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Blood and Wine

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Jimin’s life isn’t very exciting.


He wakes up late, body aching and tender, but it’s the kind of ache that is satisfying. The kind of ache that follows a day after a workout, after muscles have been stretched and worked to their fullest. He drinks his coffee and picks at his food, replying to the few texts he has gotten while asleep.


Sometimes he goes out to the store to stock up on things he needs. Sometimes he stays in and watches a movie. Sometimes he meets up with a friend. But his days always end with him dressing up and heading out, the lights of Seoul flickering on around him as the day darkens into night. He arrives at the club, making his way through the employee entrance, dressing down and then back up, fresh make-up applied to his face as he makes his way to the stage and to the familiar feeling of a pole between his hands and thighs.


Every day is the same, every night the same. He dances, he collects his tips, he flutters his eyelashes at the gawking crowd and bites his lip at the right times, hips moving and hands sure against the metal. And sometimes he meets men in the rooms in the back, hips moving in an entirely different way, being showered in the same repeated praise like a broken record.


Tonight, though, is different.


The thudding baseline is the same, the beat itching under his skin, his body moving in sync as he curls around the pole. The music is loud, loud enough to drown out the voices of the bar patrons around him into just a steady hum, loud enough for Jimin to close his eyes and imagine he’s alone, dancing for no one but himself.


He arches his back, thighs gripping the pole, his head leaning all the way back as he opens his eyes to meet the gaze of one of the men who is watching him raptly. He bites his lip, eyes hooded, and the move is practised and familiar to him but the man is flustered anyway.


Jimin holds so much power over these men. But it’s no longer exciting, no longer as alluring as it was when he first started. The feeling of the crumpled bills against his skin is comforting, familiar, and the lewd gazes of the men watching him is almost always the same.


The atmosphere of the bar and club is the same every night. But something changes.


The familiar murmuring of voices, almost hidden by the music, has dulled. Jimin still moves with practised grace, hips swaying, arms bending. But something heavy settles in the air around him, and when he looks out at his audience, not every gaze is focused on him.


And that causes Jimin to pause.


He doesn’t know what changes, exactly. But the feeling settles uncomfortably in his gut, that something has changed, that something isn’t normal. Something isn’t right.


His song comes to an end, and Jimin makes his way off the stage. There’s a large cluster of men at the bar, more than usual, centered at the end. Jimin eyes the black mass curiously, but makes his way over anyway.


He seats himself at the bar, waiting. One of the staff greets him and begins to fix him a drink, non-alcoholic. Jimin’s eyes wander around the club, the heavy feeling in the air still hanging, pressing down on the usual sultry atmosphere. His gaze settles on the group at the other end of the bar, and he looks at their faces. All stern, almost indistinguishable. Every one of them is dressed completely in black, and they’re all big men--toned, muscles clear even through their dark suits.


Bodyguards, Jimin realises, his curiosity peaking even more. Who is important enough to warrant so many bodyguards in a club?


A drink is placed in front of him, and Jimin nods his head to the barmaid. He takes a sip, the fake sugary sweetness biting at his taste buds. He doesn’t focus on the taste, and his eyes move over to the head bartender.


Hoseok’s usually the first to greet Jimin after a dance, but he’s preoccupied with the group at the end of the bar. His attention is focused entirely on them, expression serious, leaning forward slightly as he talks. Jimin can’t see just who he’s talking to, but from Hoseok’s expression and demeanor, it sets Jimin on edge. The man is usually all smiles, but he looks oddly serious. Tense.


A feeling of unease settles beside the already heavy feeling in Jimin’s gut, and he takes another sip of his drink.


It’s then Hoseok looks up and meets Jimin’s gaze. And the gazes of a few of the body guards follow. And then Hoseok is beckoning him over .


Jimin sets his jaw, automatically sliding out of his seat and approaching. He eyes Hoseok’s face, searching for anything, but Hoseok’s expression doesn’t change. Business-like.


It’s as Jimin gets closer that he begins to pick up on the conversation.


“He’s our best dancer by far, sir. He’s not been here long, but--shit, do the people love him.”


Jimin can’t help but preen at the praise, straightening his back as he finally reaches the cluster of men. But he catches on the formality, the expression of sir , and his curiosity burns deeper.


