single time that he and Yoongi spent evenings together and he had discovered that guys like him could talk, and bond, and care for each other just like everyone else could.

 

“I can’t picture you doing that,” Jimin admitted in a soft voice, watching him placing the brush aside to grab another thinner one. “I’m so used to seeing you in leather jackets and ruined jeans to picture you twirling around in a dress. I thought that you would never agree to dressing-up because you might find it uncomfortable. But now I know that you were totally into it, I feel a lot better. I feel like I’m not making you do something you find weird or gross, but rather…letting you express yourself again. The way that you used to like. Right?”

 

“Just typical Nancy-boy shite,” Yoongi muttered as he sipped the brush into the shadow palette. “Ain’t we all into it to some degree, Jiminie? Even if we grow outta it, we were all little boys wearing our mum’s dresses and heels at some point, right?”

 

“I don’t know, you’re the only gay guy I know,” Jimin replied with a shrug, shifting to get closer to him on the bed by dropping his legs onto the mattress and leaning his weight forward onto his wrist. “But, Yoongi?”

 

“Mmm?” he hummed, gently brushing peach shadow onto his closed eyelid.

 

“One: I’m not going to laugh at you. Two: you’re going to look so pretty in that skirt and-”

 

Yoongi started laughing at this as he pulled his hand away, and so he had to carry on talking in a louder voice.

 

“and three: you’re not fucked up or a Nancy-boy, OK?” Jimin finished in a soft voice, reaching over to place his hand on his thigh to give it a soft squeeze. He felt denim and his bare skin against his fingers from the massive tears in the distressed material. “You’re going to be a pretty boy. My pretty little baby boy.”

 

“Pretty lil baby…” Yoongi sighed out, his lips curling up into a soft smile. “Oh, Jiminie.”

 

Jimin watched him applying the peach eyeshadow to his second eyelid, his hand not shaking in the slightest as he did so. Upon finishing this step, he moved onto the next: adding a smudge of eyeliner to his upper lid and the edge of his lower lid. Then he grabbed a tube of lip gloss to finish the look, the tube shapely baby pink with a decorative bow melded around the lid and white characters swirling around the tube.

 

“Let me do it,” Jimin half-suggested, half-requested. He even held out his hand for the tube, lightly twitching his fingers. “I want to do it.”

 

Yoongi looked between his fingers and the tube of lip gloss a couple of times before moving to place it in his palm. So, he twisted the lid off to slip the wand free, eyeing the pearlescent pink gloss that was clinging to the heart-shaped sponge applicator. His boyfriend moved closer to him so that he could apply it, placing his hands on his thighs and leaning forward.

 

Jimin held his gaze for a moment, seeing the smokey smudge of liner on his peach-coloured eyelids and lash line, and then he eyed his lips. Unsurprisingly, their close proximity and the softness of his pout was enough to make him lean closer to press a chaste kiss against his mouth.

 

Yoongi made a noise at this, a little hum of pleasure as he pouted his lips out to return the next quick kiss. His lips were so soft against his, soft and warm, and Jimin couldn’t help but deepen one of the kisses with a slip of the tongue, licking at his lower lip until Yoongi also opened his mouth and let their tongues brush together. After several quick kisses, he pulled his head away so that he could start applying the lip gloss for him, lifting his hand and smearing the first hint on his lower lip.

 

“Pink’s totally your colour, little baby,” Jimin said in a soft voice, pulling the wand away to slip it into the tube and get more onto the end. “You should wear it more often, I think you’d look so pretty.”

 

“Pretty? You really think so?” Yoongi asked, pursing his lips together to spread the gloss and then pouting them out again.

 

“Even without makeup, you look so pretty,” he reiterated, pressing the wand against his lower lip. “From one pretty boy to another, yes?”

 

Yoongi made a noise at this because he couldn’t move his mouth when he was applying the lip gloss. Jimin smiled at him as he did so, so incredibly fond of the other young man that no words seemed to be capable of showing the true depth. The nicknames helped: little baby, pretty boy. They helped show his affection, but he knew that even they couldn’t fully show his feelings. He hoped that Yoongi knew just how much he cared, however, because he knew that he also cared about him in equal amounts. His boyfriend was much better with words than him, even if he used them more sparingly, and in the moments when he said something intimate to him, Jimin could feel that depth perfectly.

 

“Lip gloss is kinda pointless,” Yoongi remarked as he pulled the wand away again. “If you kiss me, it’s gonna go everywhere.”

 

“I’ll get to wear a little makeup too then.”

 

“Mmm, but I like it,” he mumbled, rubbing his lips together slowly. “I like lip balm too, it tastes nice and stops me from nibbling my lips raw.”

 

“Where did you find all of this stuff, hmm?” Jimin asked curiously as he dropped the tube onto the mattress. “Did you just go to a store and buy it? Order it online? I’m curious.”

 

“Minah helped me, sent me links to stuff.”

 

“Minah? Seriously?”

 

Minah was a fellow student in Yoongi’s music technology class, who he had never met before but knew of simply because he had found photographs on her on his Instagram. Clearly, she must have known about Yoongi’s sexual proclivities if she had helped him buy makeup and a schoolgirl uniform online. Otherwise she would have no doubt wanted to know why he was purchasing such things, such very uncharacteristically ‘Yoongi’ things.

 

“Look, I needed help, a’ight, and she offered to help,” he argued pedantically as he grabbed one of the tubes. “D’you think I know how to find shite like this, huh? Like, uh, like Etude Baby Cuh…Choux? What’s that even mean, Jiminie?”

 

“What exactly did she help you buy?” Jimin asked curiously, eyeing the little pink bag.

 

But before he could possibly reach inside to check the contents, Yoongi snatched it and pulled it away from him with a disapproving sound. Then he got to his feet to cross the room, pulling the bathroom curtain over to hide him from view so that he could get dressed.

 

Jimin stared at the curtain for a moment, seeing a slight outline of his body through the pink material, and then he dropped his eyes to stare at the products on the bed. The brush had the remains of powder and blusher stuck to the bristles and he had forgotten to close the shadow palette, and so he did so for him. Rather than leave the products on the bed, he moved them onto the side table beside his hoodie and camera, wanting to clear away clutter. The paper bag was still sitting next to his legs, and so he picked it up and tore it open to see what was inside. As expected, there was a single condom and two packets of lube, which was less than usual. At least they had left a box of tissues on the side table. He checked to see that they were both luckily plain instead of flavoured, and they were also not sensation ones that would heat up or cool down, which would be unsuitable for them to use.

 

Jiminie?

 

“Yes, pretty boy?”

 

You better prepare yourself for this,” Yoongi called from behind the curtain, a series of rustling sounds signalling that he was getting dressed. “When I said I’ll look so pretty you’ll cry, I wasn’t joking. I wanna see tears, baby, I want you to use up that box of tissues.

 

“You want me to cry? I didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff, Yoongi…”

 

Jimin heard him snorting laughter at this wry joke, his shadowy outline revealing that he seemed to be in the act of bending down to presumably pull the skirt up. He expected that it would take him just a minute to button up the blouse and slip into the skirt, but Yoongi took longer than that. He heard his boyfriend mumbling under his breath at several points, seemingly struggling to get dressed even when it was such a simple thing. Sure, the buttons were in reverse, but that wasn’t that hard.

 

“Little baby? Do you need some help?” he joked, shifting on the bed so that he wasn’t slumped back against the pillows.

 

Just…gimme a sec, I’m almost ready!

 

After a further minute of waiting and more muttered curses, Yoongi finally moved to grab the curtain and pulled it aside. He didn’t do so slowly, flirtatiously to tease him, but rather just pulled it right to the side to reveal his new look.

 

“Oh, Yoongi…” Jimin breathed out softly, his lips falling slack.

 

Yoongi was wearing not only the tartan pleated skirt and blouse, but he had added the necktie and blazer on top too, just to complete the uniform look. The thin black polyester looked to be a perfect match for the red tartan, unbuttoned to show the blouse fully. But rather than wear black stockings, tights, or nothing at all, he had opted for almost transparent white stockings instead. The skirt was so short that it revealed the lace trim cuffs, which were tugged up to his mid-thighs.

 

Forget about looking pretty, Yoongi looked beautiful, so beautiful in fact that he had been shocked speechless rather than moved to tears.

 

“I thought about buying a wig but then I decided: no,” Yoongi said as he reached up to ruffle at his hair. “You don’t mind, right? I just felt like…like a wig was too far.”

 

Yoongi dropped his hand and moved to clasp them both behind his back, no doubt wanting to hide the fact that they were shaking from him. Jimin knew that he needed to say something to him, but he couldn’t seem to do so, for his tongue had fallen rather still in his mouth. It took him a moment of searching to think of something witty to say, just to break his silence.

 

“I might just end up pulling it off anyway,” he joked with a grin. “Yoongi, you look…you look so pretty I can’t believe it.”

 

Yoongi stubbed his stocking-clad toes on the flooring and avoided his gaze, his eyes glued to the floor and his hands fiddling with the hemline of the pleated skirt. He reached underneath it after a moment to fiddle with something, possibly trying to cover his behind because the skirt was so short.

 

“Yoongi, come sit on my lap?” Jimin requested, patting at his thighs invitingly as he settled back against the wall again.

 

Yoongi moved to do so, the skirt shifting from every quick step to flash another inch or so of thigh so that he couldn’t help but stare at his legs as he moved to get to the bed. His boyfriend climbed onto the bottom, shuffling on his knees to crawl over his lower legs so that he could settle down right on his lap, thighs spread open and knees against the mattress. He placed his hands on his own lap, his fingers stroking and fiddling with the pleats in that usual nervous habitat of his.

 

“It, uh, it’s been awhile but it’s comfortable,” Yoongi said as he dropped his head to stare at the skirt. “I forgot how comfortable it actually was dressing like this, y’know? D’you really think that it’s…that I’m pretty?”

 

“Ah, so pretty,” Jimin cooed as he reached up to cup his chin in his fingers and thumb, angling his face to look at him fully.

