Taehyung regrets it. He very much regrets it for many reasons. The brick-like feeling in his stomach, the sudden lethargy threatening to overtake him, the way he feels too full and like he might explode. It’s too much, it’s way too much. He should’ve known better, should’ve listened better, but his stubbornness never lets him win.
“I’m fucking miserable,” he groans.
Jeongguk pops his head around the corner, “We told you not to wolf down four pancakes before leaving. You should’ve listened.”
“And if you puke in the rental I will literally leave you stranded on the side of the road. After making you clean it up,” Yoongi says too casually. He would do it, too. Min Yoongi is not one to fuck around and his threats are never empty. He’s one terrifying tiny man that Taehyung dare not set off.
“Where’s Jimin? You two are too mean to me in my times of misery,” sighs Taehyung, pouting.
“You bring the misery upon yourself, dingus.”
“Jimin! I’m being bullied!” Back in middle school, that was the key sentence to find Jimin in a second’s notice. Taehyung using the word bullied turned Jimin into Dashiell “Dash” Parr, and, even at the age of 12, he packed a punch that could knock 10 Mr. Incredibles flat on their asses.
“Who’s bullying Taehyung?” Jimin asks, stepping into Yoongi’s apartment. He’s just finished loading the last of Taehyung’s stuff into the car because Taehyung had whined pitifully about his aching gut and, well, Jimin has never been able to turn down a whining Taehyung. With his cute pout and his shining eyes and his puffed out cheeks. Jimin won’t lie, he’s a weakling in that sense.
“Gukkie and Yoongi, the asshole couple. Jiminie, punch them.” Upon Taehyung’s request, Jimin sends a warning, non-harmful glare in Jeongguk’s and Yoongi’s direction.
“I do pack a killer punch,” Jimin shrugs. “Taehyung’s already miserable, guys.”
“Awe look at you sticking up for your boyfriend,” Jeongguk the asshole coos. Yoongi snorts quietly, dropping the last of his bags in the hallway so that they’re piled together with Jeongguk’s.
Jimin feels the blush spread from the tips of his ears down to his chest. Taehyung blinks and stays silent for a few passing seconds, and then lets out a scoff that breaks off into a giggle. “C’mon Jiminie, we don’t have time for this slander.”
Slander, Jimin thinks sadly, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder as he follows behind Taehyung, who looks over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at Jeongguk and Yoongi. Downstairs, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin are all arranging the luggage, trying to figure out how to make it all fit. Seokjin’s cursing can be heard the whole trip down the stairs—even with the door to the apartment complex shut—while Hoseok tries to distract him with his impeccable sense of humor. Namjoon is silent as he tries to fit the luggage together like he’s putting a puzzle together.
“Are we ready?” Taehyung claps his hands together. It’s adorable the way he gets excited, childishly so with his boxy smile on full display.
“We are just about ready. You, however, are not allowed to go. You didn’t help load the car so have fun being a lonely bitch this week.” Seokjin must be hungry. Hangry, more like.
“But mom—” Taehyung starts at the same time Yoongi and Jeongguk emerge outside with their bags and suitcases in hand.
Seokjin groans, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Deep breaths, dude, deep breaths,” Jeongguk tells him.
“We can barely get all of this shit to fit and we totally forgot about yours and Yoongi’s shit!” Seokjin is going all ultrasonic, voice going up an octave higher with each word. Yoongi cringes.
“Geez, calm down. Let me, the man of the group, handle this,” Jeongguk gently pushes Seokjin to the side.
“Man of the group says the whiny bottom bitch,” Jimin snickers, and Taehyung falls into laughter right along with him. They stop abruptly when they notice Yoongi’s glare.
They all stand back and watch as Jeongguk, the kid who apparently has a hidden knack for everything, rearranges the luggage, slotting suitcases together perfectly until they all fit perfectly. Seokjin stares slack-jawed, “How… what the hell?”
Jeongguk pretends to dust his shoulder off, “I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you. Or you could just tell me how great I am.” Then he turns to Jimin and Taehyung, “And that’s power bottom bitch.”
Yoongi smirks and Jimin pretends to not notice the devilish grin on Jeongguk’s face when the older male pats his ass in passing.
“Nasty,” Jimin comments as he climbs in the very back of the SUV. A Volvo XC90; three rows of seats, perfect for a group of 7 to fit into for a road trip. Jimin chooses the last row and Taehyung climbs in next to him, choosing the seat right next to Jimin when he could’ve chosen the next seat over. It makes Jimin swell up with something, makes him feel warm and happy and content when Taehyung chooses to be close to him.
Yoongi and Namjoon claim the driver and the passenger seats while Jeongguk, Hoseok, and Seokjin take the middle.
“California bound, baby!” Jeongguk shouts and an uproar of hoots and hollers follows as Yoongi sticks the keys in the ignition.
“California,” Taehyung mumbles beside Jimin. “The city of dreams, can you believe it?” His eyes are already sparkling with excitement and curiosity, like he’s ready to take California by storm and make it his. Jimin’s sure he could, too. If anyone could turn California upside down by simply just existing within it, it’d be Taehyung.
“It’s gonna be so great,” Jimin agrees. Taehyung lays his head on Jimin’s shoulder, nuzzles right into the space where Jimin’s neck and shoulder meet, and it’s not long at all before the weight of his head gets heavier as he drifts off to sleep.
Pancakes always did put Taehyung down for a few hours.
California has been in discussion ever since Jimin can remember. Ever since baby fat still clung to his cheeks. Taehyung hasn’t shut up about it over the past 3 years, talking animatedly about all the things he wanted to do and things he wanted him and Jimin to do together for super duper best friend purposes .
And Jimin melts everytime Taehyung mentions something for just them. Melts exactly the way Taehyung melts against his side for the first 4 hours of driving, occasionally groaning and blinking his big eyes open when they hit a pothole in the road before knocking out again. Jimin ends up leaning his seat back so Taehyung’s head isn't bouncing against the hard curve of his shoulder, and catches Jeongguk glancing back at him in the midst of admiring Taehyung’s sleeping face.
Long lashes kissing the apples of adorably plump cheeks, thick lips parted, and Jimin doesn’t even mind the pancake breath that filters through Taehyung’s mouth. He’s far too dazed by Taehyung’s beauty, focusing a bit too much on the way his eyes flutter. His eyes follow the slope of Taehyung’s nose down to his cupid’s bow and finally to his lips.
“Ugh,” he groans. He would very much like to kiss Taehyung.
“It’s too early for your pining,” Jeongguk says, pulling Jimin somewhat back to reality. “I can’t stomach that amount of fluff this early.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, “I’m not pining. I thought he had something on his face, shut up, Jeongguk.”
Jimin guffaws, “As if you don’t refer to Yoongi as sugar plum when he’s not around! That is truly nasty.”
Silence falls within the car and all eyes, including a pair of eyes belonging to a very blushy Yoongi, are on Jeongguk. He’s probably going to find a way to leave Jimin stranded when they stop for food but Jimin thinks the reaction he got is well worth it.
“I’m going to end you, Park.”
Jimin glances over at Taehyung again. “Please do,” he sighs, “and put me out of my misery.”
“In love,” Seokjin snorts.
“Totally in love,” Hoseok agrees.
Jimin groans. He’s so fucking screwed.
Things take a turn for the worst when Jimin himself falls asleep, and wakes up with Taehyung’s head in his lap.
Yoongi and Namjoon have switched seats and the sun hangs higher in the sky, beating down right through Jimin’s window and heating his skin, and Kim Taehyung’s fucking head is in Jimin’s lap.
