It’s too cold to be wearing nothing more than a suit that’s become rather ruffled over the course of the day, but Jungkook had run out of his apartment in too much of a rush to check the weather that morning. He’d regretted it when he biked the three miles to Taehyung’s art show with the icy wind whipping his cheeks raw. He’s regretting it even now, his fingers red and dry from the cold. They’re numb enough that he has difficulty separating the thin flyers from each other to tape them to the bulletin board outside Namjoon’s gallery.
“Hey, can I bum a cigarette off you?”
The voice that asks is light and sweet, and the man that owns it is as beautiful as he sounds. Jungkook fumbles his roll of tape, tries to catch it, and fumbles the stack of flyers instead. A few fly by the man’s feet, and he catches them before they drift away. Jungkook snatches the rest from the air and clears his throat, his cheeks growing hot.
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” he says, and he sounds more regretful than he intends. A few years ago he would have had a pack of Marlboro Reds glued to his pocket, but he’s since thrown himself into his workout regime and clean eating with such vigor that quitting smoking came hand-in-hand.
The man’s reading the flyer. He takes a step closer so that he’s under the cover of the gallery’s blue awning, and Jungkook finds his gaze caught on the swell of his red lips. He’s not dressed for the weather either, wearing only a loose, thin sweatshirt. His cheeks are bitten pink from the cold.
“Are you Jungkook-ssi?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah.” He straightens, clutching the stack of flyers to his chest. Something almost hopeful flutters inside him; this stranger would be perfect for Jungkook’s shoot. He’s lovely. There’s something both soft and sharp about the lines of his face, something absolutely captivating about his tired, hooded gaze. Jungkook can already imagine the way he’ll look at the camera. “That’s me.”
“You’re paying.” He gestures at the bolded monetary compensation . “How much?”
“Shibari’s rope bondage, right? So these are supposed to be erotic pictures, like for porn.”
Jungkook flushes. He tugs at his too-tight collar, and the man’s gaze travels down to his neck. It’s the tattoos, probably. Everyone always stares. “It’s supposed to be more artistic than strictly pornographic. I’m a professional photographer. I want to showcase the pictures in an exhibit some of my colleagues and I are holding.”
The man’s expression turns less doubtful at Jungkook’s practiced explanation. “Are you looking for a specific type of model? A girl, probably? Your flyers don’t say.”
Jungkook shakes his head. It’s a fair guess; most artistic shibari shoots tend to feature women. “Not at all. I kind of want to mold the theme around the model I find. So I don’t have much planned yet.”
“Is - does it hurt? The bondage, I mean.”
That’s the type of question you only ask if you’re interested. The hopeful flutter strengthens. “Um, I’m not totally sure? I don’t think it’s supposed to. I’ve been practicing how to tie the ropes and stuff. I think, if I do it right, it should feel good.” He realizes he doesn’t sound very confident and bites his lip. “Obviously I’ll practice a lot more before I try it on a person, and I’ll start slow so the model can get used to it before we work up to the real shoot - ” He’s babbling. He clamps his mouth shut.
The man bites his lip, too. He glances down at the flyer again. “I’m interested.”
Jungkook’s stomach swoops. He tries to control his reaction, but the bright smile that splits his cheeks must give him away. “Really? I mean, awesome. That’s great.”
A tentative smile tugs at the man’s pretty lips. “Is there, like, an audition or something?”
He doesn’t want to sound too eager, but the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Actually, I think you’re perfect.”
The man’s eyes widen a little.
“Sorry.” He’s flushing again. He tightens an arm around the flyers and rubs the back of his head with the free one. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I can kind of tell when someone will be a good model. So if you’re interested, I’ll have you.”
He nods his head slowly. “Okay.” He folds up the flyer and slips it into his sweatshirt pocket. “Okay, so I’ll call you and we can work out money?”
“Yeah, okay.” Jungkook tucks the flyers under his arm so he can hold out a hand for the man to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Jungkook-ssi. My name’s Jimin.”
“Jimin,” Jungkook repeats, a little breathless. It fits. “I look forward to working with you.”
Jimin’s text comes exactly on time, and Jungkook speeds all the way through the gallery to unlock the front door for him. Namjoon keeps promising he’ll fix the entrance so it doesn’t automatically lock, but Jungkook’s beginning to think Yoongi will end up caving and doing it for him like he always does. Jimin greets him with an awkward wave; he’s dressed casually like Jungkook requested in a pair of tight jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair parts neatly across his forehead.
Jungkook tries not to stare, but he’s already imagining how Jimin will look in front of the glowing blue backdrop.
“Thanks for showing up,” Jungkook says even though he’s paying him. “My studio’s in the back.”
He sets off past the wide gallery space that takes up the entrance of the building and through the halls with various studios and offices on either side. Jimin trails after him slowly, peering curiously into the windows as they walk. It’s not after hours yet, but only a few still have their lights on. When they pass Yeeun’s jewelry-making studio, she leans out her door to call after them.
“Jungkook! You found a model?”
He turns around to wave. “Yup. This is Jimin.”
“Hi, Jimin-ssi,” she says with a bright smile, and Jimin responds in kind. It’s the first time Jungkook has seen him smile like that. He glows. “Jungkookie’s a great artist. I’m looking forward to seeing your pictures.”
“She’s just saying that,” Jungkook mutters, rubbing the back of his head when Yeeun’s grin widens.
They turn the corner past the kitchenette in the middle of the building and pass three more empty studios before they reach Jungkook’s. Jimin brushes a hand across the nametag on his door that Naeun painted for him before following Jungkook inside. He’d tried straightening up his office a bit, but the desk is still littered with sketches and stray pictures. Usually he takes clients right through the curtain separating his office from his studio and they never have to spend more than a moment looking at his desk.
Jungkook pulls the spare chair next to his own at the desk so Jimin can sit. “Do you want a cup of coffee or tea before we start? Water?”
“Um, coffee would be nice, actually.”
“I’ll be right back.”
He disappears to the kitchenette and puts on two cups of coffee, digging in the crowded cabinets for the mug he always uses and one of Namjoon’s to borrow. Returning with two steaming cups and a handful of sugar and creamer packets, Jungkook finds Jimin peering curiously at the frames lining the office walls.
“You do children’s portraits?”
Jungkook sets the nicer mug in front of Jimin and pops a few packets of creamer into his own. Jimin takes a sip of his without any additions. “Gotta make money somehow.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you photographed babies.” Jimin looks a little amused, but his eyes are soft as they rake the photos of well-dressed children posing before plain backdrops.
“I don’t look the type.”
Jimin’s gaze flickers to his arms where his tattoos are fully on display in his t-shirt. “Not quite.”
Jungkook digs through the pile of papers on his desk for his sketchbook and flips it open to the latest work. “Like I said on the phone, we’ll just start out with some practice shots today so we can get used to things. I was thinking I’ll just tie your wrists? And you can keep your clothes on, of course.”
“That sounds okay.”
“Since we’ve been talking, I started sketching out the final shots I want for the project. Obviously, things will change as we start shooting, but I kind of know where I want to go with the theme now.” He pinches the edge of the thick sketching paper with a hint of nervousness. “I’ll show you what I’ve got?”
“Okay.” Jimin leans a little closer so he can peer at the sketches. He smells like cigarettes and shampoo.
“Um, most shibari shoots I’ve seen of men tend to showcase their strength. I wanted to subvert that.”
He’d known he wanted to go for something more delicate as soon as he’d seen Jimin. He flips to the first sketch of a man kneeling with an intricate criss-cross of ropes tying his arms together behind his back. The man, who looks as close to Jimin as Jungkook could manage from memory, peers over his shoulder at the camera, and there’s a flower over his mouth. Jungkook glances at Jimin from the corner of his eye and sees no visible reaction, so he flips to the next page.
All of the sketches are meant to place Jimin in something of a helpless position: stretched out on the ground, suspended in the air with his back arched, curled into a ball with his arms tied to his legs. Each one showcases a flower somewhere on his body. Jimin doesn’t seem to have an adverse reaction to any of them, but it’s the last sketch Jungkook’s mostly worried about. He hesitates before he turns to the final page.
“This one’s - um, if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m willing to cut it out.”
He doesn’t want to, but he’d rather have Jimin as a model and scrap the final shot than have to find someone new. Jungkook watches Jimin’s face while Jimin examines the shot, his stomach clenching the longer the silence stretches. All of the sketches are risque, but this one takes the cake. He’ll be suspended from the air with his legs tied so that they’re bent and spread, his wrists tied across his stomach. It’ll change when they start photographing, but in his head Jungkook had imagined Jimin with his head thrown back and neck bared, and he’d take the shot from the front. With that angle, his ass and cock would be fully on display, and Jungkook’s placed a flower right over his asshole.
“So what’s the theme?” Jimin finally asks, and Jungkook jolts to attention.
“Vulnerability,” he simplifies.
Jimin peers at him with narrowed eyes, chewing on his lip. “I’ll think about the last one. The others are all fine.”
“Take all the time you need. It’ll be the last session we do, anyway.” Jungkook shuffles the sketchbook away and retrieves the updated modelling contract he’d drafted with Namjoon’s help. “I’ll just need you to sign this. It basically gives me permission to display your photos publicly and absolves me of any responsibility in case you get hurt during the shoots.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Is injury expected?”
“Not at all!” Jungkook exclaims, flushing. “That’s just in case. I’m practicing really hard to make sure I don’t do anything wrong. You really don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m just teasing you.” Jimin’s mouth curves sweetly. “Do you have a pen?”
Jungkook slides one over, and Jimin scans the form before signing the bottom with a flourish.
“You said you were pretty flexible, so I designed the poses based on that. But I wanted to double check - exactly how flexible is flexible?”
Jimin stands up and pulls his leg up straight by his ear. “I’m in jeans, so I’ll be even more flexible when I’m naked.”
“Right,” Jungkook says with a dry mouth. Jimin’s thick thigh strains in his jeans, the material tightening around his ass as he stretches his leg up. “Okay. Well, if you’re ready, we’ll start?”
Jimin puts his leg down, and Jungkook leads him through the curtain separating his office and studio. He’s already set up the appropriate lighting and the sheer, dark blue cloth covering the backdrop. A pile of rope sits on the table by his camera.
“I’ll usually do your makeup for the shots, but we don’t have to do that today. You can sit right here.”
Jungkook pulls out the stool at the table, and Jimin sits somewhat hesitantly. He pokes at the rope. “What’s it made of?”
“Hemp. It’s traditional, and it won’t burn the way synthetic rope does. Can you hold your wrists together behind your back?”
Jimin does as he’s told, and Jungkook takes a deep breath before grabbing the rope and beginning the process. Tying his wrists is simple enough; he leaves an equal distance between each loop and crosses over it with a braided line. Jungkook’s done this particular tie on a stuffed bear and a mannequin countless times already, but he’s still nervous. Jimin’s not a doll. He’s warm and breathing and winces a little when Jungkook locks his arms together.
“Is it okay?” he checks in when he’s almost done.
“Yeah. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird.”
“When we get to the bigger stuff, the bondage is designed to hit your pressure points. It’ll feel good.”
He finishes tying his wrists and steps back to look. He’s proud of himself. The straw like rope cuts a nice contrast against Jimin’s white shirt.
“You can go ahead and stand in front of the backdrop.”
Jimin shifts to his feet. He tugs at his arms a bit, but the ropes don’t budge; he’s well and truly locked in place. Heading over to the backdrop, he stands before the lights and cameras with an unsure expression.