 

Yoongi’s glossy lips curled up into a smile at this, his expression both relieved and pleased with this remark. In the pink lighting from the overhead bulb, his eyes twinkled just like the lip gloss did, as did his unruly hair. Jimin was glad that he hadn’t bought a wig to complete the look, because he wanted to see Yoongi and not a costume. It would have made it seem like a fancy dress costume instead of something natural, like he was trying to pretend that he really was a girl when he wasn’t. Yoongi just wanted to wear makeup and clothing that were comfortable, that made him feel pretty, and he wanted to make him feel good whilst he felt that way.

 

“You’re my pretty boy,” Jimin said with a pleased smile. “Say it, Yoongi, say you’re my pretty boy, just for me.”

 

“I’m your pretty boy, Jiminie,” Yoongi said in a whisper, his own smile widening in happiness.

 

Jimin moved to grab his camera from the side table, turning it on and holding it up. For a few seconds, his boyfriend dropped his head and tried to avoid letting him taking a photograph, coyly teasing him, but then he relented and lifted his head up again. So, Jimin hit the shutter, the automatic flash lighting up the room, and then he pulled the piece of film out, quickly shaking it until he was able to glance at the shot. He saw Yoongi’s profile mostly, the shot finishing just below his chest to show the tartan necktie, the powerful flash having brought out his hair and makeup in sharp contrast to his lightly tanned skin.

 

“If I put this in my wallet everyone would want to know what my pretty girlfriend’s name is,” he joked with a mischievous grin.

 

“Don’t do that, don’t put it in your wallet.”

 

“Why? I want to look at it every time I open it, just to see your pretty face.”

 

“Jiminie, I ain’t your girlfriend,” Yoongi pointed out. “Guys carry photos of their girlfriends around, not their boyfriends. If someone sees that then…”

 

“I know, I know, it’s just- well, sometimes, in class, the guys start talking about girls, you know? I’ve been asked a couple of times and I just change the subject or whatever, but one day I might need an excuse to get them off my back. So, a snapshot of a pretty ‘girl’ like you could really get them to stop. Right?”

 

“They ain’t gonna believe that I’m a girl,” Yoongi mumbled as he reached up to touch his hair, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the messy locks. “It ain’t gonna work.”

 

“Yoongi, look in the mirror, tell me that you don’t look like the cutest babe you’ve ever seen,” Jimin argued with a wide smile. “Seriously, look in the mirror.”

 

His boyfriend thought this over for a moment before moving to grab the compact mirror, holding it up to study his reflection intently. Jimin saw him fluttering his eyelashes a few times, turning his face on an angle and pursing his lips together as he examined himself from different angles.

 

“I do look cute,” Yoongi agreed in a quiet voice, his lips curling up in a soft smile. “But what if they know I’m not a girl, Jiminie? How’re you gonna explain a shot of a guy in drag being inside your wallet, huh?”

 

“I won’t need to explain, just a quick look is more than enough,” he argued. “They’ll see a beautiful girlfriend and think “wow, Park Jimin’s really lucky” and that’s that.”

 

Yet Yoongi didn’t seem to be convinced by this, still studying his reflection in his compact mirror and holding his tongue. Jimin wondered if his joke had maybe upset him in some way, when that had most certainly not been his intent.

 

“It’s just a little…protection, is all,” he finished in a quiet voice. “Like going to love motels like this. Like going to karaoke rooms on dates because it’s only place that we can get drunk and kiss inside the booth where nobody can see us. It’s just another little layer of protection, one that would make me feel a hell of a lot safer. I mean, if you don’t want me to carry it in my wallet, I won’t. OK?”

 

“…OK,” Yoongi said in a whisper-soft voice as he placed the mirror back on the side table. “OK, you can carry it in your wallet, if you really want to do so.”

 

“I can?”

 

“Yeah, but they ain’t gonna believe I’m a girl, Jiminie. Better start thinking of excuses for when they see it.”

 

“Can I take another one? Just for me?” he asked, to which his boyfriend nodded in agreement.

 

Jimin ran his eyes down the uniform for a moment, and then he lifted the camera again. This time, rather than get one of his face, he decided to take a photograph of his skirt and thighs, of those pretty sheer stockings of his. He held the camera in one hand so that he could place his other hand on his left thigh, gently squeezing it so that his fingers dimpled his skin just as he took the shot. He let the film develop before placing the camera aside, no longer needing it. Then he placed both of his hands on his hips, feeling Yoongi shifting on his lap at the contact.

 

“Pretty boy?” Jimin asked as he gently stroked at the tartan material. “You’ve been a good boy, right?”

 

“Why? If I say no will you punish me?” Yoongi asked wryly. “Swat my arse with a ruler? Talk about predictable, Jiminie.”

 

“It was a joke!” Jimin argued before laughing. “I couldn’t help myself!”

 

“I’ve been a really good boy though,” Yoongi replied in a husky whisper, shifting on his lap again so that he could straddle his crotch and slowly rub down against him. “So, you can’t punish me. But if you’ve been a naughty boy, what should I do, huh?”

 

Yoongi’s fingers slowly pulled his vest up to reveal his skin, tracing along his lower stomach tenderly and skipping over the soft mound of his skin to edge towards the waistband of his sweatpants. There was a rather growing bump appearing, straining against the grey material, and he was teasing him that little bit more by running his fingers close to the band before moving them back up towards his navel again.

 

“Depends. What do you think is ‘naughty’, pretty boy?”

 

“Mmm, I know you well enough by now to know that you’re always naughty, Jiminie. But, are we gonna talk about being naughty all night long? Or…?” Yoongi asked with a knowing twitch of the lips, lifting his gaze to hold his eyes.

 

Jimin slipped his fingers underneath the cuff of his stocking, giving it a pull before letting go so that it twanged against his thigh with an elastic snapping sound. The sensation made Yoongi’s lower lip quiver, his fingers pressing down into his stomach instinctively, and a brief thought about what it would be like to do that with his teeth crossed Jimin’s mind as he shifted his hand underneath the hem of his skirt. He had been planning on placing his hand against his crotch, to palm at him or even just start touching him, but the sensation of something smooth and…lace-like against his fingertips caught him by complete surprise. So, he lifted the skirt up in shock to see a rather unexpected sight.

 

“You’re…you’re wearing panties?”

 

Jimin looked up sharply at this, unable to hide his surprise because he hadn’t expected this. He had thought that maybe he would have been wearing nothing underneath, if he had decided to ditch his briefs. He had most certainly not expected to see soft white panties, ones with lace trimming around the top. They matched his stockings perfectly, and as he glanced back down at them, Jimin wondered if that pretty lace detail extended to the back in the form of a thong like he was imagining that it did.

 

Yoongi closed his eyes at this question, doing so so that he didn’t need to hold his gaze. There was that same nervous sensation coming off him just like earlier when he had been applying his makeup, even when there was no need for such emotions between them now.

 

“I used to wear ‘em, under the dresses and skirts. The, uh, the first time I touched myself I was wearing a pair of panties: satin, red. They felt so good, Jiminie,” Yoongi sighed softly, his eyelids squeezed shut. “I stroked my hands all over ‘em: my arse, my cuh-cock. When I dragged ‘em over my head, I was dribbling everywhere and I didn’t know why but it felt so good. I orgasmed without even thinking about anyone, just ‘cos I felt good.

 

“Do you feel good wearing them right now?”

 

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “I feel good, I feel…feel pretty, Jiminie.”

 

Jimin reached up to loosen his necktie and then fumbled at the buttons of his blouse, popping them free until he reached the third one and saw what was hidden underneath it.

 

“Yoongi…”

 

Yoongi turned his face away at this, avoiding his gaze even when he still had his eyes closed. Because of his light layer of makeup and the pink room lighting, it was hard figuring out if he was blushing from embarrassment or not, but judging from the waves of heat coming from his body; he was embarrassed or even ashamed.

 

Underneath his blouse, there was also a lace bra, one with triangle-shaped cups that were sheer save for two little white hearts stitched on them. The hearts covered his nipples, because they were clearly there for titillation purposes, which seemed rather redundant when worn by a man. Yoongi had a completely flat chest, not even a hint of muscles causing a soft swell that could possibly fill the cups. Though he had fastened it in place and had presumably tightened the straps, one of them was still too loose on his slumped shoulders, dangling down and demanding that he fix it back in place for him.

 

“I told you that I’d look stupid,” Yoongi mumbled in a quiet voice. “I shouldn’t have worn the underwear, it’s stupid, I look stupid and-”

 

Jimin reached up to fix the strap back up onto his shoulder for him, and then he finished unbuttoning the blouse. The movement caught his boyfriend by surprise, made him finally turn his head back to look at him.

 

“You don’t look stupid, you look cute,” Jimin said as he gave him a smile. “Yoongi, I thought you couldn’t get any cuter in that skirt and then you just- look at the panties!”

 

“Shut up, Jiminie,” Yoongi muttered as he reached up to cover his face with his hand for a moment, clearly embarrassed by his words.

 

“Look at them!” he exclaimed, tugging his skirt up again to reveal them. “Oh, you’re the prettiest little baby boy ever, I-”

 

Jiminie.”

 

“I can’t wait to fuck,” he continued over him. “I can’t wait to tug those panties off, Yoongi. You can keep them around your knees, if you want? Maybe your ankles?”

 

“What about the bra?” Yoongi asked, sticking his tongue out to wet his glossy lips.

 

Jimin moved his hands back up to his blouse so that he could pull it free from his skirt and slip his hands inside to take hold of his waist. Then he leaned forward, lowering his head and pressing his lips against his collarbone. He pressed several soft kisses against his skin, slowly trailing his lips downward until they were brushing against the edge of the cup. Jimin felt soft lace against his lips as he pressed them against the heart decoration, and then he lapped his tongue out.

 

“Oh…” Yoongi breathed out, his fingers twitching so that his nails pressed into his shoulders.

