“I can’t believe you guys are doing this.”
Jimin looks up from his pharmacy bag, letting the dorm room’s door swing back in place behind him. “You can’t believe what, exactly?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung adds. “You gotta be more specific, Jungkook.” He pulls a pink box from bag, the plastic crinkling as Jimin crumples it up and tosses it to the side. “You can’t believe Jimin bought a do-it-yourself waxing kit? You can’t believe he wants to wax his ass? You can’t believe he’s gonna let me be the one do it? Hey, nice. This one has almond oil,” he says, squinting at the box.
Jungkook is quiet for a beat. “Jimin, do you even have hair…down there?”
“Enough to be too much,” Jimin says, thinking back on his conversation with Seokjin that same morning. He grins at Jungkook. “You’re about to see for yourself.”
Jungkook grabs a pillow and presses it against his face. “Ugh. Ugh. Why can’t you do this in your room?”
“Because my roommate doesn’t want to see my asshole.”
“And I do?”
Jimin winks, and Jungkook flushes a cute, angry pink.
“Hey, don’t corrupt the innocent,” Taehyung says, pointing a finger at Jimin. “Now take off your pants.”
Jungkook throws his pillow at Taehyung, who drops the box.
“Hey, careful!” Jimin snatches the box up from the ground. “This cost me ten thousand won.”
Jungkook snorts, leaning back against the wall his bed is pushed up against. “Seems about right. Cheap ass.”
“Oh,” Taehyung says, walking over to their microwave sitting on a wobbly snack table. “Are we doing puns?” He sticks the tub of wax in the microwave and punches in a cook time. “If so, Jimin’s got the best discount ass I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s not a pun,” Jimin points out. “And, I take offense. I’m a broke college student.”
“And your ass is going to suffer because of it,” Jungkook says.
“This is why you’re still a virgin,” Jimin says. “Fucking smartass.”
“At least his isn’t cheap,” Taehyung throws in, crouching to watch the wax melt.
“Listen,” Jimin says, pushing down his pants without any warning and ignoring Jungkook’s groan. “At least I get ass. And I hope to get even more after this.”
“Can we stop,” Jungkook says. “Talking about ass.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” Jimin says, kicking off his underwear.
“And why would you,” Taehyung says. “With an ass like that. It’s like a Venus flytrap. Or it will be after this. Jungkook,” he adds seriously. “Have you seen it?”
Jungkook looks at Jimin, currently naked from the waist down. The microwave beeps. “I’m asking Namjoon for a room change.”
Jimin flutters his eyelashes and smirks, peeking over his shoulder at Taehyung. “How do you want me, Tae?”
Taehyung has the wax container in hand. He pulls out the wooden stick resting inside and hold it high for a moment, letting the golden liquid drip back into the container. “On the floor.”
Jimin pauses, eyeing the wax and Taehyung’s self-assured look. “The floor?”
“As if that’s the first time you’ve heard that,” Jungkook says, his voice smug.
Jimin opens his mouth but Taehyung cuts him off. “Yes. Floor. I’m not ruining my one set of sheets with hot wax.”
“Fine,” Jimin says. He crouches. “Should I get on all fours, or my back?”
There’s a very brief silence. Both Taehyung and Jimin avoid eye contact.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Jungkook whines.
“Get on all fours, baby!” Taehyung crows, and for a wild minute, looks like he’s going to gesture with the bowl of hot wax, but thinks better of it in the end.
Jimin hums as he plants his hands and knees on the hard, carpeted floor of Taehyung and Jungkook’s dorm. He’s really lucky Taehyung, Jungkook, and him are as close as they are. Not just anyone would wax his ass crack when he asked less than four hours before, and not just anyone would simply let it happen five feet in front of their face. Jungkook complains, but Jimin doesn’t see him making any effort to actually stop them.
Except for the pillow throwing, but that had been a weak effort
Jimin credits Seokjin to the current circumstances. That morning at work, a store that specialized in perfumes and colognes, Seokjin, who was technically his manager, had wrapped up his weekly ‘I-went-out-and-this-crazy-thing-happened’ story by saying, “I will never go back to not waxing. I thought this guy was going to cry when he took off my underwear.”
Jimin had accidentally squeezed the spritzer on the bottle in his hands, spraying the girl passing by them in a mist of plum and rose. He beamed at her, and said, “it’s our latest!” and, with a peeved expression, she’d stalked off to the other end of the store.
Seokjin snatched the perfume from Jimin’s hands. “Honestly. Is it that hard to believe my smooth, pillowy white cheeks could bring a man to tears?”
“Hyung,” Jimin tried not to laugh, and failed. “I just. I’ve never heard of my waxing your ass.”
Seokjin had looked momentarily scandalized. “What? You really are a baby. Jimin, you can wax everywhere.” He looked him up and down. “I mean you don’t have to. But for me personally, nothing quite beats that soft, hairless—”
“Hi! Do you guys sell Dolce & Gabbana?”
One quick text and a stop at the drug store later was more or less how Jimin found himself on the floor of the dorm room with his ass less than a foot from Taehyung’s face.
“You gotta hold yourself open,” Taehyung says, and then drops a dollop of wax smack in the middle of Jimin’s left butt cheek.
“Ow!” Jimin shouts. “God, Taehyung, you’re not even near my crack!”
“I told you to spread yourself,” Taehyung grouses even as he spreads the wax over Jimin’s butt cheek. “Besides, there’s some peach fuzz. What’s the point if it’s not baby smooth?”
“Peach fuzz is baby smooth, Taehyung,” Jimin snaps, twitching a little when Taehyung slaps a strip down on the freshly placed wax. “Oh. Tingles.”
“Do you guys even hear yourself,” Jungkook asks, but it comes out as more of a statement.
“Tae, if I come out patchy—” Jimin starts.
Taehyung pats down on the wax. “You’ll be—" he rips off the strip, slips up his grip, and tries again. Jimin yelps. Maybe this hadn’t been the greatest idea. “—fine. Extremely and questionably hairless.”
Jimin furrows his brow at the floor.
“Next time you heat up the wax,” Jungkook says. “Can you toss in a bag of popcorn?”
He doesn’t really think his ass should be tingling so much. But figures it’ll be worth it in the end.
Yoongi remembers this is why.
This is why he doesn’t go out with Hoseok.
The night before had been a lot of overpriced drinks and not enough water. He barely remembers Hoseok dumping him in Namjoon’s room before heading upstairs to his own, also lacking a roommate (the perks of being a Resident Assistant), with his newly found date. Very newly found, as in, they met on the dance floor. The date’s name was sort of similar to Hoseok’s but not really. Yoongi had been too drunk to care or remember, although he had a dim feeling he probably should.
He feels almost drunk now, so just lays there for a second, surprisingly comfortable on the two-seater couch squished in the corner of the tiny living room.
