Jimin hasn’t spoken to Jeongguk since their last encounter and he doesn’t plan to any time soon. So far, Jeongguk’s made no attempt at contacting him, either, so why should anything be different on Jimin’s end? With a student body of almost thirty thousand, he doesn’t need to seek out Jeon Jeongguk whenever he wants a quick fuck.
But god is Jeongguk ever good in bed. Actually, Jeongguk’s just… just good. Jimin’s entire problem is that Jeongguk is so good at making it seem like he cares, and he’s so fucking good at leaving afterward, like every word of praise whispered in Jimin’s ear only serves to stroke his ego. Or his libido. Probably the latter. Jeongguk is good at staying away to keep the possibility of any sort of attachment to an absolute minimum. It doesn’t work for Jimin, of course, it leaves him craving Jeongguk’s touch more and more every morning Jimin wakes up alone after having fallen asleep on a warm chest, strong arms loose around his waist and soft, steady breathing already teasing the mussed blond strands of his bangs.
There’s a part of him that thinks, hopes, that that’s Jeongguk growing attached; the unwillingness to leave immediately, the habit he’d developed of pulling Jimin close while he slept, the kisses they shared that Jimin was sure were much too soft for two entirely uninvolved people to indulge in all pointed to Jeongguk treading a line Jimin had only briefly considered coming close to.
There’s a part of him, an arrogant, loathsome part that revels in what Jeongguk’s call might mean: no one else was good enough, Jimin was his best. There had been one time a few weeks back (in which Jeongguk hadn’t been in the soberest of states) where, standing on a classmate’s Juliet balcony with a party roaring behind them, he had pulled Jimin’s back against his chest, sucking a deep bruise into his neck so everyone knew he was taken. With a growled “you’re mine” and a sloppy, over-the-shoulder kiss Jimin had barely had enough time to reciprocate, Jeongguk vanished into the house, probably to seek out someone who would actually get into bed with him in such a state.
Jimin followed soon after, worried that Jeongguk’s plan would work, and someone would try their hand at taking advantage of him in his very inebriated state. Sure enough, he’d found him backed against the upstairs railing, a stranger’s hands hidden beneath the fabric of Jeongguk’s white t-shirt. Jimin cleared his throat when he was just a foot away from the two, and he thought he saw a flash of satisfaction in Jeongguk’s eyes – disappearing as suddenly as it had shown itself – when Jimin separated the two, though he chalked it up to his mind playing dirty, hopeless tricks on him. Jeongguk laughed as the two of them watched the stranger stomp down the stairs to rejoin the party, clearly angry that Jimin had ruined a chance at sleeping with the Jeon Jeongguk.
He remembers the way Jeongguk had gripped his hips when they were alone then; fire tearing through his veins when his breath ghosted over Jimin’s ear, teasing him for being so jealous. Jimin wasn’t jealous of the attention Jeongguk received, it was none of his business, really, he just wasn’t prepared to let Jeongguk be taken advantage of. Jeongguk was adamant that this was not the truth behind Jimin’s actions, and truthfully, Jimin didn’t even believe himself. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the accusation nonetheless, then turned to leave Jeongguk alone once again. However, Jeongguk had reached for him, taken his wrist oh-so-gently in his hand and guided him so they were standing chest to chest. Jimin hadn’t looked up at him when Jeongguk called his name, and his had breath caught in his throat when he felt Jeongguk lean closer.
The kisses started at his temple; soft and tentative, pushing to see how far Jimin would let him go, while large hands slid into the back pockets of his jeans, gently guiding their hips together. Jimin turned his head to look up at Jeongguk and was met with a kiss, much better aimed than the one they’d shared on the balcony. Or any other location, for that matter. Sweeter, too; there were no knees between thighs, no real goal other than being able to be close for a while. Jimin’s hands landed on Jeongguk’s chest, but he allowed one to rise up and cup Jeongguk’s cheek; an action that had previously seemed too intimate for Jimin to permit.
Jeongguk surged forward, forcing Jimin back against the closed bedroom door on the wall opposite the railing, taking control of the kiss when Jimin gasped into his mouth. He pulled back to look down at Jimin, his gaze innocent – almost subdued, before pressing one last bruising kiss to Jimin’s lips and turning towards the stairs.
That was the last time they’d spoken, Jeongguk’s promise of “I’ll call you later,” still left empty, mocking Jimin every time he looked at his phone for a call or a text or a fucking poke on Facebook.
It’s pitiful how he now sits in the campus library, phone face up and left on in case anything comes in, his books open in front of him yet untouched.
While he had no classes with Jeongguk, he did often see him at parties he’d attended since their last meeting, hoping to re-enact the first time they’d ever seen each other from across the room.
It takes him a good hour, but he does indeed slip his phone back into his backpack in order to actually get some studying done.
Jimin is fourteen pages into the night’s required reading when the first notes of his ringtone blare out from beside him. In a weak attempt to protect himself from what his brain registers as an attack, he throws the book in his hands at his cellphone. He misses the phone, but hits the lamp behind it, wincing at the sound of glass shattering when it hits the floor next to his bed and casts the room into darkness.
Disappointment washes over him when he sees that it’s not Jeongguk’s number that graces his phone screen. Instead, a particularly unfortunate picture of Taehyung (more specifically, Taehyung’s nostrils) greets him, and he briefly considers throwing the phone under his bed, possibly for good.
He decides that’s a stupid fucking idea – he can’t live without his phone – and sighs and accepts the call.
“Heeeeyyyyyy Jimin my man where are you on this fine-ass night?” The voice doesn’t belong to his idiot best friend, but rather his idiot best friend’s not-boyfriend, Namjoon. His speech is slightly slurred and he can hear Taehyung’s deep giggles in the background of Namjoon’s side.
“I’m at home. Studying for the exam we have tomorrow. Because we’re in college, remember? Classes? Homework?”
“God you’re such a bummer sometimes. You should come meet us at Jin’s, he’s got this killer foreign vodka and it’s so great and you’re so fun on vodka,” there’s a short pause, “I think it’s vodka.”
“It’s Wednesday night, Joon,” Jimin reasons.
“And you know I don’t do parties in the middle of the week.”
“S’not technically a party.”
“Fiiiiine, fine. I think Tae’s drunk enough for two people anyway.”
Jimin can hear a shrill “HIIIIIIIIIII JIMINIE” from somewhere far away from the phone speaker, “oh and Yoongi is like, the drunkest I’ve ever seen him. Hoseok’s trying to contain him but I think he’s really close to crashing soon anyway. I’ve got pictures for you.”
“Oh my god. Just. Take care of Tae, please, we don’t need a repeat of the last few times. I think the fire department and the police are getting sick of hearing from us.”
“I’ll keep him safe. Now get back to studyin’ you little angel. We’ll see ya soon.”
Jimin hangs up the phone after bidding his farewells, angry at himself for feeling so discouraged that is was Taehyung’s contact that lit up his phone rather than Jeongguk’s. He’s even more angry at himself for the fact that here he is, alone in his and Taehyung’s shared apartment, sulking over a boy (read: asshole) he was never really with and trying to distract himself with studying above anything else. He could be out with his friends drinking some magic vodka that turns the quietest of drunks like Yoongi into a threat to public safety, but he’s locked away in his room hoping he’ll have a certain somebody to fuck him into submission and then fucking leave him before he wakes up.
He’s his own worst enemy.
Now, with the room bathed in darkness, he lies back against his pillows and watches the headlights of cars on the street outside light up his ceiling.
He misses Jeongguk, plain and simple. He really shouldn’t, because Jeongguk’s never really given him anything to miss aside from his dick, but Jimin isn’t in the mood for sex. He doesn’t miss sleeping with Jeongguk, he misses the way he’d make him feel afterward; how he’d hold Jimin close while pulling the blankets up around his shoulders, and that one time Jeongguk had thoughtlessly kissed him on his way out of Jimin’s bedroom at two in the morning. He misses feeling cared for, if even for a moment when all of Jeongguk’s better-judgement had been replaced by the foggy haze of lust.
He’d once confided in Taehyung about his troubles, to which Taehyung had just told him “fuck him, he just wants sex. He doesn’t care about you.” It was brutally honest and maybe a little harsh, but it was the truth. Taehyung loved Jimin, and he didn’t sugar-coat things because of that. Jeongguk wasn’t good for Jimin; wasn’t worth bothering with if he was going to keep pushing and pulling to keep Jimin hanging on just because Jeongguk liked his ass.
“You can’t fuck him anymore if you wanna get over him,” Taehyung had said, face buried in his phone as he hung upside down off of Jimin’s bed.
Jimin had just groaned into his pillow. “But god, Taehyung, he’s so fucking good.”
“Jimin, I love you, but the next time you say something like that you’re gonna get the spray bottle. You deserve someone who’s gonna treat you like you actually matter to them, at the very least. Just… if he calls again, don’t answer. Don’t let him do this to you anymore.”
As Jimin thought back to that afternoon – the afternoon after Taehyung had caught remnants of tears Jeongguk caused – his phone sounded from where he’d dropped it on his chest, the ringtone startling him once again.