The bodyguards eye him as he comes to a stop in front of them, and Hoseok turns back to Jimin, smiling at him.


“This is Park Jimin.”


And then the curtain of black parts, and Jimin meets the eyes of the most beautiful man he has ever seen.


The man is settled against the bar, comfortable, familiar. His suit is pressed, lined perfectly against his body in all black. A white shirt is visible under the suit jacket, and the material looks soft, almost shiny. The man’s gaze is stern as he eyes Jimin, and while his features are soft, there’s something in his expression that tells Jimin this man is nowhere near it. His hair is bleached white-blonde, a stark contrast to the suit he wears. Earrings hang from his earlobes, silver and shining, matching the multiple sets of silver rings on his fingers.


His hands are curled around a glass of dark liquid, and Jimin’s gaze flickers from the man’s hands and back to his face. The man is studying him intensely.


“Park Jimin.” The man says, and Jimin actually shivers at the way his name sounds on the man’s tongue. His voice is low, gravelly, but can be heard clearly over the loud music around them. The man shifts, leaning back from the bar, and the bodyguards around him shift as well, covering any gaps there may have been made.


Jimin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he has been holding. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Jimin responds, voice quiet, and finds himself bowing low. He’s not sure why, but something about this man’s presence demands respect, and the bow feels like a natural response. When he straightens up, Hoseok is grinning at him, something like mischief shining in his eyes.


“Jimin, you haven’t been here long, so you haven’t had a chance to meet him yet.” Hoseok pauses slightly for effect. “But this is Min Yoongi. He owns the club.”


Jimin’s eyes widen in understanding, and suddenly everything clicks into place. The cooled atmosphere of the club, the sense of foreboding. The bodyguards, and Hoseok’s demeanor. And the presence of the man in front of him, who is watching Jimin intently, studying his reaction.


Min Yoongi is a dangerous name to say out loud. Jimin knew, coming in, that he owned this club. But not once did he expect to meet the man. The man who is only ever talked about in hushed whispers, whose name brings fear and respect even to the toughest of people. The man who owns half of Seoul, and practically runs the whole underground scene around the country. And even beyond, though the police can never quite prove anything.


The anxious feeling in Jimin’s gut intensifies.


“I can see why everyone likes him.” Min Yoongi says, casually, and takes another sip of his drink. “He’s beautiful.”


And Jimin’s cheeks flush almost painfully. Hoseok is still grinning at him, but when he turns back to Yoongi, his expression cools.


“You asked for the best.” Hoseok says, gesturing towards Jimin. “Please excuse me now, sir, I must get back to work.” Hoseok bows then, effectively cutting himself from the conversation. Jimin watches Hoseok leave them, and slowly brings his gaze back to Yoongi.


Yoongi is watching him. Jimin begins to fidget under his gaze, hands coming together behind his back.


“I saw you dance.” Yoongi says suddenly, cutting the heavy air between them. “It was very good.” He nods then, and his guards immediately disperse, practically melting away into the darkness around them. Jimin’s eyes widen, at both the praise and the sudden action, and he stammers out a response.


“T-thank you, Mr Min. Sir.”


Yoongi’s eyes scrunch as he smiles, taking another sip of his drink. “Call me Yoongi. May I call you Jimin?”


Jimin nods.


“Good. Take a seat, Jimin.”


Jimin does immediately, knowing it’s wise to not refuse this man, sliding into the seat beside Yoongi. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, and he swallows thickly, glancing up at Yoongi before looking back down at the bar.


Yoongi looks amused. He downs the last of his drink, the glass hitting the top of the bar with a loud thud. He appraises Jimin, his gaze slowly travelling down the dancer’s body. Jimin can feel the gaze on him as if it were a physical touch, and his cheeks heat yet again as he looks back up to Yoongi from under his lashes.


Jimin’s wearing the usual uniform for dancers, dark sheer fabric shirt pressed tightly to his chest under a harness, leaving nothing to the imagination, with tight black shorts that he knows makes his ass and thighs look amazing. Strappy boots with a heel makes him taller than usual.


