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Dazzle Me With Gold

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Jimin loved the world at night.

There was something calming about the city past a certain hour, with the energy of the lights, the change in the people on the streets. Everything felt exposed and open, shadowed and hidden all at once.

Or maybe Jimin loved the night because of what they always got up to. Nights off meant that Jimin could go out on the town, drinking with Jin and Jungkook to their favourite haunt, holing themselves up in a corner booth to laugh the night away. Nights where his face got pink and his skin was too warm under his sweater, where he would laugh at Jin and Jungkook’s childish banter as the three of them would get relaxed and loose and loud.

This night wasn’t any different. They had ordered food late, and when it finally arrived Jimin’s stomach was eating a hole in itself, his mind dizzy with soju shots. “Oh good, meat's ready,” he groaned out as Jin flipped the samgyeopsal, sizzling on the grill like music to his ears. There was a flurry of chopsticks as the three of them surged forward to pick the best cuts, shovelling them into their mouths with lettuce.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, and Jimin glanced over, absently noticing that Jin didn’t bother looking up. Jungkook was holding his chopsticks out, meat and lettuce packed on the ends.

Jimin looked at the food, and then up into Jungkook’s big, bright eyes. Watched as Jungkook opened his mouth wide, as if to get Jimin to imitate him.

Jimin gave him a long, warm look before closing his eyes and letting his jaw fall open. Jungkook fed him carefully, until his cheeks were full and his body was warm.

“Aren’t you going to feed hyung too, Jungkook-ah?” Jin whined, and Jimin smirked smugly, chewing a huge piece of pork thickly.

“Sure,” Jungkook said. “You’re paying though, right?”

Jimin was happy and warm, just like how he always was on one of these nights. At some point, one of their managers would show up outside their curtain. Sober and armed with car keys, he would usher them out the restaurants backdoor and into a waiting car to take them home. Jimin would lean his head against the tinted window, the glowing neon of Seoul glittering in his swimming vision. Time pitched, rolling fast and syrupy slow, shifting his focus like a kaleidoscope. All his attention was on the disinterested lyrics in the chillwave song on the radio, then electric billboards flashing out vibrant ads featuring familiar faces, flicking through brands. Red stop lights, spilling colour over their driver’s face. Jungkook and Jin bickering loudly about mascot characters. The slide of his hot skin sticking to the leather seats, the grip of a hand on his knee, the press of a thigh against his.

When they got back to the dorm, stumbling drunkenly into the foyer, Jimin took a second longer to kick off his shoes than he normally would have taken. He watched distantly as his 800,000 won leather Prada’s skittered down the hallway, narrowly missing Jin on his exit. They also missed Jungkook, hopping on one foot and struggling with his boots like some kind of inebriated flamingo, red cheeks and a smile spread wide across his entire face.

They were both wasted, Jimin thought, as he leaned his forehead against Jungkook’s shoulder. Wasted and hurting from laughing so hard.

“Aye, you kids,” Jin was saying from the kitchen, socks off, drinking tap water out of a glass. “I’m getting too old to keep up with you.”

“You’re just getting weak, hyung,” Jungkook slurred, his voice rumbling through Jimin’s body. “Should we start looking for nursing homes?”

“You think you can get rid of me so easily!” Jin shouted. “Have some respect for your elders. Do you think you would have gotten Jimin out of that bar without hyung’s superior alcohol tolerance?”

At some point, Jimin found his socks slipping, his forehead sliding against Jungkook’s side. He slid past Jungkook’s fumbling grasp, slowly succumbing to gravity as he laid down on the floor.

“Pretty sure manager-nim’s the one who did that one, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice echoed from above him.

“After all I’ve done for you.” Jin huffed from the kitchen.

Jimin giggled, his forehead pressed against the cool floor, hair scattering around him. Jin was funny. Why was he always so funny? It was cute, when he acted all indignant at their impishness.

Jungkook grunted, somewhere far above Jimin and the floor. Jimin glanced up, his eyes travelling up Jungkook’s legs. He let himself indulge in his bare knees in his ripped jeans, his thighs.

“Are you going senile, too Jin-ah?” Jungkook slurred out, his accent thick. “Maybe we’re up a bit past your bedtime.”

“Now see here,” Jin began, but Jimin wasn’t paying attention to the rest of it. He felt cold and small down here, alone on the floor, when Jungkook could stand up all by himself. Did he even notice that Jimin was down here, laying at his feet?

“Jeon Jung kookie~”Jimin whined loudly.

Jungkook instantly whipped his head around to focus only on him, and Jimin felt smugly satisfied.

“Come to Jimminie,” Jimin lilted, raising his arms up high.

Jungkook blinked, and then his big eyes were crinkling at the corners.

“What’s up Chimchim?” asked Jungkook, leaning over Jimin, splayed on the foyer. “Need some water?”

“Noo,” Jimin whined. He had drunk his weight in water at the bar. He flexed his fingers instead, making grabbing motions in the air as Jungkook hovered frustratingly out of reach. “Kookie…”

“What do you need, Jimin?”

Jimin scrunched his face up in annoyance. Jungkook’s eyes were sparkling, the tease. “Jiminnie wants a piggyback ride.”

Somewhere in the distance he heard an offended scoff from the kitchen. He ignored it, smiling sugary sweet at Jungkook hovering over him, his eyelashes lowering against his dark eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook rumbled, kneeling down, patting his shoulders. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Jimin slung his arms around his neck, and Jungkook stumbled to his feet, straining only slightly as he hauled Jimin’s body up onto his back. Then Jimin found himself very high up, cheek smushed against soft brown hair, clinging around Jungkook’s shoulders and back like a lifeline.

“Ready hyung?’ Jungkook said, glancing over his shoulder, checking in on Jimin.

His face was so close that Jimin could see some of his fainter moles. Jimin mutely nodded, and Jungkook smiled, dazzlingly bright. “Let’s go.”

Jimin caught a flash of Jin’s slightly disgusted expression through the kitchen doorway before they were lurching, stumbling down the hallway, off to the bedrooms.

“Goodnight, Jinnie-hyung,” Jimin slurred out. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Jin called behind them.

They were moving down the hallway, past the bathroom and into a dark room. They weren’t trying to be loud, but the hall was slippery, and Jungkook kept having to take breaks to lean on a wall, to giggle and regather Jimin’s thighs under his fingers.

“What—” Jimin mumbled as Jungkook readjusted his grip, the side of his neck slick with sweat. “What time is it?”

“Like, three in the morning.”

Jimin let out a little laugh, tilting his head back. “We’re going to wake everyone up.”

“Probably,” Jungkook grunted out.

Jimin wasn’t sure when they eventually reached his room, but they somehow managed without Jungkook dropping Jimin or collapsing on his own unsure steps. His room was dark, his bed empty, the curtains drawn tight.

“Not so loud, not so loud.” Jimin hissed, eyes landing on Hoseok’s prone body in his bed on the other side of the room. “Hobi-hyung…”

 Jungkook muttered something under his breath and then Jimin found himself sliding down to the floor, gently landing on his feet.

They got undressed as quietly as they could. They were watching each other as they did it, pulling their shirts over their heads, kicking their too-tight jeans off, their clothes a sloppy pile on the floor. Jimin wasn’t sure why, but he was smiling so hard his face hurt, Jungkook’s expression mirroring his. Like they were lost in the middle something they didn’t quite get.

Jimin let himself fall back on his bed, and burrowed in the covers. He felt Jungkook‘s body as he flopped down beside him in a puff of air, a satisfied groan. Then he whipped his head to the side, pointing his cute nose and black button eyes towards Jimin, and waggled his eyebrows.

 “Ah, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook said in his familiar cartoon voice. “Good evening to you.”

“Good evening, Jungkookie,” Jimin smiled, propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes were still adjusting a bit to the pitch dark, but he could see the glassy reflection of Jungkook’s eyes in the low light seeping through the curtains. “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

Jungkook glanced over, before he shuffled animatedly up next to Jimin, and stuck chin firmly on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin leaned back against the pillows to watch him.

“Well,” said Jungkook, “Hyung always let me have all the blankets.”

“You just steal them all.”

“Hyung lets me have all the pillows, too.”

“Cheeky brat,” Jimin said, shoving at his shoulder. “Get your own pillows.”

Jungkook was just giggling. He was laying the aegyo on strong, his tone girly and pitched and childish. It was always funny to hear coming out of Jungkook, with his cute face and tough body.

Of course, Jimin couldn’t just say that he liked it. “Ayish.” He said, batting at him again. “What’s gotten into you?”

Jungkook kept giggling, pushing away his hand. “What?” Jungkook said, batting his eyelashes. “Is something wrong?”

Jimin shoved him again, his face splitting wide. “What’s with that voice? Are you from a drama? Did you hit your head?”

“No,” Jungkook giggled, his head falling to the side, hair scattering against Jimin’s pillow. “I’m always this cute.”

Jimin didn’t know how to respond to that.

At some point, he had noticed that his shove died somewhere on Jungkook’s shoulder. His hand was still, fingertips brushing strands of Jungkook’s hair, thumb still against his skin. Jimin felt like he the world had slowed down. Like they existed in a bubble, where he could lay awake here in a moment snagged out from the fabric of time. The pads of his fingers pressed against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook looking between his eyes, like he couldn’t decide which one he liked better.

“Jimin-ah?” Jungkook mumbled.

Jimin watched his fingers flatten against Jungkook’s shoulder, dipping his collarbone, “What is it, Jungkooki—”

Jungkook surged forward and kissed him.

He did it without warning, but Jimin had been waiting for it, was already opening his lips to let him in, his arms snaking around the back of Jungkook’s neck to pull him in close. His lips were wet, tongue loose in Jimin’s mouth. Giggling between gasps for air, Jungkook’s hand pressed against his chest, the other weaving fingers gently through his hair, and Jimin felt warm and full and happy, drunk on life and taken care of.

“You—” Jimin whispered as Jungkook chased him on the breath, tripping over each little kiss he could press to Jimin’s lips. “You’re so cute.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathed.