Upon seeing the sight before him—parted lips, silky brown hair flopping across a sleep-swollen face, and Taehyung’s head turned against Jimin’s thigh—, Jimin tenses on the spot, sucking in sharply and holding his breath. He wills himself to calm the fuck down because, chances are, Taehyung got uncomfortable at some point, unbuckled his seat belt, and decided to make himself comfy on Jimin’s lap, too laden with fatigue to realize that his actions very well could have consequences.
(“Your thighs are, like, the comfiest things I’ve ever placed my head on,” Taehyung had said once, a bit tipsy on cheap beer and a few shots.)
Now, it wouldn’t be a problem if Taehyung’s head was only on Jimin’s thigh. But no. No, it’s not. The weight of his head is right above Jimin’s crotch, and any little crack or dip in the road that causes Taehyung’s head to move sends a tingle straight down South.
Biting his lip, Jimin reaches up to grasp onto the grab handle and tries to fill his head with off-putting images. Like the time he came back to his dorm to find Taehyung in his bed, feverish and delirious with snot covered tissues littering both the bed and the floor. Or the time Taehyung got sick on Jimin’s shoes after deciding to turn his stomach into a human blender for every kind of alcohol known to man. Or when Taehyung went into deep detail about how the first person he kissed had terrible onion breath.
“Could we maybe stop for a bathroom break? My bladder is about to burst back here,” Jimin lies, forcing a laugh to cover up the uneasiness edging his tone.
“Well yeah, Taehyung’s giant head is on you. Taehyung, wake up before you get pissed on,” Jeongguk, who really should learn how to sit properly in a moving vehicle, reaches over his seat and flicks Taehyung on the forehead.
Taehyung stirs and Jimin starts praying real hard. Movement is a terrible thing under certain circumstances, and right now Jimin wishes movement didn’t exist.
“Mmph,” Taehyung grunts. He shifts and fucking nuzzles against Jimin’s crotch, technically nuzzling Jimin’s dick, and Jimin pushes Taehyung’s head in a knee-jerk reaction, blood already boiling and traveling downward.
“Ow! What the hell,” Taehyung whines, lips forming into a pout. He sits up slowly, rubbing at the back of his head where Jimin had pushed. “If I need, like, emergency neck surgery you’re paying my medical bills, asshole.”
“I’m sorry, Tae. I… thought a bug flew in on me. Didn’t want it in your hair.” Taehyung blinks and continues rubbing at his head absentmindedly. Jimin can’t tell if he’s convinced or not and, with the heat he feels radiating from his face, he doesn’t have time to keep staring to find out because he has a fucking blush to hide. He turns his head to look out the window, folding his hands together in his lap.
“Anyone else need a potty break?” Namjoon glances at everyone through the rearview mirror.
They all mutter in affirmation at the same time Yoongi snorts, “ Potty break? Joon, they're not children.”
“Correction,” Seokjin starts, “Jeongguk is definitely still a baby.”
This time, Jeongguk snorts. “I would disagree but, you know, I take it up the ass daily.”
“Yoongi’s baby, not ours,” Hoseok pulls a face.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder, “Damn straight.”
Jimin ignores them in favor of willing himself to not get aroused, shifting to the side to hide himself more from Taehyung’s view. It doesn't stop Taehyung from gluing himself to Jimin’s side still. Warmth instantly bleeds through Jimin’s shirt while a fire ignites in his chest, and he thinks it’s strange how he can feel both on fire and at peace all at once.
Then again Taehyung has always felt both like safety and something Jimin shouldn’t go near, like he should be wrapped up in caution tape or something.
Namjoon pulls into a gas station a few minutes later and everyone filters out of the car in a rush to beat each other to the bathroom. Jimin stays put, rolling his eyes and laughing when Taehyung nearly trips getting out of the car. Jimin, however, isn’t in a rush to get out.
“Thought you had to pee?” Jeongguk’s staring at Jimin, lips twitching up at the corner.
“Trying to get a boner?”
“Fuck off, Jeon.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Jeongguk slides the back door shut. Jimin watches him run over to catch up with Yoongi, sliding his arm around the older’s shoulder with ease as he slaps a sloppy kiss to his cheek. Yoongi, used to Jeongguk’s random kisses and displays of affection, doesn’t react. He used to react by pushing at Jeongguk’s side, brows furrowed and his face devoid of any emotion, but everyone’s noticed the change—the way Yoongi just might be a bit pink in the cheeks when Jeongguk acknowledges him. Sighing, Jimin wonders what it would be like to be that way with Taehyung.
He doesn’t allow the thought to linger for long, doesn’t want to bum himself out on the trip they’ve been talking about for literally ever. He climbs out of the car when he deems himself clear of his previously impending boner, except he can’t fight off the recurring sappy visuals his brain provides.
Outstanding, he thinks.
It’s a 12 hour trip from Chicago to California and Jimin spends 3 of those hours trying his hardest not to do anything too intimate with Taehyung. And, if he’s being honest, he’s not really sure what too intimate is with him and Taehyung. They've never kissed (on the lips, at least) and they've never stuck their dicks in each other’s asses—every other form of physical contact is something they have down to a science.
It’s like a natural gravitational pull with them. Most of the time they don’t intend on touching each other, but they end up touching anyways, be it something as simple as leaning against each other during movie night or intertwining their fingers subconsciously and out of elementary school habit while walking.
Taehyung’s hand stays on his thigh, fingers tapping against his leg to whatever he has playing through his headphones—classical music probably, judging by the peaceful look on Taehyung’s face—and Jimin’s just there staring at Taehyung’s hand. He only glances away when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Furrowing his brows, because everyone he texts on a daily basis is in the car with him, Jimin pushes the home button. He frowns instantly when he sees don’t burn a hole through his hand, idiot sent from a one pain in the ass by the name of Jeon Jeongguk.
He glances up to see said pain in the ass peeking over his seat, eyes crinkled as he giggles. Little fucker.
His phone dings again a second later.
just tell him
He’s going to kick Jeongguk in the ass so hard later on.
The next stop they make is in Toledo, Ohio, and Taehyung bounces with excitement when he persuades everyone into a museum trip to the Toledo Museum of Art. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, he’s always dragging Jimin off on impromptu art-related adventures, but it’s one of Jimin’s absolute favorite things.
Seeing the way Taehyung lights up and projects actual sunlight over everything in his vicinity makes Jimin wonder why he’s not the most priceless piece of art in any museum they visit.
“I think the paintings are over here, come on!” Taehyung grins and laces his fingers with Jimin’s, tugging until Jimin kicks into gear.
And so he lets Taehyung guide him around, listening as the barely younger rambles on and on about hidden theories behind his favorite paintings, boxy smile never leaving his face. And it’s times like this where Jimin is Very Aware of just how deep he is in this whole thing. Most of the time, he can repress how he feels for the sake of keeping boundaries intact, but whenever Taehyung is like this, unaware of everything but the thing he truly loves—art, music, films, etc.—, Jimin can’t help but swell up.
It’s almost overwhelming, the way he wants to press kisses into the back of Taehyung’s hand and praise him every time he teaches Jimin something new. Symbolism, surrealism, impressionism—Taehyung knows about it all, and it’s fascinating to Jimin in every way possible.
“This one,” Taehyung smiles, “is one of my favorites. The Surprise. It was painted during the romanticism era by Jean-Antoine Watteau.”
The painting shows a couple completely wrapped up in each other, to the point that Jimin can’t tell whose limbs are whose, while a musician strums away just a mere inches away. Jimin tilts his head in thought.
“Why is it one of your favorites?”
Humming, Taehyung starts swinging his and Jimin’s hands back and forth, fingers still locked together. Jimin hadn’t realized they never let each other’s hands go because he’s so used to Taehyung’s touch that it feels like a second skin. His cheeks heat up, pink glowing on the apples and his smile hard to contain.