“How do you want me to pose?”
Jungkook sets himself up behind the camera. “Since today’s just practice, you can do whatever you want.”
The uncertainty deepens, and Jimin chews on his lower lip for a moment before he turns his back to the camera, displaying his tied wrists. He glances over his shoulder, and his gaze turns lidded, his head tilted just enough to show off the sharp line of his jaw.
Jungkook snaps a photo and inhales sharply when he peers at the result. Jimin’s beautiful in an almost ethereal way, a way that shows up perfectly on camera.
“Good,” Jungkook says. “Switch your poses as often as you like. I’ll keep up.”
Jimin arches his back, his tied wrists extending past his hips, and throws his head back. As soon as his eyes drift shut, Jungkook snaps another photo. It’s even more beautiful than the first. Jimin’s t-shirt slipped to the side with the stretch, baring his sharp collarbones, and the smooth line of his neck is the focal point.
He bends onto one knee and turns so the camera catches his side profile, tossing his head forward, a curve starting from his bound wrists to the tip of his head. After the click of the shutter sounds, Jimin moves onto both knees, curling his hands into fists and leaning back on them.
“You’re good at this,” Jungkook says. “Have you modelled before?”
Jimin slides to sit with his legs crossed for comfort and shakes his head. “Well, I sort of modelled for this guy I knew in university but - um, that wasn’t exactly like this.” He flushes, and the pink of his cheeks is so endearing Jungkook snaps another photo though his wrists aren’t even visible.
Jungkook wants to make him comfortable, so he tries to make conversation. “Where did you go for university?”
“Sejong for dance.”
Jungkook raises his brows. It fits. “You’re a dancer?”
Jimin shrugs one shoulder, his gaze drifting down to his knees. “I dropped out after a year. Haven’t really danced since.” He glances back up. “What about you? Did you go to K-ARTS or something?”
“Nah, I barely graduated high school. School’s not really my thing.”
Jimin smiles. “Me neither.”
Jungkook snaps another photo. “The pictures are coming out really nice. Do you wanna see?”
Jimin stands, swaying a little since he’s unable to balance himself with his arms. He comes to stand by Jungkook’s shoulder and watches him click through the photos he’s taken. “You’re right,” he says, almost surprised. “They do look nice.”
“Wait ‘til we start the real shoot.” Jungkook can’t quite keep the excitement from his voice. “Your makeup will match the backdrop, and I’m looking into getting the ropes dyed to match. It’ll come together really well.”
“That sounds really cool.” Jimin doesn’t seem as hesitant as he had before, and Jungkook’s relieved. A tense model makes for a stressful shoot. “How much practice do you think we’re gonna do before we get to the real stuff?”
“That depends mostly on you. I’ve practiced a lot of the tying already, so this is really just to get you comfortable. So we’ll keep practicing until you feel like you’re ready.”
Jimin nods. “Okay. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I’m nervous just with my hands tied.”
“That’s fine. You can take your time. You wanna try a few more shots then I’ll untie you?”
Jimin walks over to the backdrop as way of answer, and Jungkook readies the camera. The more pictures they take, the more comfortable Jimin becomes, and Jungkook begins to feel a bubble of excitement for the coming shoot.
He really couldn’t have found a better model than Jimin.
Even though Jungkook has practiced the rope formation for the first shot over a hundred times after Yoongi’s demonstration, when he leads Jimin to his studio, his hands tremble so much he hides them in his pockets. Jimin’s nervous, too; Jungkook can tell by the way he walks hunched into himself and how little he speaks on the way. It’s after hours, so the halls are entirely empty, amplifying the tension between them.
They met three times for practice after the first one, and each time Jungkook increased the area of where the ropes tied Jimin’s body. For the most recent session, Jimin stripped down to his boxers. That had been an experience. Jungkook had to exercise his best self-control to focus on tying the ropes properly instead of the way the muscles of Jimin’s thighs flexed, but he’d done it.
“So you’re going to my makeup, right?” Jimin clarifies when they step through the curtain to his studio.
“I’ll do that first.”
Jimin takes a seat at the table and waits with his fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt. Jungkook pulls out the box of makeup he’d gathered the night before and stands at Jimin’s shoulder. Namjoon had let him practice the look on him that morning, so he’s confident as he removes the materials he needs.
“I guessed your shade,” Jungkook says, holding up the tube of bb cream. “It looks like I got it right.”
Jimin shrugs. “I’ll defer to your judgment.”
He didn’t think ahead enough to buy a makeup sponge, though, so he dabs the cream onto the back of his hand and pulls a stool across from Jimin to sit knee-to-knee. Then he leans in and spreads the cream around Jimin’s face, covering the light flush that rises on his cheeks at their proximity.
“Don’t be nervous, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says when Jimin continues to knead his shirt between his fingers. “It’ll be really casual, yeah? I can take as many shots as I need, so there’s no pressure to get the perfect one right away.”
“Okay,” Jimin murmurs. “You can call me hyung. If you want.”
“Hyung.” Jungkook can’t help but feel a little lighter with the granted permission. Even after meeting four times, Jimin’s something of an enigma. Jungkook doesn’t know how to read him. “I’m gonna do your eyes now.”
“Okay.” Jimin’s lids drift shut in preparation. “You’re good at this.”
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“I can just tell.”
Jungkook grins. He blends various shades of eyeshadow for a blue look around his eyes that makes him look somewhat ethereal, then he lines his eyes with liner. Blue’s really his color. Jungkook’s glad he stuck with it. Finally, he applies the lightest touch of red to Jimin’s lips. He has to lean in close to do it, eyes locked on his plump, pretty lips, Jimin’s breath warming his fingers.
Jimin opens his eyes and stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes widen. “Oh.”
Jungkook bites his lip. Jimin looks lovely. “What do you think?”
“It’ll show up really well in the pictures.”
“Okay,” Jimin says. “I trust you.”
Jungkook’s heart does a strange little skip. “Um, okay. I’ve got the ropes ready, so if you wanna take your clothes off?”
“Right.” Jimin clears his throat. “Should I sit on the platform?”
He nods to the small table Jungkook has set up in front of the backdrop with a matching blue sheet over it. “Yeah, please.”
His camera’s already set up, but Jungkook pretends to fiddle with it while Jimin removes his shirt, pants, and finally, his boxers. He can see the movement from the corner of his eye and nothing more. Only when Jimin walks in front of the camera to perch on the platform does Jungkook finally look.
He tries not to stare, but Jimin really is beautiful. Thick thighs, narrow waist and shoulders, smooth skin. Jimin peers down at his hands on his knees, a light flush along his cheeks and spreading down his neck. Getting him comfortable enough for the photos is going to be hard, especially when Jungkook isn’t comfortable himself.
“I dyed the rope,” Jungkook says conversationally, grabbing the pile of blue from the table and approaching.
“How did you dye it?” Jimin sounds like he’s trying desperately to make himself more comfortable, too.
“It was so complicated. Can you hold your arms behind your back, please?” Jimin does as he’s told, and Jungkook very carefully begins to tie them together. “I had to use, like, hot water and vinegar and a shit ton of coloring dye. It soaked for ages before the color came out right. I was starting to think I wouldn’t have it ready in time.”
Jimin flinches. Jungkook pauses immediately.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, um, it’s just tight.”
“I can loosen it.”
Jimin shakes his head. With the way Jungkook’s standing behind him, he’d only have to lean forward a little for Jimin’s fluffy hair to touch his nose. He’s close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from Jimin’s body. “No, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure? You can tell me if you don’t like it.”
The tie is complicated, and Jungkook had been nervous until he actually began the process. Now he’s confident in himself; his fingers tie the knots as if programmed to do it. He weaves the rope together like a braid starting from the top of Jimin’s spine and wrapping around his shoulders, pulling them back. Then he ties his arms together in a Box Tie - a complex, intricate design - and finishes with Jimin’s wrists wrapped together in an equally complicated knot.
He talks to Jimin through it, spurring on as casual of a conversation as he can, and Jimin’s receptive. He learns that Jimin’s desperate for money, that the day he met Jungkook his landlord had yelled at him for an hour because of his overdue rent. The odd jobs he works aren’t quite enough for him to manage in an expensive city like Seoul.
“I want to teach dance,” he tells Jungkook, “but no one wants to hire a dropout.”
In turn, Jungkook tells him about his tattoos, about how he’s grown somewhat addicted to getting them and he plans each one in intense detail. He tells him about how lucky he was to meet Namjoon, who let him rent a studio in the building for very little money until he established himself and earned enough to pay him back.
“This place is like an artist’s haven. Artists of all kind have rented spaces here, and it’s all thanks to Namjoon’s grandmother, who created the whole place.”
During a lull in conversation, Jungkook ties a particularly tight knot over one of Jimin’s pressure points, and Jimin whines. It’s a quiet, subdued whine, but Jungkook catches it. He pretends he doesn’t. When he finally ties the last knot, he steps away.
“You still good?”
Jungkook maneuvers him so he’s angled the way he wants, bound hands clutching the edge of the platform. Then he fetches the white flower and steps in front of Jimin, whose legs are spread comfortably to straddle the sides of the platform.
“I’m gonna put this in your mouth, okay? Just on the tip of your lips, so if you need to say something, just let it go.”
Jimin parts his lips, and Jungkook tries not to flush as he leans in to place the flower stem in his mouth. He closes his mouth around it, and the flower rests delicately against his lips. “Perfect,” Jungkook says, dashing to his camera. “You have to let me know if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?”
“Twist so you’re looking at me.”
Jimin twists his body just enough so he can look at the camera. Jungkook snaps a photo like that, Jimin’s eyes wide, the flower covering his mouth. It’s perfect already. The colors of the rope and the backdrop come out beautifully, and Jimin’s skin glows in the light. He looks like a fairy.
“Throw your head back.”
Jimin arches his neck, eyes drifting shut naturally. Jungkook takes his camera closer so he can shoot his profile and again from a bird’s-eye view. Then he asks Jimin to fold his legs together and look over his shoulder again.
The shoot doesn’t take long. Jimin’s a natural on camera like always, and Jungkook snaps photo after photo until he’s satisfied. Then he puts his camera away and draws near to remove the flower from Jimin’s mouth.
Jimin exhales lowly. “Are we done?”
“Yup, all done. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” He sounds tense, though, and Jungkook moves to untie him.
He undoes the knots carefully, ignoring the softness of Jimin’s skin as he brushes against it. Jimin is pliant in his hold, lolling back against him, but he pulls away as soon as Jungkook’s finished. Stepping off the platform, he rubs the rope marks on his arms with a twisted mouth.
“Does it hurt?”
Jungkook hands him the lotion he’s been giving him after every session to make sure his skin doesn’t grow irritated. Jimin begins to lather it on his skin, and Jungkook looks away, busying himself with packing away his equipment. When he turns back, Jimin’s dressed and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“Can I smoke in here?” he asks.
Jungkook gestures to the curtained window. “Sure, just crack that a bit.”
“Want one?” He holds out a cigarette for Jungkook, but Jungkook shakes his head.
“Nah, I’ve been clean for a while.”
Jimin tugs open the window and lights his cigarette, leaning against the wall. He takes a drag, and Jungkook admires the way the shadows of his face play as he closes his eyes for a moment. He looks tired. The makeup makes him look even softer than usual.
“I keep meaning to quit,” he says. “Waste of money.”
“And you’re destroying your lungs,” Jungkook says dryly, clearing away the makeup on the table and wrapping the ropes around each other.
“Right. That, too. How’d you end up quitting?”