Yoongi taps the bar with one finger, and a waitress appears to refill his drink. A glass is placed in front of Jimin too, and the same dark liquid gets put into it. Something plays behind Yoongi’s expression. Yoongi grabs his glass, pushing away from the bar. He turns to Jimin, smiling, the previous thoughts now completely hidden, and holds out his arm.


“Come drink with me, Jimin. I want to get to know my new employee.”


Jimin curls his hand around his own glass, sliding from the stool he only just sat in moments ago, and tentatively takes Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi pulls him away from the bar, and the people in the club seem to automatically part before them, instead of them having to push their way  through like Jimin usually does. The very presence of the man he’s holding on to is enough, and Jimin can’t help it when warmth spreads through him again, flushing his cheeks. This is a powerful man.


Jimin likes powerful men.


Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice the effect he has on everyone around him, and Jimin can feel eyes on them as they cross the club floor. Someone else is on stage now, taking command of the pole, but the men are looking at Jimin, whose arm is locked with Yoongi’s. It should bother him, Jimin thinks, but the thought is cast away when Yoongi turns his head to check on Jimin.


The man is smirking, eyes shining even in the dull lights of the club. “I have a booth in the back. It’s private. Should allow us to talk for a bit.” His voice is low, only for Jimin to hear, and Jimin’s mouth goes dry. He can only nod, and Yoongi looks pleased, pulling Jimin further away from the main stage.


Jimin wonders, idly, if Yoongi pays this much attention to all of his new employees. If he takes the time to greet them personally, to get to know them. He’ll have to ask Hoseok later, or Taehyung. They’ve both been here much longer than him, and should know more than he does.


They reach the back of the club, to where private booths are set up, situated in a way to avoid prying eyes. The music is quieter here, allowing for more conversation, and Yoongi slides into the seat of the furthest booth. Jimin sits across from, placing his drink carefully on the table. Drinking on the job isn’t against the rules, but getting drunk is, so Jimin just keeps his fingers tapping gently on the glass as he looks over to meet Yoongi’s gaze.


Yoongi is still watching him intently, his own glass raised to his lips as he takes a slow sip. Jimin watches Yoongi swallow the liquid down before he speaks.


“How old are you, Jimin?”


Jimin starts at the question, not at all what he had been expecting. But he finds himself answering anyway, words tumbling from his lips. “I’m 22.”


Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Jimin nods, not sure how else to answer. Yoongi lets out a breath of a laugh. “Shouldn’t you be at home, sleeping, getting ready for university tomorrow?”


Jimin presses his lips together, eyeing the man across the table from him with narrowed eyes.


“What does it matter?” The words come out harsher than he’d intended, and a brief flare of panic surges through Jimin, eyes widening as he looks at Yoongi for his response.


A smirk tugs at the edges of Yoongi’s lips. “I suppose it doesn’t.” Yoongi replies slowly, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s. “I’m just curious about you.”


The words send a thrill down Jimin’s spine, replacing the panic with something warm. Jimin flushes again, breaking the eye contact to look intently at his drink, still untouched. “I--I’m not a student.” He says softly. The man shifts slightly across from him, leaning in to hear his words. When Jimin doesn’t elaborate, Yoongi hums instead, leaning back into his seat. Jimin looks back up from his drink.


“Well, I suppose I’m lucky to have your full attention,” Yoongi says, then after a moment, he adds, “...on working in my club.” His eyes dance with mirth, and Jimin wills himself to not break their eye contact again, instead letting the intensity wash over him and settle comfortably in his gut. He can’t stop the warmth on his cheeks, however, and he hopes the club is dark enough to mask his flaming face.


“Hoseok tells me you haven’t been here long.” Yoongi prompts. Jimin nods.


“A few months.”


“You’ve already attracted a loyal following, or so I’ve heard.” Yoongi comments.


A sudden surge of pride sparks through Jimin, and he straightens up in his seat, finally lifting his drink to his lips to taste.


“You did ask for the best.” Jimin echoes Hoseok’s words from earlier. He knows he’s a good dancer. He knows he looks good in the uniform, knows he can drive his customers crazy. It’s that sly confidence that draws them in, the pout on his lips and the promise in his eyes that keeps them. He may not be confident in much, but he’s confident in his looks.


