“Oh, honey,” Jeongguk sings as he bursts through the front door, his tone overly sweet and dripping with glee, “I’m home.”
Jimin doesn’t call back to him, he only sticks his leg high in the air when Jeongguk rounds the corner the of the free-standing shelf that separates their kitchen from their living room. He’s splayed along their grey sectional, leaning over on his left arm at the corner while he types furiously at his laptop, the television left on and ignored as some made-for-TV romcom plays. The pallid winter sunlight pouring in through the large windows along the walls that back the couch bathes him in a delicate blue hue, one that reminds Jeongguk of how fucking cold it is outside. He looks cute, having stolen the sweater Jeongguk had thrown on the floor last night when he was changing for bed, a throw blanket covering his lower half.
Jeongguk steps between the couch and the coffee table to steal Jimin’s attention from his computer screen for a chaste kiss. He tastes like whatever must have been in the now empty paper cup on the coffee table; sweet and a bit salted, probably something with too much chocolate or caramel in it.
“How’d your presentation go?” Jimin asks, his breath fanning over Jeongguk’s chin, the arm he isn’t using to hold himself up thrown over the back of Jeongguk’s neck. Before he answers, Jeongguk focuses on getting himself more comfortable; throwing his leg over Jimin’s waist to settle on top of him. Jimin accommodates the press of Jeongguk’s body easily, rolling onto his back so Jeongguk can lie between his legs.
“Fucking crushed it,” he tells him as he sets his head on Jimin’s chest. From the angle he’s at, he can see a bit of what Jimin is writing, and even just the few lines his eyes scan over make his head hurt.
“I knew you would,” Jimin murmurs. He cards his fingers through Jeongguk’s faded pink hair, wincing alongside Jeongguk when he catches on a small knot by accident. Aside from that, though, Jeongguk practically purrs under Jimin’s touch.
When it becomes pretty evident that Jeongguk isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Jimin prompts him up so they can both get into a better position. He props himself up against all three of the couch’s throw pillows, then nestles his laptop charger under his thigh should he need it later before patting his tummy for Jeongguk to lie back down. Once Jeongguk is comfortable, Jimin fits his laptop in the center of his back to work.
“Now don’t move,” he orders. Jeongguk grunts in response, since Jimin doesn’t need an actual response to know that that won’t be a problem. It doesn’t take long for the vibrations of his gentle snores to hum through Jimin’s sweater, tickling at his skin warmly. He knows Jeongguk had been up much later than normal the night before, his anxiety getting the best of him just before his final presentation of the semester.
Between the bouts of jumbled garbage he spouts into his report, Jimin trails his fingers up and down the center of Jeongguk’s back and up into his hair to twirl it around his fingers carefully, shushing Jeongguk when he stirs and mutters something unintelligible.
Jeongguk is always cute, even more so, however, when he’s asleep and can’t be a little shit at every chance he gets. It’s not often that Jeongguk falls asleep on him like this – it’s more likely that Jimin likes to lie on Jeongguk’s chest and have his heartbeat lull him to sleep – so he takes his time in appreciating the way he looks now. His face is unburdened by all the stresses of their very menial day-to-day lives concerning work, school, and the future, his lips parted in a snore Jimin knows he’ll only hear when Jeongguk is so tired he’s hardly capable of doing more than the bare minimum.
That’s something they both hate, but Jimin would argue that no one fights being average the way Jeongguk does. He works so hard, be that for school or putting in extra hours at work or for dancing whenever he can. Despite all of it, he’s never once failed to be around when Jimin wanted or needed him, even when Jimin can’t exactly say the same about himself. He’s luckier than he could ever put into words and he doesn’t know how he’d have managed the last three years without Jeongguk next to him.
This past little while has been especially tough; it’s Jimin’s last year which means he’s fucked if he doesn’t focus as much energy as he can spare into school. He needs to graduate, to network, to get real experience in his field and then get the job he’s been chasing since he was in middle school. He wants to give Jeongguk the life he deserves. Everything he could ever want.
A good while later, long after his motivation up and leaves him entirely and he’s found himself lost in the way the afternoon sun curls around Jeongguk’s features, he’s left slumped back against the throw pillows – which have become uncomfortably deflated under his weight – until Jeongguk wakes. He traces the lines of Jeongguk’s face again in the meantime, from the subtle dimple in his chin up over his lips and cupid’s bow to his nose and eyebrows, then to the tips of his ears and down over his neck. Jeongguk shivers at the touch, so Jimin does it again only to receive a lazy swat aimed at his hand.