Jimin gasped. Jungkook was kissing him a lot, pecking him on the lips, on the face. Like he was impatient, restless. He could be such a kid sometimes. “Kookie,” Jimin murmured. “You little—”


Jungkook pressed his mouth against his harder, and Jimin’s mind scattered. The kisses were short and frantic, Jungkook chasing each of them in a flurry while Jimin just let it happen, drunk and dizzy and rolling with Jungkook’s thighs pressing against his. Jimin could barely keep up, swept along as Jungkook ran his fingers down his arms, up his shirt, his fingers shaking as his big hands fondled his stomach, his chest.

They normally didn’t do this. They never normally went further than lazy make outs, sometimes a hand job if one of them got worked up. They never started out like this, where Jungkook was desperate for something. Where Jungkook was groping at him from under his shirt, grinding their hips together, pushing his tongue against Jimin’s, breath coming out hard through his nose.

“Jungkook,” Jimin gasped out, “Jungkookie—”

He couldn’t see Jungkook’s face in the darkness, but he heard him whine. It came out low and rough, like it was being torn out of his gut.

And then Jimin was flat on his back, blinking up in a daze.

He could feel more than see the wide hands pinning his arms against the mattress, thick thighs straddling his waist, a hot press of something hard against stomach. Jungkook hovering over him, pressing Jimin down in his own bed, holding him still.

It was a minute that seemed to last twenty. Jungkook’s face was shadowed and dark, his desperate pants for air the only sound from his mouth. Jimin’s head was spinning, gasping for air as his eyes adjusted to take in the expression on Jungkook’s face.

Jungkook’s eyes, blown wide dark to the iris. His jaw slack, chest heaving. His cute, baby face struck with an expression that made Jimin’s blood run with liquid heat. Jungkook’s eyes were boring into his with something that was unfamiliar. Something barely restrained.  

Jimin realized then and there, that Jungkook wanted to fuck him.

Jimin felt it spike through him, the dizzying tilt of realization that brought all his thoughts rushing forward at once. His mouth dry, breath sharp in his nose, as Jungkook leaned low over his body, opening his mouth—

—which was when a pillow smacked Jungkook in the head.

“Go to sleep, you fucking assholes.”

Jimin froze. Hoseok’s hoarse voice rang in his ears as he watched Jungkook blink rapidly, stunned. Jungkook was on his feet a second later, swaying as he stared down at Jimin with wide eyes. Then he was backing up, and stumbling for the door.

“Sorry hyung,” Jungkook croaked out, before ducking out into the hall.

Jimin lay there, panting, dizzy and drunk, staring at his bedroom ceiling. As his mind settled back into the present and his breath regathered in his chest, Jimin had to wonder which hyung Jungkook was referring to.


It was weird because it normally wasn’t weird. Kissing wasn’t weird. Making out in their beds wasn’t weird. A handy or two in the shower wasn’t even unheard of.

When they were trainees it had almost been normal. A sort of fun thing when they were confined in the dorm with teenage hormones and pre-debut tension bubbling under their skin. They barely had time for school, let alone a liaison with a pretty coed classmate, and the unsupervised moments in their dorm gave way to relief in other ways. They had been confined, isolated, and horny, managers looking the other way when they found them in compromising situations. Kissing on dares, or for practice. Looking for closeness, for someone to hold onto who was going through the same thing you were dealing with, the same shit that was wracking your body with pain and hunger and sleep deprivation and the desperate need to fuck.

Unsurprisingly, they wrote a lot of songs about girls in this time period.

He kissed a few of the boys back in those years. Mostly Taehyung, on several hundred occasions that meant nothing much but were full of sweetness and warmth. Hoseok a couple times, when they were being dumb and giggly and trying to one-up each other with flirting by biting each other all over their necks. Jin, once. On a dare, in front of everyone, that ended with Jimin getting shoved back by his shoulders into Namjoon’s side, laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

Yoongi was a bit different. Yoongi had always been a flaring warning light in his peripherals, a storm brewing underneath whatever he allowed you to see, and Jimin felt like he could relate.

Yoongi, more than a couple times. Yoongi, in private, when he felt his disinterested eyes flicking down his body more times than could count as a coincidence. Yoongi, who ran his hands appreciatively up his rippled stomach, over his swollen arms, with that sort of half smirk on his face, asking Jimin if he really thought he was just curious.

Jimin had laughed at the time, but it had sat with him, like a stone in his stomach.

He stopped kissing Yoongi after that.

He never kissed Jungkook.

Jungkook was so small back then, small and shy and quiet, all his features too big for his face. He withdrew from them in a way that Jimin wanted to chase, he wanted to catch and pamper and hug until he relaxed and defrosted and could smile easily.  

That didn’t mean the other boys didn’t kiss him. Jimin knew Taehyung did, a lot. Kissed all over his face when they were curled up in bed together, light smacking noises in their one-room dorm filling his ears.

When they moved dorms, and got divided into their separate rooms, he stopped hearing those noises from Taehyung’s bunk.

It all changed as they got older, anyways. It slowed, when their fame grew and their personalities became softer, less manic, less desperate, when there was less of a need for that physical closeness. That childish, embarrassing comfort. Mixed gender award after-parties gave way to exchanged contact numbers of girl groups, and they got better at hiding their real lives from the world.

And the kissing tapered off.

But it wasn’t over, Jimin was sure, they were just getting more discreet, better at hiding it from each other now that they had limited roommates and closing doors. There were things happening that they weren’t all aware of, which was fine with Jimin, but it left questions hanging in his head.

One night stood out to Jimin in particular, when Jungkook, barely eighteen, crawled into Jimin’s bed without saying a word. It wasn’t unusual, so Jimin hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t said anything about Jungkook shaking next to him, shuddering like a leaf in the wind until Jimin wrapped an arm around his shoulder, stroking his arm until he fell asleep.

If it wasn’t for that incident, he probably wouldn’t have noticed how jumpy Jungkook was the next morning, how he couldn’t look Namjoon in the eye over breakfast. How Namjoon was cool and calm as always, but his eyes were haunted with dark smudges.

Jungkook began to crawl into his bed a lot more often after that.

It was cute. Jungkook was always cute, goofy and shy and boyish. Jimin liked watching his wild imitations of movie scenes, dances, of his hyungs. He liked to make his hyungs laugh, he liked to make them happy, and with everything that was happening, everything Jimin was going through, Jungkook felt like the brightest, most uncomplicated spot in his life.

Jungkook liked to kiss Jimin on the lips, on the back of his neck, on his cheeks. He liked to smile into every single one of them, like he could barely contain his happiness at kissing him. Even though it was just Jimin. His bandmate, an older boy, someone with puffy eyes and chubby cheeks and nowhere near as golden as Jungkook was.

Jungkook didn’t seem to mind, though.

And then they got older, and it shifted again. It shifted while the softness of baby fat faded from Jimin’s face, along with the louder sides of his personality. It shifted after Jimin collapsed during practice, coming around to see his bandmate’s stricken faces, Jungkook’s knuckles bound up and white.

The more Jimin withdrew into himself, the more he would see Jungkook pushing forward, bright and concerned and present in a way he was never before.

It made him feel guilty, for making everyone worry, for making Jungkook worry especially. He had to deal with so much as it was, the last thing he should have to worry about was Jimin’s own pathetic insecurities, his own self-obsessions. He was the hyung, he was the one who had held Jungkook to his chest while he cried over his parents, over his homesickness, over missing out on everything that he had grown up with. Jimin was supposed to protect him. That was his job.

Jimin thought that, at least, until he was picked up off the floor by a security guard in a Taipei airport. Dazed and sweating, disorientated from the crush of people around him, on the verge of losing it until he felt the steely grip of long fingers wrapped around his upper arm, the press of a warm chest into his back. Jungkook, steering him through the throng, keeping him upright, keeping him present. Keeping him safe.

It flickered in Jimin’s stomach, warmth that he hadn’t felt before.

And then, he began to notice it flicker more. Jungkook clinging to his back when they were in bed, arms wrapped around his waist, murmuring words that Jimin couldn’t decipher into his hair. Jungkook watching him eat, sliding Jimin his own dumplings, his own portion of meat.

Jungkook, two years younger, four centimeters taller, taking care of him.

Last night, he had kissed Jimin like he was desperate. Like he needed it more than anything else in the world. He kissed him like he thought he would lose him, kissed him like he had spent years wanting him.

And maybe, Jimin realized, he needed to feel wanted.


Jimin woke up the next morning in his room, alone with the morning sun, a hangover, and a hard on.

He didn’t know why the sun had to be as obnoxious as it was, shining through his blinds when Jimin had barely scraped out a few hours of sleep. How long had it been, three hours? His mouth felt like something had died in it, his headache blinding him. The desire to curl up under the covers and wither away was equally matched by his desire to jerk off into the toilet.

Every memory came back into his head slowly, dripping into place as he lay there, trying to fool himself into thinking he was still asleep. Here, with his eyes shut, sunlight doing its best to worm its way past his lids, Jimin could remember what went down last night. The sound of Hoseok’s voice as he yelled at them. The expression on Jungkook’s face as he ran away.

Jimin thought about Jungkook’s expression as he stood in the shower, staring mindlessly at the tiles. He thought about it as he sat on the couch, armed with raisin tea and pear juice that someone had left in the fridge. He watched four episodes of We Got Married, scrolled through Twitter, took a two hour nap. He woke up when Taehyung hopped onto the couch next to him, springing the cushions up.

“Hey, did you want to go to the studio?” he asked. “Car’s coming at 4.”

Jimin thought about that for a hot minute.

He didn’t really have anything he needed to do right now, besides practice routines. He could always practice more, there was always something about him that needed improving. The pure concept of dancing right now kind of turned his stomach, but it would make him feel like less of a terrible person if he at least tried to put a productive spin onto this day.

Why not.

“Sure, TaeTae,” He groaned, rolling off the couch. “I’ll come.”


Which was how he found himself, in the office break room at 11 at night, watching coffee drip into the pot.

His limbs were sore and loose, bundled in a sweatshirt, his hands stuffed in his pockets. BigHit was mostly empty at this time, other than their managers lurking in their offices, some members holed up in their studios.