And then he hears voices—or, one voice, to be exact, on the other side of the wall.
“Aah—ah, ah, ah!”
“Fuck, no,” Yoongi groans into the couch cushion before scrambling around on the ground for his phone. He tilts the screen towards his face to squint at the time.
“Joon,” Yoongi says, voice coming out raspy. When no one responds, he lifts his head a little, blinking around the space. It’s barely two rooms big, with Namjoon’s bed just visible through an open doorway about six feet away, and the bathroom in the other corner. The kitchen and living area are kind of squished into one space. It’s small, but it’s a step up from the other residents’ rooms in the building, which are all one big, square shaped floorplan, with two beds, and a bathroom to share. Yoongi remembers living in them during his first couple years at the uni, and when it was time, he couldn’t have moved into the single upperclassmen apartments fast enough.
The enclosed space makes it quickly obvious that Namjoon is not here. Yoongi groans, swinging into a sitting positing. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. Considering he got in around four AM, he supposes it could be worse.
“Aah, god fuck!”
Yoongi collapses back onto the couch, his head pounding. He swears his brain is still vibrating from the base from the club. Every little movement makes it worse, but so does every little sound. Who the fuck has sex at three PM on a Saturday? In the room right next to the RA’s?
The person cries out again, long and drawn out.
If Yoongi wasn’t so fucking hungover, he might—might think it sounded sort of pretty.
“Jimin you’re being such a fucking baby,” Taehyung gripes while Jungkook laughs around a mouthful of popcorn.
“Taehyung, I swear to god—AH. Argh, oh my God!”
“You’re gonna rip off his ballsack if you’re not careful,” Jungkook says, sounding delighted.
Jimin whines, slumping forward on the hard floor and wiggling his butt pathetically behind him. “It stings, Tae.”
“Beauty is pain,” Taehyung offers, smearing hot wax down along the inside of Jimin’s left ass cheek. “C’mon, spread a little wider.”
Jungkook chokes on a popcorn kernel.
“It kinda feels good, in a way,” Jimin says, his voice coming out a little muffled with his face squished against the carpet. “The wax, I mean.”
“Stop,” Jungkook says.
“Maybe you should do me next,” Taehyung says, then winks at Jungkook, who slouches and avoids eye contact.
“Hey, eyes on me,” Jimin says, and then shouts when Taehyung rips off the strip. “Ahhh, fuck.”
“Nearly done, Jiminie,” Taehyung says, right before smacking Jimin hard on the ass.
Jimin yelps. “What was that?!”
“Me asking you to turn around.”
Jimin flushes and pouts, hugely. “It hurts.”
Taehyung leans forward and kisses Jimin’s bright red ass cheek.
Jungkook freezes with his hand halfway to his mouth. He lowers it a little. “You just kissed his ass.”
Taehyung looks unbothered. “It was a feel-better kiss. Like, a kiss-it-better.”
Jungkook drops the popcorn back in the bag. “On his ass.”
Jimin pants, turning to look at Jungkook. “You jealous?”
“Of your platonic ass-kissing?” Jungkook says, his voice dry. He slouches even more. “Are you almost done?”
Jimin is twisting around onto his back, groaning dramatically when this causes his butt to rub against the unforgiving carpet. “We should have done this position first.”
“You’re being lazy,” Taehyung says, waving around the wooden, wax covered spatula threateningly. A drop of wax hits the carpet, and Jungkook protests but Taehyung shushes him. “C’mon, hold your legs up. Ass off the ground. Like a good boy.”
Jimin kind of grumbles around a snicker as he complies, and Jungkook holds the popcorn bag in front of his face. “Jesus. You have no shame.”
“Oh,” Jimin says, loudly when Taehyung smears a dollop of wax up along innermost part of his thigh, dangerously close to his perineum. “Fuck.”
“I should start my own salon,” Taehyung says, picking up a wax strip and smoothing it over the amber line. “Don’t you think?”
“Hm,” Jimin says. He’s pretty sure a salon is more what Seokjin had in mind, and that a cheap waxing kit being applied on a dorm room floor is definitely not.
“No fucking way,” Jungkook says, and Taehyung yanks off the paper. Jimin shrieks.
“Taehyung, you’re supposed to be delicate!” Jimin says, sounding pained.
“How do I delicately rip off dried hot wax from your most sensitive area?”
“Why are you talking like this,” Jungkook groans while Jimin protests and points wildly at his crotch, trying to tell Taehyung exactly where to put the wax next.
“Jimin, I’m the one with my face in your balls, I think I got it—”
“Tae, Taehyung oh my God, you can’t put the wax that close—”
“Guys,” Jungkook says. “Guys, I think someone is at the—?”
“Taehyung, I swear to god, if you pull that—aaaaah—” Jimin screams just as the bedroom door flies open.
“Can you kids keep it the fuck down in—” the door to Jungkook and Taehyung’s room shuts with a loud click behind someone very small and very pissed off. His eyes alight on Jimin, legs up and spread in the air, their insides all too visible and floridly pink from the waxing. The end of one wax strip Taehyung had been in the middle of ripping off is currently pinched in between two fingers, just under Jimin’s balls. The guy’s expression shifts from irritated to incredulous.
Jimin shrieks, nearly kicking Taehyung in the face as he rolls over onto his front, which doesn’t do much except expose his equally pink ass and cause Taehyung to spill some wax over the edge of the container. “Oh my god, do you knock?”
“Yoongi-hyung?!” Jungkook yelps. “What are you doing here?”
Jimin looks over his shoulder, eyes wide, heart beating erratically. The guy who had barged in and is still standing there looks like he’s wearing his clothes from his night out before, tight ripped jeans and a plain white T-shirt, half untucked. His black hair is a mess and his undereyes are slightly swollen, like he’s just woken up.
He’s cute, and he’s currently staring right at Jimin’s freshly waxed asshole.
“Excuse me,” Jimin says, trying his best to sound self-righteous with his ass up in the air and Taehyung scrambling to get a proper grip on the wax strip stuck dangerously close to his balls. “Jungkook, who the fuck is this?”
“He’s my tutor,” Jungkook supplies, making to scramble off the bed. “For—for my minor in sound production, this is Min Yoongi, the one Namjoon introduced me too. Oh shit, hyung—”
“Why are you freaking out, I’m the one exposed!” Jimin shrieks. “Taehyung, will you get on with it?”
“Stop fidgeting, and fucking—spread your cheeks, goddamn!”
Yoongi shifts back, as if he’s making to leave, but his heel hits the door with a hard clunk. “Ow. Shit. The door was fuckin’ open. You gotta pull these things shut. The entire fucking floor could hear you.” He squints, eyes still on Jimin. “Are you—you’re fucking waxing him. With wax strips. Don’t you have a proper wax warmer?”