This time, it’s Jeongguk’s name that appears on the screen. Jimin sucks in a breath, turning the phone facedown against his chest once more. He doesn’t want to – shouldn’t want to answer this call, but he’s fucking missed Jeongguk. But he fucking told Taehyung he wouldn’t go back to him. Fucking fuck.
But he wants him so bad. His thumb hovers over the Accept button.
Maybe this is Jeongguk telling him he’s done; that he hasn’t called because he found someone he actually gives a shit about and he’s formally withdrawing from his booty call days. Jimin could only be so lucky.
“Yeah,” he grits out, holding the phone to his ear. He kind of wants to hang up before Jeongguk even says anything, wants to change his mind and delete Jeongguk’s contact from his phone for good this time, not for just a few days.
“Aw, what’s wrong baby boy?” Ah, but the sound of Jeongguk’s voice causes butterflies to erupt in his stomach, Jimin’s favourite pet name rolling off of Jeongguk’s tongue so perfectly Jimin thinks he might cry. Or hit something. Maybe both.
“Nothing,” he lies, “just haven’t talked to you since that party.”
“I’m sorry about that, baby,” Jeongguk purrs, but when there’s no answer from Jimin, he continues, “I missed you.”
Jimin sighs, he knows what that means. It doesn’t mean what Jimin wants it to mean – not even close, it means Jeongguk’s bored, it means no one else has done enough for him. Maybe it means everyone else is sick of being used and Jimin’s too weak or too stupid to give him up.
“What do you want, Guk?”
He knows the answer.
Jimin considers Taehyung’s words and weighs his options. Jeongguk is one of only a few people who have bothered looking at him. Poor little shy Jimin who goes to parties because his friends have dragged him from the safety of his couch, though he supposes that’s not unheard of. He likes Jeongguk’s attention, even if he knows it’s the wrong kind.
“I’ll text you when I’m outside.”
Jeongguk lives alone. Jimin’s not sure how he manages to afford it, but he does. His apartment is about the size of Jimin and Taehyung’s, but it only has the one bedroom and is much more open-concept than Jimin’s. It’s cute, not something he’d expect from someone like Jeongguk, not that he really got to have a good look at it until his fourth or fifth visit. He can recall small succulents and other various flora scattered around, in corners or atop windowsills. The vibrant green splotches and little orange pots are a nice contrast to the off-white walls.
There’s a storm brewing in his chest when he reaches the door, the black numerical ornaments staring at him in a way that’s almost nerve-wracking. As if he were looking at the inscription over the gates of hell rather than harmless little 329.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here, indeed, Jimin thinks bitterly.
He only has to knock on the door once before Jeongguk pulls it open and invites Jimin in, shutting it behind them. He’s wearing his favourite ash grey sweatpants loose around his hips, the band of his Calvin Klein boxers visible above the pants, tattoos on full display where he’s chosen to omit a shirt and god why does he always have to look like a walking wet dream.
He smiles down at Jimin, something mischievous behind his eyes.
“Hi,” it’s curt, but Jeongguk’s smile doesn’t falter one bit at Jimin’s tone.
“You’re wearing my sweater.”
Jimin’s brow furrows before he looks down at the oversized black garment, missing the way Jeongguk bites his bottom lip at Jimin’s confusion; the adorable way his lips hang slightly apart and his cheeks squish outward when he looks down at himself.
“Does it matter? You’re just gonna take it off anyway.”
Jeongguk clicks his tongue, “what’s wrong, baby?”
If Jimin didn’t know any better, he’d say Jeongguk was actually concerned, that his stepping closer was for some kind of reassurance rather than to get his hands on Jimin just because he could. Better to feign ignorance, he decides.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he fakes a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s not like Jeongguk would be able to tell it’s fake, Jimin’s not sure Jeongguk’s ever really seen him smile. He’s sure as hell never made him.
Jeongguk steps back to allow Jimin to enter the apartment, holding his hand out to his side. Jimin toes off his shoes and looks around the room quickly before turning around. There’s a dog bed nestled in the corner of the living room, next to two small metal bowls adorned with black paw prints, and Jimin can’t help but wonder how Jeongguk has time to look after what he guesses is a puppy, given the size of the bed.
“You know when you didn’t call I thou-”
Jeongguk pulls him into a searing kiss by the front of his sweater, the end of Jimin’s sentence dying in throat. Of course Jeongguk doesn’t want to talk. Why would he? Jimin should probably thank him though, that sentence would not have ended up anywhere good.
Jimin doesn’t dwell on that though, though. Instead, he lets himself get lost in the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips on his after so fucking long, his arms winding around Jeongguk’s broad shoulders while Jeongguk’s hands find their way to Jimin’s ass. He squeezes once, then lets his hands travel further down. His body follows the movement, bending his knees and giving Jimin his cue to allow himself to be lifted off the ground, his legs easily finding Jeongguk’s waist.
“When’d you get a dog?” he finds himself asking between bruising kisses. He can feel Jeongguk smile against his lips.
“Couple weeks ago. Yoongi came and picked her up a little while ago.”
He’s carried to Jeongguk’s room, dumped almost carelessly onto the king-sized bed while Jeongguk roots through his bedside table to find the lube and a condom. When he finally digs them out, Jimin tries not to let it bother him that the almost-empty bottle had been full the last time they were together.
The bottle bounces where it lands next to Jimin’s shoulder, the condom following right after. Jeongguk crawls up the bed between Jimin’s legs to meet his lips once more. One hand slips up underneath Jimin’s sweater to brush over his nipple, and Jimin can feel Jeongguk smiling against his mouth when the movement elicits a sharp gasp from Jimin, his back arching into the touch. Fuck Jeongguk for knowing where he’s most sensitive.
“God, baby, I missed you so much,” Jeongguk mumbles from where he’s attached his lips to Jimin’s neck, “so, so much.”
“Shut up, Jeongguk.”
He only realizes it’s come out harsher than he’d intended when Jeongguk stops, and Jimin thinks he’s made a mistake in not playing into Jeongguk’s game until he catches sight of the confusion contorting Jeongguk’s face. He kisses Jimin again, softer this time – just long enough to knock the wind out of him completely – while cupping one of Jimin’s cheeks. He follows it up with a few more quick pecks to his lips.
“I missed you, Jimin.”
Perplexed, Jimin opts to ignore what the intense look in his eyes means. His eyes drop to Jeongguk’s mouth before fluttering up to his eyes, then back down. He leans in to press a sweet kiss to Jeongguk’s lips, which apparently catches Jeongguk off guard.
“How do you want me?” he purrs.
“On your back. Wanna see how that cute face looks when you come.” The smile that could bring Jimin to his knees returns to Jeongguk’s face as he quickly undoes Jimin’s pants.
“Up,” commands Jeongguk. Jimin complies, lifting his hips so Jeongguk can slide his pants and boxers down his legs, discarding them next to the bed. Jeongguk scans what he can see of Jimin so far; from the faint marks he’s managed to start on his neck to the cute pink of his cock sitting heavy against his lower stomach, to the thin navy-blue material of the knee high socks that had been hidden under Jimin’s jeans, now rolled at the tops from where his jeans had caught them.
“You wear these a lot?”
Jimin flushes a deep red, “only when it’s really cold.” Jeongguk can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at the adorable confession.
“You look so good like this, baby boy, I don’t even want to take this off,” he whispers, long fingers toying with the end of the sweater Jimin had apparently stolen from him.
“So don’t,” Jimin offers, before dropping his eyes to Jeongguk’s groin. He nods his head at the sweatpants “but take those off, for fuck’s sake.”
He stands at the foot of the bed, making a show of removing the sweatpants because he loves the way Jimin scrambles to sit against the headboard and how he can practically see Jimin’s mouth water when his cock springs free, proudly curved up against his stomach.
“Gukkie,” he whimpers, unashamedly using the nickname he knows Jeongguk loves so, so much, “hurry up, please.”
He kneels on the bed between Jimin’s spread legs, taking in the way Jimin is already so hard and breathless for him. Leaning forward, he curls his arms under Jimin’s knees to tug him down from his place against the headboard, his sweater riding up past his belly button. Jimin lets out a small oofwhen his head hits the pillows as Jeongguk leaves a trail of open-mouth kisses up the insides of his thighs, his hips twitch as Jeongguk inches closer to his cock. Jimin lifts his head to watch, a high-pitched whine clawing its way out of his throat when their eyes meet.
His jaw goes slack, hips jumping when Jeongguk’s lips wrap around his head. Jeongguk pins his hips against the bed while he swirls his tongue around the tip of Jimin’s cock before trailing it lightly over his slit, drawing a chorus of soft “fuck”s out of Jimin while blunt nails scrape at Jeongguk’s scalp. Jeongguk lets out a low hum as he works his throat open to take all of Jimin into his mouth, bobbing his head while Jimin squirms beneath him. When his nose brushes the short hairs at the base of Jimin’s dick, Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. But Jeongguk pulls back, his mouth leaving Jimin with an obscene pop, deep pink lips slick with saliva.