It may seem out of place, taking pride at doing well in a strip club. But Jimin does, he drinks it up, the praise of his clients burying itself into his skin and making him shine. He knows how to do this, and do it well. It’s a skill not many people are able to perfect, but Jimin has .


Yoongi grins at Jimin’s comment, appraising him. “I did.” He reaches into his suit pocket, and produces a packet of cigarettes. Jimin watches as Yoongi takes out a pre-rolled cigarette and places it between his lips. They have a no smoking rule in the club, but Yoongi ignores his own rules, bringing up a lighter to burn at the end of the stick. Jimin doesn’t think any of the club security guards will ask him to put it out any time soon.


“What did you do before you came here?” Yoongi asks finally, holding the cigarette between two fingers. His silver rings glint in the dull light, catching Jimin’s eye, and he has to pull his gaze away from the other man’s slender fingers before he can reply.


“I danced.” He says simply. He’s not quite sure why he’s being so honest with Yoongi. This is a dangerous man, the most dangerous man that Jimin has ever met. But Jimin can’t find it within himself to lie to him. He’s not sure what would happen if he ever was caught lying to Yoongi, even on something so insignificant. Jimin is sure he doesn’t want to find out.


“At other clubs?” Yoongi prompts him again. Jimin purses his lips.


“No. At a school.”


“Ah.” Yoongi smiles, satisfied, leaning back into his seat. He takes another drag of his cigarette, holding it in before blowing out the smoke. “That explains it.”


“Explains what?” Jimin finds himself asking, and there’s a lilt to his voice that pushes on teasing.


Yoongi seems to take notice of his tone and his smile morphs into a grin. “The way you move. I saw it on stage. A dancer’s grace.” He flicks his cigarette, the ashes landing on the table top. “Beautiful.”


Jimin flushes again, both of his hands moving to grip his glass in front of him, just for something to do. The men out there, the ones who watch him dance, the ones who pay for private audiences--they have all complimented him, every single one. Jimin’s used to it, expects it. But the compliments from Yoongi seem to disarm him completely, and there’s a hint of irritation fluttering inside him. What is it about him that makes Jimin react so violently?


Jimin preens under the praise though, pleased all the same. This is his boss, and his boss appreciates his work. Jimin studies the face of the man in front of him, takes in the curve of his lips, the small nose, the darkness in his eyes. The bleached white hair, stark in the darkness, soft and neatly styled.


This is the most dangerous man in all of Seoul. He owns the club they’re in right now, the one with which Jimin is employed. In a way, he owns Jimin, and a shiver makes its way down his spine at the thought. Whatever Yoongi wants to do with him, to him, he can.


Jimin thinks he would let him.


There must be something in his eyes, belying his thoughts, because Yoongi’s own gaze turns sharp. Jimin would hazard to call it predatory .


It’s then, however, that they are disturbed. A shy waitress approaches, bowing a full 90 degrees to Yoongi before speaking. “I’m very sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mr Park has an appointment he must attend to.”


The whole world seems to crash back into focus, and Jimin starts, remembering exactly where he is and what he’s doing. He’s at work, he’s meant to be working, and he has clients booked for the rest of the night.


Yoongi looks surprised too, almost as if he forgot as well. Yoongi presses his lips together, looking unimpressed at the girl. She shies away under his gaze, glancing over to Jimin.


“Tell the rest of his clients Jimin isn’t available tonight.” Yoongi says, voice hard.


The girl gapes at him for a moment. “S-Sir, I can’t--They won’t be happy, Sir, there’s a waiting list--”


“If they have a problem, they can come to me.” Yoongi commands, voice sharp. No negotiations, his tone screams, and the girl nods hurriedly. She bows again, bending completely in half, before leaving their sight in a hurry.


Jimin rounds on Yoongi then. “You can’t do that.”


“Yes I can.” Yoongi takes a drag.


“That’s my money for tonight.” Jimin snaps, momentarily forgetting just who he is talking to. “I have bills to pay.”


Yoongi just looks amused at Jimin’s outburst. “I’ll pay for all the missed appointments.” He says simply, as if the hundreds of dollars for each appointment is nothing . He crushes the butt of his spent cigarette directly onto the table, no doubt leaving a mark. “And then some, for the inconvenience.”