“I was kind of a mess a while back. Always getting into trouble, didn’t really know where I was going with my life. When I started turning all that around, I got really into working out and eating clean and stuff. Quitting just made sense.”
“Is that when your tattoo thing started? When you were a troublemaker?” The smile Jimin gives him is almost teasing, and it has Jungkook smiling back.
“Actually, the tattoo thing started when I got better. It’s kind of an outlet, I guess.”
“That’s really cool.” Jimin sounds genuine. “I’m glad you’re better.”
There’s a moment of silence where Jimin continues smoking, and Jungkook clears the cloth from the backdrop and platform.
“So people do this kind of bondage during sex,” Jimin says suddenly.
Jungkook coughs. “Uh, yeah.”
“That’s - ” He hesitates like he’s trying to frame his words the right way. “It must be a really good experience for the bottom,” he finally says. “Is that what you’d call the person getting tied up?”
“Right. The bottom. In this case, the model.”
“It’s interesting. All the pleasure would be focused on them.”
“Not necessarily.” Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve heard it’s good for the top, too. Something about the mental state of restraining someone.”
“Still, that’s - that must be nice, being taken care of like that.”
Something in his voice makes Jungkook look up. He sets down the sheets and straddles the stool so he can pay attention properly. “Yeah. It must be.”
“Can’t imagine. I’ve never been with anyone who focused that much on my pleasure.” He doesn’t look at Jungkook when he says it, staring out the window with his cigarette dangling between his fingers.
“Are you - ” Jungkook hesitates, not wanting to assume despite the suggestion in Jimin’s tone.
“I’m gay,” Jimin clarifies, tensing like he’s afraid of Jungkook’s reaction.
“Bi,” Jungkook says, pointing at himself.
Jimin relaxes almost instantly. “I had a feeling.”
For a moment, they grin at each other.
Jimin’s the first one to break their eye contact. “I’ve gotta go. You’ll call about the next shoot?”
“Yeah, I’ll let you know. Thanks, hyung. Today went really well.”
His answering nod is hesitant, but the smile he sends isn’t. “Yeah, it did.”
If the first shoot was nerve-wracking, the fourth is even more stressful.
Jungkook ties the ropes as harnesses around Jimin to suspend him from two suspension bars with his back facing the ground. Yoongi, who’d learned from experts, had trained him and practiced with him for hours. He’s confident this time, but it’s Jimin who’s nervous. He visibly trembles as Jungkook ties the harnesses. They’d done a partial suspension for the third shoot, where Jimin balanced on one leg and his other curved up behind his head, tied to the bar. He’d looked like a ballerino.
But this is full suspension, and Jimin’s tense.
“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs. “It’s okay, hyung. I know what I’m doing. The bars and ropes are secure. You’re not going to get hurt.”
Jimin fixes his eyes on Jungkook like he’s trying to ground himself and nods, but his tension doesn’t lessen.
“You’re shaking.” Jungkook runs a gentle hand over the ropes that tie Jimin’s wrists to his back, connecting to the harness around his middle that suspends him from the bar. “We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready. I can let you down.”
“No,” Jimin breathes. “That’s not - I’m not scared.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m going to blindfold you now. Can you handle it?”
“I’ll take the photos as fast as I can, okay? It won’t take long at all.”
“It’s - I’m fine. I swear.”
As Jungkook walks around Jimin, checking the ropes, his fingers brushing skin, Jimin keeps his eyes fixated on him. The heat rises from his body like he’s burning, and Jungkook can see a drop of sweat on his temple. He reaches out to wipe it away with his thumb, and Jimin inhales sharply when their skin touches.
“Sorry,” Jungkook murmurs. He inhales to center himself, too; he can’t deny that it’s incredibly arousing to have Jimin strung up and helpless like this. He’s beautiful. But Jungkook’s a professional. “Blindfolding you now. Remember we can stop at any time, yeah?”
“Don’t wait until you can’t bear it anymore. As soon as you feel like you want out, tell me.”
Jungkook retrieves the strip of blue silk from his pocket and wraps it gently around Jimin’s eyes, tying it in a loose knot behind his head. Then he brushes a hand through Jimin’s hair to pull it from the blindfold so that it falls around it instead. He doesn’t miss the way Jimin arches into the touch, a restrained gasp leaving his parted lips.
Jungkook heads for his camera. “Taking the first shot now. Arch your back as much as you can manage.”
Jimin arches, head falling back. The leg closer to the camera is bent, tied by the knee to the bar, but the other one is extended with his toes pointing toward the ground. A beautiful semicircle curve runs through his body as he arches, starting from the tips of his toes to the top of his head falling toward the ground. He snaps the photo, then he returns to Jimin’s side to adjust the spacing of a few of the ropes and straighten his blindfold. Jimin’s breathing shallowly, and he jerks when Jungkook’s fingers brush his skin to fix the ropes. A red flush runs down his chest.
“Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but it’s strained.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, just - just continue.”
Retreating to the camera, he snaps a few more photos then moves closer to catch a few from different angles. It’s clear that whatever’s wrong with Jimin is affecting him more and more; he’s breathing so hard Jungkook can see his chest rise and fall. His eyebrows are tense above the blindfold, and his tongue darts out repeatedly to lick his lips.
Whatever it is, it enhances the photos. Jungkook snaps one that he knows is perfect, that he can’t wait to print and frame for the exhibit.
“Beautiful,” he says.
Something that’s a mix between a gasp and a moan leaves Jimin. He tenses as soon as he makes the sound; Jungkook can see the muscles of his bare body clench.
“Untie me,” Jimin demands.
Jungkook puts the camera down and rushes to his side. “Are you okay?’
“Just untie me.”
Jimin’s hard. The sight of his cock flush against his abdomen sends heat through Jungkook’s body, too, but he ignores it and starts to carefully let Jimin down. Jimin won’t look at him when he unties the blindfold. He’s flushing, his face scrunched up like he’s going to cry. He looks humiliated.
“Hyung, it’s okay - ”
“Please don’t say anything.”
He sounds like he’s going to cry, too. Jungkook unties him in silence, anxiety making his stomach roll. It’s normal, he wants to tell him, it happens. Some models even go into subspace during photoshoots. He’d thought he’d mentioned it to Jimin before, but maybe he’d forgotten to.
“Hyung,” he tries again. “It’s normal, it’s nothing to be - ”
“Stop,” Jimin says, but it’s not rude. He just sounds small.
“Sorry,” Jungkook whispers.
He finishes untying him and turns his back to give him privacy while he shoves on his clothes. Once he’s dressed, Jimin grabs his things and leaves.
Jungkook sits heavily in the chair nearby and puts his head in his hand. He’s been trying so hard to get everything right, but somehow he forgot something so important anyway. He stays there for a long time, considering that he may he have just lost the best model he could have ever dreamed of having.
Jungkook’s not sure how Taehyung manages to sound dry and condescending when his mouth is full of burger, but then again, it’s Taehyung. “Admit that I’m the better artist? Yeah, I know.”
“Admit that you’re only upset because you didn’t get to fuck him before he left.”
Jungkook’s hand comes crashing onto Taehyung’s stomach, who jerks and nearly spits out the bite of his burger. “Fucking dick,” he complains, kicking him under the table.
“I don’t wanna fuck him,” Jungkook mutters, shoving a bite of steaming ramen into his mouth. It’s a little cold where they’re sitting outside the convenience store, but it’s warm enough that the past days’ snow has begun to melt and leave dirty, slushy puddles everywhere. Still, his leather jacket is much more appropriate for the weather this time.
He can feel Taehyung eyeing him, so he kicks him under the table. “Ouch,” Taehyung whines with an exaggerated pout. The dramatics disappear after a second, replaced with a sly smirk. “Ah, I see.”
“See what, fuckface?”
Taehyung’s unperturbed. “You don’t just wanna fuck him. You wanna hold his hand and tell him he’s pretty, too.”
Jungkook glares over his ramen and doesn’t dignify him with an answer.
“Falling for your model is bad form, you know.”
“Says the guy who’s literally dating one of his models.”
“Who said I was an example of good form?”
“I’m not falling for him. I don’t even know him.”
Nevertheless, Jungkook can’t deny that there’s something drawing him to Jimin. He’s such an enigma that he wants to know him. Jimin reveals so little of himself every time they talk, like he’s always on guard. Even when he gives away a bit of himself, he holds back so much more.
“Since when do you have to know someone to have a crush on them?”
“Can we get back to the topic?” Jungkook bangs the base of his chopsticks on the rickety table. “I just lost the best model, like, ever. I’m literally going to have to start my entire project over.”
“You could mix things up a bit. Check with Jimin and make sure it’s still okay to use the pictures you already have of him then find another model to take more. Combine the different photos for the exhibit.” Taehyung offers him a french fry which he takes despondently. “It’s not like the whole project has to be the same model.”
Taehyung’s right. But the thought of finding another model at all fills him with dread. “I know. I just - he was perfect, you know? I don’t want anyone else.”
“Have you talked to him at all since he walked out?”
“No. I didn’t wanna piss him off more.”
“Just call him. Explain, apologize, whatever. Maybe he’ll still be down.”
Jungkook sighs and slumps back in his seat, idly watching a small crowd of people begin to cross the street when the signal changes. He’s staring thoughtlessly when he realizes a small form bobbing in between the rest looks awfully familiar.
“Hey,” Jungkook says, voice sounding distant to himself, “I gotta go.”
He grabs his wallet and books it down the sidewalk with Taehyung calling irritatedly after him. Jogging across the street within the last few seconds of the signal, he catches Jimin as he steps onto the sidewalk.
“Hyung!” he calls. Jimin turns, his eyes widening when he realizes who’s calling for him. Like last time, Jimin’s not dressed for the weather. Looking at him in his threadbare sweatshirt makes Jungkook shiver.
“Jungkook,” Jimin greets him hesitantly.
He rubs the back of his head, suddenly unsure of what to say. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay.”
Jimin nods, and his lips inch into a reluctant but hopeful smile. “I was going to call you actually. I wanted to say sorry for running out on you and ask if I could still model for you, if you’ll have me.” He clears his throat, and the smile fades. “I really need the money.”
“I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t explain to you about - ” He glances around them and lowers his voice. “I should have told you that was possible.”
Jimin flushes. “It’s okay. I was just - taken by surprise, I guess.”
A car about to round the corner comes too close. “Careful,” Jungkook warns, reaching for him, but it’s too late. The car speeds right through a puddle of melted snow and splashes Jimin from head to toe with a spray of dirty water. Jungkook’s hit with a few drops, too, but Jimin, who stands closest to the road, takes the brunt of it.
“Fuck,” Jimin groans, holding out his arms and shaking them off. His grey sweatshirt and jeans are soaked with the dark slush, and it’s gotten into his hair, too. “Of course this would fucking happen today.”
He looks like he’s about to cry. Desperate to placate him, Jungkook blurts, “My apartment’s really close to here. You can stop by and shower? Toss your clothes in the wash, too.”
Jimin glances up from where he’s examining his ruining hoodie. He looks guarded, as always. “How close?”
“That one.” Jungkook points to the building just around the corner.
“Okay,” he finally says. “That would be nice.”
“Come on.” Jungkook sets off down the sidewalk and tries to ignore the way his chest feels tight at the thought of Jimin in his apartment - Jimin in his shower.
Jimin jogs a bit to catch up with him before matching their paces. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I can’t really go home right now.”
“My roommate’s a dick. I’ve been sexiled.”
Jungkook snorts. “Amazing.”