Jimin observes him for a moment, his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks dusted an adorable faint pink, and his lips curl into a Cheshire grin when he notices Jimin is staring.
“You still with me, baby boy?” he muses, waving his hand half-assedly to bring Jimin back down to earth. Jimin nods, and drops his head back against the pillows with a pitiful whine. He spreads his legs even wider when he notices Jeongguk’s eyes raking over his lower half.
“Fuck me, Gukkie, please.”
Jeongguk doesn’t need to be asked twice, he breathes out a soft shit, ok that pulls a sweet giggle out of Jimin while he passes the lube to Jeongguk, who uncaps it and pours a generous amount into his hand, warming it between his fingers. With his clean hand, he reaches for a stray pillow to slide under Jimin’s hips.
“Tell me if something hurts,” whispers Jeongguk, stretching up to press a chaste kiss to Jimin’s lips. He continues down, trailing sweet kisses down Jimin’s neck and the parts of his stomach not obscured by his sweater. He didn’t think Jeongguk would actually spring for leaving it on, he didn’t think he’d want it getting dirty, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Jeongguk likes to lay claim to what’s his, so maybe seeing Jimin in his clothing helps get him off. Jimin shivers at the thought of Jeongguk being possessive over him, but quickly squashes the idea.
An abrupt gasp breaks the short silence that had befallen the room when Jeongguk’s finger teases his rim, pricks of electricity dancing from his stomach out to the tips of his fingers and his toes. Jeongguk circles his hole, relishing in the way Jimin clenches in anticipation. He studies Jimin’s face as he starts slowly, pushing the digit past the tight ring of muscle, only up to the first knuckle. He continues just as slowly as he’d started – almost painfully slow – in order for Jimin to adjust to the intrusion, only stopping when he’s buried his finger up to its base in Jimin’s tight heat.
Jimin breathes out slowly as Jeongguk begins working his finger in and out, twisting slightly and curling it inside of him.
“More, Guk, fuck.”
At Jimin’s reply, Jeongguk pumps his finger faster, eventually able to slip a second in beside it. When he curls them this time, Jimin arches his back, obscenities spilling past bitten lips before he attempts to contain himself. Jeongguk repeats the action, abusing the bundle of nerves inside of him, and fully taking in the sight of a now-writhing, begging Jimin. His full cheeks are a deep red – likely embarrassment from his volatile reaction when Jeongguk had hit that sweet spot inside of him, his lips pink and swollen, his blond hair casting a golden halo around his head atop Jeongguk’s pristine white pillow, and his chest heaving underneath the black fabric of the sweatshirt he still dons. Jeongguk had decided that his sweater fit Jimin too perfectly; fell over the swell of his ass too well and made him look so incredibly tiny that Jeongguk didn’t want to see him in anything but his much-too-large clothing.
He slows his ministrations to stretch up and kiss Jimin deeply, his tongue delving into his mouth while one of Jimin’s hands grips Jeongguk’s wrist where it works between his legs, the other slipping into Jeongguk’s hair to tug at it. Jimin arches up into Jeongguk’s chest once more, his hips rocking back in a vain attempt to fuck himself on Jeongguk’s fingers. A pathetic whimper escapes Jimin’s throat when Jeongguk pulls away from his lips.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Jimin,” he murmurs, and something in Jimin breaks. He doesn’t mean to let the façade slip, he really doesn’t, but Jeongguk is too fuckin good at this.
Maybe it’s the way Jeongguk’s looking at him or the fondness in his voice when he says Jimin’s name, or maybe it’s the way he always fucking does this, like he knows exactly what Jimin needs to hear to keep running back to him the second he calls for him like some lovesick puppy.
Jeongguk’s head snaps up, confusion replacing the arousal that had overtaken his eyes just a moment ago, he splutters for a moment, but doesn’t look like he’s about to argue. Jimin thanks whichever deity is responsible for this. Freyja, maybe.
“Fuck, baby,” baby Jimin sneers internally, he doesn’t deserve to call him that, “did I hurt you?”
“No. Just- just fucking stop, Jeongguk. This has to stop.”
Jeongguk sits back, removing his fingers from Jimin and wiping them on the bed. Jimin backs away from him, curling in on himself as if to shield himself from Jeongguk’s presence in its entirety, and it makes Jeongguk’s heart ache to see him so shaken.
“Stop calling me that. I’m- I need to go, Jeongguk.”
He scrambles to collect what little clothing he’d lost, covering himself from Jeongguk’s eyes and pulling his pants back up his legs. It’s uncomfortable and annoying being half-fucked out and still painfully horny yet so hurt and angry at himself, and that only serves to make Jimin feel even worse about the situation.
Jeongguk follows him when he rushes out of the bedroom. He’s pulled his clothes back on now, too, and is wearing a look that’s somewhere between concern and annoyance. Like Jimin had inconvenienced him by not being the pretty, pliant fuck he wanted. Patting his pockets to ensure he has his car keys, wallet, and phone, Jimin heads for the front door.
“Jimin, come on, you know you can talk to me.” Jeongguk’s right behind him, and Jimin wishes he’d just leave him the fuck alone for once, he doesn’t want to see his fucking face anymore or think about him all the time or fucking miss him when he knows he shouldn’t; he’s given Jimin nothing to miss. He seethes silently, but squashes the oncoming explosion of anger.
“No, Guk, I can’t. We don’t have anything to talk about. It’s not my fault you don’t want to fucking talk to me outside of whatever this,” he gestures between the two of them as he slips his shoes on, “is. I’m done. Find someone else to play this fucking game with.”
Jimin lets the door shut behind him.
Jeongguk doesn’t call. He doesn’t even text after Jimin had left to make sure he got home safe, or that he was feeling okay. Jimin should’ve known that this was going to happen, he figures Jeongguk isn’t even the slightest bit interested in him until some other fuck doesn’t answer his calls. It hurts. And maybe it shouldn’t, but it does, even more so because Jimin told both Taehyung and himself that he wouldn’t answer if Jeongguk called, and if he did it would be to tell him that he’s not playing his game anymore.
Despite what one may think, Jimin can do casual sex, and he did before Jeongguk weaseled his way into Jimin’s life, but there’s something about so fucking irresistible about Jeongguk that Jimin wants to scream in frustration. Maybe he’s growing away from the friends-with-benefits stage before others his age, maybe he’s been too focused on sexual gratification to listen to his heart or his brain. Maybe he should’ve backed off when he started imagining the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips on his forehead, between his eyebrows, on the tip of his nose, early in the morning when Jeongguk knew Jimin had a class he needed to get to yet was so reluctant to let him leave the safety of the blankets.
He’d disregarded those thoughts, written them off as impulsive and intrusive just because he wasn’t used to the kind of attention Jeongguk paid him while they were together. On the surface, they were empty actions. Jeongguk marked Jimin’s neck and back because he could, because he had access and permission and he was good with his mouth; he fell asleep in Jimin’s bed because he was already there, because Jimin let him use him for whatever he wanted; he was possessive because, Jimin figures, he’s been the only one stupid enough to stick around for this long. He figures Jeongguk does away with sexual partners once things have gone on too long, afraid that someone might get attached. Jimin figures he’s a damn good actor if Jeongguk is keeping him around.
They go another few weeks without speaking. He doesn’t see Jeongguk around campus anymore, and he doesn’t find him hanging around with Yoongi every once in a while the way he used to. By the time he reaches one month without a text from Jeongguk, he figures they’re done; Jimin can finally get the fuck over him.
Taehyung invites him to another party, somewhere outside of town in a more affluent peer’s house that overlooks a rather large lake. Jimin’s been to the house a few times for past gatherings and has decided he quite likes the view (and the alcohol, of course) that the house provides. He declines the offer, though, opting to stay home to binge watch the newest season of his favourite show that had just recently been released on Netflix. Being a broke college student, neither he nor Taehyung ever sprang for even the most basic cable package for the shit TV they’d gotten for dirt cheap off of a local classifieds site. The finale season always meant an intense uphill battle with social media and his own curiosity to not spoil his favourite shows as they all ended and started at the same fuckin’ time.
“I don’t get it man. How can you watch a whole season in one night?” Taehyung mumbles around a mouthful of toothpaste as he searches the apartment. “Have you seen those black pants that make my ass look really good?”
“Sometimes I think you’re, like, ninety, Tae, I swear to god. And they’re in my laundry basket because you’re a fucking slob and refuse to wash your own clothing,” he quips, eyes not leaving the television screen. He’s been fucking with their HDMI cord for too goddamn long, trying to find a position that it works in. The display from his laptop appears on the screen after he slides the cord under the corner of his laptop. He sits down between the coffee table and couch slowly, giving the computer a stern “stay” as he does, yet his hands are held out in front of him as if in surrender. Taehyung returns from Jimin’s bedroom in his “asstastic” (his words, not Jimin’s) pants and laughs at Jimin’s position.
“You’re such a loser, Jiminnie.”
“Which one of us is wearing leather pants in 2017?”