“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Jimin seethes, then shrieks when Taehyung tries to rip off the last strip but only pulls off half of it. “Fuck, Tae, can you get a freaking grip?”
“Literally,” Taehyung supplies, unhelpfully. “I’m trying to. If you just—kept still—”
“I am keeping still,” Jimin says, even as he wriggles. “God, you bitch it hurts—”
“I’m gonna get short, dark and handsome over there to hold you still if you keep moving,” Taehyung threatens.
“My name is Yoongi,” Yoongi says, crossing his arms. “You woke me up. I thought you were having sex.”
“What?” Jimin shouts, breaking off in one last shriek when Taehyung rips off the rest of the strip with a triumphant, “ha!”
Jimin scrambles again, yanking the blanket off of Taehyung’s bed. It ends up tenting over his head, covering the top half of his body but still leaving his lower half exposed. “I wasn’t having sex. With Taehyung,” he adds, his voice coming out muffled and entirely too proud from underneath the comforter. Under its cover, he wills down his blush. “I mean, c’mon, Jungkook is right there.”
Yoongi thinks it might be best to act like he hadn’t just seen a complete stranger’s very nice and very bare (in every sense of the word) ass. The likes of which are still pretty visible, no thanks to the piss poor blanket cover.
He looks at Jungkook. “Please tell me he’s not your roommate.”
“No, that one is,” Jungkook says, pointing dejectedly at the guy with the wax in hand, who’s currently trying to keep the blanket over the other’s head while still balancing the wax. “Jimin is just. My best friend.”
“Ugh,” Jimin says, finally escaping the blanket tent. His face is flushed, and it looks like his hair had been styled once upon a time, but now flops messily over a once straight part and into his eyes.
Yoongi should have just left the minute he woke up. Usually, he thinks a person’s face is cute before he gets to see their ass. That’s how the world normally works.
Not today, apparently.
Jimin stands, barely covering his dick with one hand clutching the blanket over his crotch, the other gesturing wildly at Yoongi. “Okay? And who’re you, again?”
“He fuckin’ told you,” Yoongi said, nodding at Jungkook, who looks mildly horrified. “I’m Yoongi.”
Jimin looks him up and down, his expression entirely too judgmental considering Yoongi had walked in on him spread eagled on the floor with his friend’s face in his balls. “I’m Jimin,” he finally says, sounding petulant.
Jungkook’s roomate is still kneeling on the floor. He looks over his shoulder at Yoongi. “I’m Taehyung.”
“Great,” Yoongi says. He puts his hand on the door behind him. “And I’m leaving. So. Just fucking. Shut up.”
“Do you even live here?” Jimin snaps. “Next time don’t come into rooms uninvited.”
“Next time, shut your fucking door.”
Jimin puffs up to his full height, which isn’t very threatening. Yoongi has a feeling he isn’t supposed to find it terribly cute. “Next time, take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
“Next time, let a professional wax your asshole,” Yoongi says back. He shuts the door behind him with a hard snap, effectively muffling Jimin’s furious rebuttal and Taehyung’s indignant squawk.
“Who was that?” Jimin snaps, rounding on Jungkook, who is staring at the shut door like he’s considering leaving through it too.
At Jimin’s question, he looks at him. “I told you. He told you. His name is Yoongi.”
“And he tutors you?” Jimin scowls.
Jungkook looks at him for a beat, then smiles wryly. “Now who’s jealous?”
Jimin knows he’s blushing, but he’s not jealous. “I’m not jealous,” he says, just to emphasize the point. So what if Yoongi extremely hot and just the right size and sounds like that. “He’s a dick.”
And he saw his asshole. Jimin might die, if he had an ounce more of shame.
“And a naysayer,” Taehyung says. “There isn’t a speck of hair on your bits, Jimin. I’d say that makes me a professional.”
“He’s not a dick,” Jungkook protests. “He’s just.” He points at Jimin. “Look, you had your asshole hanging out when he walked in, can you blame him?”
“Um, yes!” Jimin exclaims. “He said he thought I was having sex. He didn’t have to come in. He didn’t have to linger.” Jimin flings off the blanket. “What did he think he was gonna see?”
“Not that!” Jungkook groans. “I don’t know. He doesn’t really care about. Social decorum.”
“Social decorum?” Jimin scoffs.
Jungkook looks pointedly at Jimin’s dick. “Yes. Maybe you can relate.”
Jimin puts his hands on his hips and tries not to think too hard about the look on Yoongi’s face when he’d walked in. “Taehyung,” he says instead, and Taehyung looks up from the dried spot of wax melted into the carpet. “Did that box come with a cream or lotion?”
Taehyung glances at the discarded box. “It was ten thousand won.”
“That’s a no,” Jungkook says.
“Fuck,” Jimin says. His ass hurts. And he can’t stop thinking about Yoongi’s stupid face. “He’s not gonna like. Tell people about my asshole, is he?”
Jungkook purses his lips. “No. I told you, he’s not a dick.”
Taehyung doesn’t look up from the stain on the ground. “Is he gay?”
Jungkook sputters. “What’s it matter? How’s that related at all?”
Taehyung shrugs. “Jimin thinks he’s cute.”
“I don’t!” Jimin screeches.
“See?” Taehyung grins at Jungkook.
He pauses, as if considering his next words carefully. “He’s bi.”
“That would explain the lingering,” Taehyung says. “Jimin, your ass has captured its first victim.”
Jungkook chucks his other pillow at Taehyung, hitting him square in the face. “Oh my god, I’m gonna kill you!”
Jimin is trying not to look pleased about the possibility that Yoongi found his ass attractive, but with the way Jungkook is glowering at him, he’s fairly certain he’s failing. He holds up his chin. “Well I hope he liked it. That was his one and only chance to see it.”
“I call,” Taehyung says, and smacks Jimin’s ass with Jungkook’s pillow. Jungkook makes a weak noise from his bed. “Bullshit.”
“No, and ow,” Jimin says, angling his ass away from Taehyung and hopping into his underwear. “I don’t sleep with dicks.”
“The fattest lie,” Taehyung says.
“He’s not a dick,” Jungkook groans. “God. And who says he wants to sleep with you?”
Jimin puts his hands on his hips. “He lingered.”
Taehyung nods. “He lingered, Jungkook.”
Jungkook flushes. “I can’t with you two. You hear me? I have a session with him tomorrow and I’m going to die from embarrassment on your behalf.”
“What’s embarrassing?” Jimin says. “He’s the one that walked into my room.”
“This is my room,” Jungkook points out.
“Debatable,” says Taehyung.
“Anyway,” Jimin says. “I gotta go buy cream for my asshole. I’ll see you guys later.”
It’s been a while since Yoongi’s seen an ass like that. One that made him momentarily lose all train of thought and turn his mind into the tragic epitome of throwback Bubba Sparxxx.