 

Jimin slowly traced the tip of his tongue over the heart before pressing the broad side against the nub of his nipple. It had started reacting to the attention, hardening so that he felt it even through the lace. After pressing down teasingly, he started rapidly flicking it over the nub, hearing his boyfriend taking a sudden gasp of breath.

 

Jimin slowly pulled the blazer down off his shoulders for him, helping his slip out of it so that he was just wearing the blouse and necktie. It was one less layer to have to deal with, allowed him to move more easily so that he could slip his arms around his neck and hold his head in place. Yoongi curved his back to press his chest against his face, shifting his weight to resume steadily grinding against his crotch and spreading his thighs so wide that his skirt racked up to reveal the growing bulge in his panties.

 

Jimin let go of his waist with one hand to start playing with his other nipple through the lace, wanting to tease him fully. He knew that Yoongi was so sensitive to his touch, that he could get him to full hardness and sometimes even bring him to his orgasm during sex just by teasing him like this.

 

“Uh, Jiminie,” Yoongi moaned softly, tightening his hold around his neck. “That feels good.”

 

Jimin knew that it would feel even better without the lace in the way, and so he gently tugged the cup down so that he could latch onto his nipple fully. When he sucked his lips around it and rapidly teased with flicks of his tongue, Yoongi jerked his hips upwards with a sharp whine before dropping them back to his lap.

 

Jimin could feel himself getting aroused just listening to the noises that he was making: the whines, the breathy moans. Yoongi’s fingers tugged at his hair when he sucked a little harder, encouraged him to use his teeth or to lightly squeeze and twist with his finger and thumb until his keening was caught between ecstasy and pain. Yoongi’s heat and his weight pressing down on his crotch was maddening, especially when he kept softly grinding down against his erection.

 

“Shit, Jiminie.”

 

Yoongi grabbed handfuls of his vest, snagging hold and tugging at it until he let go of his chest and allowed him to wrench it off over his head. He dropped it on the floor without a single care, desperate for the sensation of his touch and kisses again.

 

“You’ve been a good boy, huh?” Jimin said as he grabbed Yoongi’s waist, tugging him against his stomach and encouraging him to grind on his crotch that little bit more. “I like good boys, baby, because they get rewards.”

 

“I’ve been so good, Jiminie. Mmm, except for when I touched myself,” Yoongi breathed out heavily, his buttocks rotating hard little circles right against his clothed erection. “That was naughty, right?”

 

“Well, I like naughty boys too,” Jimin retorted as he dropped his head to snag his bra strap and twanged it with his teeth. “They have more…more fun.”

 

“So much more fun,” Yoongi agreed with a vigorous nod, his hair falling forward into his eyes. “Do it again, lick me again, it felt so good.”

 

Jimin could see the slick lace clinging to his chest, the hard nub of his nipple pressing against it demanding his attention. It was funny how much it resembled the growing tent in his panties, both in dire need of his touch and hot and wet mouth. So, he placed his hand on his crotch, palm settling in place to allow him to stimulate both of them.

 

“Tell me about it,” he said as he lowered his head to his chest. “Let me know how much fun you had.”

 

“Huh, it was after you-you video called me,” Yoongi gasped, rutting against his palm eagerly so that he didn’t even need to move his hand. “Thursday night, remember? You were in bed and just talking but it-it reminded me about how we talk after sex and-”

 

Jimin dragged his tongue across his nipple torturously slow, making him actually stop talking for a few seconds in surprise.

 

“it was raining,” Yoongi continued, dropping his head to watch him intently, peach-coloured lids heavy. “You told me to not catch a cold, fuck, why’d that turn me on, Jiminie? I dunno I just- I was lonely and I wanted you to come to my home and-”

 

Yoongi reached down to pull his skirt up with one hand, so that he could watch him rubbing his palm against his head and stroking his fingers over his length. Jimin couldn’t help but softly move his hips underneath him too, to encourage him to continue rutting against his erection. His boyfriend did so, pressing down harder.

 

“and I started thinking about you entering my bedroom, all wet and cold, so that I had to warm you up.”

 

“How did you warm me up?” Jimin asked, relinquishing his hold on his nipple.

 

“I fucked you in my bed with your thighs wrapped around me and your heels digging into muh-my back.”

 

Yoongi was spilling free from the confines of the lace panties, his erection having tented the material so taut that it could no longer contain him. His testicles were practically hanging free, the gusset of the panties trying its very hardest to keep them in place but stretched terribly by his stiff cock, and the sides had been pulled to the point of digging into the soft skin of his thighs. Through his erection and Jimin’s playing, the thong was now mostly pulled down at the back, the lace cupping and cutting into the curve of his buttocks from the tent in the front.

 

“Look at that,” Jimin breathed out, staring at his crotch. “Look at the little bow and the lace trim around your cock; tell me that isn’t cute, pretty boy?”

 

Yoongi could only moan, his fingers twitching as he held the skirt against his stomach.

 

“I kind of want to suck on you, you know? Just take you in my mouth even with the panties on, because I know you’d like that.”

 

“Fuh-fuck, so much, so much-”

 

Yoongi lifted his hips up so fast that the movement finally allowed his testicles to spill free. Jimin had to slid down the bed slightly, his weight balanced on his elbows and his neck straining on the severe angle, the pillows behind him luckily supporting the position. His boyfriend was so excited, shifting to get right in front of his face so that he could nudge his head against his mouth until he opened his lips and let him slip inside.

 

Jimin couldn’t really move in this position, could do no more than run his tongue along the underside of his cock and suck on his head, but even that was enough to have Yoongi breathing in hard and fast huffs. The cotton and lace turned damp so fast from his saliva: damp and hot and clinging to his erection that little bit more. Jimin didn’t want him to get too excited, not yet, but he knew that he could finish him this way if Yoongi needed him to. So, after teasing him for a minute or two, he moved his head away again.

 

“Off,” Jimin instructed as he gently patted his thigh. “Tug those panties down, pretty boy.”

 

Yoongi shifted to stand up on the mattress, presenting Jimin with the perfect up-skirt view as he reached under it to tug his panties down. They dropped to his ankles with a soft rustle, and so he shifted to lift one foot and step free before lifting the other. Jimin pulled them off his foot for him, tossing them off the mattress just as Yoongi dropped to straddle his crotch again, his thighs spread wide and his erection tenting the skirt up.

 

Jimin grabbed the first packet of lube, tearing it open and emptying the contents onto his fingers. It was so runny that he had to angle them to stop it dribbling all over Yoongi’s skirt, the mixture warming on his skin before he reached around. His boyfriend shifted to lift his hips up and then gently lowered them, and, after a moment of blind prodding, Jimin found his entrance and proceeded to force his middle and ring finger up against the pucker of muscles. The lube helped him slip them inside, even with resistance.

 

Yoongi instinctively clenched around his fingers at this, taking a sharp intake of breath and squeezing his eyes shut. Jimin kept his fingers in place, giving him time to adjust and loosen up before moving them. He knew from experience how hard it was to unclench at first, but with patience, gentle stretching and his soothing words, Yoongi would be able to take him. So, he kept his fingers in place for a moment, just for the sake of it, before gently sliding them free to the first knuckle and repeating the action over and over. Because of the awkward angle that he was in, Jimin knew that stretching him would be hard, that his boyfriend would have to take control at some point and use his cock to resume stretching himself. It wasn’t ideal, but considering the fact that Yoongi was going to be mostly in control in this position, it was better for him to take control over the stretching too.

 

Yoongi closed his eyes and reached up to take hold of his shoulders during the stretching. His fingers pressed into his skin every single time that his fingers brushed against his prostate, even when Jimin tried his hardest to not prod at it too much. His nails were too blunt to dig into his skin, rather lightly scratched instead. Soon enough, he was able to slip his index finger inside too, stretching him wider and more deeply.

 

Jimin could sense that Yoongi was growing impatient, that he was starting to get excited and wanted to hurry up, but he didn’t want to rush him.

 

“Good, just a little more, pretty boy,” Jimin said in a soft voice, his free hand reaching over to pat at his stocking-clad thigh. “Give me a little more and you’ll get to feel this.”

 

When he curled his fingers teasingly, the sound that Yoongi made was like music to his ears. His nails tried their very hardest to dig into his skin in response to his fingers pressing up against his prostate and giving it a nice, dragging massage.

 

Uh,” Yoongi hiccuped, his thighs thrumming from the sensation.

 

Yoongi tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his erection from the material, his cock springing free at last. Jimin was glad of it, for it was one less layer to not block the heat and friction of Yoongi’s crotch. He grabbed the second lube packet and tore it openly roughly, squeezing the mixture down onto his cock so that he could take him in hand and pump his fist. Jimin was aware of the fact that he spread the lube like that on purpose, to encourage him to finally take it further than gentle fingering.

 

“Jiminie, hurry up, I’m ready,” Yoongi almost panted. “I can take your cock.”

 

Jimin thought this over for a moment before moving to slip his fingers free from him. It was getting hard fingering him when Yoongi was pumping his fist so hungrily around his erection, and he was probably telling him the truth. Yoongi would be able to take him inside at his own pace if he needed to, inch by inch until he could fully seat himself inside and they could start having sex properly. So, he let his boyfriend shift forward again, no longer sitting on his thighs and lower hips but instead hovering himself over his stomach and crotch.

 

Yoongi took him in hand and spread his thighs to their fullest extent, racking up his skirt up past his own hips because the material was getting in the way. He lowered his hips down and gave his head a rather teasing rub, tracing around his entrance, and then he gently prodded down against him. For a moment, Yoongi didn’t take him but just stretched his puckered muscles around his head maddeningly before letting go again, but then he took a deep breath and finally lowered himself down.

 

Jimin felt his head pushing through his ring of muscles, hardly any resistance at first until Yoongi clenched right around the beginning of his shaft and reached up to sink his fingers into his own hair with a hard huff.

 

“Slowly, take it nice and slow,” Jimin said in a soothing voice, his fingers gently stroking at his thigh and playing with the lace cuff. “There’s no rush, pretty boy.”