Jimin could have hitched a ride back with Taehyung, but he opted to stay. He had stuff to do here.

It was late. The silence of the halls, the blackness outside the shuttered windows, the fluorescent lights all lent themselves to something that felt a bit surreal. Like the world just shifted slightly around midnight. It was honesty hours, as Namjoon had called it once. Late enough for uncertain words to come out easy. Late enough to not worry about what-ifs.

So, Jimin was making coffee for Hoseok.

He owed him an apology. After all these years of Jungkook taking up an almost permanent residence in Jimin’s bed, he felt like they had stretched Hoseok’s hospitality an inch too far. Hoseok always said it was fine, even when they woke him up at 3 in the morning, giggling over YouTube videos. Or, in the case of last night, reaching second base.

Hoseok always withstood their antics with a pained grin, and Jimin appreciated that. And he wanted to show Hoseok know he appreciated that, by delivering him Arabica roast to his door while he dicked around over tracks when he should have been at home four hours ago.

That was the plan, at least until the break room door opened, and Jimin caught sight of Namjoon from the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” Jimin said, glancing up from his coffee maker. “You’re still here?”

“Working on some things,” Namjoon said. He was wearing sweats and a cardigan, clearly he had been holed up in his studio all day. Jimin expected that he would go straight to the water cooler, maybe grab something out of the fridge. But he didn’t move, just stood there. Lurking in the break room doorway like a curse.  

Namjoon cleared his throat. Jimin recognized it well, his tic whenever he went into leader mode. “What’s going on, Jimin?” he asked.

Jimin exhaled through his nose, and turned back to the coffee pot. It had stopped brewing, but he didn’t move.

Namjoon knew. Already.

Even though Hoseok had no reason to keep Jimin’s midnight indiscretions a secret, he had been hoping to catch him with an apology before it got to this. Before Hoseok took it upon himself to inform Namjoon what Jimin was doing with their maknae at two in the morning.

Jimin was well aware that the rap line communicated about the group dynamic when the rest of them weren’t there. Whatever information about them that found its way to Yoongi or Hoseok would eventually find its way to Namjoon, and from Namjoon, sometimes management. It was just how their hierarchy worked. Rap Line had their own work space, their own dynamic, and their own secrets. And while Jimin normally had no problem with it, he had wanted to keep this between him and Hoseok.

It had been a roommate problem before, but now that Namjoon knew, it was a Bangtan problem.

“Well, I’m practicing,” Jimin eased out. “Hit the dance room for about four hours or so. That’s what’s going on.”

“You know what I mean,” Namjoon sighed.

Jimin raised his eyebrow, in a way that meant that he did know, but he was going to make Namjoon spell if it out if he wanted answers.

Namjoon let out a frustrated puff of air, rounding out his cheeks in a way that Jimin always thought was cute. It was less cute now that he knew he was about to get interrogated.

“What’s your objective with Jungkook?” he finally said.

Jimin stared at him, then snorted loudly, ignoring the pounding in his chest. “That’s like asking me what my objective with Bangtan is, hyung.”

When Namjoon didn’t respond, Jimin just sighed. “He’s a good kid, and we have fun together. I trust him with my life. It’s not complicated.”

“It’s more complicated from his perspective than yours.”

It wasn’t a mystery to him that the members were different. That some of them, on average, leaned more towards boys than girls. Jimin knew exactly which boys were more serious about men than others, it wasn’t exactly a secret. It was the reason he could tease Hoseok for having a man crush, but not Yoongi.

He hadn’t given that elephant much thought.

“Hyung,” Jimin said carefully, “Jungkook isn’t eighteen anymore. He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, all lanky limbs and uncomfortable expressions, awkwardly shuffling his weight between his feet.

“You have to make a decision here too, Jimin. Do you think it’s a good idea?” Namjoon said. “Do you think it’s a good idea to mess around with Jungkook, or are you just curious?”

There it was again. That question, offered up nice and neat, for Jimin to evade. “What are you worried about here, Joon-hyung?” Jimin asked. “Bangtan? Are you worried that this is going to mess us up?”

“I’m not worried about Bangtan,” Namjoon sighed, deflated. “I’m worried about Jungkook.”

The realization hit Jimin like a lightning bolt. What Namjoon was thinking was obvious. There was an unspoken amount of notches carved into Jimin’s bedframe. Jungkook, in comparison, was innocent. Jungkook was romantic. Jungkook was shy.

Jimin knew he had a reputation for not being serious, but it was different with Jungkook. It was so, so different. He thought that Namjoon would have known that.

Maybe he does know that, an ugly voice said at the back of his head. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to have what he doesn’t have. What he didn’t let himself have when he had the chance.

It made Jimin feel sick even thinking that.

He pulled a mug out of the cupboard, and poured the coffee. He was done here. “What do you want from me, Namjoon-hyung,” he cut out.

Namjoon’s face pinched up. It came out more vicious than Jimin intended, but he felt a dead sense of satisfaction that he managed to hit a nerve.

“Just,” Namjoon sighed, “Just be careful.”

Jimin didn’t respond. He raised his eyebrows, sipped Hoseok’s coffee, and nodded.

“Whatever you say, hyung,” Jimin said.


Visiting Hoseok had lost its appeal after that.

Jimin stood outside in the rain as he waited for the car to come around, headphones blaring Kendrick in his ears, hoodie pulled up around his head. He could have stood inside, but the rain suited his bitter mood. His annoyance at no member in particular, except mostly himself. He understood exactly where everyone came from on this, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be pissed off as a general concept.

When the car came around, Jimin tossed his bag into the back seat, pulled his baseball hat down low, and stuck his foot up on the back of the seat.

“Home, please,” he said, staring out at the rain. “That’s all.”


They hadn’t moved recently, but their dorm still had that new dorm appeal. After years of living in cramped spaces, their new apartment was spacious in a way that Jimin was still getting used to. He stood in the foyer, peeling off his wet hoodie, counting the shoes in the rack. Jin was home, Taehyung was home. Jungkook was home.

Jimin went to the kitchen, made a cup of instant noodles, and padded off down the hall to Jungkook’s bedroom.

While Jungkook barely slept in his bedroom, he worked in there for it to be more of an office than anything else. He had his headphones on ninety percent of the time he was in there, which meant Jimin usually just had to barge in if he didn’t respond on the first three knocks.

He always did it anyways, just in case.

“Hey,” Jimin said, knocking on the door with one knuckle, other hand holding his phone and noodles. “Can I come in? Jungkook?”

Down the hall, he heard the door to Jin and Yoongi’s bedroom snap shut. Jimin rolled his eyes, and tried again, banging hard. “JEON JUNGKOOK!”

There was a drop of silence. “Come in,” came Jungkook’s voice through the door.

Jimin always thought Jungkook’s room was like a cave. Dark and claustrophobic, cluttered with everything that Jimin imagined represented Jungkook. Bowling shoes and camera equipment, old gaming keyboards, guitars. Some presents from fans, some passing interests.

Jungkook himself was on his chair, a pair of gaming headphones smushed on his head, his knees tucked up to his chest, hiding away in an oversized Thrasher hoodie.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook said.

He was being a bit shy, looking at Jimin from the corner of his eye, like a prey animal in an open field.

Jimin pretended not to notice. “Are you as hungover as I am right now?” Jimin joked, grabbing the spare stool in the room, swiping off a handful of sheet music off the top. “Because wow, I did not get enough water last night.”

Jungkook smirked, his nose wrinkling up. “Knew it,” he teased. “I offered, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin said easily, plunking the stool next to Jungkook’s computer chair, straddling it. “I’ll be sure to listen to you next time.”

Jungkook let out a little satisfied noise, but he didn’t turn back to his computer. He was just looking at Jimin, like he was thinking something about him that he wasn’t going to say. Jimin caught Jungkook looking at him like that a lot. His stomach bubbled with warmth, while the playful side of him wanted to see how far he could push him.

“So,” Jimin said casually, “I wanted to talk about last night.”

Jungkook’s voice was even, but Jimin didn’t miss how his shoulders visibly tensed under his hoodie. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked carefully.

Jimin let out a hum, leaning back to look at Jungkook down his nose. He toyed with the silence, watching as Jungkook shifted slightly in his computer chair. He could play coy, go about this in a more artful, graceful way.

Or he could just spit it out, and make Jungkook squirm.

“Did you want to do it with me?” Jimin asked happily.

Jungkook didn’t whip his head towards Jimin. Instead he went rigid on the spot, like he had been prodded with an electric rod. “Huh?” Jungkook squeaked.

“Last night,” Jimin said, his mind running faster than his tongue, a devilish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You wanted to have sex with me, right?”

Jimin had expected a reaction, but the one he got was even better than he anticipated. Jungkook looked like he wanted to wither away on the spot. He flared up, red to his hairline and whipped back to his computer monitor so fast that Jimin heard his neck crack.

Jimin fought down the urge to laugh, to run his fingers through his hair. Cute. Cute, cute, cute.

“Uh,” Jungkook blabbered out. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Jimin cooed.

“Maybe I do,” Jungkook said in a full sentence. “Want to. Do that.”

Jimin hummed happily. He tucked his chin in to his knee, letting his hair fall down across his forehead as he looked at Jungkook from the side. He was working a muscle in his jaw, staring hard at the screen that reflected blue into his big, glassy eyes. Jimin smiled, reaching a finger over to toy with a strand of Jungkook’s dark hair, tucking it behind his ear.

“I’ve never done that before, you know,” Jimin murmured.

Jimin felt like it went without saying. He was pretty sure none of them have. He felt like somewhere where they established their unspoken rules about how far they were allowed to go with each other, handjobs were the official limit. Oral was a step too far. Anal was several steps too far.

But that was before Jimin had felt Jungkook’s whole body weight pin him against a mattress. That was before Jungkook had started kissing him like he was the most precious thing in the world. Jimin was finding himself much more open to things that were considered off limits after being wrapped up in Jungkook’s overwhelming feelings and large hands.

Jungkook, in the present, was picking at his sleeve, looking everywhere but in Jimin’s eyes. Jimin could see his Adam’s apple bob in this throat as he swallowed, a line of sweat cross down to Jungkook’s chin. Just like on stage, he thought wryly. He reached with his finger to flick it away, when Jungkook’s hoarse voice knocked him back to reality.