“Today’s been a shitty day,” Jimin admits. At the crosswalk, he tugs his hoodie away from his skin. “God, it’s fucking cold.”
Jungkook shrugs out of his jacket immediately. “Here.” He hands it to Jimin without looking at him, but he can feel Jimin’s stare.
“You don’t have to do that.” His voice is soft. Jungkook looks at him, and his brows are furrowed. He seems almost upset.
“I don’t mind. I’m not cold.”
Jimin takes it with careful hands and shrugs it on. It’s big on him, but it looks cute. They start walking as the signal changes, and from the corner of his eye Jungkook catches the gentle way Jimin smiles down at his feet. “How come you’re so nice?”
Jungkook shrugs, rubbing his nose to hide how flustered the question makes him. “I’m not nice.”
“Yes, you are.” Jimin peers at him earnestly. Jungkook’s sure that his ears must be red by now, too.
They reach his apartment building, and Jungkook occupies himself with keying in the passcode so he doesn’t have to answer. The elevator takes them to his sixth floor apartment, a tiny studio that’s awfully messy because of how busy he’s been lately. He flushes when he opens the door to the clutter - dumbbells scattered here and there, clothes piled on his desk and chair, dishes in the sink, bed unmade.
“Sorry.” He runs forward to grab a few pairs of shoes and shove them in the corner of his bedroom-cum-living room. “It’s a mess. I haven’t had anyone over in ages.”
“It’s okay.” Jimin looks amused. “My place is messier.”
“Doubt it.” He digs inside the hallway closet for a clean outfit and tosses Jimin a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. “Here. There’s a clean towel on the stand in the bathroom.”
Jimin places the clothes absently on the counter, kneeling so he can peer curiously at one of his dumbbells. “You work out at home?”
“Yeah, mostly. I didn’t wanna waste money on a gym membership, so I mostly do body weight exercises. My friend’s got some sandbags in his studio. I toss those around and stuff when I’m not here.”
Jimin looks impressed, and Jungkook’s ego inflates a bit. “That’s the bathroom?” He points to the closed door across from Jungkook, standing and grabbing the clothes.
“Yup, go ahead.”
Jimin edges by him shyly and slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Jungkook busies himself with straightening up his apartment, hearing the pipes gurgle as the shower starts. He makes his bed and shoves the clothes in his closet, surveying his apartment one last time for anything too messy. There are still dishes in the sink, but he doesn’t want to wash them and disturb the temperature of Jimin’s water.
Jimin hums while he showers; Jungkook learns that soon enough. It’s soft and melodic, makes Jungkook want to know what he sounds like singing. He’s leaning against the counter reading Taehyung’s text messages - I saw you give that guy your jacket what happened to bros before hoes - when the shower shuts off.
Jimin emerges from the bathroom shirtless, droplets of water from his hair sliding past the divots of his collarbones. He’s flushed from the shower, skin bright and clean, lips red. Jungkook’s sweats ride low on his hips, and the sharp V of his pelvis makes Jungkook’s mouth dry. He realizes he’s staring, and Jimin’s staring back.
“Um, thanks for letting me use your shower,” he says, rubbing lightly at his hair with the borrowed towel. Jungkook’s towel.
“Yeah.” Jungkook wonders if he sounds as dazed as he feels. He forces his gaze away and clears his throat.
Jimin nears him with tentative steps until he’s so close Jungkook can feel the heat radiating from his body. He smells like Jungkook’s soap, and it makes something an awful lot like possessiveness flare in his chest.
“Sorry,” Jimin says. “I forgot your shirt.”
Jungkook hadn’t even noticed. Jimin reaches past him to grab the t-shirt from where it rests balled-up on the counter. Jungkook should move, probably, get out of his way, but he doesn’t. He lets Jimin brush uncomfortably close and watches the flush on his cheeks deepen. Even after taking the shirt, Jimin doesn’t move away. He stares down at the three inches between their feet and bites his plump lower lip. Jungkook’s breath quickens, hands clenching into fists.
Jimin glances up with nervous, pretty eyes.
Jungkook’s pulling him in before he can even think about it, hands threading into Jimin’s damp hair as their mouths crash together. Jimin melts into him immediately like he was waiting, hands coming to rest on Jungkook’s waist. They feel small, tentative. Jungkook sucks on his lower lip until Jimin’s lips part in a gasp; he slides his tongue inside and drags it along the roof of his mouth. Tilting his head to kiss him deeper, Jimin’s light fingers drag up Jungkook’s back, resting at the nape of his neck. He presses closer until their chests flush against each other.
Jimin tastes like heaven, mouth hot and wet, and he’s so responsive - little gasps against Jungkook’s mouth, hips twitching when Jungkook sucks on his tongue.
“You taste even better than I dreamed, hyung,” Jungkook breathes the words against Jimin’s mouth, dropping soft kisses along his lower lip. He’s heedless of the admission that he’s dreamt of him, but the way Jimin’s fingers tighten in his hair tell him Jimin isn’t.
“Oh, yeah?” Jimin says. It’s a little breathless.
“Yeah.” He drags his lips along Jimin’s jaw and pulls his head back to arch his neck further. The light kisses he drops down the curve of his throat are sweet before he opens his mouth and lets his tongue flick out to taste Jimin’s skin.
“Jungkook,” Jimin gasps.
Jungkook pulls back just to watch the way Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. He wonders, briefly, if maybe they should slow down. If maybe this will come back to bite him in the ass. But Jimin’s so beautiful it hurts, and he can’t help himself.
He sucks a hickey into the base of Jimin’s throat, drinking in his pretty gasp. “I wanna mark up your pretty skin.” His lips trace the words against Jimin’s neck; he bites his collarbone, relishes in the stuttering of Jimin’s hips against his. “Can’t stop thinking about it when I take your pictures.”
“So that’s why you always get so red,” Jimin teases, his hands sliding under Jungkook’s shirt, soft against his bare skin.
He flushes; he’d always hoped Jimin wouldn’t notice how flustered he gets during their shoots. Jimin traces lightly over his abdomen, over the jut of his hipbones, stroking up to his nipples. Even the light brush of his fingers has Jungkook jerking, a groan of pleasure leaving him when Jimin pinches his nipple.
“You’re so sensitive,” Jimin says, a little awed, and he does it again. Jungkook twitches in response, gasping. He’s already getting hard.
Jimin sucks on Jungkook’s jugular, twisting a nipple until Jungkook moans into his hair. His free hand drags along the waistband of Jungkook’s pants, light and teasing in a way that makes Jungkook squirm.
“Did you like it?” Jimin murmurs into his neck. “Seeing me tied up and naked for you.”
“Wanted you so bad.” He cups Jimin’s ass in his hands and tugs his hips against his own.
“It felt so good,” Jimin admits, breath hitching when Jungkook begins to roll their hips together. “Felt so helpless, like you could do anything and I - I had to trust you.”
“Did you trust me?” Kneading his cheeks, he rolls his hips a little harder, their hard cocks brushing together. Jimin’s nails dig into Jungkook’s back.
“I trust you,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s cock twitches.
It’s been a long time since Jungkook fucked anyone on impulse like this, but he wants to fuck Jimin so bad it hurts - so bad he doesn’t even want to consider the consequences. He wraps a hand around Jimin’s muscled thigh and hitches it up around his hip, rutting against him with increasing speed.
“I wanted to fuck you tied up like that. Fuck you with your hands bound, hanging in the air.”
“I wanted you to fuck me like that, too.”
They kiss messily, more tongue than lip. Jungkook hitches Jimin’s other leg up, too, lifting him into the air with Jimin’s calves locking behind his back. Jimin’s arms twine around him as Jungkook grinds his cock against him.
Jimin noses into his neck, leaving wet kisses under his jaw. “Can I - ” he sucks a hickey, hard, and Jungkook’s hips stutter in their movements. “Can I suck you off?”
“Fuck yes, hyung.” He kisses him again for good measure, slow and deep, before carrying him to his unmade bed.
Jimin slides out from beneath him and pushes Jungkook back to lean against the headboard. With his hands on Jungkook’s knees, he spreads his legs to kneel between them. The way he glances up at Jungkook, eyes hooded, has his mouth opening in awe. Jimin drops to all fours, back arched and ass jutting into the air as he crawls closer.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook says, eyes wide.
Jimin slides his hands up Jungkook’s thighs, stopping at his hips. He pauses with his mouth inches from Jungkook’s clothed cock, a smile playing at his lips when Jungkook squirms in anticipation. Then he swoops down to mouth over his cock, tongue dragging over the cotton of his sweats, sucking until they grow damp and dark.
“Fuck, Jimin - ”
The corner of Jimin’s mouth curves up almost playfully. There’s a disconnect between the confidence Jimin exudes in bed and the shy, reserved way he’s always dealt with Jungkook. It’s a new side of him, like Jungkook has uncovered another piece of Jimin’s hidden self.
Jimin drags his lips along the waist of Jungkook’s sweats, ducking his head under the hem of Jungkook’s shirt to lap at the divots of his abdomen. His mouth travels higher, shirt clinging to his head so Jungkook can’t quite see what he’s doing until his hot mouth has already latched onto Jungkook’s nipple.
When he sucks, a helpless moan tears itself from Jungkook’s mouth, his hips jerking violently. Jimin doesn’t let up, laving his tongue over Jungkook’s nipple, biting lightly, sucking again. Jungkook writhes, gasping, fingers desperately clutching at anything. When Jimin moves to the other one, licking, sucking, biting, Jungkook’s eyes roll back into his head. Finally, Jimin pulls away, letting Jungkook’s shirt fall back into place. He falls into his pillows, fighting for breath.
“You could come from that, couldn’t you?” Jimin asks, sweet and teasing with the hint of a laugh in his voice.
“Shut up,” Jungkook says, panting.
Jimin slides Jungkook’s sweats off with Jungkook lifting his hips off the bed to help. Tossing them to the floor, Jimin leans in to lick his cock over his boxers.
“Quit teasing,” Jungkook groans. Jimin glances up with a glint in his eyes and flutters his lashes.
He doesn’t stop teasing. His lips trace the lightest of paths along the band of Jungkook’s boxers until finally he tugs it down with his teeth, just enough to pull Jungkook’s cock out. He’s embarrassingly hard.
“You’re big,” Jimin says with wide eyes. The way he stares at Jungkook’s cock is almost hungry. When he wraps his hand around him, Jungkook groans, the heat of arousal flooding through him. His hand’s so fucking small that his short fingers barely connect around the base of Jungkook’s cock. Jimin seems to like it, too, eyes widening even further and a quiet whine escaping him.
“Come on,” Jungkook rasps. “Suck me off.”
Jimin reacts almost immediately. His mouth latches around the tip, sucking like it’s a fucking lollipop before pulling back and kitten licking all around the head. Jungkook writhes impatiently, his gasps nearly pained. Jimin suckles on the tip, and it’s almost cute the way his little mouth looks. He glances up, meets Jungkook’s gaze, and sinks down.
“Oh, fuck, hyung - ”
Jimin doesn’t stop until Jungkook’s cock hits the back of his throat. Jungkook’s hands clench in the sheets until his fingers hurt, fighting to keep his hips still though he aches to thrust into the wet heat. Jimin doesn’t look away. His lips are swollen and red, stretched around his cock, his small hand still clutching the base.
“Jimin, baby, you feel so good - ”
Jimin’s lashes flutter. He slides up and down in earnest, tongue zigzagging. He pulls off once to dig his tongue into the slit of Jungkook’s cock, and Jungkook moans, tossing his head back. Jimin sinks down again and sucks, the obscene sound echoing through the small apartment. Jungkook cries out, vision hazy, the pleasure building.