Jimin’s anger dissipates almost as quickly as it had come.


Yoongi looks back at Jimin then, his gaze dark, which makes Jimin squirm. “You’re with me tonight.”


Jimin’s heart is racing in his chest, and he feels hot under Yoongi’s eyes, at the casual confidence the other man exudes. He technically owns Jimin, he remembers, the thought settling into a fiery heat in his gut. He bites his lip, and Yoongi’s eyes follow the movement, flicking down from Jimin’s eyes. And Jimin knows exactly what the other man wants.


Slowly, Jimin raises himself from his seat. Yoongi watches him intently as Jimin steps out from his side of the table, moving closer to Yoongi.


“You’re my boss.” Jimin says, quietly, approaching the other man.


“I am.”


“I guess I can’t say no.” Jimin climbs onto the seat beside Yoongi, pushing down the trepidation, and instead giving in to the confidence running through his veins.


Yoongi’s hand darts out and presses against Jimin’s chest, palm hot against the sheer fabric. Jimin looks up at Yoongi in surprise, seeing a flash of alarm on the other’s face.


“Jimin, you can always say no.” The tone is oddly serious, at odds with the hunger in Yoongi’s eyes. Jimin considers the words for a moment, biting at his lip again. Jimin can always say no. He’s had to do so a couple times already, with men who are too pushy. He’s never felt unsafe while working here, even during such a short time. And as he looks into Yoongi’s eyes and sees something like concern hidden in the heat, Jimin sets his jaw, and slings one leg over Yoongi’s lap as he had originally planned.


“I know.” Jimin says quietly, settling above the other man. “And I’m not saying no.”


Jimin shifts his hips down, sliding against the other, looking up at him through his lashes. Yoongi is watching him, gaze always so intense.


“You don’t have to do this just because I’m your boss.” Yoongi seems to be hesitating again, and Jimin swallows his frustration, leaning even more into the other man’s space. His face settles inches from Yoongi’s own, and he can feel Yoongi’s breath on his own lips. The club has rules against certain kinds of touching, against kissing, but Jimin’s gaze flickers down to Yoongi’s lips and thinks that Yoongi won’t quite mind him breaking the rules tonight. Especially since they’re his rules to break, as he already has so casually.


“I know.” Jimin breathes, and Yoongi’s lips part slightly in response to Jimin’s words. “I’m doing this because I want to. I want to prove to you why I’m the best you’ll ever have.” There’s a double meaning to his words, tantalising in it’s suggestion, and Yoongi is the one to close the gap between them.


Jimin’s breath is caught in his throat as Yoongi’s lips press into his, and Jimin gives in to it, parting his own lips as Yoongi licks greedily inside. There’s no softness to the kiss, something dirty and primal making Yoongi claim Jimin’s bottom lip as he bites at it. Yoongi’s hands settle at Jimin’s hips, and Jimin grinds down in response, satisfied at the choked off groan it elicits from the other man.


The music of the club drifts quietly into their private booth, and Jimin sets a pace from the baseline, grinding into Yoongi’s lap each time the bass vibrates through the walls of the club. Jimin’s hands grip at the jacket of Yoongi’s suit, not waiting for permission before unbuttoning it and reaching for the white shirt underneath. Yoongi is the one to break the kiss, pushing Jimin back slightly. Jimin pauses in his movements, looking down at the man beneath him.


Yoongi’s chest is heaving, and his lips shine, wet and red. Jimin cocks his head to the side, a silent question, and Yoongi grins up at him almost lazily.


“We’re still in public, baby. I can’t have you stripping me naked here.”


Jimin smirks, heart thumping violently in his chest, the sound of blood rushing almost audible in his ears. He leans back down, pressing his lips to Yoongi’s ear, teeth pulling at one of the dangling earrings. “Scared someone will see?”


Yoongi visibly shivers at the feeling of Jimin’s breath against his neck. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s ear to nuzzle into his neck, teeth grazing the skin.


It takes a moment before Yoongi is pushing Jimin away again, and he goes easily, eyes shining in satisfaction.