“Because it’s something that I want. You know, minus the too close spectator.” And then he’s grinning, head turning to look at Jimin.
“Something that you want?” Jimin swallows.
He swears Taehyung’s grip on his hand tightens just a little bit when the other says: “Yeah, love like that. I dunno, I just like the idea of having a love so intense with someone you’re so down for that you completely forget to acknowledge the world around you? Not in the gross, unhealthy way that people our age like to romanticize, but. You know.”
This is the part where Jimin has to somehow pretend he doesn’t know what Taehyung is talking about but really does know because he’s already experiencing the whole so down for someone and he’s already super lost in someone that he sometimes forgets other humans exist.
“Yeah,” Jimin says slowly, wetting his lips, “I think I get what you mean. Loving intensely but still being connected to the outer world, still somehow being two individuals.”
Taehyung starts nodding, “Right! You always get me.”
“I don’t understand half of what you’re saying most of the time,” Jimin laughs, nudging Taehyung with his elbow. Their fingers stay locked.
“But you make an effort to understand,” Taehyung’s voice is soft, full of affection if Jimin’s not mistaking. Not knowing what to make of it, Jimin forces out a giggle.
“Don’t get all soft on me.”
Despite the sudden drop of his heart and the fact that he loves when Taehyung is hit with unexpected waves of emotion, because Taehyung is the master of controlling his emotions and seeing them seep through the cracks at random moments is something Jimin really takes in, Jimin doesn’t want his own emotions to be figured out, so, as always, he brushes everything away with something totally bro like . It’s become a habit.
Taehyung smiles softly, tinged with a sadness that doesn’t belong, and Jimin chooses to ignore it in favor of pointing to a painting on the other side of the room. “Come on, I want you to tell me about this one.”
Taehyung follows. He always does, always will.
“Do you think it’s possible?” Jimin asks later when it’s his turn to drive. The sun is starting to set, orange and purple painting the sky and a slight chill in the air that whips through the car, ruffling hair and kissing cheeks.
Taehyung occupies the passenger seat, sitting cross-legged with his head leaning back, eyes closed and the sun casting the perfect glow to his already bronzed skin. Jimin tries not to stare too much, too long, has to remember that he’s driving. Kim Taehyung, a bonafide road hazard.
“Do I think what’s possible?” Taehyung rolls his head to the side in Jimin’s direction.
“That type of love.”
A hum fills the otherwise silent car. Everyone else is either sleeping (read: Yoongi and Jeongguk) or have their earphones in.
“Yeah, I know it is,” Taehyung answers.
Jimin doesn’t know why, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Oh?” He manages dryly. Keep it cool. “How—how do you know?”
Something is telling him he doesn’t want to know the answer to that. Half of him, the half that builds up unrealistic scenarios in his head, is hopeful while the other half is filling up with a dread that makes his blood feel frozen.
“Currently experiencing it. Just, you know, it’s unrequited like every other love story in the world,” Taehyung tries to joke, laugh it off. Trying to hide the hurt but Jimin sees it flash in his pretty brown eyes.
Jimin’s quiet for a while. He’s not sure what to say, torn between wanting to comfort his best friend and wanting to distance himself because he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up like he’s done so many times before.
Breathe. Think. Slow down. Exhale.
“Is it… someone I know? This person?” Keep it casual, offer a shoulder to lean on.
Taehyung clears his throat, “Yeah. You’re pretty close with him.”
Jimin’s initial thought is that it’s one of their friends, probably Jeongguk (and God help Taehyung if it is because Min Yoongi ) if Jimin had to guess. Hell, Jimin himself had a thing for Jeongguk before Yoongi came into the picture because, as annoying as Jeongguk can be, he has this thing about him that makes you want to peel back his layers and absorb yourself in him. It makes sense that Yoongi won his heart; he's always been attracted to things that give him a challenge.
Swallowing, Jimin smiles. “Tell me who it is and maybe I'll put in a good word for you?”
Taehyung’s phone dings and lights up. “Nah,” he steals a glance at his screen, “I don't want to ruin our friendship.”
Jimin is positive that his assumption is correct now, and he can't do anything to stop the way his throat feels tight, the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel, or the way his heart seems to be making a new home out of his stomach.
He sees the way Taehyung’s eyes soften at the thought of this person.
What he doesn’t see is the jesus christ taehyung tell him going unanswered on Taehyung’s phone.
Taehyung had a thing with someone once, two years ago, and it had been then, because of the way the guy ( Minjae, Jimin recalls with irrational anger) had been all over Taehyung—how they’d been all over each other —that Jimin had stumbled into a cesspool of realization.
He thinks he’d always known somewhere in the back of his mind that he loved Taehyung as something more than just his best friend, he’d just kept himself in denial by convincing himself that all of his actions and feelings towards Taehyung were platonic. And tricking himself into thinking his possessiveness towards Taehyung was the normal best friend jealousy that everyone experiences when their best friend starts seeing someone was too easy because Jimin, in general, tends to get possessive whether it be over his friends or a significant other. Mostly because he doesn’t want them with anyone that would put them in danger of any sort, but still.
(He still hated that about himself, but he blamed it all on the stars.)
The night that he’d started to realize that it definitely was not normal was the night he put his fist through his living room wall. It was impulsive, a sudden rush of anger and boiling blood after Taehyung had shut the door behind him with the promise to give Jimin all the juicy details of his date the next day. Details that Jimin didn’t want. At all.
However, the next day hadn’t been full of inappropriate details but instead had been full of Jimin conjuring up a believable lie to tell as to why there was a hole right beside where the entertainment center sat. He’d settled for saying he got into his dad’s liquor cabinet, got a bit too drunk and forgot how the hole got there exactly, and, despite looking everything but convinced, Taehyung dropped it.
Fooling himself after that had been futile. Everything started piecing together, each day Jimin realized why he felt a certain way about Taehyung, why he stared at the other boy’s lips a few seconds too long, why he started holding Taehyung’s hand more.
He’d even googled why in the fuck he was feeling like he was, hoping there were other reasons—ones that could be solved quickly, before Taehyung figured him out, but no. There was nothing. He went through pages and pages and clicked on countless links only to be told the same thing over and over: he was in love with or was falling in love with South Korea’s sunshine boy.
He should’ve been more surprised, but his subconscious was already fully aware of his feelings, and so he’d just stared at his laptop screen for a good while before allowing his shoulders to slump in defeat.
That goddamn magnetic Kim Taehyung and his enigmatic existence.
Jimin has never considered a straw to be an arousing object. They’re purposeful, yes, allowing the transfer of a beverage from its container to the mouth of the drinker, but sexual? No.
Or so he thought.
And that thought completely disperses the moment the waitress brings their orders to their booth because the moment Taehyung’s strawberry milkshake is in front of him is the moment Jimin changes his perspective on straws for good. He watches as Taehyung sucks the straw into his mouth, pink lips pursed and his cheeks hollowed as he sucks, murmuring about how the shake is thick but it’s so good, and Jimin tries his hardest not to make a sound.
God , what he would give to be the one making Taehyung say those things in an entirely different context, a context in which Taehyung would be on his knees with swollen lips. Jeongguk kicks him in the shin, trying to get his attention to snap back to reality, but Jimin is completely in a headspace where nothing but Taehyung and the straw and the slurping sounds exist.
“Oh my God…” Jimin mutters. Someone clears their throat loudly.
He’s so intently focused on Taehyung that he misses it when the waitress, dressed in a poodle skirt with a cinched waist with her lips all cherry red to fit the 50s theme of the quaint little diner, asks them if they need a refill on ketchup.