“You’re so much better than I imagined, Jimin, you’re fucking amazing.”
Jimin moans. The vibrations have Jungkook gasping, hips jerking involuntarily. Jimin chokes, throat tightening around Jungkook’s cock. His back arches, his hands flying to thread through Jimin’s hair.
“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry - ”
Jimin pulls off to gasp for breath, then sinks down again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s gagging.
Jungkook writhes, moaning Jimin’s name. He’s on his back now, eyes trained on the ceiling, incoherent with pleasure. His muscles tighten with the oncoming orgasm, and he only barely manages to gasp out, “I’m gonna come - ”
Jimin doesn’t pull off. He sucks and tongues at Jungkook’s cock until he comes with a drawn out moan, the orgasm twitching through his body. Jimin swallows every last drop before pulling off with a pop.
“Holy shit.” Jungkook’s boneless, but he sits so he can pull Jimin to him, fingers dragging through his hair. “Holy fuck. How’d I get so lucky?”
Jimin kisses him. Jungkook can taste himself on his tongue.
“Hyung,” he says, kissing his mouth, his chin, his jaw. “Jimin. I wanna fuck you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Jimin slides his hands under Jungkook’s shirt and lifts it off him when Jungkook raises his arms to help. He tosses it away, then tugs his own sweats off, underwear quick to follow. Then he pauses, awed gaze drinking in Jungkook’s bare body. “Your tattoos are beautiful,” he says, reaching out hesitantly to brush his fingers along the dragon curling around Jungkook’s right pec. He runs his hand down to the cherry blossom tree stretching across his stomach and leans in to kiss a falling petal. “You’re beautiful.”
Jungkook flushes, squirms away from Jimin’s grasp, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. His tattoos mean a lot to him. “We haven’t got all day.”
Jimin snorts. “Can you get it up again that fast?”
“Shut up,” Jungkook says, affronted. “By the time I’m done with you, yeah.”
“Done with me?”
Jungkook drops another kiss on Jimin’s mouth before moving out from underneath him to slip out of bed and pad toward his desk on legs still shaky from coming. When he turns his back, he hears Jimin gasp.
“Oh, they’re all over your back, too.”
“I wanna eat you out first,” Jungkook says, dodging Jimin’s awe.
He glances back to catch Jimin licking his lips. “Really?”
He sounds so disbelieving Jungkook has to ask, “What, haven’t you ever gotten your ass eaten before?”
“I have,” Jimin says defensively. The way he scowls at him is so cute Jungkook wants to kiss it away. “Just - not in a long time.”
Jungkook fishes in his drawer for lube and condoms and remembers the time Jimin had stared so despondently out the window and said, I’ve never been with anyone who focused that much on my pleasure. Jungkook wants to be that person for him; he wants to make Jimin feel good, so good he’ll forget everyone else he’s ever been with. “I’m gonna eat you out so well it’ll be like the first time.”
Jimin flushes, like he’s shy all over again. “Okay.”
“Fuck. I don’t have any condoms.” It’s been so long since the last time that he doesn’t bother keeping them on hand the way he always used to.
“I’m clean,” Jimin says.
Jungkook’s too impatient to worry about it.
“Hands and knees,” he says. Jimin does as he’s told, fitting a pillow underneath his hips. Jungkook has seen him naked countless times by now, and he’s admired his beauty each time, but it’s nothing like this. Nothing like Jimin’s round ass on display just for him, waiting for him.
“I like it - ” Jimin hesitates, looking away. Jungkook thinks that maybe he’s not used to asking for what he wants. “I like it when you tell me what to do.”
Jungkook would be lying if his dick didn’t twitch at that. “Spread your legs.”
Jimin’s eyes flutter; he catches his swollen lip between his teeth. His knees slide on the bed as he spreads his legs wider, and fuck - he really does like it. He’s rutting against the pillow like he thinks Jungkook won’t notice.
“Quit it,” Jungkook says. Jimin stills, teeth sinking harder into his lip.
Jungkook kneels behind him, kneading his asscheeks before spreading them so he can look at Jimin’s hole, small and pink and fluttering. He leans down to kiss it, relishing in Jimin’s quiet whine. He smells like soap.
“Did you clean?” Jungkook asks.
“I always do,” Jimin answers.
He kisses along Jimin’s crack and down to his balls. Then he litters kisses over to the insides of his thighs, sucking and nibbling on the supple flesh. Every time Jimin strips for a shoot, Jungkook spends most of the time trying not to ogle at his thick thighs and round ass. He takes his time sucking hickeys on every inch of them.
“Are you teasing?” Jimin says, a note of complaint in his tone.
“Maybe.” Jungkook grins when Jimin glares at him over his shoulder.
He drags his tongue up Jimin’s crack and to his hole then spreads his cheeks apart so he can kiss him open-mouthed.
“Don’t tease. Please.”
Jungkook drops one last kiss on Jimin’s hole before he covers it with his mouth and sucks so hard Jimin’s spine arches, a choked cry tearing from his lips. Jungkook spreads Jimin’s hole with his thumbs and slides his tongue inside, flicking the tip against Jimin’s walls. He shoves his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, mouth flush against his ass, and sucks again. Jimin whimpers brokenly. His hands scrabble on the sheets, curling into fists.
“Ah, Jungkook - ”
Jungkook laps around his hole with fervor, tongue darting inside between licks, grip tight on Jimin’s cheeks. Jimin’s a blubbering mess, writhing on the bed, toes curling and legs spasming, only still because Jungkook’s lying on top of them. Jungkook alternates between fucking his tongue in and out and sucking.
“Please, Jungkook - fuck - ”
He’s so fucking loud that Jungkook can feel himself getting aroused again already. He licks over Jimin’s hole, tongue flat, then uses the tip to run tight circles just inside the rim. With a free hand, he strokes over Jimin’s thigh, over the jut of his hipbones and the taut muscles of his abdomen. He scratches blunt fingernails against his pelvis, drawing another shudder. Jimin’s moaning, his words turning into nonsense, as Jungkook draws his hand back down to push against Jimin’s perineum with two fingers. A light nibble has Jimin whining, high-pitched.
“You taste amazing,” Jungkook murmurs against his skin. His hot breath sends a shiver up Jimin’s spine. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Jungkook presses his fingers the slightest bit harder, points his tongue into Jimin’s ass before drawing it back to suck. Jimin writhes, choking out his name, his legs squirming against Jungkook.
“Stay still,” Jungkook says and brings his hand down to smack Jimin’s ass, light and teasing.
He’s not prepared for the way Jimin jerks, full-bodied. He’s not prepared for the moan - high, sweet, beautiful. He could listen to him moan like that forever.
“You liked that.” Jungkook pulls back, smoothing a hand down Jimin’s spine.
“Do it again.”
Jungkook’s pleased at the force in Jimin’s tone; he wants him to ask for what he wants. He watches Jimin’s asscheek jiggle when he smacks it again.
His hand makes a resounding crack and leaves a red handprint behind. Jimin shudders, whining. Jungkook mouths at his hole again, and this time he slides a lubed finger inside with his tongue. If Jimin moves too much, he smacks his ass, and after a while he starts to think Jimin’s doing it on purpose. He’s fucking him with three fingers before long; Jimin takes it so well, so easily. Pulling back, he rises to kneeling and draws Jimin’s hips up to he can angle his fingers more easily into his hole. Jimin whimpers, legs trembling, as Jungkook picks up speed, thrusting his fingers hard inside him.
“How’s that? You like that?”
“Tell me what you want, hyung. You want me to fuck you now?”
He twists his fingers, pistoning them against Jimin’s walls. Jimin shudders, biting the sheets of Jungkook’s bed. “What’s that?”
“I want you to fuck me now.”
“I’m fucking you.”
“With your cock. Fuck me with your cock.”
Jungkook straightens, wiping his fingers on the bedsheet. He lubes up his cock and taps Jimin’s leg. “Hips up.”
Jimin pushes himself back onto all fours, staring at Jungkook over his shoulder. His gaze is sultry, anticipatory, and Jungkook’s cock twitches. He works himself into Jimin carefully, though the slide is easy, gasping as tight heat envelops him. When he’s bottomed out, Jimin shivers, moaning.
“You’re so big.”
Jungkook preens. He rocks his hips shallowly, cock rubbing circles inside Jimin. Leaning over him heavily, he presses his chest to Jimin’s sweaty back, arms bracketing Jimin’s as they hold himself up.
“You’re so tight,” Jungkook says, kissing Jimin’s nape and down his spine.
“Aren’t you gonna move?” Jimin whines, rocking back against him.
“Quit being so impatient.”
“Hurry up.” Jimin rocks harder, reaching back to pull Jungkook deeper into him by a hand on his ass.
Jungkook grabs the hand and yanks it away, pressing it into the mattress. “Do that again,” he growls by Jimin’s ear, “and I’ll edge you until you cry.”
A moan answers him, soft and light; Jungkook can imagine the look on Jimin’s face, lips parted, lashes fluttering. He pulls out to the tip and slams back in. Jimin’s arms tremble. Setting a hard pace, he leans over Jimin, fingers clutching the sheets not far from Jimin’s own hands.
“Oh, Jungkook.” Jimin’s breath hitches with every thrust.
The way he moans his name has Jungkook’s hips picking up speed. He threads his fingers with Jimin’s, pressing their hands into the mattress, and kisses his shoulder. “First time I heard you moan when I tied you up, thought I was gonna die if I didn’t get to fuck you.”
Jimin whines, rolling his hips back to meet Jungkook’s thrusts. “I wanted - I wanted you to use me. Tie me up and fuck me right there - ”
“I’ll tie you up next time. Fuck you with your legs bound together.” He sucks a spot of skin on Jimin’s back until it’s mottled red. “My beautiful baby boy.”
“I’m - ah, I’m your hyung.”
Jungkook slows down. “Oh, yeah?” He moves in barely-there circles, relishing in the way Jimin groans, fingers tightening in his from irritation.
“Come on, Jungkookie, faster.”
“What’s that, hyung ?” he bites, drawing back until the head of his cock catches on Jimin’s rim. “You want me to slow down?”
“No, Jungkook - ”
Jungkook pulls out. With a hand wrapped around his cock, he traces the tip teasingly down Jimin’s crack, rubbing against Jimin’s hole. Jimin squirms, reaching back.
“Stop teasing,” he says. Jungkook grabs his wrist before Jimin can touch him and pins it to the bed.
“What do you want, hyung?” He leans tantalizingly close, kissing the soft skin of Jimin’s back. He wants to fuck him so bad it almost hurts, but watching him squirm is nearly as satisfying.
“Fuck me, please fuck me - ”
Jungkook doesn’t have enough willpower to let him beg more than that. He fucks in, quick and sharp, and Jimin arches. His fingers flex in Jungkook’s hold. The next thrust is a lucky one, has Jimin moaning loudly; his trembling arms give way, and he falls to the bed, cheek pressed against the sheets. Jungkook doesn’t slow down. Thighs straining, he pistons his cock relentlessly into Jimin’s prostate, spurred on by his sweet, fluttering moans.
Jungkook pins Jimin’s hands above his head, leaning his weight into his grip so he can hold himself stable as he fucks him. Jimin’s moans grow louder the tighter he holds him down, hips stuttering into the bed. The bed squeaks with every thrust, headboard banging into the wall. Jungkook leans over him, mouth against Jimin’s ear, panting.