“Lea’me alone,” Jeongguk groans. Jimin laughs softly, a rush of air disrupting Jeongguk’s bangs where they hang over his forehead. He fixes them back into place carefully before telling him that no, he won’t.
“You’re just too cute, Gukkie, I can’t help it.”
“You’re a nerd,” laughs Jeongguk. Jimin just hums, bopping him on the end of the nose with his knuckle when Jeongguk rests his chin in the divot between Jimin’s ribs.
“Well, one of us has to have a functioning brain.”
Jeongguk clucks his tongue and pinches Jimin’s side hard between his fingernails, which earns him a pained yelp and a gentle flick to the forehead. He sets his head back where he’d had it before and nuzzles the side of his face against Jimin’s sweater before slipping his arms under Jimin’s back to squeeze him tight.
“Jeongguk, I have to pee.”
“You’ve been asleep for two and a half hours,” Jimin whines, “I’m about to pee on you.”
“Ooh, kinky,” Jeongguk teases, uncaring and unmoving.
“I want a divorce,” retorts Jimin, and Jeongguk huffs indignantly before he finally gives into Jimin’s pleas. He sits up and rubs at his eyes, his hair an unruly mess from all the fidgeting he does in his sleep, and pouts at Jimin from across the couch.
“You’ll have to marry me first,” Jeongguk groans, watching Jimin stand and stretch his arms out to the side with his hands balled into fists.
Jimin slips by him, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead as he goes. “Working on that.”
Jeongguk reaches out in hopes to smack Jimin’s ass harshly, but his fingertips just barely graze the swell of it. Jimin cackles maniacally at Jeongguk’s frustrated grumbling as he crosses the apartment to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
He finishes up and washes his hands, then makes his way back to the couch. Jeongguk has taken his spot to flip through channels on the TV, so Jimin slings his leg over Jeongguk’s waist to seat himself comfortably in his lap as though he owns it (and he kind of does), effectively prying Jeongguk’s attention away from the television.
“Hi,” Jeongguk purrs, and Jimin tries to fight back a smile in the vein of scaring him towards the other end of the couch.
“You took my spot,” he says flatly. Jeongguk pokes Jimin’s side, grinning ear to ear when he yelps and smacks the back of Jeongguk’s hand.
Jimin’s lips pull down in a deep pout as he crosses his arm over his chest. Petulant, he knows, but Jeongguk has always been weak to it.
“Kiss me?” Jeongguk asks, but still Jimin just glares at him. He smiles up at him again then walks his fingers up Jimin’s thighs to rest on his hips, his thumbs playing with the waistband of Jimin’s briefs, which Jeongguk was more than pleased to find under the blanket he’d had draped over himself. “Please?”
Jeongguk puckers his lips obnoxiously and closes his eyes, and Jimin is so tempted to take advantage of that somehow, but nothing good comes to mind. He doesn’t kiss him right away, though; just flicks his forehead like he had earlier and tells him to do it right, stupid before ducking his head to kiss him. It’s a bit firm, a bit of overexaggerated pettiness behind it, and Jeongguk giggles against Jimin’s lips as he deepens the kiss.
“You’re mean to me,” Jimin gripes, and Jeongguk laughs again. That’s the farthest statement from the truth, they both know it.
He ducks his head to press lingering kisses down the column of Jimin’s neck. They haven’t had any time for each other for a good while now; exam season harsh and unforgiving in its barrenness (barrenness being they haven’t fucked in a month and Jeongguk might actually be going insane).
“I love you,” Jeongguk sing-songs, his nose trailing faintly up Jimin’s neck to kiss the hollow behind his ear. The faint tingle of a hum from Jeongguk’s lips tickles at Jimin’s skin as he purrs, “my baby.”
Their lips meet again, somewhere between careful and desperate as Jeongguk licks into Jimin’s mouth. It’s been a long damn time, and Jeongguk knows Jimin has whatever he’s writing that needs finished as well as how he gets around the end of the semester, which is why he wants to make this worth interrupting his work for. He nips at the slick plushness of Jimin’s bottom lip and pulls on it, just enough that Jimin leans forward into Jeongguk’s chest a little more.
His arms wind tight around Jimin’s waist as though he may try to up and leave Jeongguk right then and there, and Jimin breathes an airy moan into Jeongguk’s mouth. A delicate roll of Jimin’s hips almost makes Jeongguk want to cry-
Three firm knocks on the door pull their attention from each other, and Jimin slumps forward against Jeongguk’s chest to groan against his collarbone.