 

Yoongi stayed in place for a moment, weight balanced on his knees and just his head inside of him, breathing in slow and deep through his mouth. Then he shifted to start lowering his hips, taking him inch by inch until he was seated right to the base. His fingers were tugging at his hair hard, but he didn’t let anything more than a whimper escape his lips during the process.

 

“You take me so well, pretty boy,” Jimin cooed as he kneaded at his thighs encouragingly. “Nice and tight, but not too tight. OK? Loosen up a little, I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Yoongi made a string of noises at this rather than reply, his fingers still tugging at his hair as he tried to adjust to the girth and length of his cock. It was a lot more to take in than his fingers, even when he wasn’t as big as he was. Jimin could feel his slick heat and the tightness of his walls clenching hard, but he knew that he would start to loosen up soon enough. He just needed soothing words and strokes and a moment to calm down, because he could sense that Yoongi had gotten a little too excited.

 

“You know,” Jimin said as he carried on kneading at his thighs. “You can get all kinds of uniform colours and patterns…”

 

Yoongi stopped staring down at his stomach to hold his gaze at this, fingers stilling their relentless tugging.

 

“Some of them have pullovers, some have cute little summer dresses and sailor blouses,” he continued as he settled back against the mound of pillows and met his boyfriend’s gaze. “They have ankle socks with ribbons and summer hats too, remember? Those little straw boaters that the girls used to wear?”

 

“Uh…uhuh,” Yoongi breathed out, moving his hips experimentally and wincing ever so slightly.

 

“I was just thinking about what kind of uniforms you would look the prettiest in,” Jimin explained, his thumb finding the cuff of his stocking so that he could slip it under and play with it. “I’m thinking the yellow and white summer dresses, gingham, the ones that have the white zipper on the front and the scalloped collar.”

 

Yoongi stuck his tongue out at this, wetting his lips with interest as he lifted his hips again, letting him slid out an inch or so before sinking back down his length again. He was still clenching around his base like always, but he was starting to loosen ever so slightly to make each rock of his hips less painful.

 

“But the sailor blouses are too cute, especially with the navy skirts. Ah, they make me feel like I’m a kid again just looking at the neckties and stripes.”

 

“Pink,” Yoongi sighed out, placing his hands onto his stomach for support, his fingers sinking into his skin. “I saw a puh-pink one, baby pink, but it wasn’t tartan. Just baby pink with a necktie and-and-”

 

“Baby pink? That’s your colour, little baby,” Jimin remarked with a skin, letting go of his thigh with one hand to cup his cheek and tenderly stroke his thumb against his cheekbone. “Do you think they sell peach uniforms?”

 

This made Yoongi’s lips curl up into a smile, even when they twitched at the corners as he brought his hips down in a soft rock. Jimin noticed that his movements were much more fluid than they had been, were starting to edge that border between experimental stretching and sexual stimulation, judging from his quivering glossy lips and twitching fingers that was.

 

“Pink with what?”

 

“Pink skirt, pink necktie, white blouse,” Yoongi explained, rutting his hips and furrowing his brow as he did. “That’s all I saw on the-the website but I bought this one instead ‘cos it had the blazer too.”

 

“With these panties, stockings and bra, and in that uniform, you’d look like the most prettiest boy ever,” Jimin praised as he resumed stroking at his cheek. “Imagine if you had a little Alice band too?”

 

“Oh, baby, I’d look so fuh…fucking pretty,” Yoongi agreed, growing more confident now that he had praised him so much. “What about suh-shoes?”

 

“Patent black-”

 

Mary Janes,” they finished in unison, before his boyfriend guffawed softly.

 

“Looks like I need to buy you some accessories,” Jimin stated as he stopped stroking his cheek and dropped his hand to his thigh again. “Pink, all pink and white; soft, just like you pretty boy.”

 

“OK,” Yoongi sighed, his tongue slipping free to lick at his glossy lips. “OK, I’m ready.”

 

Jimin stopped kneading at his thighs to instead reach around and take hold of his buttocks. As he sank his fingers in and held onto him firmly, Yoongi shifted to place his hands on his shoulders, the heels of his hands settling on his collarbones and his fingers resting against the wings of his shoulder blades. Because of his position, he could only softly rock his hips underneath his boyfriend, not lifting them up off the bed exactly but rather just pressing them up into him as Yoongi softly lifted his own hips up and down.

 

“Huh-uh,” Yoongi hiccuped, his expression shifting as he bit down on his lower lip, teeth flashing against the pearlescent pink.

 

“Does it hurt, pretty boy?”

 

“Nuh-no, not exactly,” he replied, voice muffled slightly because he was still nibbling his lip. “A lil, but it feels good too.”

 

“OK, we’ll go nice and slow,” Jimin said in a soft voice. “You take control, you set the pace.”

 

After a few minutes of gentle movements, Yoongi started to move his hips in a much more fluid motion, still going slow and soft but rutting less in favour of riding up and down his length. The sensation was what Jimin had been anticipating, made him sink back against the pillows with a soft groan because it finally felt like he was getting to thrust into him. His skirt was still racked up his hips, the lengths floating around his very upper thighs so that his erection gently bobbed upwards to knock against the pleats with every movement. His rather crumpled and open blouse was actually covering more of his body than his skirt, the ends brushing against his thighs and the backs of Jimin’s fingers as he held onto his buttocks, and the necktie dangling around his throat from earlier.

 

“Like that, just like that,” Jimin guided, smoothing his hand over the soft curve of his buttock and feeling slick lube clinging to it in parts, felt the heat of his skin burning at his fingertips. “You know how to fuck me right, pretty boy.”

 

“‘Cos y’know how I like it too, baby,” his boyfriend moaned in response. “It’s your reward for treating me so guh-good.”

 

Jimin continued rubbing his hand over the curve of his buttock, the most overwhelming urge to lightly spank him coming over him. Yoongi liked it when he twanged the bra and stockings, so he might just like the sudden shock of him spanking him too. Only lightly, not enough to hurt but to just leave a soft sting behind. So, whilst his boyfriend bounced softly on his cock, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers lightly digging into his shoulder blades, Jimin decided to let go and gave him a soft swat across the behind.

 

Yoongi took a sharp intake of breath at this and he picked up his rhythm for a moment, pounding his hips down hard and fast to tease him and stimulate himself better. The impact made him let out a string of nonsense noises, his own erection bobbing excitedly and disturbing the skirt as he first rode him hard and then dragged them both down again by softly rutting his buttocks against him.

 

“Oh, oh-” Yoongi gasped, his hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck, his fingers snagging in his hair. “Fuck, your cock, Jiminie- so good, so-”

 

“Oh, pretty boy, don’t tease me like that,” Jimin sighed out, giving his buttocks another hard squeeze. “Not when your little skirt is flapping around like that, I can’t handle it.”

 

“You want more?” Yoongi asked, breath hitching as he took a deep breath. His chest swelled from it, his bra strap dangling down again oh so teasingly.

 

“I like how soft and pretty you look when you ride my cock like that,” he teased, shifting one hand back down to his stockings to snap it against his thigh again. The contact of the elastic twanging against his skin made Yoongi pull on his hair and rut against him harder with a soft whine. “So pretty and filthy.”

 

“Spank me again,” Yoongi demanded, leaning as close as he could to press his brow against his and force him to hold his eyes. “I’ll fuck you right, I’ll do it so good if you do it.”

 

Well, Jimin could hardly say no to that offer as he lifted his hand to give him another light spank, earning himself more of those enthusiastic bounces from Yoongi.

 

It was rather amusing how the sound of his palm connecting with his buttock was incredibly similar to that of his hips pounding down against his over and over as he pulled his face away. Just a single look at his expression showed Jimin that he was supposed to do it again, and again, almost like he was whipping him into action, because it was obvious in the way that Yoongi stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. So, he did so, waiting until he was bringing his hips downward to swat at him after every third rock.

 

“Harder,” Yoongi gasped, even when the last swat had left his palm stinging slightly.

 

When Jimin brought his palm down against his buttock again, much harder than he had before, it was enough to make his boyfriend cry out in mingled pleasure and pain. His erection twitched hard enough to lift the skirt up as he pulled his hips up, the stimulation too much at once for him. Though he dropped his hips again to continue bouncing, he had accidentally shifted on an angle when he had jolted his hips up, meaning that Jimin’s cock slipped free.

 

“Ah, Yoongi,” Jimin gasped out, feeling a sudden lack of heat and tightness around his cock. “Yoongi, you pulled off-”

 

“Huh?” his boyfriend breathed out heavily, still rutting against his erection but no longer riding it.

 

“You’re kind of humping me right now,” he explained, grabbing hold of his waist to try and still him. “You pulled off by accident.”

 

Yoongi slowed his hips down to a stop, staring at him dumbly for a few seconds before he realised that he had in fact pulled off his cock. He had just simply lifted his hips a little too high by accident, doing so so fast that he hadn’t even realised in the heat of the moment.

 

“You got a little…little carried away,” he joked, hearing his boyfriend guffawing breathlessly at the situation. “I think I spanked you too hard.”

 

Yoongi fumbled to seize hold of his base again, angling him just right so that he could gently nudge his head against his entrance. Unlike earlier, he was able to able to accept him fully without stretching, clenching around his head tightly for a moment before bringing his hips down again to sink down onto his length.

 

Nnn,” Yoongi breathed out, seating himself fully and wriggling his hips to adjust to his girth again. “No, no, I liked it,” he explained as he moved his knees and spread his thighs right to anchor himself. “Jiminie, take over for a lil while, yeah?”

 

That could have meant take over and change position, to roll him onto his back and slot between his thighs instead, but Jimin rather liked this current position. He liked having Yoongi sitting in his lap in his pretty tartan skirt, liked having to look up at him ever so slightly and having his face blended in a mixture of shadows and highlights from the pink ceiling light and the rest casting down his sweat-slick chest and stomach. It might have been harder for him to take over in this position, but he knew that he could do so with a little maneuvering.