“Fair,” he ruffles Jimin’s hair with one hand while checks his phone. “Joonie-” Jimin scoffs at the pet name Taehyung’s given him, “-is gonna be here soon so I’m gonna head downstairs. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“Oh I’m gonna have loads of fun.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Look, as your best friend and soulmate, it’s my right to call the cutest little dude in the world ‘kiddo’,” Taehyung’s wearing that genuinely kind, loving grin of his, the one Jimin can never stay mad at, as he tugs the door open. There’s a pause before Taehyung speaks again, his voice softer than before. “Chim?”
“You sure you don’t wanna come? A party might be good to get your mind off of-”
“I’m fine, Tae, thanks. Go have fun. Dance with your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Whatever you say, kiddo,” he mocks, the corner of his lips dragging down and his bottom lip pulling out to recreate Taehyung’s deep voice. Jimin smiles to himself after Taehyung’s rolled his eyes and shut the door. It opens again a moment later when Taehyung barrels back into the living room. He throws himself at Jimin, long arms wrapping around Jimin’s head. It’s an awkward angle, what with Jimin still seated on the floor.
“Love you Minnie see you later byyeeee,” he sing-songs, kissing Jimin’s temple when he receives his mandatory “love you too, idiot.”
Taehyung leaves once more, this time for the night.
Jimin’s three episodes and only two bags of snacks (he has amazing self-restraint) deep into the third season of How to Get Away with Murder when the buzzer for the front door sounds through the apartment. He sits up, startled, before hitting the spacebar on his laptop to pause the show. His startled movement jostles the cord just a tad too much, and the TV screen goes black. Jimin’s able to see himself in the blank screen in front of him; his hair’s a mess and he’s wearing an old, faded sweater that’s two sizes too large for his small frame, and no pants. He’s definitely not expecting anyone. This is how murders happen.
He stands – raising his middle finger at the HDMI cord as he does – to answer whatever poor misguided soul is on the other end of the speaker. They must have the wrong apartment. He presses the button next to the speaker.
“Hi baby boy,” the speaker sings, and Jimin freezes “can I come up?”
The static shrouding the words is thick, but it doesn’t completely mask the antagonizing familiarity of Jeongguk’s voice, and it definitely doesn’t stop the saccharine baby boy from feeling like a punch to the gut. Who thefuck does he think he is?
“Jeongguk? What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were stopping by.”
“I wanted to surprise you, now will you let me up?” He sounds impatient, and Jimin’s not sure if that bodes well or ill for him. Maybe he wants his sweater back, Jimin reasons, that’s probably why he didn’t say anything about coming over.
“I don’t know if-”
“C’mon, baby boy, please?”
God, fuck Jeongguk and fuck his beautiful body and eyes and voice and fuck him for knowing how much Jimin loves the way he says “baby boy”.
There’s a buzz, and a cheerfully ignorant “thank you, baby,” from the speaker as Jeongguk makes his way inside. He knows he won’t be long getting up to the apartment.
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, rests his forehead against the wall, and releases a long, frustrated groan. He should’ve gone with Taehyung. Though he figures Jeongguk would’ve found him anyway. Maybe Taehyung has been selling him information on Jimin’s whereabouts. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised, in the fifth grade, Taehyung had cracked almost immediately when their teacher asked who’d knocked her coffee cup off of her desk and shattered it while she was out of the room. Jimin had almost committed murder at the tender age of ten years old thanks to his shithead best friend. He’d gotten a week’s detention because of that.
The knock at the door comes only a few moments later, and Jimin curses himself and Taehyung for ever moving into a third-floor apartment. He’d have more time to think of an escape route, or at the very least make himself and his living space presentable, if they just lived on a higher fucking floor. By the time Jeongguk’s reached the door, Jimin’s only had time to fix the HDMI from hell and throw away an empty chip bag. But like, a full family size chip bag, not a snack-size, one-person-serving bag. Go big or go home, he figures.
He tugs the door open, cold air hitting his thighs and oh, right, no pants.
It’s the first thing Jeongguk notices, his amused greeting seemingly directed at Jimin’s knees. There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips that he tries desperately to fight back for the sake of Jimin’s dignity.
“Eyes are up here.”
“No knee-highs today?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, “S’a shame, but those are cute, too,” he adds, pointing at the pineapple-patterned ankle socks Jimin currently sports.
Jimin rolls his eyes, thanking Jeongguk nonetheless, and demanding rather harshly what Jeongguk is doing at his apartment building at ten o’clock at night.
He shrugs. “Missed you,” he tells him.
“You say that a lot.”
“I miss you a lot.”
Jimin doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks down at the floor between their feet, willing it to open up and swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Jeongguk reaches out and taps the underside of his chin with one slender finger. When Jimin looks back up at him, face a soft pink thanks to Jeongguk’s confession and that small, seemingly unimportant action, Jeongguk looks between Jimin’s unkempt appearance and the television.
“Did I interrupt something?” he wonders aloud.
“Catching up on How to Get Away with Murder so I can start on season four,” Jimin informs him as Jeongguk steps further inside the apartment and Jimin shuts the door behind him, one hand stuffed into his sweater pocket, before moving to lean against the back of the couch.
“Oh,” exclaims Jeongguk, his face brightening slightly, “let’s watch together! I just finished the episode where Wes dies and-” he stops dead when he sees the look on Jimin’s face, “oh my god you’re not there yet. I’m so sorry.”
Jimin launches a throw-pillow at Jeongguk, which narrowly misses his head as he drops to the floor with a panicked squawk. The pillow collides with a picture hanging on the wall behind him, the force tearing the thumbtack it’s hanging on (who can afford nails?) out of the wall, leaving a bumpy, powdery mess in its wake as the frame hits the floor, glass shards skittering across the laminate.
“You asshole!” Jimin shouts, but there’s a hint of laughter tinging the insult. He stalks forward as Jeongguk attempts to keep Jimin at a distance, despite knowing there’s no real malice behind Jimin’s sneer. Jeongguk manages to flip their positions, and backs up until his ass hits the back of the couch, his hands raised in defence. Jimin steps closer – attempting to seem bigger and more menacing – until he’s almost chest to chest with Jeongguk. He reaches out to swat at Jeongguk’s chest, misjudging the distance between them and pushing too hard. Jeongguk topples backward over the couch, his knee meeting Jimin’s groin as he goes.
Jimin shouts in pain as he falls to his knees (perhaps a small, small bit overdramatically), his hands between his legs to cradle his now probably bruised dick. He rests his forehead against the floor for a moment while Jeongguk adjusts himself on the couch to peer over the back. He’s not even trying to contain his giggles anymore, the sight of Jimin pants-less and curled in on himself in pain in front of a mound of broken glass and teal decorative pillow too much to handle.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Jimin. Are you okay?”
Weakly, Jimin holds out one hand, a thumbs-up becomes a middle finger before Jeongguk throws his head back to laugh loudly.
Jimin gingerly stands, hobbling around the arm of the couch to sit beside Jeongguk, who merely watches and swats Jimin’s ass lightly as he passes between Jeongguk’s knees and the coffee table. Jimin shoots him a hard glare that Jeongguk can only coo at. Jimin fights down a bright smile, the interaction being so weird and out-of-character that it almost seems innocent.
“Are you- you’re serious about watching together?” asks Jimin, as the concept of the two of them being together but not having sex seems so very foreign to him. If Jeongguk is discouraged about their sexless evening, he doesn’t show it.
“Um, yeah? Is that weird?”
“A little. You just show up here and invite yourself in then break my picture frame and probably my dick-”
“All your fault, just fyi,” Jeongguk interjects.
“-and after what happened last time I thought you’d be done with me.”
The end of the sentence comes out small, more timid than he’d hoped for, and he looks down at his hands out of embarrassment as he bring his knees up and wraps his arms around them. He rests a cheek on his arms, peering at Jeongguk from under the ends of his hair.
“Why would you ever think that?” presses Jeongguk, his voice tinged with a tenderness that sends spikes through Jimin’s chest.
Jimin shakes his head, part of him doesn’t know why since Jeongguk never said anything that would insinuate that, yet another part knows that it’s because what they have is nothing beyond sex, and once Jimin can’t do that, they’ve no business together.
“I dunno,” he mumbles, in lieu of telling Jeongguk anything that would out his feelings.
“If you… wanna try something else, I’m okay with that.”
Jimin’s head snaps up, eyes widening at Jeongguk’s suggestion and the way he said something else.
“Some- something else?”
“Yeah. I mean, like, if you just wanna be friends for now, that’s cool too.”
Oh. Jimin’s heart sinks. For a split second, he thought he had a chance at getting what he wanted. Thought maybe Jeongguk wanted to wake up beside him as much as Jimin did him. He shakes his head slightly, blinks a few times for good measure, and clears his throat.
“Okay, let’s try that.”
“My dick hurts,” Jimin mumbles, about twenty minutes later.
“I could massage it for you if you’d like.”
“No, Jeongguk, you could go buy some drinks for us.”