“You get it,” Jimin demands, “I don’t have pants on.”
“You never have pants on, love,” Jeongguk murmurs, kissing Jimin’s temple and patting his bum so he’ll let him up from underneath him. An indignant huff leaves Jimin’s lips when Jeongguk gets to his feet, but he keeps a hold of Jeongguk’s wrist for a moment to beckon him back down. He runs his hand through Jeongguk’s hair and ruffles it so it stands up in every direction, then unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt.
“There,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself while Jeongguk stands in front of him, utterly baffled, “now they won’t keep you too long. But just so you know, I will start moaning if you don’t get your cute butt back here quick.”
Jeongguk scoffs, but he knows damn well Jimin means it. When he reaches up to try and fix himself a bit, Jimin pokes him in the knee with his bare foot. He holds his hands up in surrender – much to Jimin’s pleasure – and makes his way over to the door.
Behind the door, poised to knock again just as Jeongguk pulls it open, is the bitter little granny apple doll from two floors up. Jeongguk knows he shouldn’t think of his elders like that, but this woman hates him so much and he doesn’t even know why. They had met when he and Jimin were unpacking their apartment and she had come all the way down to see who was moving in, apparently because she knew whoever had lived here before. Another student, Jimin says, who moved after they graduated.
She gives him a disgusted look when he opens the door looking as disheveled as he does, so he scrambles to fix himself and greet her politely. There’s a small Tupperware container of something in her hands, her thumbs clasped carefully over the green-outlined lid like it may burst. Truth be told, it kind of does look like she’s overstuffed it.
“Where’s Jimin?” she asks, ignoring Jeongguk’s greeting entirely. Jeongguk looks behind himself at the couch, smiles softly when Jimin shakes his head and makes a throat-cutting gesture with his hand.
“I’m afraid he’s sleeping at the moment,” he settles on. She stares him down like she’s trying to kill him with her eyes, and then they soften. Like it’s nothing.
“Well, shouldn’t wake him up then. I’m sure a hardworking young man like him needs his rest,” she says. Then she thrusts the container in her hands at him, “these are for him. Tell him not to worry about returning the container.”
Jeongguk stares down at the container and presses his tongue into his cheek. “Will do. You have a nice day now.”
She only nods, then turns on her heel and hobbles back down the hall. If Jeongguk wasn’t so interested to see what may be inside of the container, he’s not sure he could stop himself from lobbing it at the back of her head. But she’s an old lady and that would be evil.
No, no he can’t do that. He shuts the door carefully and turns on his heel to place the container on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen. As he opens it, he can see Jimin appear from around the half-wall that hides their bedroom closet from the rest of the apartment and lie back on the couch.
“It’s cookies,” he informs him, and Jimin’s face brightens considerably.
“Sick, what kind?”
“White chip macadamia nut, looks like.”
Jimin makes a small noise of glee as he leans back against the cushions of the couch, then proceeds to tell Jeongguk how much he loves that wrinkly little demon. Jeongguk pads back across the apartment to the couch and urges Jimin to realign himself so he can fit between Jimin’s legs.
He kisses Jimin sweetly as he settles in again, pouting about how much she hates him, and for no good reason, too. At first he thought they were both going to have a problem along the lines of two obviously-involved men moving into a tiny, obviously-one-bed-only studio apartment, but that hadn’t been the case at all. She adores Jimin like he was her own kin, and she thankfully never refers to the two of them as roommates or friends, she just abhors Jeongguk.
Jimin implores him to stop talking about their eighty-four-year-old neighbor while they’re on the precipice of trying to fuck.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t get it,” he groans.
“Maybe she’s jealous,” Jimin suggests, “maybe she wants a piece of this.”
Jeongguk splutters a laugh when Jimin’s hand makes contact with the outside of his own thigh in emphasis, though he tries to muffle his giggles against Jimin’s collarbone. Jimin runs his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair as he laughs underneath him, a bright smile that Jeongguk can feel more than see pressed to his cheekbone. The hand he has placed at the small of Jeongguk’s back tugs subtly at his button-up to free it from his pants. That earns a soft laugh from Jeongguk, but Jimin’s nails across his skin pull a low moan.
“C’mon, Jeonggukkie,” Jimin purrs, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, baby.”