 

So, Jimin sank his fingers into his skin and dug his heels into the mattress to bring his hips up off it and thrust up into him hard and quick. Yoongi shuddered in response, shifting his weight onto his knees to stop his weak rocking and let him take full control.

 

“Oh, oh, oh-” Yoongi gasped, his hands letting go off his shoulders to grab at the metal bed frame. “Y’know huh-how I like it, buh-baby.”

 

“Does it feel good?” Jimin grunted out, his muscles starting to burn from exertion and the bedsprings creaking dryly from his movements.

 

“So good, fuh-fuck.”

 

“Lift your skirt up, uh, let me watch.”

 

Yoongi let go of the metal post with one hand, reaching down to tug his skirt up completely and hold it in place for him. Jimin could see very little on this angle save for the quick flash of his cock on the downward stroke of every single thrust, his base slick from lube, before he rocked upwards and buried himself deep inside of him again. Yoongi’s thighs were pulled taut, his muscles trembling from both the position and the powerful stimulation, and his erection was twitching heartily: flushed and swollen but not yet dribbling precum.

 

Jimin couldn’t help but take hold of it, grip tight around his base. He managed to pump his fist a few times before Yoongi reached down to knock it free with a hiccuped moan, grabbing his cock himself to quickly knead at it before grabbing hold of the bed frame again. Clearly, he didn’t want to overstimulate himself too quickly, even when he really wanted to be touched.

 

As he brought his hips up off the bed, weight anchored on his heels and elbows, Yoongi started trying to bring his own hips down, meeting him halfway and increasing the roughness. Every thump of his buttocks against his hip bones made him moan softly, quick little noises escaping his glossy lips that he didn’t even try and mute: ahs bleeding into ohs and uhs, or dragging out into reedy nnns. It took him a moment to find the perfect rhythm and when he did Yoongi practically took control again, driving his hips back down onto the mattress until Jimin had to buck hard enough to make his stomach clench and his lower back burn as he forced them back up to meet his movements.

 

Jimin tried to slow them both down, to pace himself so that he didn’t climax too quickly. He had to slowly lift his hips in fluid rocks instead, the ebb and flow of the tide, dragging Yoongi down with him so that he almost whined from the lesser stimulation. His boyfriend let go of the bed frame so that he could reach up to sink his fingers into his hair, snagging handfuls and tugging again as his other fingers wrinkled his skirt terribly in his tight fist.

 

“Duh-don’t stop, Jimin!” Yoongi almost growled, his voice uneven and rough because he was breathing so heavily. “I’m almost there! I’m peaking, I-”

 

Jimin let go of his hips for a moment to reach up and grab at his cheeks instead, holding onto them to still him because he was rather frantically tugging at his hair in his desperation. Every exhale was a soft whimper from his slack and glossy lips, and he had scrunched his face up tightly from the powerful pressure that was growing in his belly.

 

“Shush, pretty boy,” Jimin cooed in a soft voice, slowly lowering his hips back down onto the mattress. “I don’t want to rush this, I want to make you feel good.”

 

“It feels good, it feels so good,” he panted.

 

“I know, I know it does, little baby,” he agreed, not falling still underneath him but rather just resuming those slight lifts to edge him around his orgasm. “How much do you want it?”

 

Yoongi sank down onto his cock with a heavy sigh, his fingers still twitching in his hair and his lips quivering before he sucked his lower lip in and nibbled on it again. His lip gloss was getting scraped off by his teeth, was going to be a mess by the time that he was finished.

 

Huh, wanna give it to you,” he managed to say, his words escaping him in a mumble. “Wanna make you cum ‘cos you muh-made me feel so pretty, Jiminie. Please, puh-please-”

 

“Please what, pretty boy?” Jimin asked teasingly, enjoying the way that he was falling apart in front of him so quickly.

 

Yoongi was unravelling, that pressure taking over until he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without feeling that tightening in his loins. He was desperate, and Jimin knew how that felt whenever he had Yoongi inside of him, had him pinning him against the mattress and pounding his hips down against his as he breathed rapidly against his throat.

 

Yoongi tried to speak but he could do no more than let out noises as he ground his buttocks down in soft rotations. Jimin could feel his cheeks burning against his palms, could feel the heat radiating off his body, and he could see sweat running down his stomach to disappear into the dip of his navel, more beaded on his chest that would roll down to soak into the lace bra.

 

“Give it to me,” Jimin groaned as slumped back against the wall and stack of pillows, breathless and in need of his boyfriend to take over again. “You deserve it, pretty boy.”

 

“I’ll guh-give it you, pretty boy’s gonna give it to you,” Yoongi panted as he reached back to grab hold of his cocked-up knees, anchoring himself in place.

 

When Yoongi started riding him again he picked up speed fast, his rocking becoming more fluid until he was frantically bouncing on his cock. The rhythm and friction was enough to have Jimin choking on a moan, leaking inside of him from the buildup of pressure deep inside of him. As if he wasn’t moving fast enough, Yoongi was also relentlessly pounding his weight down against his hips, caring not for the hard impact and being gentle with him because it was stimulating him just right. His weight on his hips and lower stomach was enough to drive every single breath out of his body, and pretty soon he was gasping for air just like how Yoongi was panting for breath.

 

Jimin couldn’t help it. Even when he had told him to take control he could feel his hips being dragged upwards by their own will, twitching, madly bucking in response to Yoongi’s frantic bounces because he needed to feel that impact that much stronger. Jimin wanted their bodies to meet with the hard slap of skin against skin until he was left with bruises on his hip bones and Yoongi’s buttocks were mottled all over from his squeezing fingers and thrusting hips.

 

How Yoongi could still be moving like that was beyond Jimin, because his poor trembling thighs should have given out moments ago. The stimulation and exertion should have been too much for him to handle, and yet Yoongi was still pounding his buttocks down onto his hips at that hard and fast speed because he was desperate for release and he couldn’t control his body no more than he could.

 

“Ah, ah-” Yoongi keened as he let go of his knees, his fingers curling up into tight fists as he clenched hard, his entire body quivering weakly.

 

“Are you cuh-cumming?” Jimin managed to ask, finding it hard to do so between his own tightly clenched teeth.

 

Mmm, a lil more, Jiminie,” he whined, his shaking fists hovering in front of his chest because he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m peaking, I’m- ah!

 

Yoongi reached down to snatch hold of his skirt with one hand so that he could hold it up, the other reaching down to grab hold of his cock. He was dribbling precum steadily now, so close to his climax that when he squeezed his fingers tight around his base Jimin could see his cock twitching hard. He was so close and yet Jimin was going to orgasm any moment from now and torturously drag him back down from his pinnacle of pleasure.

 

Yoongi was barely even able to pound down onto him now, now that he had let go of his knees and lost his momentum, and so he could only sloppily rut and try and lift his weak hips up as he pumped his fist around his slick cock. But even that weak movement was enough to drive Jimin over the edge. He had to let go of his buttocks to reach up and snag hold of his hips, using Yoongi like an anchor so that he could buck up into him as fast as he could, until his hips were moving as fast as his heartbeat and the tingling heat that was coiling at the base of his cock.

 

“Fuck, Yoongi, you’re so pretty,” he grunted, squeezing his fingers around the soft skin of Yoongi’s thin waist.

 

“I’m the prettiest buh-boy,” Yoongi whimpered, letting go of his skirt and cock to instead wrap his arms around his neck and drag his body into the closest thing to an embrace that he could manage in this position. “Juh-Jiminie, I’m-”

 

Jimin felt his hips snapping upwards into Yoongi just as that heat exploded and his entire body was flooded with it. His muscles hardened for a second and then they started shivering, jolts of pleasure racing through his system as he ejaculated deep inside of him. The rush coursed up to his brain until he could see nothing more than a flash of white and then so many colours, throbbing in sync with the tingling heat at the base of his cock. He couldn’t help but let his breath out in a sigh of pleasure, unable to even vocalise a moan because it was too intense.

 

“I’m so close, so-” Yoongi took a sharp intake of breath, which caught in his throat and turned into a weak whine as he rutted his hips down onto him again, trying to stimulate himself that little bit more even after he had orgasmed just a moment ago.

 

His boyfriend caught him by surprise and for a few seconds, Jimin just sat there slumped against the wall, riding out the cresting waves of his own pleasure, until he realised and shifted his hands from his waist, slipping them under the pleated skirt to take hold of his buttocks.

 

“Yoongi, pull off.”

 

Huh, no, I’m almost there, I-”

 

“Pull off and let me help,” Jimin interjected, struggling to hold him still because he was thrumming in his hold; weakly pumping his hips on the awkward angle and still so very hot and wet around his cock. “I’ll help you fuh-finish, pretty boy.”

 

“I-I can finish now, just lemme- your cock-”

 

“I just came, little baby, you can’t-”

 

“just need a lil more of your cock, Jiminie, and I’ll-”

 

“Yoongi, pull off and you can wear the panties again,” Jimin spoke over him, feeling his cock already softening inside of him and begging to be released. “You can wear them and-and-”

 

Unsurprisingly, this was enough for his boyfriend to relent and stop humping him. When Yoongi finally shifted to get up onto his knees, pulling off him with a soft liquid squelch, his now limp cock flopped down to land on his stomach. Jimin felt the hot liquid splash of semen dripping against his stomach as Yoongi knelt over him, shivering and breathing unevenly. He could barely keep his weight balanced on his knees because they were trembling so much, and his entire body was coated in a sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his brow. Despite this fact, his makeup was still flawless save for some smudges around his lips from his lip gloss.

 

Jimin let his breath out in a heavy sigh, sticking his tongue out to wet his own lips as Yoongi moved to climb off his lap and hit the mattress with a hard thump. He tasted the tang of sweat on them, because his own chest and stomach were slick with it, and as he turned his head to look at his boyfriend he had to reach up to rake his sweaty hair back off his brow.