He blames it too, for completely ignoring the shout of, “hold the elevator!” and looks up just in time to see the doors close on Jimin’s bright pink face.
“Shit,” Yoongi says as the elevator lurches.
It’s probably for the better. He’s not quite sure what he’d say to Jimin that was unrelated to the perfect size and shape of his ass.
His completely waxed ass.
Yoongi sighs when the doors open, quickly walking out through the building’s lobby and crossing the grass to get to the path that’ll take him to his apartment about ten minutes away. He needs a shower.
Probably a cold one.
Oh. For the love of—
“You better stop!”
Yoongi turns and does stop, letting Jimin, who has just come running out of the dorm building, close the thirty feet between them. He slows to a halt about a foot away, and then just stands there, panting and glaring.
“What,” Yoongi finally says.
“You didn’t hold the elevator.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “So you chased me down? We can go back if you want. Try again.”
Jimin squeezes his hands into little fists. And it’s terribly cute. “Jungkook is a liar. You’re a serious dick.”
Yoongi chews on his lower lip a little. “If this is about me seeing your asshole—”
“You walked in without knocking!”
“You were shrieking. The door was open.”
“In my dorm. Why were you even there?”
Yoongi glances at his watch. “Ah, I forgot it was time-to-explain-myself-to-a-stranger o’clock.”
Jimin looks like he might slap him. “You didn’t leave. You just stayed and looked at it.”
“In my defense, it was looking back.”
“Look,” Jimin says, and actually pokes a tiny, ringed finger in Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi doesn’t budge, but his eyes widen a little. “Stop being a dick, and then maybe next time you’re presented with a naked ass, you’ll get to actually fuck it.”
He’s managed to walk at least ten feet away before Yoongi blinks and finally speaks up. “Uh, was that you offering, or?”
He thinks Jimin might come back and actually slap him, but he just tosses over his shoulder, “You wish.”
Yoongi is trying not to. He really, really is.
But Jimin had just waxed his ass. And Yoongi had seen.
And him walking away in those thin, cotton sweatpants isn’t helping for shit.
Jimin has never had such a combative urge to punch and furiously make out with someone at the same time, and the feeling returns tenfold when he remembers how Yoongi had looked standing outside their dorm building, watching Jimin snap at him like he was mildly amused. And he’d looked good, even more so when Jimin wasn’t distracted by the hot wax on his ass.
It was fucking infuriating.
“Why are we bringing Jungkook food?” Taehyung says, shooting Jimin a suspicious look and jerking him out of his thoughts. “He didn’t text me about wanting food.”
“Jungkook texts me about things too, you know,” Jimin says, and quickly sends Jungkook a text when Taehyung isn’t looking.
“Jungkook eats a lot,” Jimin says. “He can eat enough for five people.”
“Uh huh,” Taehyung says. “All right.”
Jimin has been here a couple times, primarily when he was studying vocal performance for a year before switching majors. While he’s never been very savvy on the production aspect of it, he’s since been back a couple times with Jungkook, who’d stuck him in the recording booth and told him to “sing shit” while he messed around with the soundboard.
Jimin presses on the button outside the studio door he knows Jungkook usually frequents. It’ll flash a light inside the studio, which is more effective and less disruptive then knocking on a sound proof door. Jimin fidgets a little. It feels like it’s been four whole minutes before the door finally opens to Jungkook’s deadpan face.
“Oh,” he says. “You brought the food, just like I asked.” He makes to snatch the bag out of Jimin’s hands, but Jimin ducks under his reach, half spinning into the room.
“Thought you could use a break~” he says, then stops short when Yoongi turns around in his chair to look at them.
Jimin needs approximately two seconds to absorb the black, browline glasses Yoongi’s wearing. He’s looking at Jimin over the top of them.
“You knocked,” he says in greeting. “So to speak.”
“Imagine that,” Jimin says back, putting the food down on the small table pushed to the side of the room. Jungkook makes to reach inside, but Jimin swats him away.
“What?” Jungkook says.
“I can imagine, actually, considering I also knocked,” Yoongi said. “Even though you left the door open.” He pushes himself into a standing position and walks over to inspect the food Jimin brought. “What’s this?”
Jimin glowers and Taehyung prods at his side. Jimin shakes him off. “Lamb skewers.”
“Just like I asked, imagine that,” Jungkook says again. He snatches a box from the bag. “You’re such a wonderful hyung.”
Yoongi grins then, and Jimin, in self-defense, scowls a little more.
“Well, thanks for the food,” Yoongi says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair as he’s mid-bite. “We’ll be done in a couple hours. Should hold us over till then.” And then he presses his hand on Jimin’s hip. He allows Yoongi to guide him towards the doorway, wholly preoccupied with how firmly his fingers are curling around his waist.
Jimin doesn’t quite realize what’s happened until he hears the click of the lock and is left staring at the shut door.
“Hey, what the fuck,” Jimin says, and is about to bang on the door, but Taehyung grabs his wrist and shakes his head.
“You know the door is soundproofed,” Taehyung says seriously.
Jimin sighs, and his forehead hits the door with a muted thunk.
“What’s his deal?” Yoongi says, sitting back down in his chair and taking the box Jungkook slides across the table.
“Whose?” Jungkook says through a mouthful, purposefully playing dumb.
Yoongi raises his eyebrow.
Jungkook makes a small noise, taking his time to chew his food before finally swallowing.
“You don’t have to—” he starts just as Jungkook speaks.
“I’m really sorry about yesterday. He’s not usually like that.” Jungkook snorts a little. “Well. Not like that. He was embarrassed.”
Yoongi rubs his fingers over eyes, chuckling weakly. “Didn’t seem that embarrassed. Y’know a normal person would have covered themselves a lot faster.”
Jungkook inspects his skewer. “A normal person would have left the room right away, too.” He takes another bite while Yoongi stares at him.
He shakes his head. “You’re right. I should apologize.”
“No,” Jungkook groans, and slumps forward onto the table, surprising Yoongi a little. “Don’t give him the satisfaction,” he mumbles.
Yoongi holds in a laugh. “If he’s going to be coming here and providing food, I should say sorry for staring at his ass without permission.”
Jungkook peeks at him from between his fingers. “He wanted to stay and eat with us. Do you see how much food there is?”
Yoongi feels a little bad. Maybe he’d been too quick to push him out.
Okay, he’d definitely been too quick, but Jimin was sort of an asshole when he flirted. And that’s what he was doing, right? Yoongi wasn’t sure. The entire situation was backwards.
Literally, it was ass-first.
Jungkook is still looking at him from behind his fingers. “You know why he brought food today, right?”
Yoongi presses his lips together, takes the moment to try and gather his thoughts. “I think,” he says, slowly. “He’s flirting.” He looks down at the lamb skewers too. “It’s kind of…” he takes a small bite, and says around the meat, “aggressive?”