With Jimin out of it, Jeongguk comes to the rescue, picking up the bottle and shaking it. “I think we’re good. Thank you for asking, though.”
“Alright, you boys just holler at me if you need anything, yeah?” The waitress— Roxanne , her name tag reads—smiles as she turns on her heel. The twang to her voice had been extremely prominent, and Taehyung can’t help but giggle when she’s out of earshot.
“Did you guys hear her accent? That was adorable.”
“Country girls, man,” Namjoon hums. “The girls that really get down and dirty , if you catch my drift.”
Yoongi blinks, “Joon, the desert in the middle of a drought could’ve caught that drift.”
“How would you know anyway?”
Namjoon looks at Hoseok with his brow arched, “Fucked a girl from Louisiana once. Had to help her get around campus because she was new last year and, well, as a way of repaying me, you know.” He shrugs, shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Best head I’ve ever got.”
“Sloppy?” Jeongguk asks, absently chewing on his straw.
“So sloppy. She tied her hair up and everything. She meant business.”
“Milked you for all your worth, did she?” Taehyung speaks up, grinning toothily with the tip of his straw clenched between his teeth. Jimin swallows. Oh, God.
“Never let someone suck your dick if they aren’t willing to get sloppy about it. Dry blowjobs are the worst,” Taehyung advises as if anyone of them would prefer a dry blowjob. Jimin wishes they’d all shut the hell up so he could stop stifling himself with fries and burger.
“So Tae,” Jeongguk drawls. Jimin knows that tone. He better fucking not. “Would you say you give dry blowjobs?”
Jimin promptly coughs around his food, feels bits of his fries shoot down the back of his throat as he glares at Jeongguk who just grins in response. Oh yeah, he’s a dead man.
Taehyung only laughs and says: “My blowjob skills are impeccable, according to all of my sexual partners.”
No. No no no. This is the exact opposite of what Jimin needs. He can feel his ears burning red and he’s positive his face matches. How he ended up in a diner with his idiot friends casually discussing blowjobs is beyond him, but what’s even more beyond him is the fact that Taehyung isn’t phased by this at all. He doesn’t even bat a lash, doesn’t flush at the mention of dicks in mouths, and he doesn’t break eye contact or shy away when his eyes meet with Jimin’s.
Which leads Jimin to believe that Taehyung must be really fucking confident in his dick sucking skills because if he weren’t then Taehyung would be a blushing, stuttering mess. Jimin knows Taehyung like the back of his hand, he knows when Taehyung is confident and when he isn’t.
Their eyes lock for the nth time while Yoongi is in the midst of praising Jeongguk for his blessed mouth and God-given tongue energy and Jimin doesn’t look away despite being the color of a ripe tomato. He can’t have Taehyung knows he’s flustered, can’t look like a shy subby mess when it’s so far from the truth. Honestly, these kinds of talks don’t really phase Jimin either, because sex is sex and it’s the most common thing in the world, but discussing sex while he has sex with Taehyung on his mind makes him blush to no end.
But the moment Jeongguk turns his attention to Jimin and asks, “What about you, Jimin? Ever get any complaints while you’re giving the suck?”
Tilting his head to the side, Jimin sticks his tongue in his cheek and grins. “Nope,” he says, “I don’t have a gag reflex.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen for the shortest of seconds. Someone whistles.
“Well, I think Jimin just won this whole thing,” Hoseok throws money to pay for his order down.
“He also gave us some very unneeded visuals,” Yoongi grunts, paying for both his and Jeongguk’s meals. Jeongguk winks at him.
“I dunno, some of us might’ve needed those visuals. Taehyung?”
Taehyung stands then, tossing his own money down. Jimin watches, amused. “I’m gonna, uh. Piss. Yeah, I’m gonna piss. Meet you guys outside.”
Taehyung saunters off with a very uncomfortable feeling in his lower regions.
“You and Taehyung are sharing a room when we get to the motel,” Yoongi kindly informs Jimin once they’re all outside. Taehyung’s still in the bathroom and because of that Jimin is left defenseless against The Assholes.
“What?” Jimin asks dumbly.
“You and lover boy are sharing a room,” Jeongguk supplies this time. He slides into Yoongi’s space and slips his arms around the older’s waist. Jimin scrunches his nose.
“I… no. That’s a bad idea, trust me,” Jimin tries. It really is such a bad idea. Jimin’s heart and dick are in two different places, which is an awful combination because while he’s hard below the belt (not in a literal sense— yet ), he’s soft and still dejected over Taehyung’s earlier confession.
“It’s a great idea,” Jeongguk pushes. “You two need to work your shit out.” With that, he drags Yoongi away before Jimin can ask what the hell that even means because he and Taehyung are fine. As far as he knows, anyway.
“What’d I miss?” Taehyung appears beside him, adjusting his pants.
Jimin smiles, “We’re roomies for the night.”
“Oh. Thank God, you’re the only one who doesn’t snore like you’re trying to inhale the paint off of the walls.”
Jimin can do this. It’s one night stuck in a shitty motel room with his best friend. Everything will be fine and tomorrow he can sort himself out after he’s gotten some sleep.
They pile back into the car, and Jimin takes the passenger seat while Taehyung takes the driver’s seat this time. The motel is only a few miles up the road according to Google Maps and that’s the only thing between Jimin and sleep. Piece of cake.
When they arrive at the motel, Jimin decides he stands corrected.
It’s one of those seedy places, the kind of place where men with tired eyes and beer bellies bring hookers to before dragging themselves home to their wives with lies carefully placed on their tongue and promises they can’t keep. The place looks run down, straight out of a horror movie. There are weeds growing up through the concrete and a pair of external stairs leading up to a second row of rooms that look like they’re capable of collapsing if anyone over 100 pounds were to walk them.
“I feel like we’re gonna wake up in the middle of the night with a fuckin’ serial killer straddling us while holding a knife against our throats.” Jimin’s skin is crawling. There’s no way sleep will be a piece of cake now.
Taehyung shifts closer to him while they wait on the others to check them all in. It’s instinct that has Jimin mirroring Taehyung’s actions, chasing the warmth radiating off Taehyung because it makes him feel just a bit safer.
“Maybe the rooms won’t be horrible. Don’t judge a book by its cover, right?” Always the optimist is Taehyung.
Jimin doesn’t necessarily agree, but he nods anyway. Still, even if the rooms are disgusting on the insides, Jimin doesn’t think he’ll be too bothered. He knows damn well his attention will be on Taehyung, whether it be physical attention or mental attention, and it’s honestly safe to say that it’s going to be both. They’ll spend the night chatting and cuddling just like they always do until Taehyung kicks Jimin out of his bed so he can sleep. Taehyung’s like that; he loves cuddling and all that but he always remembers to keep it to a minimum. Jimin’s always found it a bit odd. Like Taehyung was purposely trying to keep him at arms-length because maybe sleeping together—actually sleeping together, no puns intended, just physical intimacy, pure and simple—was something Taehyung viewed as too far.
Jimin never points it out, but he thinks intimacy is something Taehyung struggles with and has been struggling with since his last relationship. Jimin doesn’t mind, he’ll take what he can get.
“You guys are in room 17,” Jeongguk says, tossing their room key to Taehyung. “Night!”
“Did you see that?” Taehyung whisper-asks when Jeongguk and Yoongi disappear into their own room.
“The devilish glint in Jeongguk’s eyes? Yeah.” Always.
“You didn’t see his horns?” Taehyung asks as he slips the key in the door. Jimin’s got their overnight bags in each other his hands.