“You take me so well, baby boy.” He rolls the piercings in Jimin’s lobe between his teeth.
Jimin doesn’t protest this time, whimpers instead, eyes fluttering open. He stares at Jungkook’s arm by his head, then arches up so he can kiss Jungkook’s flexing bicep. His tongue traces the length of the angel wing curving along Jungkook’s muscle.
“Can you - ” Jimin breaks off into a full-bodied shudder as Jungkook’s cock presses into his prostate and stays there, circling tightly. “Can you fuck me standing up?”
Jungkook stills, can’t help but grin. “Wanna see how strong I am?”
“Shut up,” Jimin says, but he licks his lips.
“You want me to bounce you on my cock?”
“I’m just clarifying.” Jungkook pulls out, flips Jimin onto his back. He looks wrecked. Face flushed and sweaty, hair matted to his forehead, eyes lidded.
“Yes,” Jimin bites. “I wanna see how strong you are. Want you to pick me up and bounce me on your big dick until I’m so full I’ll feel you for days.”
The shiver that runs down Jungkook’s spine is no delicate one. He lifts Jimin off the bed easily, holding his hips while Jimin locks his ankles behind Jungkook’s back. Hands sliding down to Jimin’s ass, he spreads his cheeks and lifts him a little higher. Jimin reaches back to steady Jungkook’s cock, free hand balanced on Jungkook’s shoulder, and the whine he lets out as Jungkook lowers him onto his cock doesn’t stop until he’s bottomed out, ass meeting hips.
“Oh,” he moans, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s neck and leaning in, burying his face in the crook between neck and shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Jungkook.”
Jungkook shifts him, gets the tiniest bit deeper. He wants to be as far inside Jimin as he can get, so deep Jimin’s body won’t soon forget the feel of him.
Jimin nods against his shoulder. Jungkook kisses his head before he starts to fuck him again, pistoning his hips and lifting Jimin to meet his thrusts. The combined movement sends every thrust deep enough to make Jimin cry out.
“Oh my god,” he’s saying, lips against Jungkook’s skin. “You’re so big, holy fuck, Jungkook, harder - ”
Jungkook settles into a rhythm that has Jimin bouncing. His cock is trapped between them, rubbing between the divots of Jungkook’s abs with every bounce. Resting his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders, Jimin straightens, and the change in position has the next thrust plunging even further. Jimin rolls his hips to match Jungkook’s pace, his hair bouncing as his body does, staccato moans spilling from his pretty, wide open mouth.
Sweat drips into Jungkook’s eyes, and he’s panting, every muscle straining to keep up the pace. Jimin’s hands run over his flexing biceps, along the veins bulging in Jungkook’s neck. He leans in and bites Jungkook’s bicep, laving over it with his tongue, then moves to suck a hickey right over the vein in his neck. Jungkook’s hips stutter. Moving up, Jimin licks the sweat from where it’s collected at the corners of his lips and his temples.
Jimin’s mouth covers his, only Jungkook’s panting too hard for them to kiss. Their tongues drag together, but after that they’re moaning into each other’s mouths, their foreheads pressed together. Jimin’s eyes are closed now, and Jungkook stares at the pink flush spread all across his face.
“You’re so pretty,” Jungkook says. “So beautiful.”
Jimin comes hard, cock rubbing against Jungkook’s abdomen. He arches when he comes, mouth open in a soundless cry, and tosses his head back. His cum splatters up Jungkook’s chest and all the way to the underside of his jaw. Jungkook latches onto his bared throat, sucking a hickey as he feels Jimin’s orgasm shudder all the way through his body. Jimin clenches so tight around him that he’s forced to slow his thrusts until Jimin slumps against him, relaxed again.
Jungkook wants to keep going. He wants to fuck him until he’s soft then hard again. Jungkook’s got good stamina; he’s good at controlling himself. He’s fucked people through multiple orgasms without coming before. But he can feel Jimin seize up with every roll of his hips, so he stills.
“Why are you stopping?” Jimin mumbles into his shoulder. “Keep going.”
“I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Jungkook starts slowly, rocking gently into Jimin.
“That all you got?” Jimin slurs. His mouth moves lazily against Jungkook’s neck, brushes to his jaw. With a jolt, Jungkook realizes he’s licking up his own cum. His lips are plush and wet, the tip of his tongue sneaking out to lap up the drops. “That all your little dick can do?”
“Little?” Jungkook growls. One hand leaves Jimin’s hip to thread into his hair, yanking his head back. Jimin’s gasp sounds pleased. “That’s not what you were saying a minute ago.”
“A minute ago, you weren’t rocking like a fucking wuss - ”
“This big dick’s gonna fuck you into oblivion, hyung .”
Jungkook speeds up again, fucking him hard, and Jimin whimpers from overstimulation with his cock caught between them. His nails dig into Jungkook’s shoulders as Jungkook angles to find his prostate again. It only takes him a few thrusts before Jimin screams, his eyes rolling back into his head, nails dragging along Jungkook’s skin so harshly that Jungkook’s sure he’s drawn blood. Panicked, Jungkook slows down again.
“Jimin, you can’t take it - ”
“I can!” Jimin exclaims, heels digging into Jungkook’s ass. “I like it. Don’t stop. Please, just fuck me.”
“Are you sure?”
“If you ask me that one more goddamn time - ”
He doesn’t. Tears cling to Jimin’s lashes, and his cock goes soft, flapping between their stomachs. Jungkook fucks him through it, fingers digging into Jimin’s hips hard enough he’ll leave bruises.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook says through pants. “Such a slut for my cock.”
“I am,” Jimin babbles. “I’m a slut for your cock, yours - ”
“Look at you, baby, you’re soft but you’re still taking me, still want me in you.”
“Need your cock, need you to fill me up - ”
He’s crying, now, shivering. He’s pretty when he cries. Eyes red and swollen, lips and cheeks puffy, nose pink. He falls into Jungkook, fingers threading tight into his sweaty hair, mouth hot on his ear.
Like a mantra, he pants, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
Jungkook’s moaning. He’s close, vision hazy, but his body’s nearing the limits of exertion. He stumbles to the wall and balances Jimin’s back against it, bracing his hands on either side of Jimin’s head. The support of the wall has him fucking Jimin fast again, grunting from the strain. Jimin slides up the wall with every thrust.
He’s getting hard again.
Jungkook switches from thrusts to circling his hips tight. “Look at you,” he says. “Look at your pretty cock getting hard for me again.”
Jimin mumbles something incoherent.
“You’re gonna come for me again, hyung? Baby boy?”
“Make me come.”
Jungkook kisses a teardrop suspended on Jimin’s cheek, then moves down to suck on his nipple.
“There,” Jimin gasps when Jungkook circles into his prostate. “There, fuck me there.”
Jungkook rolls his hips in quick circles, worrying Jimin’s nipple between his teeth. Jimin reaches between them to jerk himself off. Jungkook pulls a hand off the wall to smack Jimin’s ass, three slaps in quick succession; Jimin jerks with each one. Another minute and he’s coming, drops of cum hitting both of their stomachs.
“Your turn,” Jimin says, breathless. He’s really flinching, now, holding his cock gingerly so that it doesn’t touch them as they move. “Come in my ass, Jungkookie.”
His free hand twists Jungkook’s nipple. Jungkook’s hips stutter. He returns to thrusting, sets a brutal pace, losing all rhythm as he finally lets himself go.
“Make me wet. Wanna - wanna leak your cum, wanna feel your cum - ”
Jimin’s crying again, and Jungkook can hardly see through the blurring of his own vision. Jimin twists his nipple particularly hard, and Jungkook’s coming, spasming, hips jerking through it. He moans long and loud into Jimin’s neck.
“You did so good, Jungkookie,” Jimin’s saying, stroking the sweat-soaked strands of Jungkook’s hair. “You fucked me so well.”
Jungkook’s legs are like jelly as he wobbles over to the bed, still inside Jimin. He sets him on his back and pulls out carefully, watching Jimin’s hole stretch around his cock. Spurts of cum leak out, the rest bubbling just inside the rim. Jungkook’s moving before he has time to think, lapping up the leaking drops and covering Jimin’s hole with his mouth. He sucks until his tongue is full of cum.
“I wanna taste,” Jimin says, reaching for him.
Holding the cum in his mouth, Jungkook noses up Jimin’s chest and to his mouth. He slides his thumb into Jimin’s mouth to force it open wide, hovering over him. When he opens his own mouth, the cum drips from him to Jimin, mixed with strings of saliva. The sight has Jungkook moaning. Jimin pulls him down, their mouths colliding, and licks into him, sucking his tongue until he’s taken all the cum for himself. Jungkook pulls back to watch Jimin’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook says, awed.
He stares for a moment, admires the sight of Jimin pliant beneath him. Cheeks flushed, dried cum on his chest and neck, hair wild from Jungkook’s hands. Eyes fluttering shut, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, red marks that’ll darken overnight littering his skin.
Jungkook bends down and kisses him, sweet and slow, the brush of their tongues gentle. When he moves away, he contemplates curling up and falling asleep with Jimin tucked into his chest. But they’re both dirty, and he doesn’t want Jimin to wake up uncomfortable. So he rolls off the bed and stands with aching muscles.
Jimin stirs immediately. “You’re leaving.” He doesn’t say it like a question. He shifts onto his elbows. “Sorry, I’ll get dressed in a minute.”
“What?” Jungkook can’t quite keep the note of panic from his tone. He doesn’t want him to leave. “Hyung, stay. Stay and rest. I’m just going to draw a bath.”
“A bath?” Jimin looks confused, brows furrowed.
Jungkook pushes Jimin into the bed and kisses him briefly. “Don’t you wanna clean up? Don’t fall asleep. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He’s nervous, moving around the bathroom quickly like he’s afraid Jimin will leave if he takes too long. Even now, he just wants to make Jimin feel good. He wants to do the best for him. In his hurry, the water he fills the tub with is too hot, and he fumbles the bath bomb onto the tiled floor before finally landing it in the tub. By the time he returns to the room, he finds Jimin nearly asleep, head lolling on Jungkook’s pillow.
Jimin’s eyes open. “Uh-huh.”
Jungkook lifts him with an arm under his knees and one behind his back. The water’s cooler by the time he carries Jimin inside, lowering him into the tub. Foam from the bath bomb bubbles up to his collarbones.
“You’re coming in, too, right?”
“Yup.” His bathtub’s barely big enough for the both of them. He steps in, a bit of water splashing over the edges. Jimin scoots forward so Jungkook can fit behind him, leaning against the wall and spreading his legs for Jimin to lean back against his chest.
“Never pegged you as the bath bomb type,” Jimin says.
“I like things that smell good,” Jungkook retorts more defensively than he means.
Jimin laughs. It’s soft and cute, and Jungkook relaxes immediately. Tucking himself closer to Jungkook, Jimin hums in contentment. Jungkook squeezes body wash onto his palms and starts cleaning Jimin, rubbing his arms and over his chest and face. Jimin slumps further and further into him, eyes closed, sighing. Jungkook massages his shoulders, digging his thumbs into the back of his neck, and Jimin’s head falls sideways.
“That feels good,” Jimin murmurs.
Jungkook kisses the nape of his neck. He slides his hand down Jimin’s back to his ass. “I’m gonna clean inside you, hyung.”
Jimin hums his assent. Jungkook inserts one finger and gently cleans Jimin’s hole, careful to catch any leftover cum before it dries. When he’s done, he winds his arms around Jimin’s waist and holds him close, burying his face in his neck.