Jeongguk stands up off the couch using Jimin’s knee for support. Standing at his full height, he stretches, his shirt riding up above the waistline of his pants just the slightest bit, and Jimin’s sure he’s doing it on purpose.
“Hey,” he calls as Jeongguk rounds the couch. He leans over the back of the couch, now right above Jimin’s reclined form, “why aren’t you at that party?”
Jeongguk shrugs, “no reason to go,” he tells him matter-of-factly, taking one more look down Jimin’s body as he does. “Why aren’t you?”
“Wasn’t feeling it, I guess.”
Jeongguk exhales in a quick laugh. He ruffles Jimin’s hair before pushing away from the back of the couch.
“Gee, I wonder who’s under the sheet, Jeongguk.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to spoil it for you.”
Jimin laughs at Jeongguk’s defensiveness, nudging Jeongguk’s leg with his own. They’d settled at opposite sides of the couch after their agreement, their legs tangled together in the middle of the cushions. Now, they use their intertwined limbs to hold various snacks and drinks for their marathon.
“Are you planning on watching the entire season in one night?” Jeongguk asks around a yawn.
Jimin shrugs, “I got nothin’ goin’ on tomorrow, you?” Jeongguk shakes his head. “Good, then don’t wimp out on me now, Jeon.”
It’s already been a long night of Jimin pretending not to feel Jeongguk’s eyes on him – his lips, his neck, his still bare legs – and Jimin’s not sure how much longer he can bear being just friends. He knows it’s only been a few hours since they decided on it but fuck, just sitting next to Jeongguk proves to be complicated. His presence is intoxicating, his voice soft and raspy in the now early hours of the morning, his thin black t-shirt and matching black skinnies showing off his form so well. From where he’s sitting, Jimin can observe Jeongguk’s profile perfectly out of the corner of his eye while Jeongguk is focused on what’s happening on the television.
When Jimin rolls over onto his side, he “accidentally” slides his feet further up the couch, edging closer to Jeongguk’s groin. In response, Jeongguk attempts to get more comfortable, and in doing so slides further down the cushion. Of course, Jimin chooses the moment Jeongguk looks away from the TV screen to stretch his arm out to tug his sleeve down over his hand. With the sweater now sitting just above the waistband of his tight black Supreme boxer shorts.
He chances a glance at Jeongguk, who is now watching him intently, his eyes raking over Jimin’s body. Jimin can’t help the satisfied smile that makes its way onto his face when he looks back at the TV.
There’s a barely audible Jesus Christ before Jeongguk speaks up, his tone firm and demanding.
“Would you just fucking come here already.”
It’s embarrassing how fast Jimin reacts, scrambling across the couch to seat himself in Jeongguk’s lap and connect their lips. Jeongguk wastes no time in swiping his tongue across Jimin’s bottom lip, smiling at how quickly Jimin grants him access. He grips Jimin’s ass tightly in his hands, grinding their hips together while their tongues dance between their lips. Jimin whimpers, and Jeongguk thinks he could listen to the noises he makes all god damn day.
When he slips his hands under the waistband of Jimin’s underwear, Jimin pulls away from Jeongguk’s mouth. Jeongguk groans at the loss.
Jeongguk only sleeps for a few hours, and darkness still partially shrouds the room when he wakes, the window above the bed casting pale light over the small body snoring softly atop his chest. Soft hair tickles his nose when he turns his head to get a better look at Jimin. His hair is a mess thanks to Jeongguk’s ceaseless tugging, his lips are parted slightly to allow a small pool of saliva to begin to collect near Jeongguk’s collarbone. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, appearing only for the briefest of moments, as he knows this isn’t entirely permitted by their relationship. But god, he wishes he could have this every morning.
Tumultuous as their arrangement is, he aches for the softness of those few minutes he takes between waking up to Jimin’s body next to his and sneaking away from the warmth it provides. He wishes he could stay until Jimin rose in the morning; watching his eyes flutter open while his nose scrunches from the sunlight’s assault on his corneas. He longs to kiss Jimin awake, to roll him over and press him into the mattress, whisper praise over his bruised collarbones while Jimin whines softly beneath him, hands pinned behind his head on the pillow.
But Jeongguk knows that would be crossing a line that he’s sure Jimin doesn’t want breached, so he holds himself back, messaging Jimin only when he craves his company so badly it hurts, cowering behind the guise of a purely physical relationship.
Now, Jeongguk takes his time, commits the curves and edges of Jimin’s body to memory, trailing his finger down the bridge of his button nose, gently tapping the tip of it before tracing his cupid’s bow below. He continues down, walking his fingers over Jimin’s clavicle to his bicep and down to his elbow, then smoothing his hand down his forearm until it covers the small hand that’s perched delicately above Jeongguk’s bellybutton. Jimin reacts subconsciously to the soothing circles Jeongguk’s thumb makes over his wrist; he curls tighter around Jeongguk, nuzzling his cheek against his shoulder as he does so.
Planting a sweet kiss to Jimin’s forehead, he untangles their legs beneath the duvet, his lips quirking up once more when Jimin rolls forward in an attempt to soak Jeongguk’s left over body heat out of the sheets. Jeongguk leans over the bed to tug Jimin’s duvet up above his shoulders to protect him from the frigidness of the morning. He can at least grant him that much.
The sun breaks the horizon by the time Jeongguk tugs his t-shirt back over his head. It filters through the frost on Jimin’s window, late-September’s natural tranquility washing over the morning, making everything appear softer – making Jimin appear softer and smaller where he lays curled up on the bed. Once more, Jeongguk leans across the mattress, this time to press his lips to Jimin’s temple, before he leaves the room to collect his phone and car keys.
Jimin’s laptop is still connected to the TV via the HDMI, and Jeongguk switches both off on his way out, coiling the cord and placing it on top of the laptop lid when he’s finished.
He pulls his shoes on, one hand braced against the wall to steady himself, before he slips out of the apartment.
Someone collides with him in the hallway, and he offers a stuttered apology before the stranger speaks.
“You Jeongguk?” the deep voice asks.
Jeongguk narrows his eyes at the man, he’s definitely never seen him before. Do they know each other?
“Depends on who you are,” he replies, taking in the appearance of the other man. He’s taller than Jeongguk, but not by much, and he looks like he belongs in fucking magazine spreads rather than this poorly lit, peeling hallway.
“I’m Taehyung, Jimin’s best friend. I wanna know why you’re leaving my apartment at-” he checks his watch, “almost six thirty in the morning lookin’ like you just committed a felony.”
“Well, I didn’t murder him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You two fucked again, didn’t you?”
“Why is it any of your business? Jimin’s a grown man, he can do what he wants,” Jeongguk spits, but he is definitely not getting defensive. Who does this guy think he is? Well- okay, he’s Jimin’s best friend and probably knows more about Jimin than Jeongguk ever will, but still.
“It’s my business because I’m sick of seeing you hurt him,” Taehyung’s reply comes quick and sharp, hitting Jeongguk square in the chest, because what has he done to Jimin? He’s been everything he wanted, hasn’t he? When he doesn’t reply, Taehyung scoffs.
“You need to find someone else to bury your dick in when you’re bored.”
With that, Taehyung slips inside the apartment, shutting the door carefully behind him. Jeongguk stares after him, incredulous, before shaking his head to clear it of Taehyung’s words and starting down the hall towards the elevator.
So much for being friends, Jeongguk tells himself
Jeongguk mulls over Taehyung’s words far too often in the next couple of days; he lies awake in bed considering and reconsidering what he could have meant by Jeongguk hurting Jimin. He’d never hurt Jimin, he doesn’t think he could bear the thought of anyone ever hurting Jimin, knows for sure he’d never allow someone to hurt him, god help their souls if they tried it.
Still, the sincere protectiveness in Taehyung’s words wasn’t something he could’ve missed if he’d tried. Taehyung is worried about the nature of their relationship. Specifically what it’s doing to Jimin, whatever that may mean.
Maybe running back to Jimin every few weeks proved to hurt them both more than staying away did himself. Maybe it was time to grow up and move on.
Jimin doesn’t hear from Jeongguk for two and a half months, but he’d deleted his number when they hit the six-week mark.
The semester ends, and the swelling excitement that the Christmas season brings with it breathes new freshness into winter. All the snow that had melted in the days before the new year rebuilds itself, blanketing the city in its frigidness, yet giving warmth to the time of year. Because, in the midst of winter, having no snow seems colder and more harsh, yet with piles of it, Jimin feels like everything’s the way it’s supposed to be.
That includes Jeongguk, as well, as Jimin feels that maybe the two were not supposed to be playing the game they had been for the past seven months; that this winter is, as cliché as it is to say, a new beginning. He can leave Jeon Jeongguk in the past.
The last time they’d been together was only hours after Jeongguk suggested being friends, and once more Jimin woke up alone, though there had been a warmth blooming in his chest, parts of him itching with unregistered touches. He holds the notion that his subconscious mind had made up sweet touches from Jeongguk in the early hours of the morning as a way of coping with Jeongguk’s consistent absences. Whatever the truth, Jimin woke up alone yet somewhat hopeful some four hours later.