“I’ve tried it,” Jungkook mumbled.

Jimin blinked. What.

Instantly, adrenaline spiked through his system like an oil spill. He fought his face to keep neutral, his tone calm. “Hmmm?” asked Jimin, his voice unnaturally even. “Have you?”

“I mean, by myself.” Jungkook murmured. “Fingering myself, you know.”

“Ohh,” Jimin said, as every tense nerve in his body suddenly released. “Did you like it?” he asked, shifting closer to Jungkook on his stool.

If Jimin had thought Jungkook looked embarrassed before, it was nothing compared to what he looked like when Jimin asked if he liked fingering himself. Jimin watched with glee as Jungkook fidgeted and glared a bit, staring straight ahead at the screen, his fingers twitching.

“Yeah,” Jungkook finally said. “I did. After figuring it out.”

Jimin nodded, smiling wide. “So, you’ve figured it out, then? Clever Jungkookie.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, nibbling on his lip, swiveling slightly in his computer chair, side to side.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jungkook said. “But…”

Jimin watched patiently as Jungkook paused to get air into his chest, to steel himself, and let the words fall out of his mouth.

“I wanna do it to you.” Jungkook murmured.

Jimin smiled. “Yeah?” he teased, leaning against the back of Jungkook’s desk chair.

Jungkook glanced over and Jimin fought back a smirk. Jungkook had been shyly avoiding looking at Jimin while he writhed in his seat, but Jimin knew Jungkook wouldn’t be able to look away now. Jimin knew exactly how to keep his attention, letting his eyelids lower, his mouth fall open slightly. Flicking his tongue against his bottom lip, fast enough to look natural, slow enough to catch eyes. He knew what it did to women, he knew what it did to men. He definitely knew what it did to Jungkook.

And now that Jungkook’s big, sweet eyes were eating him up, Jimin wanted to make him sweat some more.

“Wanna pin your hyung down?” Jimin said, smirking. “Want me to make you feel like a man?”

Jungkook blushed so heavily Jimin thought he might pass out. It was fun, teasing him like this, when he was obviously so affected by whatever Jimin did. Shifting in his seat, sweating in embarrassment.

“Shut up.” Jungkook choked out.

“I’m asking you a question,” Jimin lilted, playful but firm, staring Jungkook down.

Jungkook swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimin smiled, patting Jungkook’s hair. He was so cute. So cute and sincere when he was put on the spot. He was always treating Jimin like a sack of potatoes, hauling him around easily and smacking his ass, babying him and teasing him at every opportunity, but when Jimin had the upper hand, that’s when his real sweet side came out.

“How could I say no to you?” Jimin murmured.

Jungkook glanced up at him sharply, and Jimin realized that might not have been the right thing to say. “Say no if you don’t want to, hyung,” Jungkook said.

“Well, what if I don’t want to say no?” Jimin murmured, tipping his head to the side, the column of his neck on display. “Then what?”

He watched as Jungkook stared at his throat while he responded, like he was transfixed.

“I wanna be your first, hyung,” said Jungkook.

For some reason, that did something for Jimin. Sliced directly into his chest, dangerously close to his heart. Stuck somewhere in his ribs, fluttering in his lungs. It was utterly foreign, not like any emotion Jimin could recognize coming from him. It felt like it belonged to a sixteen-year-old girl getting propositioned by her boyfriend, and not a 23 year old man getting asked by his younger band mate, who he had been casually messing around with for years, if he could fuck him in the ass.

Lord, have mercy on Jimin. Jeon Jungkook would be the death of him.

Jungkook was watching him, waiting for his answer. He was twitchy in his computer chair, his huge eyes darting back and forth, searching Jimin’s expression with every word he spoke. He was scared, Jimin knew. He had opened up some of the tenderest parts of himself while Jimin just sat there, gently teasing him.

Jimin wanted to kiss him, so badly. So, so badly. He wanted to kiss Jungkook like it was a force pushing through his whole body. So he leaned in closer, pulling an arm around the back of Jungkook’s neck, thumb brushing against the hair at his nape. His eyelids open enough just to watch the shudder that shook Jungkook’s entire body as Jimin gently pressed their lips together.

It was like their first kiss. Jimin felt hesitant fingers reach up, twisting into his shirt. Shaking, sweaty fingers, to go with the hitching breath as he indulged in Jungkook’s dry lips. Sweet, shy, vulnerable Jungkook.

Jimin pulled back, and slipped his palm on Jungkook’s cheek, keeping him facing him. Keeping their eyes locked as Jimin leant forward to press their foreheads together.

They breathed together, Jungkook’s lips parting enough to show his bunny teeth, his eyebrows knitted together in tension.

“I think I’d like that, Jungkook.” Jimin said, his own shaky voice disguised with a pretty smile. “You can be my first.”

Jungkook, all big dark eyes, swallowed and nodded.

“All right, hyung,” he whispered.


It wasn’t that night. Or the next night, or the night after that.

They had schedules, events. They were in that blank space between comebacks, time that was full of Vlive filming and game shows and dance practice. Messing around wasn’t really in their sights, not when their house was full at night, their days packed in a car, getting ferried to and fro.

Jimin didn’t think much of it. They honestly didn’t mess around that much at home, it was usually something for the road, when they could indulge food and sex and everything else they avoided when they had to focus. At home there was always someone around, which meant that there wasn’t much time to be alone with Jungkook.

For Jimin, this just meant that he had time. Time to figure out exactly what they were going to do.

So when he got out of practice early one afternoon, Jimin put time aside after his shower to put on a sheet mask, settle on his bed, and start his research on anal sex.

Jimin had a vague idea, which had been supplemented by a few cautious incognito Naver searches. He tried searching the most technical terms, avoiding the Redtube links, keeping to the most clinical of instructions. He figured he was mostly successful, which was as expected. Jimin considered himself a particular person, and if he was going to have a dick up his ass, he was going to do it right the first time.

That didn’t stop him from being apprehensive about the whole ordeal.

Of course he was apprehensive, he thought as he scrolled. This was boundary-crossing, he had never done this before, and it was kind of extreme. There were a lot of ways it could go wrong, a lot of things that it meant. Talking about it with Jungkook was one thing, but seeing it typed up in a physical form was entirely another story.

Jimin had been about eight tabs deep into lube reviews for “first-timers” when Taehyung banged down his bedroom door.

Jimin almost dropped his phone. “Jesus Christ, Taehyung.”

Taehyung blinked at him owlishly. “Everything okay, Jiminie?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jimin said quickly, rapidly closing his tabs. “What’s up, did dinner get here?”

“Yeah, just got here. Do you want to watch a movie?”

Jimin didn’t really want to watch a movie, but he didn’t really have a reason to refuse. Trying to explain that he was busy with research on anal wasn’t really an option, so he found himself on the couch with a box of takeout on his lap, watching the thirteenth One Piece movie for the second time.

“Woah, Jungkook,” Jimin heard Namjoon say as he passed through the living room, an aluminium tin of food in his arm. “Did you actually clean your bedroom?”

“I was getting rid of some clothes,” Jungkook said, from somewhere behind the couch. Jimin wasn’t really paying attention, chasing a piece of pork around in his takeout container.

How the hell was he supposed to get lube? They had condoms in the bathroom, that wasn’t an issue, but lube? He could go to the convenience store, if he wasn’t worried about getting recognized. The idea of a sasaeng interrogating a convenience store clerk over the contents of his purchase and posting about it on twitter made Jimin’s guts shrivel up. He rather shave off both his eyebrows before comeback than risk that happening.

What was the alternative? Online, he guessed. It would take some time, and have to go through managers, but if he ordered something discreet…were there hand lotions that could double as lube?

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Jin said, stretching out his shoulders. “Gotta feed the kids.”

Right, the movie. “Goodnight, hyung,” Jimin let out a mumble and went back to his phone.

Everyone filtered in and out at their own time, taking away their boxes, drifting back to their own corners of the house. Jimin wasn’t surprised when 1 AM rolled around and it was just him and Jungkook on the couch, Yoongi in the kitchen, scrolling through their phones. It was pretty normal for them to do this, stay up late together, while everyone else had long ago gone to bed.

Jimin was in the middle of watching a react video of Fire when a shadow passed over his screen, a sweet, girly scent filling his nose. He glanced up, and saw Jungkook standing over him.

“Hey,” Jungkook said.

Jimin raised his eyebrow, pulling a headphone out of his ear. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi-hyung went to bed.”

Jimin blinked, staring up at Jungkook. He was just standing there, shorts and a hoodie and a still expression, looking down at Jimin from under low eyes. He was toying with his bottom lip, shadow from the kitchen casting his face dark.

Then, Jungkook held out his hand.

Jimin took it, and Jungkook hauled him to his feet with a grunt.

 It all sounded loud now, with the kitchen silent and dark, with his loose headphone dangling against his shirt, tinny music playing out of it. Jimin barely registered it in the silence of the living room.

“All right,” Jungkook said, not looking Jimin in the eye, their hands tightly clasped together. “Let’s go.”

He was looking at the floor with an expression Jimin hadn’t seen on him often, something determined, a bit scared, but confident as he silently led him out of the living room, and down the hallway.

It wasn’t until they turned the corner to Jungkook’s bedroom, and Jungkook flicked on his lights, that Jimin realized it was happening.

For the first time since they moved in, Jungkook’s bedroom was clean. Jungkook had cleaned his room. Jungkook had cleaned his room for this.

Jungkook gently pulled Jimin into his bedroom, where Jimin had been a million times in the past year, and let go of his hand. He could hear Jungkook close the bedroom door behind him, heard the sound of the door lock click. Jimin looked up on the top bunk, free of computer equipment and parts for the first time in months, the ladder empty of hanging clothes, and felt something in his stomach twist.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, his breath ghosting at the back of Jimin’s neck.

Jimin felt his hairs stand on end. “Hey,” Jimin said, coming out much less smoothly than he would like.