“Why are you so nice to me?” Jimin’s voice is soft. Jungkook almost doesn’t hear him.
Something about the way he says it makes Jungkook’s stomach clench. He frowns, hooking his chin over Jimin’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Nobody ever takes such good care of me.” His hands cover Jungkook’s, playing with his fingers. Jimin’s are so much smaller, short and pretty. “Last time I had sex, he fell asleep right after fucking me. I was too tired to clean myself up.”
Jungkook tenses. He doesn’t know where the anger comes from but it’s there, flooding him, heating up his cheeks. “Fucking jackass. I hope he chokes.” He kisses Jimin’s shoulder. Sinks his teeth in almost possessively, drawing Jimin into his chest. “You deserve better.”
Jimin shrugs. He traces a light finger along the tattoos on Jungkook’s forearms, stroking the calligraphy near his wrist.
“What kind of assholes are you fucking, huh?”
“They’re all like that. Always like that.”
“Hyung.” He’s not sure why it hurts so much, but it hurts, a lump in his throat and his chest tight. “Jimin hyung.”
“Jungkookie, can I - ” Jimin pauses. “Never mind.”
“What is it?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Tell me.” Jungkook brushes his lips along the shell of Jimin’s ear, down his neck and over his shoulder. “Tell me what you want.”
“Can I - ” He ducks his head shyly, playing with Jungkook’s hands. “I just - I just want you in me.”
“You want me to fuck you again?” Jungkook says incredulously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No, not fuck me.” He’s embarrassed, cheeks pink. “Never mind.”
Jungkook kisses one of his blushing cheeks. “Explain.”
“I like feeling full. After sex, I’m so empty, and I - I dunno.”
“You wanna sit on my cock?”
“Yeah. I wanna - I wanna feel you go soft inside me.”
Jimin turns around, the bubbles stirring with him, and circles Jungkook’s cock with his small hand. He strokes him to hardness, then comes in close, straddling him. Jungkook spreads his cheeks for him, and Jimin positions Jungkook’s cock at his rim. He sinks down slowly, and they both sigh. Once he’s bottomed out, he wraps his arms around Jungkook’s neck and leans into him, relaxing. It’s nice. There’s no urgency, no burning arousal to satisfy.
Jimin rests his cheek on Jungkook’s shoulder and closes his eyes. His eyelashes flutter against Jungkook’s neck. It’s been a long time since Jungkook felt so content. He can’t remember the last time he did.
“I’m so glad it was you,” Jungkook murmurs.
Jimin’s already asleep.
When Jungkook wakes with blurry eyes and aching limbs, Jimin’s gone.
Calling someone the morning after a spontaneous fuck is bad form when the person you’re fucking leaves before you even wake up. Jungkook knows that. He knows that, but when he wakes up alone, he’s hit with the sudden realization that Taehyung was right. He’s fallen for Jimin.
The very last thing he wants to do is fuck him and let him go.
He checks around the apartment for a note, but there’s no sign that Jimin had ever been there at all. Nothing save for the scent of sex that lingers in his sheets. He buries himself in them; they smell like Jimin, too. He’s wanted to fuck him since he saw him with his wrists tied, but he considers that maybe he’s had a crush on him just as long. Since he’d smiled and said, I’m just teasing you .
Jungkook doesn’t know anything about Jimin, but he wants to know everything. He wants to learn about the fragile parts, the lost parts, the ones he sees when Jimin retreats into himself. And he wants to learn about the good parts too - wants to memorize Jimin’s laugh and the way his eyes curve when he smiles.
He picks up his phone and texts him, hey .
Jimin’s reply doesn’t come until Jungkook has changed into sweats and a hoodie for his morning run. Hey, i’ll drop your clothes off later.
No worries , he responds, take your time. I was wondering if we could meet up and talk?
Jimin doesn’t answer for a long time. Jungkook finishes his run, eats breakfast, and is halfway to the studio for his morning appointments when he finally texts back.
Jimin’s response is quick, and it makes Jungkook’s stomach sink right to his feet. why? it was just sex lol
Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. He knew it would be like this, knew because Jimin had disappeared before he even opened his eyes like a dream just out of reach. It still hurts. He wonders if he’d imagined the connection between them. Over a lunch of sweet potatoes and grilled chicken, he considers that this is probably it - the furthest they’ll ever get. He loses his appetite and passes the rest of the workday in a haze.
Eventually, hours later, Jungkook finally responds.
we’re still good for the next shoot ?
Jimin’s reply is quick. how about tomorrow ?
And that’s that.
Focusing during the shoot is much more difficult when all Jungkook can thinking about while looking at Jimin’s bare body is what it had felt like to fuck him.
As he ties him up, he can’t stop wondering how it would feel fucking him with his ankles tied together. When Jimin arches his neck for the shot, he’s struck with images of how he’d looked arching when he came.
“I told you I’d tell you how I felt about the final shot,” Jimin says before they start, “the one where my legs are spread? I agree to do it.”
Jungkook can’t help but think the decision has been made because of what happened between them.
The shoot is awkward in ways other than just the sexual tension, though. It’s awkward because when Jungkook looks at Jimin, his feelings are strengthened and confirmed; he likes him. He wants to be with him. But Jimin doesn’t want him back, and that stings.
It hurts even more that Jimin acts like nothing has changed between them at all.
Jungkook has never been the best at concealing his emotions, and he knows Jimin can tell that he’s more guarded, more stilted as they work together. He doesn’t speak more than he has to, and he works as quickly and efficiently as he can. Being around Jimin hurts, and he wants to get away.
When they’re done at last, Jungkook unties Jimin in silence. He feels almost guilty when he sees the way Jimin shrinks into himself the longer they go without talking, his small shoulders tightening and his head bowed.
“Jungkook,” he says at one point.
He pauses. “Never mind,” he breathes, and doesn’t say his name again.
Tossing the ropes on the table, Jungkook realizes he’s more agitated than he’s been in a long time - agitated and upset, an ugly feeling swirling in his stomach. He wonders if maybe he liked Jimin more than he thought.
“I’m gonna - I’ll be outside for some air,” he mutters, grabbing his jacket from where he’d tossed it by the window. “I’ll text you about the last session.”
“Okay,” Jimin says quietly, and at the curtain Jungkook pauses, glancing back.
“Can I - can I bum a cigarette off you?”
Jimin tilts his head curiously. He’s still naked, but it doesn’t look like it bothers him anymore. “I thought you were clean.”
“It’s just one. It doesn’t matter.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Jimin.
Jimin frowns, but he retrieves a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of his jeans, draped over the chair, and tosses them one after the other to Jungkook. Catching them one-handed, Jungkook pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and tosses them back.
“Thanks,” he says, then leaves.
It’s cold outside, too cold, but he sits on the curb and relishes in it. It’s been a long time since he liked anyone. He can hardly even remember what it feels like to have a crush, but he supposes the swirling in his stomach when he lays eyes on Jimin must be something like one. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and regrets it already.
It’s Jimin. He stands just outside the entrance of the gallery in a thin button-up, his arms wrapped around himself. When Jungkook turns to look at him, he steps forward and sits next to him on the curb, shoulder-to-shoulder.
Jungkook faces forward again, drawing another puff of smoke. “It’s cold, hyung. You should go inside.”
Jimin wraps his arms around his knees and glances at him. “You’re too nice.”
“You are,” Jimin insists, and it holds more weight than the last time he said it. “You wanted to talk about what happened. Talk.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about anything,” he says almost bitterly. He stares at the cigarette between his fingers and wonders what the fuck he’s doing. With an irritated sigh, he drops it and crushes it beneath his foot.
Jimin smiles like he’s proud. “Good job.”
“I’m just being an idiot. I’m just - I’m sorry. I was acting weird, and I made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay. You were right. We should talk.”
Jungkook stares at his feet in their heavy boots, another sigh on the tip of his tongue, then turns to Jimin. He’s looking back at him, pretty eyes soft, lips curved in a frown again. “I like you, hyung. I didn’t want that night to be a one time thing.”
This time, Jimin’s the one who looks away. “That’s what I thought.” He hesitates, playing with his fingers, and Jungkook’s stomach sinks to his feet. He prepares himself for the worst. “I’m sorry, Jungkookie, I just - we barely even know each other. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I want to. I want to get to know you, hyung.”
“You don’t want to be with me. Trust me, you don’t.”
“How do you know what I want?” He meets Jimin’s gaze with his own entreating one. “I’m not trying to say we should date or anything. I just want to get to know you.”
Jimin bites his lip, and Jungkook wonders if the glitter in his eyes means he wants that, too. “Jungkook,” he murmurs.
“We can start slow. Just give it a chance.”
“You’re too good for me,” Jimin says.
Jungkook scoffs. Nothing sounds as unrealistic and impossible to him as that. “That’s not true.”
“It is . It’s true. You’re hardworking and kind and you’ve got dreams and - and you’re going places.”
“I wasn’t always like this.”
“But you are now. Someone like me’s just going to get in your way.”
“Hyung.” It’s almost a whisper. The fact that Jimin thinks that of himself hurts even more than his rejection. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry, Jungkookie. You’ll be over me fast enough, okay? It’s just not a good idea.”
Jungkook doesn’t want the finality with which Jimin looks at him. “Is that your only reason then?”
Jimin’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“The only reason you wouldn’t want anything further for us is because you think you’re bad for me.”
“Yes,” he says hesitantly.
“Not because you don’t like me.”
Jimin’s expression clears. “Jungkook - ”
“If you don’t like me, if you don’t want anything to do with me, then I’ll back off. But if the only reason is what you’ve told me, then please - just one date. Go on one date with me.”
Jimin stares at him. He looks half confused and half upset. “Just one date?”
“Just one. And if you’re still adamant after that, then I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”
Jimin takes so long to answer that Jungkook begins to give up hope. He waits with his fingers twisting the hem of his jacket until Jimin finally, finally says, “Okay.”
Jungkook can’t stop the grin that lights up his face. “Okay.”
“Just one. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.”
He holds out his hand, and Jimin takes it carefully to shake. “Deal.”
Jungkook looks good.
He can say that with confidence because he spent longer than an hour getting ready when ordinarily he spends about ten minutes. Today it had taken him an hour just to pick the outfit itself; he’d spent it shoveling through his closet and modelling various combinations for Yoongi, who’d spent the night and had nothing helpful to say. Eventually, he’d settled on a dark blue button-down tucked into cuffed jeans over his favorite pair of burgundy boots. He didn’t want to overdo it, but he wanted to look good, too. He’d even spent extra time making his hair sit just right.
It’s been awhile since he went on a date. Namjoon and Taehyung keep trying to set him up, insisting that he’s been single long enough, but before Jimin, he’s never felt ready. Not ready or inspired or like he needed anyone at all. He still doesn’t feel like he needs anyone. He just wants him. Back when he didn’t have his life as sorted out as he does now, he’d dated some people he always ended up hopelessly incompatible with. Now that he looks back on it, he realizes he was just too immature to be with anyone, no matter who.
But he’s different now. He’s grown up, and he’s ready, and Jimin makes his heart stir in a way that’s almost helpless.
They’re meeting at a coffee shop. Jungkook would have picked Jimin up for dinner at the nicest place his wallet could manage, but he doesn’t want to scare him off with something as serious as dinner. So they’re meeting in a tiny, quaint coffee shop halfway between both their apartments. Their date almost doubles as a celebration for finally finishing the project; a week ago, they had completed the last photo session. Now Jungkook’s just editing and finalizing.