Jungkook fails to hold in a laugh. “That’s Jimin for you.”
Yoongi swallows. The lamb is really good. He definitely feels bad. “So he’s always like this.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer right away, and Yoongi lets him finish his food in silence. When he does speak up, Yoongi needs a second to remember what Jungkook’s talking about.
“You could just. Text him. Find out for yourself.”
Yoongi closes the lid over his food. “What? No.”
“You think he’s cute.”
“Jungkook, quit being a brat.”
“Mm’not.” Jungkook shrugs. “You’re being stubborn though. Like him. You already saw his ass crack. Might as well take him on a date. He’s lonely.”
Yoongi should just let it drop. “Lonely people don’t wax their assholes.”
Jungkook splays his fingers flat on the little table. “You can be hooking up and doing shit and still be lonely.”
Yoongi looks at him for a beat. “Why are you talking like this? Wise n’all. It’s scary.”
Jungkook smiles, but there’s something about it that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and then Yoongi realizes.
“You like someone?”
“Hyung,” Jungkook whines. “No.”
“Uh huh,” Yoongi says. “I believe you.”
Jungkook scowls, looks down at his fingers, and says the name so quietly Yoongi nearly misses it.
“Your roommate?” he says.
Jungkook rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Yup.”
“Okay.” Yoongi wants to make this as painless as possible. “Does he know?”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook says.
“You don’t know?”
Jungkook keeps glaring at ceiling. “I’d say no. But. We’ve hooked up.”
Yoongi leans back in his seat. Okay, then. “Like, multiple times?”
“Three times,” Jungkook mutters. “First time we were both drunk and just like — rubbed off on each other. It was really fucking embarrassing actually, I—” he shakes his head. “So I thought it was a fluke, but then he kissed me goodnight after we came home from this party—”
“Kissed you goodnight—?”
“On my mouth, hyung,” Jungkook groans, cheeks flaming.
Yoongi grins a little. “Jungkookie. Hey,” he leans forward, tapping Jungkook gently on the back of his hand. “You’re good. Don’t have to tell me.”
Jungkook finally tears his eyes away from the ceiling. “No it’s. It’s fine, it’s cool to actually talk about it. Jimin only knows about the third time, because we were at a club and he saw us making out. He was totally spazzing. Like happy and shit, but Taehyung told him to chill.” Jungkook sighs. “He’d flip if he knew I’d sucked Taehyung’s dick.”
Yoongi coughs. “You—you what? You said you just—"
“He kissed me goodnight,” Jungkook says. “Then I sucked his dick.”
Jungkook looks slightly pleased, but also a little pained.
Yoongi tilts his head. “So what. You like him, but you don’t know if he likes you back the same?”
Jungkook fidgets. “Dunno. Maybe.” He groans. “He’s just.” His lips flap as he exhales. “Yeah.”
Yoongi thinks of Jimin. Thinks of his cute face.
And very cute, waxed ass.
He exhales too.
He hears a muffled thump, a groan of complaint that sounds suspiciously like Jungkook, and then Taehyung is opening the door. He’s still gesturing for Jimin to come in as Jimin blows past him towards Jungkook’s bed, where Jungkook is sitting up. He pulls his legs out from under Jimin’s ass just as Jimin sits.
“Please, come in,” he says as Taehyung moseys over.
Jimin taps hard on his phone. “Your tutor.”
“Yoongi,” Jungkook says. “Quit pretending you don’t know his name.”
Taehyung is reading the text conversation upside down. “I knew you brought the lamb for him.”
“Shut up,” Jimin says, angling the phone towards Jungkook. “Explain this. Does he want to take me on a date?”
Jungkook takes the phone from Jimin and stares down at the conversation for much longer than is necessary to read the whole thing. Finally, he looks up at Jimin.
“Sounds like he wants to know if you’re free Friday. Whether it’s a date or not is between you two.”
“He has seen your butthole,” Taehyung says helpfully.
“If you type that I’m kicking you off my bed,” Jungkook says.
“You’re gonna have super hot sex,” Taehyung says.
“I told you, I’m not sleeping with him,” Jimin grumbles.
“And that,” Taehyung says, grinning at Jungkook, who glowers back. “Is today’s fat lie.”
Jimin looks up, opening his mouth to protest, but then he is distracted by the big, wet red mark on Taehyung’s neck. He looks at Jungkook, who immediately turns the other way, which has him staring at a blank wall.
“What were you two doing?” Jimin asks suspiciously. “Before I came in.”
Taehyung looks at Jungkook, lifting his hand as if he’s about to touch spot on his neck, but then remembers Jimin is watching and quickly drops it.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says.
Jimin narrows his eyes. Taehyung is walking back over to his side of the bed and Jungkook is still staring at the wall.
Jimin resists the urge to point out to both of them that he’s not the only one here that is blatantly lying about their feelings.
He does have an idea to shift the dynamic, though.
And if it involves texting Yoongi, well, that can’t really be helped. It takes Jimin about four days of coaxing to get Jungkook to go out, and Thursday is only a couple days away.
Really, it can’t be helped.
“If you think you’re gonna make me beg you’ve got another thing coming,” is Jimin’s greeting. He sounds even more pouty over the phone’s speaker, certain words punching out in high pitched little whines. It’s like he’s trying to sound threatening and doesn’t realize he just. Doesn’t.
Yoongi takes his hand off his mouse and adjusts himself in his desk chair. “If you begged, maybe you’d be the one coming.”
He has to press the back of his hand to his mouth to stop himself from grinning at the full five seconds of silence that follows, and then Jimin is sputtering.
“You can’t just say that to people you don’t know!”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s cute you think you can make me come,” Jimin snaps. “You wanna know something?”
“Mhm,” Yoongi hums.
“I don’t think you’d know what to do with me if you did get the chance.”
Yoongi does grin then. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” Jimin says.
“I think I can guess what you’d like, sunshine,” Yoongi says.
Jimin doesn’t say anything, but Yoongi thinks he can hear his breath catch. So he continues.
“I bet you’d like someone to start out gentle. Kiss you all over. Bet you wouldn’t be able to wait to spread yourself and show them how pretty you are.”
“Hey,” Jimin says. It definitely comes out breathless. “fuck you.”
“Now you want to?”
Jimin makes a wordless noise, an irritated “nnng” kind of sound and Yoongi laughs.
“Hey, relax. I'm messing with you.” But. He hadn’t imagined Jimin’s soft little gasp, and he’s grateful he’s got some control over his own low voice. “I’ll get Jungkook to come out. Although I don’t think alcohol is the solution to his problem.”
Jimin sounds suspicious. “What do you know about his problem?”
Yoongi licks his lips. Oops. “Nothing.”