Playing along, Jimin laughs, “I’ve gotten so used to his horns that I don’t even notice them anymore. Now we have to figure out what he was—what the hell…”
The problem isn’t the room itself. It’s the typical, slightly dingy looking motel room with ugly wallpaper, a jacquard bedspread with ugly designs, and a small bathroom that would barely fit two people in it at once. It reeks of stale smoke and cleaning products that had been used in an attempt to mask the stench, but that’s still not the problem.
The problem is where there be two beds but there's only one. As in Jimin and Taehyung will have to share. As in Jeongguk Jeon, Yoongi Min, Hoseok Jung, Namjoon Kim, and Seokjin Kim are all over with. The second Jimin sees them, they’re goners.
Dropping their bags by the bed, Jimin plucks his phone from his pocket.
did you fuckers plan this?
The only response he gets is a series of winky emojis and a single tongue emoji. Jimin’s going to rip some dick come morning.
Jimin notices Taehyung check his own phone. Maybe Taehyung is cursing out their assholes friends as well, maybe he’s texting something sappy to whoever the person he mentioned earlier is. Jimin doesn’t want to think about it too much, so he plops down on the bed with a sigh and groans to get Taehyung’s attention.
“So tell me,” Jimin starts, “do you bring everyone back to shitty motel rooms or am I an exception?”
Humming, Taehyung tilts his head and plays along. “I usually take the others in the alley behind Starbucks for a quickie. You’re getting the luxury treatment.”
“Wow, I must be pretty special.”
Taehyung joins Jimin on the bed, giggling as he lays back. “This place is shitty,” he says.
“The absolute shittiest. I’m scared to take a piss in the bathroom. A fuckin’ snake might shoot up from the toilet and bite the head of my dick off.”
Jimin snorts, “Might. Piss with caution.”
“Will you be my piss guard?”
“A fuckin’— piss guard? Tae, what the hell.”
“Yeah!” Taehyung exclaims. “You come stand beside me when I pee and then karate chop the shit out of any creepy crawler that comes barrelling out of the shitter.”
“So we’ve grown out of the school bullying days and have moved on to fighting off slithering snakes? Nice.” Jimin’s giggling so hard, face turning red and his shoulders shaking.
“We’ll call this dick duty,” Taehyung supplies, his shoulders shaking as well. He turns to his side and Jimin follows so that they’re facing each other, mouths open and eyes squinted as they laugh happily, stupidly.
“Fucking dick duty,” Jimin wheezes.
They stay like that for a few moments, spewing nothing but bullshit and laughing until their ribs ache. Tears cling to Jimin’s lashes and Taehyung’s face positively glows when he’s like this, and he’s so beautiful.
It’s easy to forget in the midst of their slap happiness that there was a reason for Jimin to be upset in the first place. The void growing within him seems to be filled for a bit, toeing the brim with giggles and stupid best friend things until the laughter dies down and Jimin realizes how close their faces have gotten.
Barely a few inches apart, Jimin sucks in sharply and puts distance between them. Rolling over, he props himself up on his elbow. Not that it did any good, the longing has already returned ten-fold. Taehyung blinks, pretty lashes fanning out over his cheeks as his smile fades.
Jimin says, “So, what do you say we try and work this dinosaur of a television and fill up on Guk’s nasty ass protein bars?”
“You have his protein bars?”
“Yup,” Jimin says, popping the p. “Figured the little shit deserves to be fucked with a bit.”
“Fine, but when he gets you in a headlock don’t expect me to come to your rescue.”
“Dude, I’m Jimin Park .”
Taehyung’s eyes swim across the ceiling, lips curling at the corners, “And he’s Jeongguk Jeon. Athlete muscle pig mutant at its finest.”
“You saying he’s stronger than me? Do you remember how hard I hit?” Jimin’s not pouting. He’s not. His pride may be a bit bruised, and sure his heart is also doing this weird thing where it feels like it’s going to burst, but he’s not pouting. It’s a dude thing, he tells himself. Ego and all that.
“Am I sensing some insecurities in one's machoness?”
“Pft, no. Fuck off.”
Taehyung laughs again, loud and wonderful. Jimin’s heart swells at the sound. He walks over to the television, a shift in attention, a change of subject. Jimin’s really just trying to cram this night full of any distraction he can. He’s spent too many nights just feeling all of the shit he feels for Taehyung, and he’s grown tired of feeling.
“I don’t think we’re gonna get it to work,” Taehyung sighs when Jimin turns the channel again only to have the room filled with the sound of static. Jimin scoffs as he pushes the off button harshly.
“Whatever, I don’t feel like watching some 60s westerns anyway.”
Taehyung’s rummaging through Jeongguk’s bag, the one Jimin had snatched up without getting busted, while Jimin reclaims his spot on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. All he can think about is how possible it is for the whole thing to come caving down on them. They could wake up covered in bits of ceiling and whoever was in the room above them.
“That little shit,” Jimin hears Taehyung whisper. He raises up.
“Jeongguk Jeon, underaged 20-year-old male, has alcohol in his bag. He’s fuckin’ grounded,” Taehyung waves around a beer and proceeds to pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Yoongi’s drink, Jimin’s brain supplies.
“Jeongguk Jeon, underaged 20-year-old male with a 24-year-old legal adult boyfriend who’s whipped and will buy the kid anything he asks for.”
Taehyung looks over his shoulder and smirks, “I’m sure they won’t mind if we indulge ourselves a little.”
Jimin contemplates it for a few seconds. Drinking Jeongguk’s and Yoongi’s alcohol isn’t what he’s wary of. Drinking around someone you have romantic feelings isn’t the smartest thing a person can do, but Taehyung’s got a pout forming on his lips and his eyes are so pretty and glossy that Jimin finds it hard to resist.
“Fine,” he sighs, “but no whiskey for you. You’ll get sick.” Taehyung never could drink hard liquor and Jimin doesn’t let him. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want to be the one cleaning up Taehyung’s vomit, but that’s not the case. You don’t let people you care about do things that you know will make them feel bad.
“Hey, I do just fine with whiskey!”
“Tell that to the backseat of Namjoon’s truck.”
Taehyung twists the cap off of his beer, “Yeah yeah, that was one time.”
“Four times,” Jimin corrects. The beer is warm and will most likely taste disgusting but they clink their bottles together anyway.
“To the luxurious life,” Taehyung says sarcastically.
Yep, definitely disgusting. The moment the liquid hits his tongue, Jimin’s face scrunches up in distaste. It’s bitter but not in a good way, sits in his stomach hot and heavy and gross.
“Tastes like a sweaty taint,” Taehyung smacks his lips together.
“The sweatiest taint,” Jimin agrees.
They each keep drinking, though. They don’t know why they keep drinking, but Jimin supposes it’s all worth it when his veins start feeling warm, buzzing with a combination of contentedness and a weird energy. Chasing the buzz, he guesses.
Taehyung’s smile is a bit dopey, more so than usual, and his cheeks are flushed and his eyes a bit hooded. He giggles when their eyes lock.
“What?” asks Jimin.
“This beer is so shitty, but I suppose it’s serving its purpose,” Taehyung murmurs. “You’re pretty, Jiminie.”
It’s the alcohol. They’re not drunk, a bit tipsy maybe, but the alcohol still has a voice, one that’s slow and drawn out, and yet Jimin can’t help but blush. Taehyung has told Jimin he’s pretty countless times over the course of their friendship, but Taehyung’s so close, laying on his side with his face just a finger length apart from Jimin’s.
Blame it on the alcohol, right?
Jimin gently shoves Taehyung’s shoulder, “Sap.”
“Mean it,” shrugs Taehyung. “Pretty Jimin.”
“‘M not. Buzzed maybe, it’s been awhile since I last drank anything.” Jimin gets that. Finding time to party with the stresses of college and other gross adult things weighing on your shoulders is damn near impossible. It’s not some party like in the movies. Unrealistic as fuck if you’re a person with your priorities straight.