Jimin’s alone in the apartment, Taehyung having decided he and Namjoon need to go out on an actual date before school starts up again and they have little time for anything beyond unbearable suffering at the hands of a capitalist-controlled higher education system. Taehyung left for Namjoon’s early in the morning, so Jimin’s been tapping away at various Super Mario games on his clunky old Super Nintendo for hours now, a pile of snacks in front of him and beside him and on top of him.
He thinks about Jeongguk only briefly when his phone lights up with a Snap from Taehyung. It’s of his and Namjoon’s hands, fingers intertwined, in Taehyung’s lap with the heart arrow emoji in the text bar. Jimin wants to be happy for Taehyung, he really does, but he can’t help the twinge of jealousy in his chest as he bitterly replies with a picture of himself lying back on the couch, his sweater pulled up underneath his nose, his eyes disinterested, and it’s only at that point that he realizes he’s wearing the sweater Jeongguk had never taken back from him.
Happy 4 u but fuck u, he writes. Taehyung responds with the two hands linked in his previous Snap now holding up their middle fingers. Jimin snickers at the image, sending a quick love u idiot go hang out with ur bf, atop a black photo.
The next time his phone goes off, Jimin’s halfway through a boss level, the ringtone startling him into dropping the controller to the floor. By the time he retrieves it and sits back against the cushions, the enemy on the screen has sent Mario back to the level-select map. He’s surprised to see a text from an unsaved number, but he’s sure he knows who it is.
From: Unknown Number
can i come up? i miss you
He mentally kicks himself for the way his heart begins beating rapidly in his chest, hope spri
nging forward only to be squashed by realism. He thought he’d heard the last of this.
To: Unknown Number
what do you want now
From: Unknown Number
wanna see you
Jimin snorts at the reply as he makes his way over to the speaker on the wall. His phone screen turns on in his hand once again after he presses the button to open the door.
From: Unknown Number
The knock at the door comes only a few moments later. Neither of them say anything for a moment, only mumbling out flat “hi”s.
“Are you coming in this time?” Jimin spits when Jeongguk still doesn’t explain why he’s there. The air around them is thick with tension when Jeongguk nods, stepping inside and looking around the apartment as if he’d never been in it before.
Jeongguk finally turns to look at Jimin, “s’been a while.”
“‘It’s been a while?’” Jimin mocks, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of anger and confusion that’s surprising even to him, and it’s something that Jeongguk had never seen before. He decides he doesn’t like the way anything other than happiness looks on Jimin.
“That’s all you have to say to me? I shouldn’t have fucking let you in, oh my god. You fucking disappear on me every god damn time when you’re the one who comes to me – this time for almost three months – and all you have to fucking say is it’s been a while?
“But I can’t say anything because I have no fucking reason to because this is just sex but for fuck’s sake, Jeongguk did you even stop to think about what fucking vanishing off of the face of the earth for weeks or- or months at time then only coming back when you’re in the mood for me does to me? Do you know what that feels like? Do you even care?”
“I’m not done, Jeongguk. Do you care at all that I spent so much fucking time hoping you’d still be around when I woke up? That you’d text me because you wanted to talk to me? That you’d come over just because and not because you want something more from me? Do you give a shit about how-” he swallows around the lump that had been growing in his throat since Jeongguk’s first text arrived, the last words of his sentence coming out pitiful and broken, “how used you made me feel?”
“I’m so sorry, Jimin, really, I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You don’t do all of that shit by accident, Jeongguk.”
“I know, Jimin, and I’m so fucking sorry. There’s no excuse for that.”
“If that’s all you wanted to say-”
“It’s not,” interrupts Jeongguk, his head snapping up so he can look Jimin in the eye. “I want you so fucking bad, Jimin, I have for so long now and that last day- Taehyung told me I was hurting you and I couldn’t do it anymore. I can stand the thought of hurting you. I care about you so goddamn much, Jimin.”
Jimin remains silent, half stunned, half livid. Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath, as if gathering his confidence.
“Can I kiss you?”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I’m not. I just-” he laughs curtly at himself, “I know it’s ridiculous and maybe it’s fucking evil and you have every right to spit in my face and kick me out if you really want to, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since we first fucking met. I don’t want anything beyond that, Jimin, I just need to see.”
“I don’t even know, if I’m over you yet?” he asks, perhaps mostly to himself, and- oh. Oh.
The world comes to a grinding halt, Jeongguk’s words washing over him and crushing him in their honesty.
Jimin’s silent, entirely of unsure of what he should say. He’s wanted so badly to just kiss Jeongguk, to have it lead nowhere, to have their lips on each other because they could, for so long, but he can’t stand the thought of Jeongguk getting what he wants out of Jimin again, all for his own selfish gain.
He steps closer, testing the waters, “Jimin,” he pleads, “I’ve wanted you for so long but I know you don’t feel the same way and-”
“You don’t know one fucking thing about me.”
Jimin takes two steps forward, fisting one hand in the front of Jeongguk’s shirt to pull him down and slot their mouths together. After so many months of this push and pull that they’ve had, it’s so easy to fit their bodies together; Jeongguk’s hands rest on Jimin’s hips, no groping or grinding like in their many previous encounters, just the soft pressure of his hands on Jimin’s skin where they slip underneath his sweater.
His fingers trace the dips of taut muscle in Jimin’s abdomen as if it was the first time he’d ever had his hands on him. Pushing further, Jeongguk slides his hands around Jimin’s back, hugging him to his chest while one of Jimin’s hands teases at the hair on the back of his neck.
They stay like that for much longer than Jimin would have anticipated, his lungs burning when he finally pulls away from Jeongguk’s lips. Jeongguk leans down to rest their foreheads together while they catch their breath, and Jimin tilts his head up to fumble his nose against Jeongguk’s, eyes half lidded and a hazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Jeongguk merely observes Jimin like that for a few moments before he speaks again, his tone light, breathless.
“I’m so sorry, Jimin. I didn’t- I didn’t know, I-”
“I should’ve said something,” Jimin interrupts.
“Not if I never gave you the chance,” Jeongguk barks, Jimin blinking in surprise in front of him. When he continues, his voice is barely above a whisper. “I treated you like- like a toy and you just let me and I should’ve realized I was hurting you-”
“Are you over me?” interjects Jimin.
He’s met with a wide-eyed stare, as if Jeongguk can’t quite process the question he’s being asked. Then, his eyes trailing to Jimin’s lips before meeting his eyes once more, he shakes his head. Jimin giggles, leaning up to press his lips to Jeongguk’s once, twice, three times before demanding he be carried to the couch. Jeongguk complies, easily lifting Jimin into his arms by his thighs to walk them to them to the living room. He settles himself against the cushions, Jimin falling naturally into his lap as if he had been designed to fit against him. Two puzzle pieces tattered around the edges but locking together nonetheless.
Jimin lies his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder, marveling at the feeling of Jeongguk’s broad chest under his hands. It’s odd, Jimin thinks, to already feel so comfortable acting like this around Jeongguk, though he supposes they did form some sort of bond in the last few months of their albeit confusing relationship. A fucked-up bond, of course, and if anyone asked, they met in the campus library, reaching for the same book on the mating rituals of Giant African Bullfrogs, or something.
He smiles at the feeling of Jeongguk’s nose making its way into his hair, fumbling along the side of his head before reaching the corner of Jimin’s jaw to pepper featherlight kisses there. A short giggle finds its way past Jimin’s lips, and Jeongguk is sure he’d never want to listen to anything but that sound for a long time.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin finally manages to mumble into the side of Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk pulls away to look down at Jimin, confusion evident in his eyes.
“For never saying anything and for always being mad at you and for yelling at you. It’s- I was so stupid to blame you. It’s not like you were the only one who did stupid shit,” Jimin curls and uncurls his fists in the fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt, eyes cast down as if the motion was interesting to watch. He’s not sure what he expects from Jeongguk at this point. Maybe he’s waiting for him to tell him it was all a joke to finally get Jimin to say everything he’s been feeling, maybe there’s a camera in the rectangular pendant that dangles from the chain around Jeongguk’s neck so he can laugh at how gullible Jimin is later. Maybe he expects Jeongguk to come to his senses; to tell Jimin that, yeah, he was stupid and this is a mistake.
Instead, Jeongguk gently lifts Jimin’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, taking a second to study Jimin’s face before guiding their lips together once more. It’s short, sweet, close-lipped. Jimin can’t help but want so much more. He’s spent almost the entire past year of his life longing to just be with Jeongguk without much more than languid kisses passed between them. It seems, however, that Jeongguk is a man of practiced willpower, and he pulls away just seconds after their lips meet.
“We both fucked up,” he murmurs, “you can’t blame yourself, baby b- um.”
Jimin giggles again, shaking his head at the slip up, “it’s okay. I always loved it when you called me that. Even when everything else about you pissed me off.”
Jeongguk offers a small smile at the shyness weighing on Jimin’s words.
“I could tell.”
With a roll of his eyes and half-assed slap to Jeongguk’s chest, Jimin rolls off of his lap to occupy his previous position, nudging Jeongguk’s thigh with his foot and holding his hand out for his controller.