He presses against Jimin, his hips heavy as he rolls himself against Jimin’s half-hard cock, and Jimin keens high in his throat as Jeongguk bites pretty little marks across the tan expanse of his neck. The cold – being hidden under all the sweaters and coats and blankets – has faded the world around them a bit, but Jimin stays perfectly golden. How funny, Jeongguk often finds himself thinking, that he and his hyungs are so wont to call him golden rather than Jimin, who shines brighter than the sun on even the cloudiest days or darkest nights.
Not to mention his talents could put Jeongguk’s to shame, though he supposes other people wouldn’t exactly call them talents, but Jeongguk does. Each night Jimin lulls him to sleep with just simple touches; all the tears and worries Jeongguk has had and seen dried by Jimin; how his hand writing looks so elegant; his notes impeccably well-organized; the way he looks at the world like it’s bursting at the seams with opportunity; that he always keeps his head up and knows his worth, even if sometimes that doesn’t show; how Jeongguk takes his coffee at home versus from the campus cafés or Starbucks. All of those instances and more are irreplaceable talents in Jeongguk’s eyes.
He is so undeniably, irrevocably in love that his heart aches for Jimin’s warmth, especially after the both of them have become so emotionally unavailable to each other in the past little while.
“Take this off,” Jimin pleads, pulling Jeongguk from his reverie as his fingers fumble with the buttons of Jeongguk’s shirt. Jeongguk smiles against Jimin’s pulse point as he helps him, takes his time from the third button down to the bottom. Once it’s gone, Jimin rakes his nails over the dark skin and taut muscle of Jeongguk’s abdomen, once again in awe of the sheer beauty of him. Jimin still can’t believe this is all his, that he gets to keep Jeongguk forever, the rings on their fingers a testament to that.
Jimin grinds his hips up against Jeongguk’s, the fabric of his jeans harsh against Jimin’s thighs, and he tells Jeongguk as much. Their hands work deftly to free him of the too-tight denim which Jimin drops off to the side once they’re off. His hands grip Jeongguk’s hips and rolls them down hard against his own, the waistband of his underwear a rough slide over the head of his cock when Jeongguk repeats it over again. It’s desperate, dry, and unsatisfying, and Jimin nips at Jeongguk’s earlobe in place of begging for more.
Jeongguk takes the hint, sits back on his haunches to slip Jimin’s briefs down his thighs, Jimin’s legs rising to help. Now, finally bared below Jeongguk, he lets one foot fall back into place over Jeongguk’s thigh, the other rested against Jeongguk’s shoulder. He curls his hand gently over the top of Jimin’s ankle to run it down the length of his calf to his knee, then the outside of his thigh. Jimin giggles almost silently when Jeongguk presses a kiss to the inside of his ankle before following a trail up the inside of his leg just before he reaches Jimin’s balls.
“Baby,” Jimin whimpers, “please, I want you.”
Jeongguk swears under his breath, stooping to kiss Jimin hard, swallowing every pretty, desperate little sound he makes. They only break apart long enough for Jeongguk to stand and get free of his underwear, grabbing the bottle of lube that Jimin left on the living room table to bring it closer.
All he wants is to render Jimin a gasping, writhing mess below him, to watch him cry out Jeongguk’s name and shake as he comes with the force of an orgasm that’s been a long time coming. He slips his hand down Jimin’s chest, his fingers catching a nipple on their way down, and wraps his fingers around their cocks as he kisses Jimin hard, their teeth clashing on the hitch of their moans tangling together, and Jimin bucks up into his hold. Precome already beads at the tips of their cocks, which makes the slide of Jeongguk’s hand – now joined by Jimin’s in his impatience – so much more enticing.
“Jimin, baby,” Jeongguk hisses, rutting against Jimin’s cock in search of more and more friction. Anything he can get.
“Just fuck me, Gukkie, please, I can’t wait anymore,” Jimin rasps, his free hand fisted in Jeongguk’s hair so tightly he knows his scalp will be sore for a good while.
A whine drips from Jimin’s lips, saccharine and fucking filthy, when Jeongguk pulls away to reach for the lube. He wastes no time in slicking his fingers up, his stomach heavy and swirling with lust as Jimin swallows thickly, watching him through hooded eyes. Jimin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, rests his ankle back on Jeongguk’s shoulder while Jeongguk holds his other leg up to Jimin’s chest. It’s a delicious sting; one that Jimin knows he’s never going to get sick of, and the faint trail of Jeongguk’s finger around his rim is enough to have him already so painfully close to the edge.