Jimin clears his throat and turns his head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a shift, a change of topic when he says: “So, tell me about him.”
Word vomit pushed out by liquid courage. Jimin knows he’s going to regret asking it, but he has to know. He needs to put the what-ifs floating around in his head to rest. What if it’s Jeongguk, what if it’s one of his friends outside of their little clique that Taehyung wants Jimin to hook him up with. What if, what if, what if—
What if it’s me?
Jimin shakes the thought away, puts water on the flicker of hope to drowned it out. Taehyung’s looking at Jimin, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, mouth suddenly dry.
“Let’s play a game.”
Fucking Taehyung Kim.
“What kind of game?”
He knows Jimin won’t decline.
“I’ll tell you about him but you have to guess correctly in order for me to tell you straight up.”
“I—” Jimin’s nervous now. He’s not sure why. “Yeah, okay.”
There’s hesitation in the way Taehyung goes quiet, brain working through the mist to form his words carefully. It’s cute, Jimin thinks. Taehyung’s always been awful at being discreet so this should be interesting. And disastrous.
“Okay uh,” he begins slowly, brows furrowed, “he’s into dancing and shit. Like you.”
Taemin? Jimin wonders. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Taehyung’s speaking again.
“He’s, like, super cute. You know, cinnamon bun sugar plum type shit.”
“Cinnamon bun sugar plum,” Jimin repeats amusedly.
Taehyung pinks, flipping Jimin off. “Fuck off, he’s adorable.”
Jongin maybe? Could definitely still be Jeongguk too. He’s adorable sometimes. Like, 0.01% of the time.
“Have anyone in mind yet?” Jimin picks up on the way Taehyung’s voice catches at the end of the sentence. And when Jimin notices that Taehyung’s picking at his sweats—when did he change into those?—he realizes that he’s not the only nervous one.
Nervous and full of dread, more like.
“I have a few people in mind. Taemin or Jongin?”
Taehyung makes a face, “Nah. As attractive as they both are, no. Anymore?”
This time, Jimin swallows before speaking. “Is it—is it Jeongguk?” His heart thuds uncomfortably.
“What the— Jeongguk? No, definitely not. Yoongi would literally tear my balls from between my legs.”
A snort fills the room and Jimin tilts his head back as he cackles at the thought. He tries not to look as relieved as he feels, but the tension that had somehow settled in his muscles and features melts away completely, leaving him lax and giddy.
“This person,” Taehyung says quietly, tone bringing Jimin back to reality. Here it goes, no turning back. The nerves and dread return ten-fold. Taehyung bats his eyes, smiling weakly as he looks up.
“Go on, I won’t tell anyone,” Jimin assures. He watches as Taehyung pushes a stressed hand through his floppy, soft hair and wets his lips.
“This person has been… well, my other half for half of my life. Like, soulmate and all that jazz, you know? He makes me feel weird, man. Happy and content with life. I dunno, I want them around always and I get sad when we’re apart for too long.”
Jimin’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach over and take hold of Taehyung hands. His big, soft—because he fucking moisturizes every damn night—hands that Jimin has imagined in a plethora of filthy scenarios. His pulse is also fluttering annoyingly because he swears Taehyung is referring to him, but he can’t allow himself to be so confident.
Taehyung is as unpredictable as they come. The type to rip the safety net right out from underneath someone with no ill intentions; it’s just the way he is.
“They have all of my secrets,” Taehyung laughs softly. “Like the time I hooked up with a guy just because I wanted to play with his puppy.” Jimin’s heart is really doing some fucked up shit now, somersaults maybe, and Jimin is literally on the verge of exploding because he’s positive that he’s the only one that knows about that.
Taehyung and his love for dogs.
“Jimin, if you really have no idea who I’m talking about then you will officially be crowned the world’s biggest fool.”
With his mouth too dry to form words, Jimin just stares, throat bobbing. It doesn’t sink in at first, just kind of swims around in his head without actually sticking.
“You mean—” he exhales. Oh. Oh. Jimin looks down at his hands, notices how they’re a bit shaky in light of the confession. It’s a good feeling, airy and warm, despite Jimin looking he’s just seen a ghost.
“Yes,” Taehyung breathes and, oh God, his hands are cupping Jimin’s cheeks. They’re so warm and big, and his fingers are so pretty. He forces Jimin to look at him, eyes soft and fuck Jimin’s not drunk enough for this.
It's Taehyung who moves first, because Jimin is still trying to process this and he's fucking frozen in place, heart pounding against his ears and his eyes swimming. It's him, it's fucking him, and he can’t believe it. Taehyung had always told him that he second guesses himself too much and Jimin supposes he was right.
The first press of Taehyung’s lips against his is barely enough to pull him out of his thoughts, but when the softness—just like Jimin had always imagined—of Taehyung’s lips finally registers, Jimin’s eyes widen before they flutter shut, content; happy. And Taehyung is so good with his lips, letting them slide softly against Jimin’s, building anticipation and want because his kisses are dizzying, slow and gentle and wonderful.
It should be gross because of the gross beer cloying on their tongues, but it’s not. It’s so far from gross. It’s exhilarating, heart-stopping. Taehyung hums and the vibrations tickle against Jimin’s lips. “You—” Taehyung mumbles when he pulls back, blinking with his hands sliding up Jimin’s arms, over his shoulders and up his neck. His hands are warm but Jimin shivers at the contact. “Do you want—?”
When Jimin gets what Taehyung is referring to, he blushes. “Oh, uhm. Yeah—fuck, yeah. For so long.” He trips over his words a few times and Taehyung giggles.
Kissing Taehyung is so different than other kisses he’s had. For starters, he’s super in love with Taehyung and so his hands don’t stop shaking the entire time, not even when he pushes them into Taehyung’s hair for purchase. But kissing Taehyung is so familiar; like he’s been kissing Taehyung for years, and Jimin loves that. But where there’s familiarity, there’s also something that feels foreign, misplaced in the best ways because, while Jimin has the kissing down to a T, he’s also aware that he’s going to be exploring all the unknown parts of Taehyung’s body. The dips and curves and soft edges. Everything. He’s going to trace his tongue over every inch during his exploration and leave Taehyung quaking by the time he’s done.
They’re laying down now. Taehyung’s on his back, one leg bent and curling around Jimin’s waist while Jimin straddles his other leg. In this position, their knees provide a delicious friction that has each of them shifting their hips.
“ Oh,” Taehyung breathes into Jimin’s mouth when the older applies more pressure, gives Taehyung something to grind against. The sound sends his mind reeling. He wants to have Taehyung making all kinds of pretty sounds.
“Oh?” Jimin asks, mouthing along Taehyung’s jaw, sucking a bruise at the edge where it curves.
Taehyung swallows, “You’re fucking—you’re, like, I dunno. Your lips.”
“Mhm,” Jimin hums. “What about them?”
“They’re so good, Jimin. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted them on me.”
Jimin is practically wagging his tail at the praise, maybe a bit cocky because of it, but the way Taehyung gasps when Jimin moves his lips down the column of his throat and sucks bruises into the soft skin there, Jimin thinks he has a right to feel just a bit cocky.
It doesn’t stop there. Jimin pushes Taehyung’s shirt up to his chest and attaches his lips to the area right above Taehyung’s belly button. Taehyung’s soft, cute tummy and nice hips, and it drives Jimin wild. He makes his way up, stopping and dipping his tongue into lines of miniscule definition, and then proceeds to wrap his lips around a nipple, tongue flicking over the pert bud.