Yoongi felt his entire body thrumming with excitement even when his thighs had been too weak for him to possibly stay on his knees and look at his boyfriend, which was why he had slumped to lie on the mattress instead. His cock was aching and leaking still, beaded precum settling on his head to remind him that it wanted attention, and his skin was so soaked with sweat that he felt his uniform blouse clinging to his chest as he reached down to pull it aside. His back was stuck to it too, and he could feel his thighs sticking the bed sheets; his muscles still trembling even when he wasn’t moving. He struggled to catch his breath as he stopped pulling at his blouse, feeling the bra straps hanging loose from his current position as his chest swelled with every single harsh intake of air. He longed to reach up and wipe at his eyes, because they had welled with tears of pleasure and they were starting to sting.

 

When Yoongi turned his head he saw that Jimin was looking down at him, running his gaze over his limp body with a great interest, and he wondered if he still looked pretty now: coated in sweat, semen and drool, his pretty uniform crumpled.

 

Probably not, but he felt prettier than he had ever felt before lying beside him like this.

 

“What do you want, hmm?” Jimin asked as he shifted up onto his knees, fumbling to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. “Anything you want, pretty boy, I’ll give it to you. For dressing-up, just for me.”

 

Yoongi could barely see him through the mist of tears still trapped on the edge of his lashes, rapidly blinking until a few of them managed to run down his cheeks to soak into his hairline. Oh, he hoped that his eyeliner was waterproof. Before he could move to clean them away, Jimin did so for him, gently wiping with his thumb.

 

“Suh…suck me off, baby, please,” Yoongi moaned weakly. “Like before, with the…the panties.”

 

“You look so…wrecked right now, pretty boy,” Jimin sighed as he brushed the clumped locks off his brow for him. “Can I take a photograph first? Just for me?”

 

Yoongi made a noise at the back of his throat in agreement, struggling to speak because his body was still screaming out for release. He heard Jimin shifting to retrieve his Polaroid camera and a moment later he was hovering over him.

 

“You know, I’ll probably look at this when I’m alone,” Jimin remarked as he lifted the camera to glance down the viewfinder at him.

 

“You’re gonna wuh…wank off to it?” Yoongi joked as he rolled his eyes up to look at the camera unflinchingly. “Want me to pose, huh?”

 

“Yoongi, put…put your finger by your mouth.”

 

“In? Like, sucking on my thumb?”

 

“No, like, on your lip,” Jimin explained, lifting his free hand to gesture at his mouth, pointing at his own full lower lip for emphasis.

 

“Like this?”

 

Yoongi managed to lift one of his arms up so that he could plant his forefinger against his lower lip. It was only when he dragged down on his lip did he realise what Jimin was asking and so he let his mouth go slack and slipped his tongue out ever so slightly. It was enough to make his boyfriend make a noise under his breath, clearly finding the sight pleasing, and then he hit the button to snap the shot. He didn’t show it to him but he studied it intently as it developed, no doubt enjoying the sight of him lying on the bed in a mess: lips open and silently requesting that he pull out and finish in his mouth.

 

“OK, now it’s pretty boy’s time to cum,” he said with a smile as he placed the camera and photograph aside and shifted to climb off the mattress.

 

Jimin dropped to his knees at the bottom of the bed, gesturing for him to move down to meet him. So, he shuffled his way until he was at the bottom too, and his boyfriend planted himself firmly between his spread thighs, slipping his hands under his them so that he could gently tug him closer to the edge of the mattress. Yoongi let him do so, awkwardly wriggling until his toes were touching the floor and his buttocks were hanging right over the edge in the ideal position. His skirt had fallen back in place over his thighs, though it didn’t cover him fully at all. He could see the younger man eyeing his erection, and there was something rather mischievous glinting away in his eyes that revealed that he was in a playful mood right now.

 

“I wonder what’s under there?” Jimin joked as he stared his tented skirt. “What’s pretty boy hiding, huh?”

 

“Lift it and find out,” Yoongi retorted as he sat up, weight balanced on his wrists.

 

Jimin moved to take hold of the edge of his skirt and that was when he lifted his leg, cocking his knee so that he could plant his foot square on his chest and give his boyfriend a shove back. He caught him by complete surprise, made him let go of his skirt and fall back onto his heels with a soft noise.

 

“Huh?” Jimin hummed, his eyes widening in comic surprise and making him smirk widely.

 

“What?” Yoongi asked with his own mischievous expression. “You wanted to take a photo of me, for when you’re alone. Right now, I wanna have a lil fun too. Just…kneel right there and give me that look, that puppy-dog look. It’s cute.”

 

Jimin looked up at him for a few seconds before looking back down at his skirt, clearly trying to figure out if he was playing a game with him. Yoongi was, he was playing around for fun and maybe just a little kick of excitement at the thought of what his boyfriend would do if he kept knocking his hand and head away from his crotch. Would he beg? Would he actually beg him to let him suck him off, or would he just pout and whine childishly until he relented?

 

“Don’t you want me to make you cum?” Jimin asked as he moved his hand to try and touch his skirt again.

 

Yoongi retaliated with another hard nudge from his foot, his stocking-clad toes digging into the soft swell of his chest muscles. Jimin let him shove him back again, dropping his hands to his lap as he meekly lowered his head. It seemed that he was starting to figure out the little game now.

 

“Mmm, do you deserve it?” Yoongi asked as he cocked his head at him, seeing the way that Jimin couldn’t even meet his gaze because he was so distracted by his erection. “I dunno, baby, I worked hard for you. Work hard for me too?”

 

“Yoongi, you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” Jimin praised, his fingers clenching tight handfuls of his sweatpants as he stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. “I want to make you feel good, I want you to cum just for me.”

 

“Mmm, a lil more,” Yoongi hummed, placing his hand on his thigh to tug at the elastic of his stocking.

 

Jimin’s eyes latched onto this hungrily, and when it snapped back with a slapping sound he dragged his eyes up to hold his gaze.

 

“I’ll buy you that uniform, the pink one,” he promised, clearly thinking that that was going to work as he reached up to slip his hand along his inner thigh.

 

But Yoongi knocked it free again without a care, even when he saw his lips pursing up in a pout. It was cute when Jimin pouted like that, especially when he was on his knees right now and actually getting needy just for him. It was almost as if his boyfriend was trying to tease him into performing a sexual act on him, and not the other way around, and Yoongi wondered if he was actually enjoying this game a lot more than he had expected. Judging from the quickest twitch at the corners of his lips, he was most certainly getting a kick out of it.

 

Pretty boy,” Jimin almost whined, dragging the affection out as he clasped at his ankle, running his thumb over the knob of bone.

 

Yoongi reached down to cup his chin in one hand, his fingers tickling underneath it in a way that made Jimin bring his shoulders up ever so slightly. There were faint pink marks still visible on them from his scratching nails, and he wondered if there was also a pink hand print left on his buttock from Jimin’s swatting hand.

 

“Mmm, that’s good, that’s cute,” Yoongi praised with his own smile, moving his thumb up to his lips to let Jimin press a little kiss against it.

 

“I was a good boy,” he dragged out, playfully whining because he had figured out what he wanted him to do. “I deserve it, right?”

 

“Good boys say ‘please’…” he pointed out, his erection already twitching in anticipation of hearing the word spilling free from his lips.

 

Please?” Jimin begged as he moved his hands up to his knees, shifting his weight off his heels again so that he could hover over his crotch.

 

If he had had a tail, it would have been wagging around like mad right now.

 

“Mmm, good boy. Fetch my panties,” Yoongi instructed as he stopped tickling his fingers under his chin. “With your teeth, like a good boy.”

 

Oh, the simpering smile on Jimin’s lips disappeared so fast that Yoongi struggled to not snort laughter at this. His fingers squeezed around his knees in a tight twitch as his gaze shifted to stare across the motel room to locate said panties. They were lying in a puddle beside the side table, wrinkled and damp white cotton clashing against the light wood. Then he glanced back at him, his expression hard to read for a moment…before he shifted to place his hands against the floor and started crawling over to collect them.

 

Yoongi knew that he was never going to get that mental image out of his head and he was convinced that Jimin knew that he had liked watching him crawling like that. He reached down to knead his palm against his crotch softly as he watched Jimin coming to a stop right beside them. His boyfriend made sure that he didn’t break eye-contact once as he lowered his head and snagged hold of the panties, dragging the motion out slowly just to taunt him. Of course he did, because even when he was begging and crawling around on his hands and knees like a puppy, Jimin just had to let him know that he wasn’t going to be ordered around like a slave, that he was actually controlling him as much as he was controlling him: the perfect balance.

 

Jimin’s teeth flashed between his full lips, matching the cotton as he straightened back up and looked at him. Was he waiting for him to say something, to praise him?

 

“Good boy.”

 

When Jimin started crawling back to him, the panties dangled from his grip, white cotton swinging from side to side like a pendulum. Yoongi saw his muscles rippling under his skin as he moved, slick skin shifting so deliciously as he came to a stop in front of him. So, he reached down to pull them free and dropped them on the bed and relented to let him finally reach up to pull his skirt up, revealing his stiff cock at last. The gleeful smirk on his boyfriend’s face revealed that he had indeed been enjoying their little game immensely, especially when he had gotten his way at the end.

 

Jimin pouted his lips out against the stocking first, pressing the most softest of kisses against the almost sheer nylon, and then he trailed his way up to his inner thigh. Yoongi placed his hand on his head, softly stroking his hair as he watched him pressing kisses against his skin, until Jimin gently pushed him back down onto the bed so that he could move his head towards his erection. He stared up at the pink ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes and tracking his moving lips intently, every kiss soft and warm on his skin.

 

Yoongi was so distracted waiting for him to help him back into his panties that when Jimin darted his tongue out to lap a dribble of cum all of the way up his inner thigh until he reached his entrance, he was taken by surprise. He took a sharp intake of breath, feeling the heat and wetness of his tongue as he licked his skin.

 

“Jiminie? Wuh…what-”

 

“I’m cleaning you up,” Jimin explained, his tongue once more curling out to lick at his entrance. “You’ve got to be nice and-and clean before you wear panties, pretty boy.”