His fingers curl in what they have a grasp on; one on the back of his thigh and the other curled in the blanket he’d had over him, now underneath their bodies to protect the upholstery. Jeongguk buries his finger inside of Jimin slowly, almost timidly after so long, and Jimin sees stars. It’s so good, everything Jeongguk does is so good. He knows exactly what Jimin needs, no matter what.
Just as Jeongguk begins to pump his finger in earnest, Jimin gasps harshly and come streaks his stomach white, the last drops dribbling from his twitching cock, cute and flushed pink against his stomach.
“Shit, I- fuck,” splutters Jimin. His hands flex ceaselessly as he rides out the aftershocks, Jeongguk’s finger still buried inside of him. Pulling out, though, he leans forward again to kiss Jimin softly, the press of his tongue comforting, safe. He lets Jimin catch his breath for a few moments, and when only the tip of his first finger remains inside of him on its way out, Jimin stops him.
“I want- I still want you to fuck me.”
“Baby, it’s okay,” Jeongguk coos, but Jimin shakes his head adamantly. His pupils are still blown wide, his hips working in tiny circles on Jeongguk’s knuckle.
“I want to, Jeongguk,” he insists, “just give me a minute. I wanna be good.”
Jeongguk presses featherlight kisses over every inch of his chest and up his neck, to his cheeks, nose, fluttering eyelids. “You’re so good for me, love. All the time. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, baby,” Jimin pants. It’s better now – his breathing – but still harsh, still shaking from the force of his first orgasm. God, Jeongguk loves him. Loves him so much it threatens to drown him sometimes. So much that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, especially not now.
It takes him a few moments, but Jimin eventually tells Jeongguk he’s okay; he wants to go again. Jeongguk does as he says, moving his finger slowly in little circles, the time Jimin had asked to stay in for helping to loosen him. He rubs at Jimin’s walls; warm and wet and so achingly familiar yet distant. The feeling of him wrapped tight around Jeongguk’s cock feels a tad more like a dream by this point, but this part? This is euphoric. Jimin is.
With more lube added just in case, Jeongguk presses a second finger in along the first, pumping them slowly until he’s sure Jimin is ready for him to spread them; to scissor him open until he’s ready for three, then for the girth of Jeongguk’s cock.
Jimin is much more silent than normal, but he assures Jeongguk genuinely each time he asks that he’s alright, that Jeongguk is just so good. By the time he’s up to three, Jimin is hard again, his cock flushed red and leaking into the trails he’d left over his stomach. His bottom lip stays caught between his teeth as Jeongguk pumps his fingers inside of him a bit roughly, though the kisses he distracts Jimin with are tender and open. They’ll stop if Jimin has to, Jeongguk tells him through both words and the gentle press of his body, of the pads of his fingers over Jimin’s prostate when he crooks them carefully at just the right angle.
“Oh, fuck, baby, do that again,” he pleads, rolling his hips down on Jeongguk’s knuckles. So, Jeongguk does, and he runs the pad of his thumb down the seam of Jimin’s balls as he does. Just enough to have him crying out in a mix of oversensitivity and pleasure.
“I’m ready, I’m okay, I- shit, Gukkie, please. I’m ready,” he babbles. Jeongguk pulls his fingers from him, reaching out for the box of tissues they keep on the coffee table to wipe them before cupping Jimin’s face in his hand.
“Hey, Min,” he calls, firm but careful, “look at me, baby, I need to know you’re okay for this. You don’t ever have to just please me, sweetheart, you know that.”
His eyes are hazy, blown wide with lust when he opens them to look up at Jeongguk through heavy lids, but he looks okay. Jeongguk leans their foreheads together, takes the break that they should have earlier until Jimin’s breathing evens out, until his eyes clear a small bit. Still, he nods, kissing Jeongguk firmly and licking impatiently at the seam of his lips for entry, which Jeongguk grants him easily.
Slicking himself up reminds him how neglected his cock has been this whole time, the air that hisses into his mouth as he inhales cold and biting against the ridges of his teeth when he gets a hand around himself.
He grips the pillow next to Jimin – the other two already placed below Jimin’s head and hips – as he pushes in. It’s slow, agonizing, but he doesn’t dare rush it, not now. Once again, Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, and he groans Jeongguk’s name. It’s low, broken at the end, and it sends burning desire through every inch of his body.