“I know this club has private rooms.” Yoongi says, lifting a brow, though Jimin can see he’s visibly flustered. Coming apart beneath Jimin’s touch.


A powerful man indeed.


Jimin pulls himself off the man, though he keeps a hand curled around Yoongi’s tie and pulls him along too. Yoongi stumbles to his feet, following Jimin, and Jimin ignores the curious eyes of the other patrons around them as he heads towards the club’s private rooms.


He has one assigned all to himself, for private dances, and other not so casual meetings. He pulls Yoongi into his room, the door closing behind them, and Jimin presses himself up against the hard planes of Yoongi’s body, backing him into the back of the door. Their lips meet, hot and wet, and this time it’s Jimin who nips at Yoongi’s lower lip.


His hands roam back to his previous task, and he yanks at the tie roughly, loosening it so the shirt can come free beneath it. Yoongi’s breath hitches at the pull, breaking their kiss, and Jimin takes the opportunity to focus on unbuttoning Yoongi’s shirt. The buttons slip free easily under his deft fingers, and Yoongi pulls off the jacket and shirt at the same time, letting them drop to the floor. He pushes towards Jimin, causing Jimin to step back continuously until the backs of his knees hit the end of the bed.


Yoongi pushes him down, climbing on top of him, capturing his mouth in another kiss. His chest is bare, and Jimin lets his hands roam across the expanse of skin, feeling up Yoongi’s tight stomach and ghosting over his nipples. He gets no reaction from the other man, so moves his hands around to grip at his back instead, angling his hips up to grind against Yoongi.


Yoongi groans into their kiss, pulling away to begin sucking at the skin beneath Jimin’s ear instead.


Jimin whines. “I’m going to need you to hurry up and get me naked.”


“So impatient.” Yoongi chides, a hand coming around to squeeze Jimin’s exposed thigh. “What if I like you in these shorts?”


“I don’t care.” Jimin snaps back, breath hitching as Yoongi bites at the skin between his neck and shoulder. “I want them off.”


Yoongi grins against his skin, pulling back slightly. Jimin reaches down, finding the button of his shorts and popping it open, pushing the tight fabric down to release his aching cock. He doesn’t have the luxury of underwear underneath his shorts, and he’s never been happier for it as he breathes out heavily. He kicks his shorts down further and then off completely, hands already reaching for Yoongi’s pants.


“These need to go too.” He says, and Yoongi just lets him, unbuttoning and unzipping the dress pants before pulling them down, underwear included. Yoongi’s own cock breaks free of the restricting fabric, and Jimin swallows thickly at the sight, wetting his suddenly dry mouth. It’s bigger than he’d thought, already swelling to full thickness, and Jimin unconsciously licks his lips as he looks up to Yoongi’s face.


Yoongi is looking down at him, eyes clouded with lust.


Jimin grabs the man by the hip and pulls him back down, maneuvering so that he’s straddling Yoongi, who now lies with his back on the bed. Yoongi looks up at Jimin, eyes wide at the sudden change in position, but he groans when Jimin grinds his bare ass against Yoongi’s sensitive cock. Jimin smiles in satisfaction, pressing down again to press his lips to Yoongi’s.


The kiss is more teeth than anything else, sloppy and not quite pleasant, but the two don’t care as Jimin continues to grind down determinedly, gulping up the groans that make their way past Yoongi’s lips. Heat builds in Jimin’s stomach, molten and smooth, and Yoongi’s grip on his hips is hard enough that he knows there will be marks in the morning, but he doesn’t care.


He breaks from Yoongi’s mouth for a moment to breathe, sitting back up, eyes narrowing in determination.


“I’m going to ride you, Yoongi.” Jimin says, watches as Yoongi swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “But first I want your fingers inside me.”


Fuck , baby.” Is Yoongi’s only response. Jimin bites his lip to hide the smirk, taking in the sight of the man beneath him, lips plumped and cheeks coloured with heat. Jimin reaches up, leaning forward, his chest inches from Yoongi’s face as he grabs at the lube and condoms kept conspicuously under the pillows. Yoongi’s lips latch to Jimin’s chest, ignoring the fact that he’s still wearing his shirt, the fabric so thin that he can feel the wetness of Yoongi’s tongue against his nipple. Jimin’s breath hitches at the feeling, grasp on the lube and condoms faltering as Yoongi mouths at him through the fabric.