 

Yoongi’s fingers twitched in his hair at this, still surprised by sudden act to do anything at all. Jimin traced his tongue around his entrance slowly, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was really cleaning him up or just finding something else to tease him with. Whatever the case, it felt great when the tip of his tongue edged close to slipping inside of him.

 

“That’s, huh, where’d you learn that, baby?” Yoongi moaned softly, still pressing weight down against his head to encourage him to resume his licking and prodding.

 

“The internet,” Jimin replied, his voice hot and heavy against him as he breathed between licks. “Do you like it?”

 

“Shit, don’t stop juh-just yet,” he moaned, trying to lift his hips that little more.

 

“Good boys say ‘please’,” Jimin retorted as he lifted his head to look up at him, his slick lips curling up into a wicked smile. “Panties?”

 

Yoongi grabbed them off the bed, holding them out to him and so he took them from him. Jimin slipped the panties around his ankles again, slowly tugging them up past his knees to his thighs. He lifted his hips off the mattress for him, so that he could get them up onto his hips. It was hard getting them over his erection, for his cock flopped down against his stomach and throbbed hard in protest of being trapped again, but Jimin managed to angle him long enough to tug the material taut over his head again. Because of earlier, they were still damp with his saliva, but they were now rather cool against his cock instead of hot.

 

Yoongi could see his erection tenting the panties again, rising stiff over the tartan pleats, and he lifted his head off the bed to watch his boyfriend for a moment.

 

Jimin had to slip his hand around the gusset, wrist angled to allow him to slip it inside the taut cotton and take his base in his grip. He held him in place so that he could lower his head and finally take him in his mouth again, just like earlier. The heat of his tongue and lips around his head was unbelievable, even through the cotton, and Jimin cheeked his head at first as he gently pumped his fist around his length.

 

“Jiminie,” Yoongi moaned softly, his fingers stroking at his hair encouragingly. “You luh-look pretty on your knees like that, y’know?”

 

Jimin gave him a knead at this, his tongue lapping free to lick against the cotton to start soaking it through again. But he kept his head cheeked, taking his time and dragging his pleasure out just to get under his skin.

 

Yoongi tugged his skirt up onto his stomach, just so he could watch Jimin intently as he gently bobbed down his length shallowly. The cotton was taut, and his saliva was starting to make it cling to his erection. When Jimin bobbed back up to his head, sucking it against his cheek again, the damp cotton stayed hot against his skin.

 

Yoongi couldn’t help but sink his fingers into his hair, both hands holding onto his head to control his movements so that he didn’t need to lift his hips up off the mattress. Jimin allowed him to do so, for he never forced him down to take too much of his length at once. He knew how to pace him well enough by now, his fingers stroking rather than tugging handfuls painfully. He was very particular about roughness, liked just enough to edge close to a burn or a sting, but any further than that was too far. So, that meant stroking his hair and telling him how good he was rather than tugging; meant scratching enough to sting but not draw blood.

 

“Mmm, that’s it, baby,” Yoongi sighed as he lessened the pressure to let him bob back up his length again. “You’re so good at this, the best.”

 

Jimin moaned in appreciation of his praises, his throat tightening and the vibrations shooting down his length right to his base, which he squeezed tight in his fist. Yoongi almost choked on his own moan, the dual sensations unbelievable.

 

“I luh-love it when you go down on me,” he continued, hoping to make him moan again, so that he could feel that tightness once more. “That time you-you did it in the cinema, fuck, Jiminie, I came so hard, thought we were gonna get caught, ha~”

 

Jimin pulled up to his head again, so that he could suck it against his cheek, the soggy cotton almost squelching. His tongue slipped free for a second, slick pink clashing against the white cotton as he rapidly lapped it against the underside of his cock. His eyes were heavily lidded with lust, cheeks flushed with heat from both arousal and exertion. The sight of sweat beading on his hairline was not at all surprising, and Yoongi could still feel sweat clinging to his own body.

 

“I can’t even remember the fucking film, just you suh-sucking on me for most of it-”

 

Jimin released his cock to allow him to speak, lips flushed and coated in drool.

 

“It was shit, pretty boy,” he grunted. “Why do you think I started sucking you off?”

 

This made Yoongi snort laughter as he watched Jimin slipping his tongue out to lick at his swollen lips, doing so teasingly slow. He even gave him a wink, showcasing that cutesy side of his at the most ridiculous of moments. It was as if he had just told a funny joke, was being flirtatious and not at all like he was going to go down on him again. The sensation of him doing so, mouth wide as he took him inside again without breaking eye-contact, caused a sudden jolt of pleasure to shoot right up into his belly.

 

Yoongi knew that he wasn’t going to be able to last too long at all, because he was so desperate to finish. As a result of the earlier stimulation, of Jimin crawling around and begging just for him, and his hot and wet mouth sucking around the cotton panties, he could feel his climax rapidly approaching, causing his fingers and toes to twitch as little burning waves started radiating outward from the base of his cock.

 

“Fuck, Jiminie, I’m cuh-cumming, fuck,” he groaned, his thighs clenching tight as he untangled his fingers from his hair. “Pull ‘em off, I wanna finish in your muh-muh-”

 

Jimin tugged the panties aside hard, the damp lace and cotton now stretched to the side of his base so that he could suck his lips around his cock again. Compared to a moment ago, the sudden heat and wetness was enough to make another corkscrew of pleasure shoot up into his belly, and when Jimin bobbed down his length and opened his eyes to look at him, Yoongi knew that he couldn’t stave his climax off any longer.

 

“Yes, just like that, just- Jiminie-

 

Yoongi felt his toes curling up against the wooden flooring, the pressure building up to its peak so that his thighs were thrumming as he started weakly thrusting them up off the mattress. He could do little more than rock in waves, Jimin holding his base firmly in his fist and following his thrusts with his head to meet him halfway.

 

“Tuh-tell me I’m pretty, call me your pretty buh-baby-”

 

“I love my pretty little baby boy,” Jimin moaned as he pulled off, his lips rubbing and his breath hot against his head. Then he swallowed his cock again, taking as much of his length as he could as he twisted his fist and dug his thumb in hard.

 

Yoongi felt the first jolt of pleasure coursing through his body, his muscles tightening in anticipation and his breath forced out of his lungs in a throaty moan. As he ejaculated, throbbing waves of heat flooded his system until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move save to drop onto the mattress limply and tremble in ecstasy. With every pulsating throb in his loins and brain, his fingers and toes twitched and Yoongi was faintly aware of the fact that his slack lips were quivering and still letting breathless noises escape as he rode out his orgasm.

 

Jimin pulled off his cock, his slick lips making a soft liquid popping sound. He accidentally dribbled a mixture of drool and cum down his chin as he did so, and so Yoongi reached over to cup his chin and wiped it free with the curve of his thumb. His hand was shaking still, fingers tingling with the remains of pleasure. His boyfriend watched him doing so, moving to suck his thumb into his mouth so that he could clean it free from his skin.

 

For a moment, Yoongi could do nothing more than look at him, breathing shallowly and feeling the lingering remains of his orgasm still lingering in his loins. The motel room was too hot and he hated how clammy his skin felt right now, how they were both coated in sweat. He reached up to dab at his brow with the back of his hand, seeing Jimin running his tongue around his inner cheek.

 

“It’s too hot,” Yoongi whined weakly. “Jiminie, come here.”

 

“Want me to go get some ice cream or something?” Jimin asked, shifting to get on the bed beside him.

 

“Not yet, just-”

 

Yoongi reached up to snake his arms around his neck, dragging him down so that Jimin ended up mostly lying on top of him. His boyfriend had to shift to do so, slotting his limbs in place so that he could settle down on him comfortably. His brow pressed down against his, their exhales intermingling as Yoongi ran his hand down his back to feel his skin. There was a light sheen of sweat on his back, not beaded but rather in a layer that glided under his palm as he touched him.

 

Yoongi just wanted to feel him for a little while, skin against skin, Jimin’s bare chest brushing against his bra and his own fingers reaching over to grab hold of his shoulder, wrinkling the blouse in his grip.

 

“Jiminie?” Yoongi asked, his breath hitting against his skin.

 

“Hmm,” he hummed in response, his fingers still playing with his blouse sleeve.

 

“I can’t believe you fetched my panties like that, I-”

 

Jimin moved to press a kiss against his mouth to try and silence him, able to stop his words but not smother his laughter as he turned his face away.

 

“Did you learn that from the internet too?” he taunted, moving to place his leg on top of his, rubbing his stocking-clad toes against his bare soles until Jimin’s feet clenched from the sensation.

 

“Shut up,” Jimin mumbled, dropping his head in the space between his neck and shoulder. “If you want that uniform, don’t piss me off.”

 

“You’ll buy it for me,” Yoongi argued confidently. “You wanna see me looking pretty, Jiminie, so, when I buy those shoes and ribbons and shite, you’ll snap it up so fast. I know.”

 

“I really want to snap up some ice cream,” Jimin retorted. “Melona? The store’s just across the street…”

 

Yoongi relinquished his hold to let him climb off him again, his boyfriend shifting to get off the bed and snatch his cast-off clothes from the flooring. As he shrugged his vest on again, he crossed the motel room to hit the fan and turn it on, just to bring them both some relief from the overwhelming summer heat.

 

“I’ll be right back, pretty boy,” Jimin called as he tugged his sneakers on, hopping from foot to foot before he unlocked the door. “Try not to miss me too much.”

 

Yoongi listened to the door slamming shut, his boyfriend quickly leaving the motel and so that he was left alone lying on the bed. He could have stayed that way easily, his body heavy as he relaxed in post-coital bliss. But he was pretty convinced that he was going to fall asleep if he did that and so he forced himself to sit upright again.

 

“Nnn,” he groaned, awkwardly trying to slip himself back into his damp panties.

 

The briefest thought about having brought a spare pair made him snort laughter as he started trying to fix his clothing. Yoongi pulled the bra straps up in place, even when he knew that they were just going to slip down again because he had yet to figure out how to work them right. Maybe, after a few times of wearing a bra, he would figure out how to adjust them correctly, or maybe Jimin could help him learn how to do them? After getting them back up onto his shoulders, he reached up to collect the necktie which was still limply hanging around his neck, so that he could start neatening up his blouse again. He buttoned it up at the bottom to slip it inside his skirt waistband, leaving the top buttons undone to let him cool down, and then he eyed the tartan necktie, wondering what he could do with it.