Buried to the hilt, he stops to rest his head against Jimin’s shoulder as he starts up a slow rhythm; each thrust into him careful, deep, but hard. Jimin mewls underneath him, his head turned against the pillow as Jeongguk rocks with him, watching his little cock bounce against his stomach each time Jeongguk fucks into him.
“That’s it,” he whimpers, “right there, baby. Right there.”
Jeongguk kisses Jimin’s ankle, still thrown over his shoulder, and leans back a small bit to drag his fore and middle finger down Jimin’s chest, collecting droplets of come as he goes. He calls for Jimin softly, runs the pad of his thumb over Jimin’s bottom lip and pulls down on it. Jimin’s eyelids flutter apart, his mouth falling slack for Jeongguk to press the two fingers in. Jimin closes his lips around them, his tongue drawing slowly up them until it flicks over their tips.
When he tastes himself on his tongue, he keens, one of his hands wrapping around Jeongguk’s wrist to hold him close. Jimin holds Jeongguk’s eye while that beautiful long tongue of his works over, between, around Jeongguk’s fingers like it’s all he’s wanted for so long. Saliva dribbles down his chin and he moans, lewd and obscene against the backdrop of skin against skin and the wet noises he makes around Jeongguk’s fingers.
Something in Jeongguk cuts loose and he fucks into Jimin so hard it surprises both of them, but he doesn’t falter, doesn’t let this pace slip. Jimin’s eyes roll back into his head while he tries and fails to chant Jeongguk’s name around his fingers.
“God, baby, you’re so good. So fucking good for me. My perfect little fucktoy. Shit.”
Jimin lets out what Jeongguk is sure is a muffled scream as Jeongguk fucks his sensitive little hole harder, chasing his release like a starved man. He never wants to forget this, this feeling, this view, fuck, Jimin looks downright sinful like this. So perfect, Jeongguk’s perfect baby boy.
His orgasm hits him hard, Jimin’s name spilling from his lips like it’s the only word he’s ever learned and his hips stuttering harshly as they meet Jimin’s ass. Jimin takes it in stride, his own release coming to him once more as Jeongguk rides out his own aftershocks. He presses down on Jimin’s tongue to muffle the harsh noises spilling from his throat, only pulling them out to kiss his gently.
They’re completely spent. Jeongguk lowers Jimin’s leg and sags forward, his softening cock still inside of Jimin when he collapses against him, sweat-slicked and sticky with the remnants of his own release. His hips still twitch under Jeongguk’s weight, and Jeongguk kisses him again and again and again while he rolls his hips back, taking hold of the base of his cock as he pulls out. Jimin’s hands, sore and shaking from gripping the corner of the throw pillow so tightly, work slowly through his hair to calm the disarrayed strands.
It’s with great effort that Jeongguk lifts his head to kiss Jimin once more, his tongue delving beyond the threshold of his lips back into the warmth and safety of his body. He sits back on his haunches to eye Jimin’s hole, now dripping with Jeongguk’s come, and bites back the urge to clean it up with his mouth, to fuck Jimin on his tongue until he cries.
Instead, he reaches for the box of tissues on the table again, wipes as much as he can manage, and then they lie there for far too long as the cold outside seeps in to nip at their bare, sweat-slicked skin. Jeongguk has to force himself up off of the couch so Jimin, too, can stand.
They tidy up quickly via burying the blanket at the very bottom of their laundry hamper, then toss the pillows in on top to see if they can’t do something about them as well. After that, Jeongguk corners Jimin next to their bed, kissing him chastely before he bends his knees and lifts Jimin up as he goes. It’s pure instinct that Jimin’s legs wrap tight around Jeongguk’s slim waist, and he winces slightly at the throbbing in his hips.
“Shit, baby, I’m sorry,” Jeongguk murmurs. He has Jimin’s back pressed to the closet door, not even faltering for a second as he kisses the bruises he’d left on Jimin’s neck earlier, the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and then the corners of his mouth. Between sated hums, airy moans, and soft giggles, Jimin kisses Jeongguk back wherever he can reach, even managing to leave a couple of love-bites himself. Just because he can.
“We should take a bath,” Jeongguk softly suggests, taking charge of the comfortable silence that falls between them as they remain in place against the closet door, “it’ll help with the soreness.”
“Okay,” Jimin purrs, “sounds good.”
He kisses Jeongguk again, again, again, until it feels like their lips may fall off. A smile pulls at his lips as he takes and takes and takes what Jeongguk has and replaces it all with what he himself has to offer Jeongguk.
For the rest of his life. All his.