There’s some quiet shuffling on the other end, like Jimin is adjusting his position. Then he whispers, “Yoongi-hyung. Please tell me?”
“Jimin.” He says his name slowly, drawing out the second half.
“Please?” Jimin breathes. More shuffling over the speaker. “Please, Yoongi-hyung, hmm?”
“Hey,” Yoongi says. “Fuck you, yeah?”
Jimin laughs, genuinely. It’s the first time Yoongi’s heard him sound so unguarded.
It’s a nice sound, and it has Yoongi laughing too.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “But y’know, if you wanted to see me before Friday, you could have just asked.”
“Dick,” Jimin says, and hangs up.
Yoongi is still smiling when he finishes his homework a while later.
Hoseok shows up with Namjoon in tow shortly before they’re about to leave.
“Hyung!” Jungkook says, surprised when Yoongi opens the front door to let them in.
Namjoon smiles and waves and Hoseok does too, chirping, “who’s the cutie Yoongi?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi says. “Jungkook, this is Hoseok. Hoseok, this is Jungkook.” He rolls his shoulders back. “Hoseok discovered I was going out and invited himself. And Namjoon.”
“Yoongi never goes out of his own volition, so this is a miracle, Jungkook,” Hoseok says, beaming.
“Shut up,” Yoongi says. He can practically see the wheels turning in Jungkook’s head. “You guys ready?”
Jungkook stands slowly, pursing his lips. “Yoongi—”
Yoongi reaches out and pinches Jungkook’s cheek hard. “Chickening out?”
“Argh,” Jungkook protests, swatting Yoongi away. “Let’s go. God.”
Treble is a popular bar about a ten-minute walk from the university. When 70% of the school can play an instrument, there’s not a shortage of bars with live music in the area. The big selling point for Treble is how close it is, and, the grand piano that stands in the center of the room. When they walk into the bar, despite the crowd of people, the dim lighting, the raucous laughter, and the fact that no one is actually sitting there just yet, Yoongi’s eyes go to the piano first, every time.
Yoongi assumes it was white once, based on the little peeks of pale color he can see through the multi-colored drawings scrawled all across the piano’s surface. The waves curving around sides blend into the pink, yellow, and orange hues of a sunset, which twists into a shockingly detailed sketch of a blue and green dragon, whose wings bend over into the insides of the piano, where the hammers and strings are. And that just names a few. Yoongi could easily sit and look at the piano for an hour, and he’d only be able to really see half the drawings.
“Drinks, drinks, drinks,” Hoseok chants, throwing his arm over Jungkook and Namjoon’s shoulder and dragging them towards the bar. He knows doing this to Yoongi would result in a lump on his head, but he does yell his drink order after them, thinking there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll come back with something, and even less of a chance that it’ll be the right thing. It’s worth a shot.
He’s proven right when Hoseok hurries over several minutes later to where Yoongi is standing, leaning against a pillar a little further into the room.
Yoongi looks at the drink, takes in its yellow and pink hue. “Hoseok, I wanted a vodka water.”
“I got you a Tequila Sunrise,” Hoseok says, shoving the drink into his hands. “There’s a special. Two for ten, come on.”
Yoongi looks at Hoseok’s drink. “Where’s yours?”
“Namjoon got the second one, he’s helping the cutie order. I,” Hoseok brandishes his bright yellow drink far too proudly. “Got a Fuzzy Navel. With a little extra kick.” He takes a sip, then, eyes growing big over the rim of the glass, coughs. “Oh, shit. It’s the guy from earlier this week.” He takes a big sip, still looking over Yoongi’s shoulder at the entrance to the bar. “Be right back,” he says, then sweeps past Yoongi.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, settling more comfortably against the pillar and taking a tentative sip of his drink. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s good. Even if it is.
“Can I try that?” someone says right in his ear, and Yoongi nearly spits it back out. He jerks to the side, can feel his eyes widen marginally when he takes in Jimin, who’s leaning against the pillar too, barely a foot away. His black hair is styled into little waves, he’s got on pants with some sort of ridiculous, bohemian pattern that Yoongi would normally laugh at, but the material is dangerously silky, so despite it being loose, it clings to his thighs when he moves in a way that Yoongi is struggling to look away from. The rest isn’t helping, because Jimin is wearing a shirt that’s just small enough to show off a little sliver of his stomach, and a see-through shawl over his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, because that’s the only word he can think of right now, and it seems the least dangerous.
But then Jimin leans in, without touching the cup, and wrap his lips around the straw. He peeks up at Yoongi as he sucks, and Yoongi thinks very hard about not dropping the glass, or, squeezing it hard enough to break it.
He’s not super strong, but the glass is kinda cheap, and Jimin’s also got this pretty, sparkly grey eye shadow smattered over the corners of his eyes, and it’s a lot. There’s a gleam in his eyes, and Yoongi guesses he’s already started drinking prior to arriving.
“Mm,” he says, and Yoongi’s grip slips a little. Jimin smirks at him, quickly reaching up to cup his hands around the bottom of the cup. His thumbs overlap Yoongi’s pinkies.
“Hey,” Yoongi says. There’s nowhere for him to really go unless he wants to move away from the pillar, which would be too obvious. This leaves him very close to Jimin, with nothing to look at except the shiny dark gloss on his lips as he finally pulls off the straw.
“Where’s Jungkook?“ Jimin says in greeting. His hip is cocked against the pillar, and the shirt is riding up a little further up his waist.
“He’s at the bar,” Yoongi says, pointing towards it with his chin. Jimin turns to look, still holding the bottom half of the glass.
“Great, so is Tae,” Jimin says, looking pleased. He takes another sip of Yoongi’s drink, and Yoongi finally pulls it back towards him.
“Hey, this is mine,” he grunts.
Jimin shifts. The shirt shifts higher. He scoffs. “Didn’t take you for a tequila sunrise kinda guy.”
“Yeah, well,” Yoongi says. “I’m full of surprises, sunshine.”
Yoongi’s expression is hard to read. He looks relaxed, leaning back against the dark wood floor to ceiling pillar. He’s got a navy, button down shirt on, tucked into black jeans, and is managing to look cool even while sipping on his tequila sunrise. Jimin narrows his eyes a little because it’s like he’s not even trying, which just isn’t fair.
He raises an eyebrow at Jimin. “So are you gonna tell me what this is about?”
Jimin tilts his head. “I have a feeling you know more than I do. Which is just rude,” Jimin says. “Considering I’m Jungkook’s best friend.”
Yoongi takes another sip of his drink. “Why don’t you tell me what you think is going on.”
Jimin glances back at the bar again. He can just barely make out Taehyung, all the way at the far end of the bar, smiling and charming his way through the crowd to get against the bar top. Jungkook is with Namjoon on the other end, closer to where Yoongi and Jimin are. They’ve both already got their drinks and look deep in conversation.