“Ah,” Taehyung sighs, hips arching. So Jimin repeats his actions. This time, he allows his teeth to scrape against Taehyung’s nipple, feels how Taehyung shivers, exhaling a shaky breath.
“God Taehyung,” Jimin lifts his head.
Taehyung’s eyes are closed, assumably because he’s basking in everything. “Sensitive,” he manages.
A pretty blush colors Taehyung’s cheeks, “Shut up. Get my clothes off. Yours too.”
And so Jimin does. He takes his time with it, lets his fingertips brush over skin, presses kisses against every surface he can, and when he finally reaches the last article of clothing, Jimin’s hit with a wave of nerves. Taehyung must notice his hesitation, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Yeah, just hit me that we’re about to do this, you know?”
Taehyung’s visibly hard, briefs straining over his erection, and Jimin feels his face flush with fire. He’s embarrassingly hard too, dick twitching at the sight of the gorgeous boy before him.
“Your dick just gave me a huge reality check,” Jimin admits seriously.
Taehyung snorts, falling back against the bed and laughing until his eyes disappear. The sound is contagious and sends Jimin into his own giggle fit. Leaning over, he decides to hide his face against Taehyung’s thigh until his nerves get their shit together, but Taehyung has other ideas.
Reaching down, he tugs at Jimin’s dark hair. “C’mere,” says Taehyung, voice breathy around the edges. He kisses Jimin softly, nips at the swell of his bottom lip as he presses his palm against Jimin’s stomach. He gets Jimin drunk on his kisses and moves his hand down, palming over Jimin’s clothed cock and earning himself a strangled groan.
“F—fuck,” Jimin rests his forehead against the tip of Taehyung’s nose.
“Touch me, Jimin. Please.” His voice is bordering whiny, and that’s something Jimin can’t say no to.
They kick off their underwear, letting them fall to the floor without a second thought, and both are left blushing at the sight of each other. Taehyung’s cock curves prettily, Jimin thinks. All pink and thick and wet. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other’s dicks before, but definitely never in this particular setting. It’s different, makes Jimin feel like a pre-teen boy discovering porn for the first time. Except this is happening in his actual personal like and that’s just fucking wild.
“Don’t stare,” Taehyung whines shyly.
Jimin tilts his head, “You’re staring too.”
Taehyung’s eyes could burn holes through Jimin if that were physically possible to do. Jimin doesn’t really mind, he kind of loves the attention.
“I just… your dick is so nice. Like, top quality cock. Now come here.”
Jimin really doesn’t need to be told twice.
And he goes right for the prize. Wrapping his hand around Taehyung’s cock, Jimin admires the way Taehyung seems to turn into putty as he strokes slowly, loving how Taehyung can’t help but buck his hips. Precome wells at the slit when Jimin strokes his thumb over the soft skin of Taehyung’s frenulum, and then he lets his other hands brush over Taehyung’s balls, loving how Taehyung arches into it.
“ Jimin,” it comes out as a warning. Almost. It sounds more like desperation.
“Think there’s any lube in Guk’s bag?” There probably is.
“Most likely,” Taehyung mumbles. Despite being gone, he certainly doesn’t miss watching Jimin make his way over to rummage through the bag, bare-assed and beautiful. Taehyung thinks the heavens truly are smiling at him.
The heavens being Jimin’s perfect, round supple asscheeks.
“Fuck,” comes tumbling past his lips.
Jimin turns to look over his shoulder, “What?”
“Your ass. I would literally eat a skittle out of it.” It should be funny, and it is, but Taehyung is dead serious. Which makes it funnier.
“Dude, don’t be fucking weird.”
“‘M always weird. Hurry up.”
“Coming,” Jimin waves around a bottle of travel-sized lube and a condom. Taehyung laughs because how convenient of Jeongguk. He’ll have to thank him in the morning.
Jimin rejoins Taehyung on the bed with a kiss, rushed and messy as he blindly uncaps the lube. When Taehyung starts sucking on his tongue, Jimin goes slack, eyes closing and the need to kiss the life out of his best friend overwhelming.
“Shit, you’re so good with your mouth,” mutters Jimin.
“I’ll show you just how good I am with it in the morning,” Taehyung promises, and Jimin’s mind flashes back to the conversation in the diner. “But right now I want you in me.”
Jimin tuts, “Impatient.”
Taehyung reaches out to brush his fingers against Jimin’s dick, smirks when Jimin visibly tenses and swallows down a groan. “Says the one leaking.”
Glancing up, Jimin arches a brow and proceeds to run his thumb through the pool of precome collecting on Taehyung’s stomach, and he pops his thumb into his mouth without a second thought. “ Jesus,” Taehyung groans.
“You don’t have room to talk,” Jimin points out, warming a dollop of lube between his fingers before bringing his hand down. “Hold your legs up,” the command comes out softly.
Taehyung complies easily, hooking his arms under his knees, fully exposing himself to Jimin. He looks away, cheeks red and his breath caught somewhere in his throat because Jimin can’t stop staring.
“Dude, do you fucking wax?”
“Jimin!” Taehyung whines. The shyness only lingers for a moment though. “Look, hairy asses are no fun, don’t you agree?”
Jimin’s tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth as he nods. Fuck, this is single-handedly the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
He swipes a finger, wet and lubed up to perfection, over Taehyung’s hole, watches Taehyung tense up at the contact and then relaxes the more Jimin strokes over him. His cock kicks against his stomach, leaking and needing to be touched, but Jimin enjoys the bodily reactions, the fact that he can get Taehyung twitching without penetration. An ego boost.
“Nh—Jimin, touch me.”
“What do you want?” Jimin wants to hear him speak. There’s something insanely arousing about the way Taehyung sounds, voice deep and gravelly. Almost ruined.
“Anything,” Taehyung breathes. “Just give me anything.”
Instead of giving any kind of warning, Jimin leans forward and takes the tip of Taehyung’s cock in his mouth, lapping at the precome and moaning at the taste.
“Ah—fuck, fuck,” Taehyung grunts, hips bucking and his hand finding Jimin’s hair.
His grip is harsh, rough, but Jimin loves it. Moans around Taehyung’s cock, using his free hand to push Taehyung’s leg up to keep his thighs spread. “Keep your legs open.” Talking with a mouthful of dick isn’t that difficult, Jimin thinks.
All he gets in response is a shaky breath.
Taehyung’s hips arch a little, and the movement causes the tip of Jimin’s finger to barely dip into his hole. This makes Taehyung nearly sob, because Jimin’s working him with his mouth so well, tongue tracing the veins and dipping into the slit to taste all of Taehyung that he can, and it’s just overwhelming. Every nerve in his body is in overdrive, sensitive and on the precipice of coming just like this, without any actual intercourse going on.
And that would be a damn shame.
“Fingers, Jimin. Fingers.” Taehyung whimpers, hips rocking.
“Gonna ask nicely?” Jimin taunts.
“Please, you asshole.”
Smirking, Jimin pushes his finger in with ease, holds it in place until he feels Taehyung relax around the stretch, and then curls it. Pulls it out, pushes in, curls it. Repeat. Repeats until Taehyung is begging for another. Until Taehyung is trembling and can’t form proper sentences.
And it’s such a fucking sight, it really is. Because Jimin’s so in love with this boy and now this boy, pretty and flushed and whining, is completely wrecked and wanting more. And Jimin wants to give Taehyung everything he can.
“H—ah, shit. Shit, Jimin, I—” Taehyung’s fingers tighten in the ugly sheets when Jimin presses into that spot, the magical bundle of nerves that makes Taehyung’s cock jerk. “There.”
So Jimin keeps going for that spot. Taehyung clenches around his fingers, whining and gasping, and then he’s pushing at Jimin’s forearm for him to stop. “If you keep going, I’m gonna come. Don’t wanna come yet,” he slurs.