Jungkook was just standing there, not touching him. But Jimin could feel the heat radiating off his back, off his broad chest, his shoulders. He knew if he leaned back, just slightly, he would fall into the solid wall of Jungkook’s body. He ignored the melting sensation pooling in his stomach, and grabbed the ladder.

“Are we going to have a sleepover?” Jimin said, glancing over his shoulder with a cheeky grin.

He wasn’t prepared to see Jungkook’s face. It was the same face he had seen last week, the same dark, wide pupils, the look of pure heat. None of the uncertainty, none of the shyness, none of the anything Jimin could predict from Jungkook.

Wild, Jimin thought. He looked wild.

For a second, Jimin felt his knees wobble. But then Jungkook blinked, and then he was back to being cute and flustered.

“Ah, yeah,” Jungkook mumbled. “Sorry, it’s the bunk bed.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin said with a grin, climbing up it, shooting a grin over his shoulder as he felt eyes on his ass. He knew they were there, it would be impossible to look anywhere else. On a normal day he would have expected Jungkook to grab it too, but this wasn’t a normal day. “I’ve never slept in Jungkookie’s bed before, first time for everything, right?”

It came out mischievous, but it made him flush thinking about it. God, he was losing his touch. Jungkook was making him lose it.

Jimin hauled himself up onto the mattress, ducking his head against the low ceiling. It wasn’t ideal, they would be bent over the whole time. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, either. Jimin occupied himself with bouncing on the mattress instead, testing the bed’s strength as Jungkook followed him up, scrambling into the loft bunk.

“Think this will hold us?” Jimin asked cheekily.

Jungkook couldn’t look Jimin in the eye. “Sejin said it was good for 200 kilos.”

Jimin laughed. “How many people does he think you’re going to have up here, Jungkook?” he said, shoving Jungkook on the shoulder. “Are you having parties in your room without me?”

“Oh, you want me to invite you next time, then?” Jungkook shot back, waggling his eyebrows in a way that just made Jimin snicker.

“I might believe you,” Jimin said lowly, “If you weren’t in my bed every night.”

He was trying to be mischievous, and he knew Jungkook knew that. He was leaning back on an elbow, relaxed and smiley, his dark hair soft and showered against his forehead. But as Jimin leaned in closer, his fingers running up Jungkook’s thigh, something changed. A shadow passed over Jungkook’s face, his smile fading, his body shying towards the end of the bed.

Jimin blinked, and yanked his hand off Jungkook’s leg like it burned. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook wasn’t looking him in the eye, curling in on himself. He seemed to take a second before realizing that Jimin was waiting for an answer. “Ahh, sorry, Jimin-hyung,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Jimin said, shuffling closer, touching Jungkook’s shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

Jimin was suddenly struck by how young Jungkook looked. It wasn’t that he looked small. Even when he was hunched under the low ceiling, he was built and broad and filled out the corners of his hoodie. There was something about him that was just…young. How even after all these years, he looked like that teary, wide-eyed sixteen year old boy that Jimin used to hold against his chest as he cried about missing his family.

His hands trembled as Jimin took them in his, as Jimin threaded their fingers together.

“It’s just me, Jungkook,” Jimin murmured kindly. “Did I scare you?”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly. “No, no, you’re okay Jimin. I don’t know why. I guess I’m just…I dunno.” he stammered.

“It’s fine,” Jimin said. “It’s fine to be nervous.”

“I was fine a minute ago,” Jungkook let out a loud groan, tipping his head back, shoulders sagging. “I’m just getting all…Ahhhh!”

He ran his fingers through his hair aggressively, frowning at nothing in particular, and Jimin had to laugh. He was clearly cross with himself, and Jimin could understand why. For someone who was good at everything, having your own fears derail your goals must have been frustrating.

Jimin could really relate to that. He had been a nervous wreck when Jungkook had confidentially pulled him into his bedroom, but now that Jungkook was the one shaking and shy, he felt his own confidence come back. It had always been easier to reassure people other than himself.

Jungkook’s shook his head as he reached out to take Jimin’s hands in his own. His fingertips stretched up to Jimin’s wrists, holding them in his lap like they belonged there. “Sorry Jiminie,” Jungkook said, “I’m just being stupid.”

Jimin looked down at his hand lying in Jungkook’s, the way his tiny palms and fingers were almost completely enveloped by Jungkook’s large ones. It kind of annoyed him normally, but right now, he didn’t mind it at all.

“You’re not being stupid, you’re being good.” Jimin said, thumb gently rubbing circles on Jungkook’s palm. “Do you want to try kissing?” Jimin asked, glancing up. “Would you like that?”

Jungkook nodded quickly. “Yeah.” He murmured. Then his gaze slid back to Jimin’s, rolling his lower lip under his teeth. “Can I kiss you, hyung?” Jungkook stammered out.

Jimin smiled gently. “Of course you can.”

Jungkook’s expression was steeled as he leaned in close, breathing hard through his nose as he gently pressed their lips together.

Sitting there, slightly hunched over on the top bunk suddenly didn’t feel so weird. It all felt natural with the press of Jungkook’s lips against his own, the gentle break of his mouth in their familiar rhythm. The slide of his tongue against Jimin’s lower lip, the slow, steady beat of their hot breaths against each other. Jimin slid his hand to Jungkook’s jaw, holding his face in his hands as he indulged, breathing him in, swallowing him whole.

Jimin could kiss Jungkook for hours. He did kiss him for hours when he had the chance, spent time gently running their tongues together, sliding his hands through Jungkook’s hair, over his shoulders, down his chest. Enjoyed the way Jungkook nipped at his thick lips, sucked his tongue in his mouth, breathed gently against Jimin’s nose.

They could do this for hours, but that wasn’t why they were here. That’s not why Jungkook had cleaned his room.

“Hey, Jiminie-hyung, can I try something?” Jungkook breathed against his mouth, his front teeth brushing against Jimin’s bottom lip.

That was a surprise. Jimin nodded, pulling back. “We’re here to try things, Jungkook.” Jimin said, cradling Jungkook’s face in his hands. “What do you want to do?”

Jungkook ran his tongue over his lip, looking up at Jimin from under his lashes, his gaze hazy and lust-addled, and Jimin felt his stomach swell.

“I wanna suck you off.” Jungkook blurted out.


Jimin had to fight down a peal of laughter. That had taken him off guard. “Oh my,” Jimin gasped, “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbled. He licked his lips, and Jimin felt something stir deep in his belly. “I really, really wanna.”

Jungkook was staring at him like he couldn’t get enough, looking up at him through his curly brown bangs and thick eyelashes, his teeth poking out from between his wet lips, and Jimin felt something inside him snap.

Jimin’s hand went for his belt, shaky fingers hurrying as fast as he could to undo the buckle. He hadn’t realized he wanted that until Jungkook asked, and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. Jungkook, lips around him. Jungkook, looking up at him, sweet and pretty. He needed that now. He needed that yesterday.

“Hyung?” Jungkook breathed, his eyes widening like saucers.

“Yeah,” Jimin puffed out, “Yeah, you can, Jungkook-”

Jungkook didn’t wait for Jimin to finish his sentence. The second Jimin managed to undo the buckle on his belt, Jungkook had pounced, face in his crotch, breath hot on his groin, his hands anchoring his hips against the mattress. Jimin yelped in surprise, it would have been comical if he wasn’t already so horny.

“Woah there,” Jimin wheezed. “Jungkook.”

“What’s up hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, yanking his fly down. And then Jimin felt his whole body sway as he was manhandled, his hips lifted up by a single unfairly large arm as Jungkook’s other hand reached fingers into his waistband and yanked his jeans down to his thighs.

“J-Jungkook!” Jimin laughed, hitting him playfully in the shoulder as Jungkook let him fall back to the mattress with a thump. “What are you doing?”

“Getting your dick out, hyung.” Jungkook grunted out. He was already back in his crotch, face nuzzling his half-hard cock, pressed against his face through his underwear. And wow, the sight of his erection straining against Jungkook’s cheek was hitting one of the top ten most erotic sights that Jimin had ever witnessed in his entire life. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss a single second of Jungkook rubbing his face up against his crotch, wanting nothing more than to commit this moment to his long term memory.

And then, Jungkook looked up at him from Jimin’s crotch, closed his big, dark eyes, turned his face towards Jimin’s dick, and inhaled.

“Holy shit Jungkook,” Jimin said, although it came out less like a sentence and more as an incoherent wheeze. “Jungkook,”

“Smells good, hyung,” Jungkook said, looking up at Jimin with a smirk. He knew what he was doing to him, the brat.

Two could play at that game. Jimin let his hand fall to Jungkook’s hair, spreading his fingers against his skull. “Didn’t know you had a kink there, Jungkookie,” Jimin cut out, throaty and heavy. “Now I’m just imagining what all those screaming fans would say if they could see you now.”

 He let Jungkook keep going, open mouth pressing a kiss to the underside of his clothed erection, and Jimin had to fight to keep his voice from wobbling. “What do you think all the girls coming to Tokyo Dome would think, seeing you like this for me, desperate for a cock in your mouth?”

Jungkook leaned back slowly at that, and let out a laugh, his shoulders shaking. Jimin watched as he pushed himself up onto his hands, moving up the length of Jimin’s body until he was over top of him, looking down at Jimin, who was flushed and smirking under him. Jungkook leaned down, his lips ghosting against Jimin’s as he spoke.

“Are you trying to rile me up, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin smirked. Brat. “Maybe,” he said, his lips barely brushing against Jungkook’s as he replied back.

Jungkook closed his eyes tight. When he opened them again, Jimin could see how his pupils were back to being wide and dark.

“Wanna see what I’ll do when I’m riled up?” Jungkook murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

Jimin felt his entire body almost vibrate in anticipation. He tilted his chin back, looking Jungkook down. Egging him on.

“Let’s see it,” Jimin said.

Jungkook was back on Jimin’s crotch, peeling his underwear down. And there was Jimin’s erection, bright and red in the cool open air, and Jimin had to bite back a whimper. Jungkook wrapped his palm around it, looking up carefully to gauge Jimin’s expression as he watched. They knew this part, it was normal. Jungkook knew exactly how Jimin liked it, knew exactly how to use his hands to make Jimin lose his mind.