Jungkook shows up early just because he’s nervous. He orders an Americano and sits in a booth by the window, switching between checking the watch on his wrist and the entrance visible from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Five minutes before the actual time they’re supposed to meet, his phone rings.
It’s Jimin. “Hey, hyung. Everything okay?”
“Jungkook - ”
Jimin only has to say that much for Jungkook to understand. His stomach sinks, dead weight, all the way down to his feet.
“Jungkook,” Jimin repeats, and he doesn’t sound okay. He doesn’t sound okay, and Jungkook doesn’t feel okay. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I just - I can’t make it. I can’t do it.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, and it comes out little more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry, I’m a fucking piece of shit - ” Jimin sounds like he’s been crying, and somehow that makes Jungkook feel even worse than being stood up - that going on a date with him would cause Jimin conflict to the point of tears. “I’m horrible, and I’m sorry for doing this to you. I thought I could, but I can’t.”
Jungkook wants to be mad, but he isn’t. “I understand,” he says, because he does. Because he remembers being like Jimin once.
“I’m - ” Jimin hiccups, and Jungkook thinks he might be crying again. “It was really nice knowing you. You’re a really good person.”
“Thanks, hyung,” he murmurs. “It was nice knowing you, too.”
“Bye, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, then he hangs up.
Jungkook places his phone on the table and rests the side of his head on the window, his half-finished Americano melting into condensation in his hand.
Some things, he knows, are just not meant to be.
Jungkook could mope.
It would be easy to mope. It would be easy to lie awake at night listening to sad love songs and dreaming about what it would feel like to hold Jimin’s hand on a morning walk in the park, easier still to pine over the photos of him as he works on his project. Plenty of them are technically unusable; he’s aiming for a more serious air, but he’s snapped so many photos of Jimin mid-laugh, Jimin mid-conversation, Jimin just being Jimin. He supposes that’s just a side effect of being in love.
Those photos should hurt the most, and they do. But Jungkook makes a conscious effort not to mope. He goes to bed on time, takes something to fall asleep if he needs to, and he wakes up every day for a morning run where he pointedly does not listen to sad love songs. He goes through the photos with as critical an eye as he can manage, assembling a final project that will be both ethereal and beautiful. When he goes out with Taehyung to get piss drunk one night, he makes sure Taehyung hides his phone before he’s wasted enough to think calling Jimin is a good idea.
Jungkook could mope, but he doesn’t let himself.
Some things aren’t meant to be, and you can’t always have what you want. He learned that a long time ago. So he doesn’t mope; he doesn’t feel anything, really. Doesn’t let himself.
It’s not until he has Yoongi look at his project that he realizes maybe it’s not quite as simple as he thinks.
“Aesthetically and technically, this is amazing.” Yoongi stands before the wall of photos Jungkook has assembled with his arms crossed. He’d squinted at them for so long before speaking that Jungkook had started to fidget.
Jungkook can hear the but in his tone even though he hasn’t said it yet. “Yeah?”
“What’s special about this?” The bluntness of his tone doesn’t make Jungkook flinch anymore; it’s the reason he goes to Yoongi for critique before anyone else. Yoongi turns to face him. “What sets this apart from the hundreds of other shibari shoots out there?”
“Well, the theme’s vulnerability - ”
“That’s nearly everyone’s theme. It’s bondage, Jungkook.”
“ - but it features a man.”
“Okay. But tell me what about these pictures speaks of vulnerability.”
Jungkook frowns. He steps up to Yoongi, peering at the photos he’s pored over for hours. To him, it’s obvious. He can see Jimin’s hesitation in every inch of his body. “What do you mean?”
“Just because he’s naked and tied up doesn’t mean he’s vulnerable.” Yoongi gestures to the photo where Jungkook had tied Jimin up in a ballerino’s pose. “Look at him objectively. Look at his expression. He doesn’t look vulnerable at all.”
Jimin’s eyes are closed, his lips just barely curling upwards. He looks graceful. Maybe even serene. It’s only because Jungkook remembers how nervous he’d been during the shoot that he recognizes it; to anyone else, perhaps Jimin does look like he’s in control.
“Didn’t you really like this kid?”
Jungkook jumps, so immersed in staring at the photo that he’d almost forgotten Yoongi was right next to him. “Um, yeah. I did.”
Yoongi points a critical gaze on him, rubbing the side of his face as he observes him. “I can’t see that in these.”
“I didn’t want you to,” Jungkook says, confused.
“Because that’s not the point. That’s unprofessional.”
Yoongi snorts. “Who says? Show me the rest of the pictures you took.”
Jungkook leads Yoongi over to computer without protest, loading the files he’d transferred from his camera. He hovers over Yoongi’s shoulder as he clicks through the scores of unedited photos Jungkook had taken during their multiple shoots. Eventually, Yoongi comes to a stop on a photo from the ballerino day. Jungkook had snapped it just for fun. Jimin’s laughing, his head falling forward and his hair in his eyes, his pretty mouth stretched into a wide smile. He’d always been too intense and focused to laugh much during their shoots, but every now and again Jungkook had managed a joke that would make him burst into laughter that sounded like music to his ears.
“This is vulnerability,” Yoongi says, and he looks almost fond as he examines the picture of Jimin. “His guard’s down. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes,” Jungkook murmurs, and he does. He should have understood earlier; Jimin never laughed much, after all.
“Showing vulnerability just through the nature of a shoot like this is fine. But you can do more than that.” He pulls back, leaving Jungkook to surf through the remaining pictures. “If you want a shoot on vulnerability to be effective, you need to be as vulnerable as your model.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook chews on his lip. “I think I understand.”
Yoongi claps him on the shoulder and heads for the door. “Good luck, kid.”
Jungkook sits down in front of his computer and starts to scroll through his photos with new eyes. The ones where Jimin wasn’t ready hurt the most, so he’d glossed over them.
But maybe he needs to let himself hurt a little bit.
Jungkook’s standing on his tiptoes to peer over a small crowd of people loitering around the table of cake in the middle of the gallery when Taehyung smacks him in the stomach.
He bends over with a surprised oof . “What the fuck?”
“You look unprofessional, you ass. At least try to act like you’re the fucking artist whose photos everyone’s oohing and aahing over.”
“Like you’re one to talk. You’re literally wearing pajamas.”
“They’re not pajamas , they’re designer - ”
Across the gallery, Yoongi levels a blood-freezing glare at them. He’s mid-conversation with some visitors looking at his photos, but that doesn’t stop him from keeping them in line.
Taehyung wanders off to talk to some people looking at his own work, and Jungkook does the same. He can’t help but cast glances over to the entrance every now and then. He’d texted Jimin the date and time of the exhibit a week ago. Even though he’d never responded, a part of him is hopeful.
He’s loitering in front of Yoongi’s pictures when someone says his name.
He turns around so quickly he almost trips. Jimin looks as tired as he did the first time they met, and his smile is hesitant. But it’s there - he’s there. The answering grin that spreads across Jungkook’s face is giddy.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, clearing his throat. “You came.”
Jimin’s dressed in a faded blue blazer and matching slacks with a white button-up underneath. His clothes look like he’s worn them one too many times, but so does Jungkook’s black suit; he can’t be bothered to get a new one when his works perfectly well. Still, Jimin cleans up nicely.
“Yeah, I - ” He pauses, then he shakes his head. “Never mind. I want to talk to you, but later, okay?”
Jungkook’s stomach twists with anticipation. “Okay.”
Jimin brushes past him to peer at Yoongi’s photos. “Did all of you do shibari?”
“No.” Jungkook comes to stand next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder. “Just me and Yoongi hyung.” He gestures to Yoongi, who stands a ways away talking to a small group of women.
“These poses look way more intense than anything we did.”
“Hyung does traditional Japanese shibari. It’s not supposed to be comfortable.”
“Can you show me ours?”
Jungkook’s gaze flickers to his, and Jimin stares back with his head tilted. He breaks off their eye contact before Jimin does and leads him over to the wall of their photos. Jimin moves through each of them slowly, spending ample time at every picture. Jungkook watches him, watches the minute changes in his expression as he registers that all the photos are candid ones, that Jungkook hadn’t included any of the ones where he’d so carefully formed his expression.
He spends the longest time on the last photo - the one where he lies suspended in the air with his legs tied apart and the flower over his ass. Jungkook had caught that photo when Jimin’s face had morphed into one of pleasure, not long before he called for an end to the shoot; his brows are furrowed, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.
Jungkook fiddles with the collar of his shirt and waits for Jimin to say something. Anything.
“Vulnerability,” he finally says. He reaches for the framed photo as if he’s going to touch it, but his fingers stop just hovering over the glass. “I get it now.”
“I didn’t at first. Then I did.”
Jimin turns to face him. He smiles, and it’s less hesitant than before. “I’m going to go look at everyone’s work. I’ll find you when the exhibition’s over, yeah?”
There isn’t much time left for the day, anyway, and Jungkook converses with a number of people who ask him about his work. A few people stop to talk to Jimin, too, recognizing him from Jungkook’s shoot. Jimin engages with them shyly, but he looks pleased, and he loosens up as the evening goes on.
When the first day of their exhibition finally ends, Jimin joins Jungkook in helping clear away the table of cake and refreshments. Jimin introduces himself to the others on his own, bowing and smiling, and Jungkook can tell they’re all enamored. Namjoon especially takes a liking to him.
“You want the leftover cake, Jimin?” Namjoon offers. There are only a few slices left.
“What if I wanted the leftover cake, Namjoon?” Yoongi bites, but they all know he’s only joking.
“Too bad,” Namjoon says easily.
“Thanks hyung.” Jungkook grabs the plate of cake before Jimin can say no; he can already tell Jimin’s going to be bashful about it.
“No one was offering you the cake,” Taehyung says, but Jungkook ignores him.
“Jimin hyung, we can eat it in my office?”
Jimin waves goodbye to the others and trails after Jungkook down the hall to his office. Jungkook waits for him to settle in before saying anything; they sit in their respective chairs and place the plate of cake on the desk. He’s not actually hungry, but Jimin digs in as soon as he finds him a fork.
“You did a really good job,” Jimin says. He’s smiling again, and it makes Jungkook feel light. “Your pictures were gorgeous.”
“Thanks to you.”
Jimin shakes his head. “I hardly did anything. You’re the one who put everything together.”
The praise makes him warm. “You wanted to talk about something?”
“Yeah.” Jimin sobers. He inhales like he’s steeling himself. “I wanted to ask if you would give me a second chance.”
He glances up, and Jungkook’s momentarily too stunned to say anything.
“I know I fucked up, and I understand if you say no. It’s not like I was expecting you to be waiting around for me or anything. I just - I’ve been thinking a lot, and working through some things, and - ” He bites his lip. “I really like you. I just - just wanted to see if maybe we could try again.”
He wants to say yes immediately, but the little part of him that’s become jaded over the years resists. “How do I know you won’t stand me up again?”
“I won’t,” Jimin insists, and he sounds so sure of himself. “I won’t. I swear. But I can’t prove that to you. There’s nothing I can give you except my word. And if you don’t want to trust me, that’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you.”
Jimin’s eyes widen a little. “Huh?”
“I do want to trust you.”
“Really?” He sounds like he really can’t believe it, like he really thought Jungkook would turn him away.
“I really like you too, hyung. I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too.” A pretty flush spreads across Jimin’s round cheeks. “Then will you go on a date with me, Jungkookie? For real this time.”
“Yes,” Jungkook says, grin splitting his cheeks. “Yes, I will.”