Jimin leans up to kiss his forehead softly. It’s intimate, makes Jimin’s heart flutter. Ugh, love. “Okay, baby.”
“What?” Taehyung squeaks.
“Say that again.”
Taehyung tilts his head up to attach their lips, kissing Jimin hotly and smiling against his mouth. “Fuck me.”
Jimin’s cock brushes against Taehyung’s stomach, leaving a trail of precome there as he shifts positions. “Yeah, fuck. Where’s the condom?”
They both search around the bed in a haste until Taehyung feels the little plastic package and tears it open. “Let me,” he beckons Jimin forward and sits up long enough to roll the condom down Jimin’s length.
Jimin hisses, shuddering at the contact on his neglected cock. Then he’s pushing Taehyung back and gripping onto his plush thighs, pulling him closer so that his cock slides right over one of Taehyung’s cheeks, teasing and tempting, leaving them both ragged breathed and needy.
“In me,” Taehyung grunts.
When Jimin pushes in, it’s slow and careful. He listens to the way Taehyung chokes on nothing, searches his features for any sign of discomfort, and rubs his thumb soothingly over hip bones and thighs. He bottoms out with a sharp gasp, enveloped by velvety heat that has his head spinning. It’s definitely not the alcohol—it’s all Taehyung he’s drunk on.
“Tae—shit. So fucking good,” Jimin growls.
“Yeah?” Like the unintentional twitch of Jimin’s hips isn’t proof enough.
His head hangs, gaze shifting to where him and Taehyung connect. “So good, babe.”
Jimin stays still with his balls pressing against Taehyung’s ass, giving himself time to get his shit together so there’s no premature orgasm because, with the way Taehyung fits around him all perfect and wet, it’s definitely possible. Jimin has tons of self-control, but it’s no match for this.
“Come on,” the other urges, hips swiveling. Jimin nearly chokes, palms pressing Taehyung’s hips down.
“Tae,” he bites out.
Taehyung just chuckles in response and reaches up to tug Jimin down. Their bodies press flush together, hard and soft and perfect, with Taehyung licking into Jimin’s mouth. It’s distracting, anchoring. Jimin loves how Taehyung kisses, and he especially loves the stuttered moan Taehyung lets out when Jimin pulls out all the way so just the tip holds Taehyung open, and then pushes back in, letting Taehyung feel the whole of it.
Taehyung’s body scoots up with the force of the thrust.
“F—fuck,” he whimpers, fingers curling around nothing. Jimin lifts Taehyung’s hips, grip hard but not too hard, just enough for Taehyung to enjoy it. “Harder, Jimin. Please, I want—fuck, yes—” gasps Taehyung, who scrambles to grip onto Jimin’s wrists when the pace picks up.
He lets himself be fucked, pliant and noisy, hips rolling to get more of all that Jimin has to offer, and Jimin watches it all unfold. Taehyung’s parted lips, his eyes rolling back, chest heaving. He takes Taehyung apart, knows when to speed up, when to slow down, when to kiss Taehyung because he can see the way the younger gets swept up in the sex, and Taehyung mumbles out endless I love you ’s.
Jimin hooks Taehyung’s legs higher up on his waist and lets their bodies mold together, sweat-slicked and hot, but perfect. He doesn’t know if it’s his heart or Taehyung’s he feels, but either way, Jimin gets hit by a wave of emotion and almost lets himself get dragged under. But then Taehyung cups his face in his hands and brushes his lips against Jimin’s forehead and Jimin reciprocates, lifting his head to slot their mouths together.
They kiss lazily, panting wetly into each other’s mouths until they’re not really kissing at all. Just breathing each other in, noses pressed together and their eyes screwed shut. It’s a transition that happens so easily, the switch from sex with someone you love to making love with someone you want to give the whole damn world to. Maybe they’re the same thing to some people, but Jimin feels a difference.
“Ji—Jimin, ‘m close. So close,” Taehyung chokes out. His hole is clenching around Jimin’s cock now.
“Yeah,” Jimin’s a bit delirious, thrusts sloppy and muscles tense, “me too. Want you to come first, Tae.”
“Yeah, just—keep going, there . Yes, fuck—” Taehyung’s pelvis is tilted just a bit, allowing a slightly deeper angle. His head lolls back when Jimin pushes in particularly hard, makes Taehyung’s cock throb. “Fuck.”
Jimin continues with this pace, thrusting long and deep, kissing along Taehyung jaw and letting his teeth scrape over the curve of it. “Come on, Tae, come for me.”
Reaching between their bodies, Jimin palms at Taehyung’s cock, trying to keep his hips moving. He’s a bit lost himself, keeping his forehead pressed against Taehyung’s cheek as he fucks into him and strokes him.
“Oh, oh fuck—Jimin, I’m gonna—” Taehyung goes tense around him, covering Jimin’s hand in warmth, hole fluttering as he whines around Jimin’s name.
He looks so pretty like this, fucked out with his pupils blown and his eyes hooded. Jimin can’t help but kiss him.
“You’re so pretty, Taehyung. How the fuck are you so pretty?”
Humming, Taehyung only kisses Jimin again, arms curling around Jimin’s neck and his hips working with Jimin’s. “Come, Jimin. I want it so bad.” Sinks his teeth into Jimin’s earlobe, tugging at one of Jimin’s piercings. And that’s it.
“Goddamn,” Jimin grunts, hips stuttering to a stop. He grinds into Taehyung lazily a second later, working himself through his orgasm until he’s too sensitive to move.
“I was right,” Taehyung says casually.
Jimin lifts his head, “Hm?”
“Your dick game is so good. I told Jeongguk, he owes me money.”
“You two bet on my dick game?” Jimin blinks. He’s not really that surprised, but still.
Taehyung waves his hand, “He was trying to convince me your dick probably sucked. You know, trying to help me get over you or some shit.”
“Wait, Jeongguk—oh that little fucker,” Jimin grumbles. Everything is making sense now. Jeongguk’s suggestiveness at the diner, the shit eating grin when he gave them their room key, the fucking one bed.
Taehyung shrugs, too tired to care about what Jimin’s pieced together. However, Jimin is very aware of the mess on his hand, the mess on Taehyung’s stomach, and the fact that he’s gone soft and is still inside of Taehyung’s ass.
“Tae, we gotta get cleaned up before we sleep.”
But Taehyung’s already falling in and out of consciousness, so Jimin takes it upon himself. He uses damp toilet paper instead of the rags the motel has to offer because toilet paper seems like the safer, cleaner option, and then glues himself to Taehyung’s back when he crawls into the bed.
He scatters kisses in between Taehyung’s shoulder blades, smiling when the other male sighs contentedly.
“I love you,” says Taehyung. He’s sleepy, it’s obvious.
“I love you,” Jimin says right back.
“Jesus Jimin, you fuckin’ mauled him.”
“He liked it.”
“Oh, I more than liked it.”
“Fucking gross. Are you nasties ready?”
“Why yes, Yoongi, me and my boyfriend are ready.”
Taehyung’s fingers still lace with Jimin’s just as they always had, the ideal fit with so much affection stored there, but now it’s different. In a good way, the best way. Because now when Jimin gets the urge to pull Taehyung closer and kiss him silly, he can.
“Yuck,” Yoongi grumbles.
“So, how was the dick, Tae?”
None of them really look mortified, because apparently the union of Taehyung and Jimin, according to Hoseok, had been a long time coming, but Jimin is sure they don’t want to hear about the sex.
Which Taehyung doesn’t care about because he answers Jeongguk with a beaming grin.
“Fuckin’ quality dick, Guk. Quality dick and a quality boyfriend. ‘M blessed.”