“S-shit.” He breathes, eliciting a growl from the man beneath him. Jimin forces himself away, the packets clutched too tightly in his fists. He presses Yoongi back onto the mattress, moving himself back into position to grind back down on Yoongi’s erection. A moan tumbles from Yoongi’s lips at the contact. Jimin finds Yoongi’s hand and passes the lube to him, pausing his grinding.


Jimin presses himself flush against Yoongi, chest to chest, lips mouthing at the shell of Yoongi’s ear. “I want your fingers in me now .”


“So impatient.” Yoongi repeats, but his words are shaky, and Jimin hears the click of the lube cap and smiles in satisfaction. He continues to mouth at the skin of Yoongi’s neck, until something wet presses up against his ass, stilling just outside of his hole. “There, baby, here we go.” Yoongi says, pressing the tip of his slicked up finger into Jimin’s hole. Jimin groans at the sensation, at first cold and foreign, willing himself to ease up as Yoongi’s finger begins to work him open. Soon he’s pushing into the feeling, noises of want spilling from his open mouth, breath wet against the side of Yoongi’s neck as Yoongi slowly slips a second finger in.


Yoongi .” Jimin whines, right into his ear, pressing back against the man’s fingers. Jimin’s given up with mouthing at Yoongi’s neck, instead resting his forehead against the man’s shoulder, revelling in the sensation of the man’s fingers moving inside him.


“You’re so good for me, baby.” Jimin preens under Yoongi’s words as his fingers scissor in such a delicious way. “So responsive.” The tips of his fingers hit a spot inside Jimin that makes him whine, mouth hanging open, letting the sound rip free with no restraint.


“Fuck, Yoongi, t-there. Yeah.” Jimin grinds down on Yoongi’s fingers, looking to hit that spot again. Yoongi chuckles darkly under him, and he adds a third finger instead, and Jimin squirms into the touch, pressing down, jolting as something cold and hard catches on his rim--


Fuck .” He manages, remembering Yoongi’s rings, and he moans as Yoongi’s fingers again hit that sweet spot inside him. “Yoongi, I need--I need your cock. Please .”


“So noisy for me.” Yoongi murmurs, pressing his fingers in deeper. “So needy.” He pulls his fingers out suddenly, leaving Jimin so empty, clenching around air. Jimin whimpers at the loss of contact, sagging slightly, eyes falling closed. He hears the condom wrapper ripping, can feel Yoongi moving beneath his thighs, before something hard presses up to the outside of his rim.


“Ready for me, baby?” Yoongi asks. Jimin nods, not daring to open his eyes, and then Yoongi is pressing into him, his cock sliding so easily into Jimin that he groans loudly, without abandon. Jimin presses himself down, hurrying the process, and Yoongi sucks in a breath as Jimin’s ass presses down onto Yoongi’s thighs, flush. Jimin pushes himself up, pressing back onto his own thighs, the movement jostling them both, eliciting moans of appreciation from both men.


Jimin takes a moment to breathe heavily, the feeling of Yoongi’s cock inside him so thick and warm. His eyes are still closed, and he peeks them open, looking down at Yoongi below him. The man looks just as wrecked as Jimin feels, eyes glazed as he slowly flutters them shut. Heat simmers all throughout Jimin’s body, skin tingling everywhere. He watches as Yoongi breathes in deeply, shakily.  


Jimin loves undoing powerful men.


Jimin slowly rocks his hips. The breath Yoongi was taking catches in his throat, cutting off sharply. Jimin bites his lip as he stares down at the man, completely at his mercy. Yoongi seems to sense Jimin watching him, and he opens his eyes, his gaze slowly trailing up Jimin’s body until their eyes meet.


An odd moment passes, and even after everything that has happened, Jimin can feel a blush rising in his cheeks. He’s the one to break eye contact, eyes closing as he rocks his hips again, a groan spilling from his lips as he presses down to bring Yoongi deeper, bringing himself back into the moment. Yoongi’s hands settle on Jimin’s hips, his fingers gripping into Jimin’s skin, urging him to move again.