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
“Yeah and you’re holding my controller hostage. Give.”
“God,” grumbles Jeongguk, placing the controller in Jimin’s waiting hand, “you’re bossy.”
Eyes already trained on the screen as he restarts the level, Jimin smiles to himself, all too aware of the affection in Jeongguk’s eyes while he gazes at Jimin from the opposite side of the couch.
“Better get used to it.”
“I’m hoping I’ll get plenty of time to,” Jeongguk tells him, “can I come over there?”
In lieu of a response, Jimin wiggles toward the edge of the cushions and pats the spot he’d been lying in. Jeongguk settles behind him, higher on the arm of the couch to peer over Jimin’s head at the television screen. He wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist to pull him closer, his fingers finding the drawstring of Jimin’s sweater to play with it distractedly.
“I really want to make things okay, Chim,” he mumbles into Jimin’s hair. Jimin pauses his game, doing his best to roll over in Jeongguk’s embrace, though the best he can manage is on his back with his shoulder digging into the center of Jeongguk’s chest.
“We will,” Jimin tells him, cupping Jeongguk’s cheek and giggling when Jeongguk gently grasps Jimin’s wrist and leans into the touch, “baby steps, hm?”
“This is taking it slow, Chim? Moving into his apartment after like four months? After everything he’s put you through you’re leaving me for him?”
“I am not leaving you, Taehyung, and I’ve only been here for a few days because he lives closer to campus,” there’s a shrill bark from the other side of the front door, and a small smile tugs at Jimin’s lips. “I gotta go, I’ll see you soon, drama queen.”
“Just don’t be stupid about this, Jimin. I love you and I don’t want to see you cry over him ever again.”
“Don’t worry, Tae, we’re okay. And I love you, too. Say hi to Joon for me. Buh-bye.”
Jimin sets his phone down just as Jeongguk comes barrelling through the front door of the apartment, the sound of sharp little nails trailing behind him on the floor, desperate to keep up with legs much longer than the ones they belong to. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, small white ball of fluff following closely behind, and comes to a stop when he and Jimin are face to face.
“Oh, you’re up,” Jeongguk helpfully observes. He admires Jimin for a moment; perched atop his counter as though he owns it, dressed in Jeongguk’s sweater from the day before.
“Hi,” Jimin offers, beckoning Jeongguk closer by patting the counter between his bare thighs. Jeongguk happily obliges, though not before feeding the puppy, whom he’d affectionately dubbed “Douche” – Duchess to anyone besides him and Jimin – a treat out of the jar on the counter.
“Hi,” grins Jeongguk, settling himself comfortably between Jimin’s legs, hands immediately finding his waist, “how’d you sleep?”
Jimin squeaks in surprise when Jeongguk roughly pulls their hips together, swooping in for a sweet kiss that tastes of coffee and artificial sweetener. Jimin’s hands curl in the back of Jeongguk’s hoodie as if to secure him in place.
“Fine.’Til the bed got really cold this morning.”
“Sorry ‘bout that. Figured I should take Duchess out before she left us a little present on the rug. Again.”
That earns a giggle from Jimin, who looks over Jeongguk’s shoulder to watch Duchess attempt to fit in the bed she’s already outgrown. Her paws hang off the side onto the hardwood, her head curled uncomfortably in a desperate attempt to stay on the cushion. They’d definitely have to pick up a new one for her soon.
“Stop starin’ at my kid,” demands Jeongguk with no real bite in his voice.
“Your kid?” Jimin repeats, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Yeah. What? You think I wouldn’t be a good dad?”
Another giggle from Jimin before he stretches up to close the gap between them. Jeongguk’s fingers, still cold from the tail ends of winter, slide under the large sweater Jimin had plucked off Jeongguk’s floor when he awoke cold and alone.
“’M sorry I left y’alone this mornin’,” Jeongguk manages against Jimin’s lips. Jimin merely shushes him, one small hand threading into his hair to tug gently at the dark strands and a deep groan slipping from Jeongguk’s mouth.
“Jeonggukie,” Jimin whines, “Can we go back to bed?”
“’Course, baby boy.”
The giggle that Jeongguk’s reply elicits from Jimin is unbearably adorable; high-pitched and self-congratulatory, and Jeongguk really does think he could listen to his laugh on loop for the rest of his life. He slips his hands underneath Jimin’s knees, and Jimin takes the cue to hook his ankles behind Jeongguk’s back as soon as he leaves the counter.
The short walk from the kitchen to the bedroom should not even be half as difficult as Jimin makes it; insatiable and adorable in Jeongguk’s arms, plush lips attacking whatever he can reach. They bump into the corner of the wall and the doorframe on their way in, yet not even that is enough to deter Jimin.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Jeongguk huffs once he’s safely nestled between Jimin’s knees on the still-askew sheets of his bed. Jimin snickers.
“And you’re cute when you’re trying to be mad at me. C’mere.”
Jeongguk sighs before he crawls up the bed to meet Jimin’s lips again, having been away from them far too long already. Jimin is more than willing to let Jeongguk take control, granting him access as soon as he feels him prodding impatiently at the seam of his lips.
Jeongguk slips his knee between Jimin’s thighs while he focuses on the feeling of Jimin’s lips under his and the soft sounds he’s already letting out. Jimin is always so pliant in the morning, Jeongguk doesn’t know how he could have brought himself to leave him behind for so many months. Sometimes he wishes Jimin would yell at him for it, just so he could feel he got what he deserved for hurting him for so long.
Abruptly, he pulls away from Jimin, much to Jimin’s chagrin, only to observe him for a moment; the roundness of his cheeks amplified by the puffiness that comes with sleep; the deep pink of his lips and the gold of his hair, which fans out across Jeongguk’s white pillows in a glowing halo; the eyelash on his cheekbone, which Jeongguk diligently lifts from its perch, prompting Jimin to make a wish before blowing it away. He captures Jimin’s lips once more for just a moment before he presses his lips softly to his nose, then both of his cheeks, pulling a small laugh from Jimin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, brushing a loose strand of hair back from Jimin’s face, “my beautiful baby boy.”
Jimin flushes at the words; ducks his head as best he can while pinned underneath most of Jeongguk’s weight.
“Fuck me before I change my mind, Gukkie.”
With one more kiss to Jimin’s lips, Jeongguk pulls back to root through the bedside table for lube and a condom, all the while ignoring Jimin’s incessant tugging on his sweater. He bats his trying hands away with an empty click of the tongue, furrowing his brow down at Jimin.
“I miss you. Hurry up,” Jimin demands. Jeongguk rolls his eyes.
Jimin sticks his tongue out of his mouth at Jeongguk, who in return grabs it between his thumb and forefinger. He cackles loudly when Jimin attempts to yell at him despite his predicament before giving up and slapping Jeongguk’s wrist. Jeongguk finally lets go, wincing at the spit in his hand before reaching to wipe it in Jimin’s hair.
“Don’t-” he attempts to dodge Jeongguk’s hand, but fails miserably. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah but I’m your asshole,” coos Jeongguk.
“Well speaking of your-”
“Don’t- don’t finish that sentence,” Jimin pleads, his hands held up in surrender.
“Shit, um, how do you feel about-” Jeongguk pulls an empty box of condoms from the drawer and shakes it, “-a trip to the store?”
Jimin stares at the box for a moment in consideration. “I’m clean,” he finally offers, looking up at Jeongguk with round, sincere eyes.
The creases in Jeongguk’s face smooth out at Jimin’s words, “me too. You- you’re okay with this?”
Jimin nods, a delicate “I trust you” finding its way into the air between them. Jeongguk drops the bottle of lube on the bed before slotting himself between Jimin’s legs once more to recapture his lips in a heated kiss. Again, Jimin’s hands pull impatiently at Jeongguk’s sweater, silently begging it be done away with, and finally getting what he’s wanted. In one fluid motion, Jeongguk lifts himself up just enough to pull the offending article over his head and throw it towards the corner of the room to be dealt with whenever he and Jimin decide to actually leave the bed. Jimin takes the opportunity to drag his nails down Jeongguk’s chest, just hard enough to have his hips jolting against Jimin’s own when he barely grazes a nipple.
When Jimin reaches for his own sweater, Jeongguk stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.
“Can we just-” he gnaws on his bottom lip, looking for the best way to voice his request. “Leave this on. I love when you wear my clothes.”
Jimin nods, instead hooking his fingers in the waistband of Jeongguk’s sweatpants to snap it against his hips. It takes a moment for Jeongguk to wiggle himself free of them, but he’s able to do so without having to leave Jimin, who takes advantage of Jeongguk’s distracted state to flip them. Jeongguk sucks in a sharp gasp at the weight of Jimin’s ass now resting just above his dick. Jimin’s own half-hard cock lying cutely against Jeongguk’s stomach.