And then Jungkook ran his tongue down against his bottom lip, and took Jimin in his mouth.

“Oh,” Jimin whispered.

It was hot.

Hot and wet and tight, all around him. The slide of Jungkook’s spit-slicked mouth as he slowly bobbed his head down to his fist, before coming back up. Shallow and slow, looking up through his lashes, watching Jimin watch him.

It was different, this was different. He felt like his nerves were on fire, watching Jungkook hollow his cheeks out around his dick, using that tongue that carried their songs and solos to suck Jimin down to his throat.

It was a lot. Jimin swore and bit down on his hand, tightening his grip on Jungkook’s hair. “God Jungkookie. God, you look so good.”

Jungkook hummed happily, at the praise or the hair pulling, Jimin wasn’t sure yet. He let Jimin’s dick slide between his lips, pulling back so Jimin felt every inch of Jungkook’s tongue as it ran up the underside. He came up, sucking hard on the head and Jimin felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“Holy shit, Jungkook—”

And then Jungkook took Jimin’s dick down his throat, and gagged.

Jimin felt his breath catch, frozen as Jungkook pulled back up, coughing, tears in his eyes. “Oh,” Jungkook said, rubbing his throat, blinking hard. “Oh.”

Jimin blinked. “Did you just—”

“It’s fine, Jimin,” Jungkook coughed out.

Jimin ignored him. “Are you trying to deep throat my dick?” Jimin wheezed out.

“Issolkay.” Jungkook was already back on Jimin’s groin, pressing wet kisses to the side of his erection, his voice hoarse. “I can do it. I’ve practiced.”

“Have you given a blowjob before?”

Jungkook paused, swallowing hard. “Uh, well, no.” he admitted, flushing pink. “But I’ve practiced.”

Jimin had no idea what Jungkook was talking about, but it probably involved the sudden increase in banana consumption in the household. “You—just use your hands, god, Kookie,” Jimin panted out. “Just get used to it, don’t jump in deep right away.”

Telling Jungkook that he couldn’t do something on the first try had historically never gone over well, and deep-throating apparently wasn’t an exception to that. Jungkook sulked, sticking out his bottom lip, resting his hair against Jimin’s thigh.

“I wanna do it now,” he said, running a palm up and down on Jimin’s dick. “I wanna make it good for you.”

“You are making it good for me,” Jimin barely breathed out. “You’re always good for me.” He didn’t know if he could say that enough, tell Jungkook enough that he was one of the brightest things he had in his life. Maybe the brightest, if he was going to be honest with himself, which he never was.

“You’re always good, Jungkookie.” Jimin whimpered. “But I don’t want you to choke yourself.”

Jungkook’s slightly pouty expression gave Jimin the impression that Jungkook wouldn’t really mind choking Jimin’s dick, but after Jimin had spent three days mentally preparing himself for anal, he had no desire to suddenly get kinkier with Jungkook than that. Maybe another time, another place that wasn’t Jungkook’s bedroom bunk after their first intermediate level sexual experience.

“Just, go slow, okay?” Jimin breathed out. “Do it for me.”

Jungkook went slow, dipping his mouth low, hollowing his cheeks out to suck as he came back up. It was densely hot and wet and heavy, and Jimin found himself leaning his head back against his shoulder, breathing hard as Jungkook worked up an uneven rhythm, sucking and licking and fumbling his way around. Jimin could tell he was trying his best to avoid it, but still felt his front teeth bumping up against Jimin’s head once or twice.

“Sorry,” Jungkook whispered, coming back up for air again. He wheezed in air as he leaned against Jimin’s thigh, stroking his dick slowly next to his face. “Hyung, sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Jimin heaved, petting Jungkook’s hair, running his hands against his face. He wanted to touch him more, he was so far away. He felt so alone, up here, when Jungkook was at his waist. “It’s more than fine.”

“Are you close?” Jungkook asked.

Jimin squinted. He wasn’t, not really. The rhythm had been too uneven to build up anything consistent. But he was so turned on, his erection hot and heavy and pulling at his mind.

He considered asking Jungkook to keep going, to try and get him off using his hand or his tongue. Except he was noticing around now that Jungkook’s hard on had been insistently rubbing at the inseam of his leg for about twenty straight minutes. He hadn’t even touched him yet, and Jungkook was probably painfully erect.

“Let’s keep moving, okay?” Jimin heard himself say distantly. “Let’s do what we wanted to do before you cum in your pants.”

Jungkook flushed a bit at that, pouting in frustration. “Sorry, Jimin-hyung,” he muttered. “I wanted to get you off with my mouth…”

Jimin shook his head. “Jungkookie, it was amazing. I loved it."  Jimin had absolutely nothing to complain about being on the receiving end of Jungkook’s first blowjob. The visuals were probably going to provide him enough wanking material for the next thirty years. He felt dizzy already, his mind floating away. “I just want…”

Jimin trailed off there. He wasn’t sure what he wanted exactly, didn’t know what he was supposed to say. But Jungkook was already scrambling up to his knees, wiping spit and drool and pre-come off his lips with his hoodie sleeve. He nodded rapidly, like whatever incoherent sentence that Jimin had slung together made sense. “Do you want to try…?”

Jimin felt anxiety clutch at his chest. “Yeah, sure,” he said casually.

Jungkook sat back on his ankles, bracketed by Jimin’s legs, and pulled off his hoodie and shirt. And no matter how many times Jimin saw it, Jungkook’s body was always something blindingly impressive. Jimin was never really one for the gym as much as their original concept had called for a member with a cute face and a six pack, but Jungkook was someone who actually enjoyed lifting weights and running like a hamster. His body casually rippled with muscles, taught against his skin, thick and heavy and tough.

Jimin had seen Jungkook naked a million times, but for some reason, seeing him pull his shirt over his head while Jimin lay under him made something buzz in his chest. He let out a whine, and Jungkook glanced up, smirking.

“Like what you see?” Jungkook said, tossing his t-shirt to the side.

“Maybe,” Jimin said, licking his lips, propping himself up on his elbows. He stared openly, eyes travelling over his shoulders, his pecs, his abs. Jimin wanted Jungkook to watch as he ate him up with his eyes. “Feels like I should have some bills to stuff in your underwear, Kookie,” he teased.

“Funny,” Jungkook said, grabbing Jimin by his hips, pulling him firmly onto his lap. “Because the way you dance on the stage, you’re hardly one to talk.”

“Takes one to know one,” Jimin gasped as Jungkook’s fingers slid up his chest, shaking as he undid the buttons. Jimin licked his lips as he watched, hands at his sides as Jungkook pulled his shirt open, splaying his wide, shaky hands on Jimin’s bare chest.

Then, he ran his hands behind Jimin’s thighs, and pushed Jimin’s knees up to his chest.

“JUNGKOOK!” Jimin shrieked, and Jungkook shot up and hit the ceiling.

“Holy shit hyung,” Jungkook swore, glancing up at the ceiling, rubbing his head from where he had jumped straight up and smacked into it. “What’s wrong?”

Jimin blinked, heart rate going a million beats a minute. “What are you doing?” wheezed.

“Trying to take your pants off,” Jungkook said, running his hands up and down Jimin’s legs. “Calm down.”

“Oh,” Jimin said, as reality sunk back down on him. Jungkook had taken him off guard, and for a second he thought that it was already happening. He had panicked, thinking they were going to move straight to that. After reading so much about preparation, it had taken him off guard.

He wondered if his thoughts showed on his face, because Jungkook leaned down to cradle Jimin’s face in his hands.

“I’m not gonna do anything without making sure you’re ready for it, hyung,” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and soft and sweet. “Okay?”

Jimin scrunched his nose up. “Okay.”

Jungkook smiled at him, sitting back, running soothing hands down his chest. Everything about him was warm, his hands, his smile, even that girly vanilla scent was warm. Jimin closed his eyes, breathed out slowly, and let himself feel the soothing pressure of Jungkook’s hand on his skin.

“Just, relax for me, okay?”

Jimin could be relaxed. Jimin could be very relaxed. But then, as Jungkook sat back on his ankles, and fumbled for something in the sheets, Jimin realized a top five concern had materialized in front of his face. Somehow, unbeknownst to him, Jungkook had acquired lube.

Jimin stared as Jungkook poured it into a hand, rubbing it into his fingers. “Where the heck did you get that from?” Jimin asked.

Jungkook looked at Jimin like he had grown a second head. “I bought it from the convenience store,” He said evenly. “We need it, hyung”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “When did you buy it?”

“I dunno,” said Jungkook. “Last month?”

Last month. No articles yet that he had seen, which probably, likely, meant that he hadn’t been ratted out to the paparazzi. Still, it made Jimin’s heart jump in his chest.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t just do that.” Jimin sighed, running a hand over his face. “What if someone found out?”

Jungkook glanced down at him, unbothered as ever. “Nobody found out, right?”

“Still, Kookie,” Jimin sighed.

“Shh, its fine.” Jungkook was back in Jimin’s range of reach, pressing their chests together, kissing Jimin short and sweet. “Look, we’re here,” he breathed. “We’re alone, it’s just the two of us, okay?”

Jimin was finding it difficult to focus when Jungkook’s eyes were darting between his, when he was close enough that Jimin could draw out a map to every mole. “Okay,” he murmured.

Jungkook sat up, taking the press of his chest with him. Jimin already missed it. “Good,” Jungkook said.

He was positioning himself between Jimin’s legs now, settling down in that space that Jimin had let him take. Shuffling into position. His palms finding their way home to Jimin’s ass.

He knew his way around there, Jimin thought wryly. The amount of times Jungkook groped his butt on a daily basis was sometimes a double digit number. It wasn’t a surprise that he was taking his time with it now, kneading and squeezing it. Jungkook was an ass man to the core.

Jimin let his eyes close as Jungkook fondled him, and let himself breathe. This was familiar, this was normal. The idea of spreading his legs to let Jungkook sit between was way less daunting if he was just sitting and groping him, just doing something that he would do on stage. This was fine, Jimin could handle this.