“I think,” Jimin says, gaze flicking between his two friends. “I think they like each other.”
“Amazing conclusion,” Yoongi drawls.
Jimin turns back to him, glaring. “And,” he says. “I think they’re hooking up and not telling me and I don’t know why. So, since last time we three went out together, I caught them making out, I figured, let’s recreate the situation. And add in Thirsty Thursday Riot’s drink specials as a bonus.”
Yoongi licks his lower lip. “So…you and Taehyung,” he nods over to where Taehyung has made it to the bar, “are close enough for him to spread hot wax on your ass, but not close enough for him to tell you he’s hooking up with your best friend?”
Jimin’s stomach flips, and he scowls. “You are so rude, has anyone ever told you that?”
Yoongi shrugs. “Rude, but not wrong.”
Jimin pushes off from the pillar. “And quit talking about my ass.”
Yoongi looks down at his pants. “I’d say quit showing it off, but I don’t want you to.”
Jimin hopes the lighting is dim enough to hide his blush, because he can feel it blossom in his cheeks. He adjusts his shawl and says, primly, “Like what you see?”
Yoongi looks at him for a second, and just as he’s opening his mouth to answer, his gaze shifts to Jimin’s right and then there’s an arm hooking over his shoulders.
“Min, Min, Minnie, Jiminie,” Taehyung exclaims, a bright blue drink in both hands. He holds one up to Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin hastily takes it, thinking those extra shots they’d taken before walking over here might be kicking in.
Taehyung beams and presses a wet, sticky kiss to Jimin’s cheek before looking at Yoongi. “Oh, my god—it’s you, the guy who said I wasn’t a professional waxer.”
Yoongi eyes the blue drinks. “You’re not, though.”
“You obviously haven’t gotten a close enough look, yet,” Taehyung says.
“I got a pretty good look,” Yoongi says, his smile going crooked when Jimin glares at him.
Taehyung giggles, leaning heavily on Jimin and bringing them both closer to Yoongi so he can whisper, “it’s good, right? It’s okay, Yoongi-hyung you can tell me~, I won’t tell Jiminie.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.”
“I don’t think I should,” Yoongi says. He’s not given the opportunity to say more, though, because Jimin hears a familiar voice squeal his name, and all three of them turn.
“Seokjin-hyung!” Jimin exclaims. His manager is hurrying over, dragging a grinning, lanky guy after him.
“Oh my god is that Min Yoongi,” Seokjin crows, waving excitedly at Yoongi, who half lifts his hand in return. Jimin rounds on him.
“Do you know every fucking one?”
Yoongi shrugs at him. “I produce for him. And now I’m pretty sure he hooked up with my best friend.”
“We’re in the same year,” Seokjin says. He’s absolutely gushing, and takes a huge sip from the other guy’s drink. “Oh my god, you know Hoseok?” he continues, jostling the beaming guy next to him. “Jimin, Jimin, this is the guy who cried when he saw my waxed butt.”
Yoongi chokes, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m sorry, what? ”
Hoseok hugs Seokjin to him. “Yoongi, everything was waxed. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”
Yoongi and Jimin both look at each other and immediately look away.
“I personally, don’t mind au naturel,” Taehyung announces. Jimin shoves him and Taehyung giggles, looking around the interior of the bar. “Hey,” he says. He pokes Jimin in the neck. “Jiminie, Jungkook is here.”
Jimin straightens. “Oh? Weird. I had no idea.”
He’s pretty sure Yoongi is rolling his eyes, but Yoongi can suck his dick.
Or let Jimin suck his.
He takes three huge gulps of his drink because wow, he’s not sure where that came from, and anyway, it looks like Jungkook and Namjoon have finally spotted them and are heading their way, and Jungkook is looking wholly betrayed.
But then Taehyung yells his name, disentangling from Jimin to launch himself into Jungkook’s arms.
Jimin shoots Yoongi a smug look, and Yoongi definitely rolls his eyes.
“Jungkookie,” Taehyung says, and he kisses Jungkook’s jaw, although Jimin thinks he lingers a lot longer than he had when he’d kissed Jimin. “You look so handsome.”
Jungkook, his arms full of Taehyung, looks like he’s struggling for words. “Er, hi, Tae.”
Taehyung hugs him tighter.
“They’re so gonna make out,” Jimin whispers to Yoongi, who actually pinches his arm. Jimin yelps.
“I didn’t know you knew Yoongi, Jimin,” Namjoon says, sliding past Taehyung and Jungkook, still wrapped around each other. “Or Seokjin, for that matter.”
“I work at the perfume store with him,” Jimin says. “And Yoongi—” He stops.
Namjoon looks back and forth between them. “Yoongi what?”
“Yoongi saw Jimin’s asshole,” Jungkook says over Taehyung’s shoulder.
Namjoon eyes get a little big, and Seokjin stops kissing Hoseok long enough to explode, “what?! ”
“Jungkook!” Jimin groans.
“Love you,” Jungkook says sweetly. He pushes Taehyung away, gently. “So funny seeing you guys here, though.”
He looks pointedly at Yoongi.
Yoongi’s guilt is interrupted by one of the bar owners standing up on the piano bench, mic in hand. “Hey, hey! Hope everyone’s having a good time, enjoying the drink specials? The piano’s a little lonely though. Who wants to come up?”
Yoongi is in the middle of sipping from his drink when Jungkook is suddenly jerking him forward, lifting his free hand as he strides forward and shouting, far too loudly, “over here! Right over here! ”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi hisses. He downs his drink, the piano looming as Jungkook drags him towards it amidst the excited cheers and catcalls from the people in the bar. “Jungkook, you’re dead. You’re dead.”
“Awesome!” the guy says, hopping down from the bench.
Jungkook grins, and Yoongi has barely finished sucking down sparse remnants of his drink when Jungkook unceremoniously takes the glass from his hands and shoves him towards the piano bench.
“I don’t,” Yoongi says, then tries again louder, yelling at Jungkook over the ruckus. “I don’t have music.”
“Oh, we’ve got a songbook,” the owner says, lifting the piano bench and grabbing a booklet from inside. Yoongi sees the title Top Party Songs – Piano Sheet Music and forces a smile while Jungkook takes it and starts thumbing through. He immediately drops the smile when the owner turns and Jungkook pushes him to sit.
“Jungkook, this seems unfair,” Yoongi says. He can see their group of friends cheering and clapping from several feet away. Jimin is giggling behind his hand, and Yoongi thinks this might be the equivalent of someone walking in with his ass out.
“I think this makes us even,” Jungkook says, placing the open book on the piano’s stand.
Yoongi looks at his choice and shoots Jungkook an unimpressed look. “Really?”
Jungkook is grinning so hard that all past traces of Yoongi’s guilt are completely gone. This little shit.