Bracing a hand on Jeongguk’s chest, he leans down to connect their lips. Large hands grip at Jimin’s bare ass, grinding their hips together painfully slow, and Jimin’s chest vibrates with restricted noises he fights to keep down. He can feel Jeongguk growing against him, and it only serves to spur him on; to ache with the desire to please Jeongguk and hear how good he is for him. So, when Jeongguk reaches for the bottle of lube, Jimin stops him, taking the bottle into his own hands and lifting himself off of Jeongguk to sit on the bed between his feet, one hand twisted in the sheets behind him to support himself. Jeongguk sits back against the headboard, intrigued.
“Want you to watch me,” Jimin purrs, uncapping the bottle of lube and pouring a large amount onto his fingers. “But you can’t touch yourself.”
His fingers are much smaller than Jeongguk’s, but he’s longed to put on a show, to have all of Jeongguk’s attention on him and only him. And he loves the fire in Jeongguk’s eyes while he stares Jimin down; desperate and spread wide in one of Jeongguk’s sweatshirts, preparing to fuck himself open while Jeongguk sits in front of him.
He shakes the hair out of his face while teasing himself with the first finger; tracing tight circles over his hole before pushing in up to the first knuckle. A shaky breath leaves his lips when he sinks in further, adjusting to the stretch. When he finally opens his eyes, he meets Jeongguk’s, relishing in the hunger barely restrained in his blown pupils, and his hands are fisted in the blankets around him, restrained as per Jimin’s request.
Jimin begins to move his finger, pumping it slowly in and out of himself while his head drops forward to watch his own show. It’s not long before he’s able to add a second, scissoring himself to accommodate Jeongguk’s length.
Shameless moans claw their way past his lips, intermittent cries of Jeongguk’s name amongst the mess of desperation spewing forth.
“Come here,” Jeongguk barks, startling Jimin into action. He clambers into Jeongguk’s lap, allowing him to take the small bottle from Jimin’s hands to slick his own fingers up. Reaching behind Jimin, Jeongguk teases Jimin’s hole once more, catching his finger on his rim before trailing down to his perineum and back up.
Jimin’s nails bite into Jeongguk’s shoulders when he finally slides his finger past the tight ring of muscle, the act easy thanks to Jimin’s show. Jimin jumps when Jeongguk slides the second finger in next to the first, but eases back down with a calming hand on his hip and gentle kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw.
At the third finger, Jimin is hardly coherent, stuttering out helpless pleas for more and near-sobbed versions of Jeongguk’s name. Jeongguk works him open carefully, distracting him from the intrusion by pulling him down by the drawstrings on his sweatshirt for another deep kiss, tongue delving into Jimin’s mouth and making his head spin. Jimin gasps sharply and he arches into Jeongguk’s chest when Jeongguk grazes over his prostate. He repeats the movement with more force, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him, bottom lip caught between his teeth at the sight of precome already beading on the tip of Jimin’s cock.
“’M ready Gukkie, please,” he manages.
“Fuck, okay,” rasps Jeongguk, pulling his fingers from Jimin – at which he whines loudly – and reaching for the bottle of lube. Jimin slides backwards on his thighs to allow him to do so, but once again takes the bottle from Jeongguk’s hands. He’s generous with the amount he drizzles into his palm, wrapping his hand around Jeongguk’s length but stopping when Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath.
“Cold,” he explains.
A small smile tugs at the corners of Jimin’s lips, his hand unyielding on Jeongguk’s cock and his hips twitching in response. Jimin leans down to capture Jeongguk’s lips in a gentle kiss, a sweet “sorry” whispered between their mouths.
Finally, finally, Jimin positions himself over Jeongguk’s cock, catching his rim on the tip and relishing in the impatient groan Jeongguk releases. He sinks down slowly to adjust to Jeongguk’s size, his nails dug into Jeongguk’s shoulder to ground him. Large hands on his hips and gentle coos from Jeongguk take his mind off the stretch. Once fully seated, Jimin presses his lips to the mole on Jeongguk’s chin, then that on the tip of his nose before he ventures to his lips.
Jimin works up a steady pace, Jeongguk’s tight grip on his ass unrelenting and so possessive that Jimin hopes it leaves bruises in the shape of his fingers so he’s constantly reminded of who he belongs to. Jeongguk attaches his lips to Jimin’s neck, marring the perfect tan skin there. A desperate mewl tangles in Jeongguk’s hair alongside Jimin’s fingers when he snaps his hips forward to meet Jimin’s.
“You’re so beautiful, baby boy. So perfect for me,” he wrenches Jimin’s head to the side to litter more marks across his neck, loud reds and pinks blooming under his lips while Jimin tugs at his hair.
Jimin mewls unabashedly at Jeongguk’s words, adopting a more brutal pace as he draws closer and closer to his release. Jeongguk’s hands tighten on Jimin’s hips and a low moan finds its way past his lips when he tugs Jimin down to meet his thrusts. Jimin is now flush against him; arms clasped tight around Jeongguk’s neck while a string of strained expletives bursts from his mouth. The angle is only slightly awkward, but having Jimin fit so perfectly in his arms and the beautiful noises he makes low in his ear easily outweighs anything. Jeongguk thinks he could write sonnets about Jimin, especially in such a vulnerable, gorgeous state. Jeongguk has long been convinced that Jimin is a work of art crafted by a flawless deity.
He doesn’t have to tell Jeongguk he’s close, Jeongguk can feel it in the way his entire body shivers whenever he lowers into Jeongguk’s lap, and in the way he clenches around Jeongguk’s cock, just shy of his orgasm but desperate to hold out for a little bit longer.
“Gukkie,” he whimpers pathetically, nose pressed snuggly into the junction of Jeongguk’s shoulder and neck, “can’t.”
“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” Jeongguk coos and stills, lifting Jimin by his thighs to position him against the pillows. He presses a soft kiss to Jimin’s forehead before he resumes, thrusts much slower and more painfully drawn-out that they had been. Jimin sobs at Jeongguk’s every movement now, heat curling between his hips as he begs for his release.
“Come for me baby,” growls Jeongguk as he reaches between their bodies to take Jimin’s leaking cock in his hand, stroking him in time with his pace, “show me how good you are for me.”
Jeongguk thrusts once, twice, thrice more before Jimin’s body goes taut, his head digging back into the pillow beneath it and his mouth dropping open in a silent cry. His nails scrape down Jeongguk’s shoulders while Jeongguk strokes him through it, thick strands of come streaking his stomach white. Jeongguk follows soon after, his hips stuttering against Jimin’s as he spills inside of him with a long groan.
With whispered praise into the soft, marred skin of Jimin’s neck, Jeongguk pulls out only to sag against Jimin’s chest, though careful not to crush him under his weight. Jimin’s fingers card through Jeongguk’s sweat-drenched hair, and his lips dot lazy kisses from Jeongguk’s temple over his brows then down the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head up. He meets Jimin’s lips in a lazy kiss, lasting just long enough that Jeongguk can feel his head spinning. Kissing Jimin got Jeongguk higher than any drug ever could, much more addictive, too. He thinks could get used to this.
“We should shower,” Jimin sighs, breaking the comfortable silence that had all but lulled Jeongguk back to sleep, “we’re gross.”
Jeongguk grunts in response, but makes no attempt to move. Jimin pokes at his forehead.
“God, come on, you loser. We’re gonna be stuck together if you fall asleep like that now.”
“But babyyyy,” he whines, “I’m comfy.”
Jimin barely registers the tickling sensation of liquid running down the dip of his waist to the sheets below, and the stickiness now coating his ass.
“Makes one of us. I feel like a high school cafeteria table.”
Jeongguk lifts his head to look at Jimin, his face contorted in disgust. “God. Baby. Ew,” is all he manages, then he adds, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice we were out of condoms.”
“S’ok,” murmurs Jimin, “just please let me get up and shower, at least, even if you don’t want to.”
Jeongguk finally relents, rolling onto his back on the mattress – albeit petulantly – to allow to Jimin to climb off of the bed. He throws an arm over his eyes to block the harsh early-morning sun streaming in through the window over his bed.
Jimin doesn’t bother with gathering any clothing, just a towel from the back of the bedroom door, before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. Jeongguk smiles dumbly to himself when the sound of Jimin’s humming floats through the open bedroom door and over his ears, enveloping him in the safe warmth that only Jimin could provide him. The humming grows clearer as Jimin nears the bedroom once more.
“Join me,” he offers softly, arms crossed over his chest and bare hip leant against the white doorframe.
Jeongguk hums, and drops his arm to the bed. “You’re beautiful.”
A shy smile dances across Jimin’s lips when he looks down at his feet, likely to hide the growing blush on his cheekbones. Jeongguk takes yet another moment – he’s sure by now that in their time together, he’s spent more time staring lovingly at Jimin than he has staring at literally anything else, even his computer screen – to appreciate every dip, curve, and edge of Jimin’s body. The pink in his cheeks deepens all the way down to where it had bloomed from his chest, and Jeongguk thinks that a flustered Jimin is impossibly more beautiful than the regular, glowing Jimin. (And luckily Jimin is easily flustered.)
“Is that a yes?” Jimin asks, finally looking back up at Jeongguk.
“Of course, love.”
Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.