But then Jungkook spread him open, slipping a finger down between his ass cheeks, sticky and wet and warm. He ran a wet finger around his rim before pushing inside, and Jimin felt his breath stop.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked instantly.

Jimin waited a second. It wasn’t comfortable. It was the opposite of comfortable. It felt like he needed to get something out of him. An intrusion. He had a finger up his asshole.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jimin lied. “Just go slow.”

Jungkook went slow, deadly slow. He pushed in so slowly that Jimin could feel him every inch of the way, his wet finger slowly going in and out. Jimin fought the urge to screw his eyes shut, looking everywhere else that he could. The ceiling, Jungkook’s closet full of white t-shirts. Jungkook, mouth hanging open, sweat beading on his forehead, transfixed on his hand moving between Jimin’s legs.

“Holy shit, hyung,” Jungkook whispered.

Jimin wasn’t even going to try and see where Jungkook was looking. He threw an arm over his face, breathing hard.

Jungkook audibly gulped. “This is so...”

“Better than an AV, right?” Jimin joked, but even as he said that, his voice barely made it out of his mouth. He should probably just give up on talking in general. He needed the air for breathing.

He wasn’t even sure if Jungkook had heard him. He was laser focused on his ass, his breath ragged as he pushed in, pushed out, and Jimin couldn’t blame him.

He didn’t know how long they lay there, on the cramped bunk, as Jungkook slowly spread him open wider and wider, Jimin’s breath kicking up a notch, and then another notch as Jungkook slipped a second finger inside of him.

“How is it?” Jungkook asked for the gazillionth time.

Jimin toyed with lying again, but decided that as much he wanted to please Jungkook, as much as he wanted to see him happy, he had to be honest. “It’s kind of weird.” Jimin mumbled. “I don’t know.”

Jungkook nodded rapidly, running his spare hand against Jimin’s sides, soothing him. Every muscle felt like it was pulled tight enough to snap. “Would you like me to stop?” Jungkook asked.

“No,” said Jimin.

Jungkook nodded. “Try relaxing Jiminie-hyung,” Jungkook breathed. “Just, I know it’s hard, just try and relax.”

Jimin nodded, screwing up his eyes. Jungkook had done this before, after all. He knew how it felt. He knew what it was like, kind of. Except Jungkook did this alone, probably behind a locked door, without anyone around to hear the pathetic sounds dribbling out of his mouth, without anyone to see the way he writhed under their hands.

“Relax,” Jungkook murmured, leaning up over Jimin’s body, pressing kisses to his chest. “It’s just me, hyung.”

His own words thrown back at him sounded oddly reassuring coming out of Jungkook’s mouth.

Jimin knew he had to relax, had to soften his stomach, breathe through his nose. It’s just Jungkook, it’s just Jungkook. He wants to make you feel good. Let him make you feel good, just relax.

He got three fingers in, slippery and tight, before Jimin finally reached out a hand to grab Jungkook’s wrist.

“It should be fine, right?” Jimin cracked out.

Jungkook stared at him. The darkness in his eyes was back, and then gone in a flash. “You sure?” he said in a way that Jimin could tell sounded desperate.

Jimin wasn’t sure. But he was feeling cold now, shivering slightly in the bed, and he wanted Jungkook. He wanted Jungkook around him. He wanted him inside him.

“Yeah,” said Jimin, his voice level, full of a false confidence. “It should be fine.”

“All right then,” Jungkook said quietly.

He pulled his fingers out, and Jimin immediately let his breath go, his chest heaving with air in a space that felt crushed before. Jimin watched, alert and hazy, as Jungkook turned to the side, fiddling with something he had brought up to the bunk. As he pulled down the elastic waistband on his shorts, his underwear with shaky hands, Jimin realized he was getting himself ready. He scrambled to sit up, to give him a hand, but Jungkook was on him in an instant, pressing his shoulder down against the bed, breathing in his ear.

“It’s fine, just stay there,” Jungkook mumbled. “I got this.”

Jimin nodded silently, leaning back against the pillows as he watched Jungkook pull his dick out.

It smacked against his stomach, angry and red and leaking, and Jimin was suddenly very well aware of how long he had spent preparing Jimin, how long he had spent blowing him before that. They had been messing around with Jimin for at least forty minutes, while Jungkook just sat there dripping into his shorts.

“Think you’re going to make it inside?” Jimin joked, his voice cracking on the way out.

Jungkook looked up at him seriously as he tore open a condom wrapper with his teeth. “Stop looking at me,” he rumbled out, pulling it on. “Or it won’t even get close.”

Jimin smirked. “Am I that alluring, Jungkook?” he wheezed out. It was a joke, Jimin knew his hair was probably sticking up around his head like a crazy person, cheeks likely alarmingly red. There was no way he looked sexy right now.

But Jungkook was just muttering something under his breath, crawling over to Jimin’s hips, reaching his hands out to grab Jimin by the ankles. “You have no idea,” Jungkook grunted out, holding Jimin’s legs open, pushing his knees up to his chest.

Jimin suddenly felt like his breath was being crushed out.

He watched as Jungkook stared down at him, completely on display. He couldn’t close his legs, couldn’t look away. It was just Jimin’s naked body and exposed ass, flushed face, unfocused eyes blinking up at Jeon Jungkook, hovering over him.

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook panted.

Jimin nodded shakily. “Just…” he breathed. “Just go.”

Jungkook nodded. “Alright, hyung,” he said.

He stole a kiss from Jimin’s open mouth before pushing inside him.

Jimin didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling until he felt it, all pressure, all at once. He heard whining, the creak of the bunk bed, and high pitched noise in his ears, like a tea kettle that had been left on. His own voice, Jimin realized, in the part of his brain that wasn’t short circuiting. Jungkook was going slow, because he had to, because otherwise Jimin was going to snap in half. He was going so slow it felt like it was going on for an eternity, a whole, painful, eternity.

And then Jungkook bottomed out, and Jimin felt like his body was on fire.

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasped, and holy shit he was inside him, towering over him, pressing him to the bed and trembling over him. “Hyung...Jiminnie-hyung.”

Jimin just breathed, gasping for air, distantly aware that his hands were cutting deep bruises on Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook let out a cracked moan, and Jimin shuddered under him, feeling the tremor of his hips as he pressed them flush against Jimin’s.

“Oh god, Jimin,—” Jungkook shuddered out. “Jimin, you

“Hold on, hold on.” Jimin croaked out, hand shooting forward to grab Jungkook’s wrist. “Wait a sec, wait a sec.” he cracked out.

“Jimin-ah?” Jungkook breathed. He looked gone, his eyes hazy, struggling to focus on him. “Jimin, are you okay?”

Jimin grit his teeth together, his eyes squeezing shut. “It hurts.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry, sorry,” Jungkook breathed. “I’ll pull out, just give me a sec-“

“No,” Jimin said, and it sounded strangled, desperate. He willed himself to keep calm, breathing through his nose, out through his mouth, to focus his vision on something still. “Just,” he cut out. “Just wait. Let me get used to it.”

“Ah,” Jungkook whispered. “Okay, hyung.”

As soon as Jimin said it, he knew that it was easier said than done. Jungkook’s thighs were trembling, trying to keep them still as he was buried inside him. He could see sweat dripping from his forehead, mouth hanging open, his hands shaking as he ran them up and down Jimin’s naked sides. He looked blissed out, like a part of his mind had gone as he shuddered there, deep inside Jimin’s body.

Hyung,” Jungkook moaned. “You feel so good.”

“Okay, okay.” Jimin grit out. He was going to pass out. He was going to pass out here, Jeon Jungkook’s dick up his ass, rooms away from five of his closest brothers, in the most famous apartment complex in the country. This going to be the scene when the paramedics got here, Jimin unconscious on Jungkook’s dick. Dispatch would have a field day with that.

 Jimin laughed, half-crazed, and Jungkook looked down at him, startled.

“Sorry,” Jimin breathed, shaking his head. “Just,” he let out a breath, feeling dizzy. “Talk to me.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly, desperately. “What should I talk about, hyung?”

“I don’t know, anything.” Jimin breathed through his nose, out through his mouth, clutching the sheets so hard he thought he would rip them, eyes squeezed shut. He needed time to get used to this, or he was going to die. If Jungkook’s huge hips so much as twitched against his he was going to lose consciousness. They had rushed into this way too fast. “Just talk to me. I don’t know, tell me about your day, I don’t care.”

“Sorry hyung, uh. I woke up late, went to the café—”

Jimin nodded. “Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled. “Then what? What d-did you do there?”

Jungkook let out a groan, tilting his head to the ceiling, looking anywhere but at Jimin writhing under him. Jimin could see sweat drip down his forehead, slide down his neck. “Looked at pictures on my camera.”

“Of what?” Jimin grit out.

“Of you.”

Jimin could literally feel Jungkook cock stiffen harder as he spoke. He let out a yelp, grabbing Jungkook’s arm, breathing hard through his nose.

“Oh god hyung, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin breathed. “It’s fine.”

They were caught like that for a second, Jimin’s fingers burying marks on Jungkook’s arm, Jungkook hovering over him, his chest heaving. Jimin breathed a few more breaths until he could see straight, until he could move, and let his fingers slowly, slowly relax.

“What the hell were you doing with pictures of me in the café?” Jimin laughed out, but it came out as a wheeze. “In public? Are you crazy?” Then he paused on that thought. “What kind of pictures?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook breathed.

“Sexy pictures?” Jimin said, with a smirk.

“No. Just like, portraits. Pictures of your face.”

“My face?” Jimin let out a bark of a laugh, thinking about how Jungkook’s dick had jumped at the thought of earlier. Just from his face, huh? What a little pervert. “Jungkookie, that’s not very sexy.” Jimin whined. “That’s not sexy at all.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook grit out. He was really sweating now. “Have you seen yourself? Do you know what you look like?”

“Hm?” Jimin asked, preening, caged between Jungkook’s arms. “Tell me.”

“You,” Jungkook breathed, leaning in close, “Are the most beautiful person I’ve seen in my life.”

Jimin stared at him.