He does, rocking his hips into a slow rhythm, enjoying the delicious pull and stretch inside him. After a moment Yoongi seems to grow impatient, his grip on Jimin’s hips tightening as he suddenly snaps his own hips up. A stuttering moan tears it’s way past Jimin’s lips as Yoongi draws back and thrusts into him again, and again, turning the pace rough and fast, Jimin’s moans turning into whines as Yoongi starts to hit his prostate, merciless in his movements.


“Jesus, Y-Yoongi.” Jimin feels his control slipping like water through his fingers, his blood running hot under his skin. He leans forward a bit, bracing his hand on Yoongi’s chest, the other moving to grab at his own leaking cock. Jimin meets Yoongi’s thrusts, the man’s grip on his hips no doubt bruising, liquid fire burning at his nerves and building in his gut. His cock aches in his hand, and Yoongi is watching him with hooded eyes, biting his bottom lip so hard the skin has turned white.


Shit , Yoongi, I-I’m gonna--” He chokes off into a moan when Yoongi thrusts up into him with added haste, the movement jerky but perfect, hitting him just right, and he finds himself shooting white across Yoongi’s chest, his cry echoing into the room around them. He clenches around Yoongi’s cock as he rides his orgasm, the man’s thrusts becoming increasingly jerky until he finally comes too, his whole body shuddering below Jimin.


Jimin pulls off the other man, balance unsteady as he topples to the mattress beside him. His chest rises and falls quickly, his muscles loose and his whole body satisfied.


Beside him, Yoongi discards the condom. And then uses the sheet to wipe off his chest.


“Hey.” Jimin protests quietly, his brain still not quite sharp enough to catch his words. “Watch the sheets.”


Yoongi pauses in his cleaning, raising an eyebrow in amusement as he looks over to Jimin. “These are my sheets, Jimin.” He opens his mouth to say something more when a phone rings, the shrill noise making Jimin start. Yoongi curses, moving from his spot on the bed. Jimin watches lazily as Yoongi walks to where his clothes are lying, reaching down to grab his phone from his pants pocket. He doesn’t even check to see who it is before he answers.




Someone on the other line begins talking, and Yoongi’s expression goes from mild annoyance to actual annoyance very quickly. Jimin sits up, rolling his shoulders, still watching Yoongi curiously.


“Jesus, Jin, just tell me what happened?” The other person talks again, and Jimin can’t hear anything, but from Yoongi’s darkening expression is can’t be any good. Jimin shifts off the bed and starts to pull his clothes back on, still listening intently to Yoongi’s side of the conversation.


Jimin has just pulled his shorts back on when there’s a touch on his arm. He turns to Yoongi, eyebrow raised in question.


“Alright, you know what needs to happen.” Yoongi pauses for a moment, glancing quickly at Jimin’s face. “I’ll be there.”


He ends the call abruptly, hand still gripping Jimin’s arm.


“I have to go. I’m sorry.”


Jimin purses his lips. “Why are you apologising?” He puts his hand over Yoongi’s, then pulls Yoongi’s hand away from his arm. He expects Yoongi to let go, but instead he holds onto Jimin’s hand, squeezing it.


“Because I wanted to get to know you more, baby.”


Jimin feels himself flushing again, looking down at their linked hands, thoughts racing. Min Yoongi is interested in him? He’s just a dancer in the man’s own club, a quick fuck to the people who can pay. Yoongi got all of that, but he’s holding Jimin’s hand and using it to pull him closer. Yoongi’s lips settle on Jimin’s neck, kissing his skin, making Jimin gasp when he sucks and begins to nibble. It’s hard enough to leave a mark, which the club doesn’t like, but Yoongi has broken so many rules with Jimin tonight so does it really matter?


Jimin presses himself up against Yoongi’s body, who is still naked, but Yoongi pulls away and smirks at him. “I have to go.” He says with finality. He lets go of Jimin, bending down and beginning to put his clothes back on.


Jimin just watches, catching his breath and willing his heart to slow. When Yoongi is done, he turns back to Jimin, flashing a smile. “I’ll be in touch, Park Jimin.”


And with that, he is gone, and with a heavy heart Jimin is sure he will never see Min Yoongi again.