 

Yoongi was in the act of trying to knot it around his head like a hair scarf when Jimin entered the motel room again several minutes later, a store bag dangling from his hand. His boyfriend paused in the act of locking the door to stare at him, and he had just gotten it right when the necktie slipped out of place again and fell off his head.

 

“Dammit,” he cursed as he dropped it onto the mattress, giving up on the task because it was even harder than fixing bra straps.

 

Jimin lifted the store bag with a smile as he locked the door, the yellow plastic rustling from his grip and weighed down with several things. As he stepped out of his sneakers again, Yoongi wriggled up to sit against the messy stack of pillows, wanting to get comfortable.

 

“Did you miss me?” Jimin joked as he shrugged his hoodie off and quickly crossed the room to join him on the bed. “Did you cry because you were lonely?”

 

“You wish,” he retorted as he dropped onto the mattress beside him.

 

Jimin gave him another one of those pouts as he reached inside the bag to upend several items onto the bed, Melona bars of various flavours: melon, banana, strawberry and mango. He knew that Jimin was going to go straight for the banana and strawberry ones, so he decided to grab a mango one because he knew that his boyfriend didn’t like them at all. He tore the packet open to grab the stick, pulling it free and shoving it right into his mouth as he tossed the sticky plastic aside without a single care.

 

“Oh, Jiminie, this’ the stuff I was craving,” Yoongi sighed as he shifted on the bed to sit back against the mound of pillows, pulling the stick free so that he could chew a bite of the thick ice cream.

 

Jimin grabbed a banana one so that he could also start eating, sucking on the end rather than biting it as he watched him fanning at himself with his hand slowly. The room fan just didn’t seem to be strong enough to cool him down currently, but the layers of clothing that he was still wearing could also be the reason. Yoongi had just swallowed a mouthful of the thick creamy ice cream when he found an idea hatching at the back of his mind.

 

“Jiminie?”

 

“Uhuh?” Jimin hummed around his cold treat, rather than pull it free from his mouth.

 

“If you wanna, uh, y’know…”

 

Yoongi let this hang in the air for a moment rather than finish talking, rolling his eyes to look over at the camera still sitting on the side table as his boyfriend slowly pulled the ice cream pop out of his mouth.





In the current room lighting, Jimin could see a smear of ice cream still clinging to Yoongi’s lips, a creamy shade that might have been green in natural lighting but looked more white from the pink hues of the naked light bulb. He wasn’t looking at him, but rather over his shoulder, and so he turned to glance back to see what he was staring at. His camera was sitting on the side table along with several developed photographs, and it seemed that he was looking at that. So, he moved to grab it and held it out to him in offering, yet Yoongi made no move to accept it from him and instead just held his gaze.

 

“What?” Jimin asked, lifting his eyebrows as he licked his own lips, tasting creamy banana on his tongue as he did.

 

“Do you wanna take more photos?” Yoongi asked him in a soft voice, shoving his ice cream bar back into his mouth as he did to take another bite. “Of me? Sexy photos?”

 

“More sexy photos?” he repeated, before nodding vigorously. “Sure, I’ve got more film. I’ll take them until there’s none left. Would you like that?”

 

Yoongi nodded as he chewed the bite of ice cream, and so Jimin shoved his own bar into his mouth and held the device in his other hand.

 

“Wait, I’m not pretty yet,” Yoongi mumbled as he quickly started trying to neaten his clothing up.

 

Jimin lifted the camera just as he stuck the Melona pop back into his mouth, waiting for Yoongi to realise and pose. Yet he was too busy fixing his skirt with his free hand to notice, and so when he hit the button he glanced up sharply in surprise; eyes round.

 

“Huh?” he hummed around the ice cream bar, watching the film shooting out of the slot.

 

“You looked pretty to me,” he retorted as he dropped the film aside without a single care.

 

“Lemme finish eating first,” Yoongi complained before taking another huge bite of ice cream to rapidly chew it, brain freeze be damned.

 

It took him just a couple of minutes to finish eating the first ice cream bar, Jimin also having to hurry up and chew it rather than suck on the stick like he preferred because he needed to free up his hands to hold the camera steady. Yoongi grabbed his mirror and lip gloss, checking his reflection quickly and adding another dollop of glossy pearlescent gloss because he seemed satisfied with the rest of his makeup.

 

“Lie on the bed, pretty boy,” Jimin suggested as he moved to kneel at the bottom. “Legs up, show me what’s under your cute skirt, yes?”

 

Yoongi hugged his knees against his chest tight, his stocking-clad toes lightly twitching as he got into position. The skirt was so crumpled around his hips that it was barely visible in the viewfinder, but the bottom panel was perfectly on display. The angle had caused it to flare out, his behind clashing against the dark pleated material. He reached down with his free hand to grab the damp panties, wanting to remove them for the shot, pulling them down and over his cocked-up knees.

 

“No, leave them around your ankles, it’s cute,” Jimin remarked, waving his hand to get Yoongi to stop.

 

“You sure?”

 

Jimin took hold of the damp panties for him, getting them in place around his ankles so that they dangled perfectly, just begging to be tugged free. When he held the camera in place he made sure to only include his lower half in the shot, his crumpled uniform blouse just visible at the top so that he could get his legs and exposed behind completely in the shot.

 

“OK, strike a new pose, little baby,” Jimin remarked as he tossed the shot aside to let it develop.

 

“Can’t believe I’m posing for dirty photos,” his boyfriend muttered as he rolled onto his stomach, the skirt racking up his thighs as he did so.

 

Yoongi bent forward, curving his back oh so perfectly to present his behind to the camera. When he shamelessly spread his thighs open, Jimin snorted at the sight of his testicles dangling, free from the suppressive panties to make every sexy shot strangely amusing to him. Well, that was most certainly not a shot to put in his wallet, that much was clear. He hit the shutter to snap this shot too, adding it to the side in preparation for the next shot.

 

“Blouse off?” he suggested as his boyfriend got back onto his knees. “I think that cute bra deserves a photo of its own, right?”

 

Yoongi smiled at this as he sat on his heels, tugging the blouse free from his waistband and unbuttoning it so that he could shrug it down to his elbows and placing his hands down on his knees almost demurely for the next shot. Jimin made sure to include his lower face in this shot, because he wanted to see that glossy pout of his whenever he looked at it.

 

As soon as this photograph was tossed onto the mattress, Yoongi slipped out of his skirt too, casting it aside so that he was just left in just his bra and stockings. He fished for his panties so that he could slip into them again, tugging them up and lying back down on the bed. He didn’t even ask about poses, rather just placed one hand on his stomach and the other by his hair, fingers lightly curled up against his palm, and that was when Jimin realised just how…comfortable he was in front of him right now.

 

Yoongi trusted him so much that there wasn’t even a hint of reservation on his face as he looked up at the camera, just a level of confidence that made him lower the camera for a moment to stare down at him.

 

“Mmm?” Yoongi hummed, raising an eyebrow to ask him if everything was alright.

 

Jimin lowered his head to press a kiss against that little rounded curve of his stomach, that soft stretch of skin that was one-hundred percent the result of sitting slouched in computer chairs all day long, slurping up instant ramyeon for dinner and refusing to do sit-ups or exercise of any kind. But Jimin loved that little mound, because it curved out to fit into his palm so perfectly whenever he placed his hand on his stomach and tugged him closer to him; loved feeling his fingers sinking into it as Yoongi settled down with a series of sleepy rumbles and knocked his feet against his.

 

“Mmm, that tickles,” Yoongi sighed heavily. “Did you take that shot, baby?”

 

“Not yet, just stay still for a second,” he replied, lifting the camera again to hit the button.

 

Jimin was pretty certain that no matter what the future held, no matter how many times he ended up in motels with Yoongi like this, he was never going to forget the sight of him lying on the bed in front of him like this.

 

Yoongi, with his white lace panties bulging ever so slightly, his stocking-clad thighs spread open, and his slight chest hidden beneath that funny bra that he had brought with him, the straps refusing to stay up because he slumped his shoulders too much.

 

“Do I still look pretty to you?” Yoongi asked in a quiet voice, his gaze shifting to look at him instead of the camera.

 

“Yoongi, I want you to know that you’re always pretty to me and that I like seeing you like this,” Jimin replied as he placed the photograph down on the growing pile. “It’s not just because I want to fuck you in a skirt. It’s because I want to see you looking pretty. With me, you know that you can wear lipstick and heels, or dresses, if you want to. You can twirl around like a fucking princess, and I’ll still think that you’re beautiful. OK?”

 

“I wanna look good for you too, Jiminie,” Yoongi replied in that same soft voice, moving his fingers down his stomach to fiddle with the lace trim of the panties. “I’m just so fucking glad that you don’t think this’ weird, that you don’t think I look ugly or stupid. This’ just for you, yeah, only for you.”

 

Jimin snapped a final shot of Yoongi’s hand playing with the elastic of his panties before he placed the camera aside. As he moved to lie down on the bed beside him, he slipped his phone free from his sweatpants pocket and proceeded to unlock it with his thumb.

 

“So, what was that makeup brand you mentioned before? Etude?” Jimin asked, hitting an app with his thumb.

 

“Mmm, what’d you mean?” Yoongi rumbled as he rolled onto his side, pressing up against him to eye his phone screen curiously.

 

“Well, if I’m going to buy you that pink uniform, I need to find accessories to match it too,” Jimin explained, rolling his head to look at him. “I need to find a cute lipstick, or maybe some nail varnish, and lots of pretty rings and-”

 

Jiminie,” his boyfriend dragged out, even as his lips parted in a grin that showed his teeth.

 

“and then there’s the underwear issue too, so, you might wanna message Minah again. I think I’m going to need some help too, pretty boy…”