“I can’t stop— I can’t stop staring at you.” Jungkook breathed, his chest heaving. “You’re all I can look at. Your face, your eyes, your nose. Your lips, god. Your smile, have you seen your smile? Jimin, I can’t look away when you smile at me.”

Jimin was very aware that his mouth had gone dry, but didn’t know what to do about it. He felt like he was floating, staring up at Jungkook over him, dripping sweat down onto his chest as he trembled, overwhelmed, inside him.

“Your body, it’s like,” Jungkook choked, “It’s perfect. I don’t know how you can see your body as anything but perfect. I want to touch every part of you,” he whined. “All the time, I just want to touch you. Do you know what that’s like, when your body is just in front of me? God, I just want to make you mine.”

“It’s yours,” Jimin found himself whispering, barely realizing what he was saying. “It’s yours, Jungkook,”

“Yeah?” Jungkook whispered. He cupped Jimin’s face in his hands, and Jimin he couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. He was lost somewhere in those shiny doe eyes, Jungkook’s goofy face, the face that broke out into a million watt smile whenever Jimin so much as looked at him, a face that now was still as water and deadly serious.

“Yeah, Jimin? I can have all of you?”

“Yeah,” Jimin said hoarsely. “Yeah, you can.”

“How about your smile, Jimin,” Jungkook breathed. “Can I have that too?”

Jimin nodded. His mind was muddled, and somewhere that wasn’t his primal hindbrain he knew they were speaking nonsense, but right now it felt ethereal. Like he was on the verge of something holy between the heat of their breaths, their eye contact, the connection between their bodies.

“Every part of me,” Jimin breathed, “is yours.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook whimpered. “Jimin.”

Jungkook looked like he was going to cry. Like his whole body was an exposed nerve, shivering under Jimin’s eyes, completely overwhelmed. He bent down low enough for Jimin to count his lashes, and he kissed Jimin on his face, on his forehead and lips, on his cheeks. Wet and messy and overflowing with too much for Jimin’s mind to comprehend. All Jimin could do was gasp, clinging to Jungkook’s shoulders.

“You can move,” Jimin mumbled. He was rock hard again, which he had only noticed as Jungkook pressed their torsos together, kissing his mouth messily. “Jungkook, you can move.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Jimin slurred. “Yeah, m’sure.”

“Okay,” Jungkook said. “Okay, I’m gonna move.”

Jimin felt as he moved against him, the first draw of their bodies together as Jungkook pulled out of him. Jimin watched his face, watched as his eyebrows knit together, his palm splayed in Jimin’s chest, his teeth biting his lip so hard that the skin turned white.

And then Jungkook pushed into him again, and Jimin saw stars.

He gasped sharply, rocking backwards, the shitty bed creaking, his dick jumping against his stomach, Jungkook moaning above him. God, this was what it was like. Holy shit. Holy shit, this was something else.

It was overwhelming.

“Jimin,” Jungkook groaned. “I’m gonna move more, okay?”

Jimin nodded frantically, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Keep going, Kookie,” Jimin whimpered. “Keep going.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook said, “If it starts to hurt…”

“Don’t stop, okay?” Jimin wheezed, holding tight onto Jungkook’s arm, his eyes struggling to focus. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Ah, hyung.” Jungkook moaned. He picked Jimin up by his waist, pulling him down onto his dick like he weighed nothing, and Jimin felt his breath get punched out of his lungs. He distantly felt his hands reaching for Jungkook’s shoulders, fumbling for a grip on anything he could reach. Nails scraping down his back, as Jungkook snapped his hip hard, pushing deep inside him.

“Jungkook,” Jimin gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. “Jungkookie—”

Jungkook was panting hard, with every push of his hips forward, the shambled remnants of his restraint cracking. “Jimin-hyung,” he choked out. “Oh my god, Jimin-

Jimin’s brain felt like it had liquefied. Like he had been knocked into a dream, something that was too surreal to exist, featuring the deepest recesses of his fantasies. Jungkook, big eyes, flushed face, bitten lips. Jungkook, panting over him, fucking into him. Clinging and gasping and moaning Jimin’s name like he was the most precious thing in the universe.

“M’here,” Jimin babbled, clinging tighter to Jungkook’s body. “I’m here, Kookie.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook panted. “Jimin, I love you. I love you so much.”

Jimin breathed hard through his nose. He was going to lose it. It was already way too much, and Jimin’s mind was going to snap like a twig.

“Jungkook,” Jimin whined. He reached up, struggling with coordination as Jungkook moved inside him; he couldn’t remember how to move his arms properly, where he should be looking, what muscles he had to move. “Jungkook,” Jimin whined. “Hold my hand.”

Jungkook grappled for Jimin’s hand, lacing their fingers together, holding him so tight that Jimin could feel it in his chest. His other hand had gone down to Jimin’s waist, fisting his erection, pumping in time with his thrusts.

“Come on, Jimin,” Jungkook was mumbling into Jimin’s sweaty hair, wet lips on his ear. “Come on, I got you.”

Jimin choked, whining loud. He was barely hanging on, unable to look away from the sight of Jungkook moving over him. His fluffy bangs bouncing against his forehead, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide and dark and locked on Jimin under him, moans coming out of his mouth, high and desperate and teetering on the edge.

Jungkook came first, pressing Jimin down against the mattress with every muscle in his body, crushing Jimin’s chest against his. Jimin, whining hard as Jungkook jerked him off, peppering his face and chest with kisses until Jimin unspooled with a scream, as he came undone under his fingers.

After that, the world seemed to narrow down to sounds, sensations. Jimin, vision blurring and blackening at the edges, floating in his head. He watched as Jungkook, still hard as he pulled out, jerked himself off on his knees, come splattering on Jimin’s chest. Jungkook breathing, lowering himself down to lie with Jimin. Jimin’s hands so tightly entwined in his, collapsing their sticky chests together. Gasping, heaving, breathing in tandem as they came down together.


When Jimin woke up, he was alone in Jungkook’s bunk.

He stared up at the ceiling, which was dark, and way too close to his head. Jungkook was right, this bed sucked. Why had they given him this space when he could barely sit up without smacking his forehead on roof? Maybe Jimin should be less smug that Jungkook always wanted to sleep in his bed, because this was more like a coffin than an actual sleeping space.

It was an easy thing to think about after the storm of what had just happened hovered on the edge of his memory.

Jimin knew that if he looked down, he would see the reminders of what they had just done all over his body. It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t going away, and he didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

He twisted his neck. The bedroom door clicked open, and he saw a shadow of a body slip through.

Jimin heard the creaking noise of the ladder, and watched as Jungkook carefully clambered back into the bunk, sliding down next to Jimin on the mattress.

Jimin wanted to say hello, but his mouth wasn’t working. Nothing was working, his limbs were completely unresponsive, like they were encased in concrete. All he could do was watch as Jungkook lay next to him, crunching on crackers, scrolling through his phone.

“Kookie,” Jimin finally cracked out.

Jungkook whipped around, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, you’re awake?” he asked. “Are you doing okay? I brought your phone and charger, crackers, some water—”

Jimin just squinted back at him. “What time is it?”

His own voice was foreign to him, it sounded shredded. He reached a hand up, but Jungkook was already at his side, sliding up next to him.

“It’s three in the morning, hyung,” Jungkook murmured. “Do you want some water?”

Jimin squinted. They had a few hours of sleep left. But Jungkook was clearly not going to sleep anytime soon, he was buzzing with energy. Jimin didn’t know how he could do it. He was struggling to stay awake as it was.  

“Here, don’t move,” Jungkook mumbled, and then Jimin felt a gentle hand on the back of his head, holding him up as Jungkook tipped a water bottle against his lips.

“Drink,” Jungkook murmured.

Jimin didn’t want to drink. All he wanted was to look at Jungkook, to try and match the Jungkook he knew before with the Jungkook who had fucked him into unconsciousness. The Jungkook who had held his hand and cried his name out and the Jungkook who was currently trying to feed him water like a gerbil.

The Jungkook who said he loved him in a way that Jimin had never heard before.

Jimin let his mouth open, drinking heavily, before Jungkook gently pulled it the water away. “Do you want more?” he asked softly, his gaze tender.  

“M’fine, Kookie,” Jimin mumbled. His own eyes were falling shut, water dripping down the side of his mouth. He didn’t know how he was still awake.

“Okay, hyung,” Jungkook said. “There is more if you want some later. Do you want crackers?”

Jimin cracked open an eye, mouth twitching at a corner. “Why are you eating in bed?”

Jungkook shrugged, crunching on a cracker. “M’hungry.”

Jimin just smiled. “You’re always hungry,” he drawled out.

He was only noticing now that he had been cleaned up, that he was wearing a pair of Jungkook’s sweatpants, a blanket pulled up to his chest. Jungkook had wiped him down and tucked him in. Gave him water, brought up his phone.

He turned over. Jungkook glanced up from his own phone, YouTube open on the screen. He blinked slowly at Jimin, then leaned over to run a hand through his hair, before leaning over slowly to press a kiss on his lips.  

Jimin closed his eyes.

It was soft. Soft and wet and cool, and smelled distinctly of seaweed crackers. Jungkook smiled against his lips, just like how he always did. Like he could never hold back his happiness at kissing him.

Jimin felt his lips twitch as he felt himself smile back.

“You can sleep, hyung,” Jungkook said when they broke apart, his eyes lit with warmth. “I’ll wake you up early.”

Jimin nodded. He had to be out of Jungkook’s room at some point, if he didn’t want to dodge management in the morning. But Jimin didn’t want to sleep. It was still that precious space of time in the early morning, and all he wanted to do was stay awake. Stay up with Jungkook, just to talk slowly and spend it together.

He really did love this time of night, and maybe that was the reason why. People were always more honest at this hour, anyways.

But Jimin’s limbs were heavy, his eyes were sore, and allowed himself to give in to Jungkook’s gentleness. He rolled over pressed his forehead against Jungkook’s arm, letting sleep take him even though he was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, after an unfamiliar experience.

Because after everything, after all the unspoken questions that Jimin had about himself, all the realities he was too unwilling to stare down and accept, he knew that Jungkook was the same Jungkook. He was always the same Jungkook.

Jimin could trust him to wake him up.