“Good luck, hyung. You totally got this,” Jungkook says.
Yoongi sighs, frowning at the sheet music. He’s not worried about being able to play. He can read sheet music, and he’s actually played on this piano before. But definitely not on a Riot night. There are about 70 more people than there normally are, and they’re all about to get even louder, if his past experiences are anything to go by.
“Yay, Yoongi-hyung!” Taehyung shouts, his deep coming out clear. He’s dragging Jimin behind him, closer to the piano, and closer to Jungkook.
Yoongi meets Jungkook’s eyes. Right before he presses down on the white, pockmarked keys, he says, loudly, “What are you waiting for kid? Dance with him.”
At the first stanza, everyone, drunk off the dim lighting and double shots, loses their shit. Yoongi feels a little shiver go through him at the noise of the crowd. It’s something he doesn’t seek out, but it happens now and then, with a track he’s produced, or in moments like these, where he plays an instrument in front of a group of people.
What’s different about this time, though, is Jimin being in the crowd.
Yoongi doesn’t look up right away. He focuses on the sheet music in front of him, allows himself some time to get comfortable with the song. It’s easy, because it’s a popular track and he knows where it’s going. It doesn’t take long for him to be able to look away from the paper. And his eyes find Jimin almost immediately.
The majority of the bar is singing the words, and it’s a heady feeling, the fact that each slide of his finger is leading them along, but even moreso is how Jimin looks.
He’s moved closer to the piano, along with the rest of the group, but Yoongi doesn’t really notice the others. It’s hard to, with the way Jimin is moving. Although he’s near the group, he’s dancing by himself. And it’s fucking beautiful.
Jimin’s movements are like water. The atmosphere isn’t exactly smooth, and the song’s typical rhythm is a little off, with it being solely fueled by the piano and the crowd’s singing, but for Jimin, it doesn’t matter. He’s not following any specific choreography, and really, isn’t doing anything vastly complicated. But the way he’s shifting from foot to foot, spinning in circles, throwing his head back, and stretching out his arms, is all connected and carefully controlled, but also—not. He’s moving with this passion that actually has Yoongi stumbling over some of the keys, particularly when Jimin turns in his direction and beams. And he’s actually beaming. Glowing, shining, bright, whatever the fuck else.
When their eyes meet, Jimin’s grin actually widens, and it’s the first time Yoongi’s seen him smile like this, uninhibited, without snark, without anything in between. And he’s looking at Yoongi.
Yoongi can’t hear him laugh, not with all the noise, but he sees it happening, sees the way Jimin’s eyes nearly close, the way his grin gets even bigger, and how his body almost doubles over. Yoongi doesn’t really know when he started grinning too, but he is. He’s smiling wide, watching Jimin dance and sing, watching Jimin watch him as he does.
The song’s coming to a close, and Jimin dips around Jungkook and Taehyung, draping himself over the piano’s edge just as Yoongi’s hits the last note to a scream of cheers and applause.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin says. He’s still laughing, breathless. “Play another?”
Yoongi just looks at him, doesn’t say anything. Jimin blinks, and his cheeks pinken. He bites his lip, leans forward, and says, “please?”
Yoongi nudges the songbook towards Jimin. “Your pick, sunshine.”
Jimin grins, swinging around the piano’s side so he’s standing just behind Yoongi sitting on the bench. When he leans forward to flip through the songbook, his chest is warm against Yoongi’s back. He smells fresh, sweet, and when Yoongi turns his head to speak, he can see goosebumps pop up over his neck.
“You look pretty.”
Jimin doesn’t turn to look back at him, but Yoongi can see him blush this close, sees how his eyes flicker quickly from the book to where a Yoongi sits.
“Do this one,” Jimin says, tapping on the title and then he’s whispering into Yoongi’s ear, “it’s okay if you look, this time.”
Yoongi’s fingers twitch over the keys. “Just this time?”
Jimin smiles, the expression mischievous and playful and taunting all at once. He glances back at the paper, reaches over Yoongi, and plays the first several notes.
The crowd immediately responds with more yelling and exclamations, and Yoongi is quick to take over when Jimin pulls back. With him standing so close, Yoongi can actually hear his voice when he starts to sing, and he nearly misses an entire stanza because of it.
Jimin bounces back to where he was, and since Yoongi is looking, he doesn’t miss the wink Jimin throws over his shoulder or the way he shimmies his hips. His shirt is riding higher up his skin and the shawl is slipping off his shoulders. Through the smooth, mesh material, Yoongi can just barely make out the little divots in his lower back, and when Jimin spins, the shawl flares out, accentuating curve of his hips. The waistline of his pants is sitting low, the silk clings and curves around his ass, and Yoongi thinks about how the material would feel under his palms, thinks that Jimin’s skin underneath would be just as smooth.
He knows it would be.
The energy is swelling with the song. Jimin’s moving faster, clapping his hands high and singing louder, loud enough that Yoongi can hear it again, hear the way his voice breaks when he laughs, hear him pick it back up again, breathless, careless, gorgeous.
When Yoongi comes to the end, the last notes are drowned out by the noise of the crowd, and he’s breathing hard too, even though he hasn’t moved, hasn’t done a thing except sit here and look at Jimin.
Yoongi is still looking at him, and Jimin can feel his heart racing in his chest, thinks it might jump up into his throat, because Yoongi is looking at him, and Jimin thinks maybe he should be used to it, Yoongi looking at him that is.
He likes it. He knows that much.
He wants Yoongi to play another song, because he’s effortless on the piano, and Jimin maybe wants to dance more to the music Yoongi makes. But he also wants to dance with Yoongi, wants to pull him off the bench and press his body close.
Yoongi makes the decision for him when he stands up, smiling at the applause, but not pausing until he’s less than a foot away from Jimin.
Jimin sucks in a small breath, feels in and out of control at the same time. “Didn’t know you could play.”
Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Didn’t you know you could dance.”
Jimin tilts his head. Someone has started playing the piano again, something with a steady, heavy rhythm. “Can you?”
Yoongi chuckles. “I can keep up.”
Jimin’s feet just move, before he really has a chance to process what he’s doing, he’s stepping forward and closing the short distance between them, twisting his body so that his back is pressed against the full length of Yoongi’s front. What makes him shiver is how Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to bring his hands up Jimin’s sides, starting just at the tops of his thighs and settling on his waist.
Which is bare, thanks to the shirt he’s wearing. Yoongi had slipped right past the shawl.
“Hi,” Jimin says. He turns his head, but Yoongi’s pressing his lips against Jimin’s shoulder. Even through the fabric, it’s warm. He stays there, doesn’t make to speak, so Jimin begins to move.
He’s satisfied when he feels how Yoongi’s hands tighten on him, not to stop him from moving, but just to hold him closer. Jimin smiles, tilts his head back a little, and moves quicker to keep up with the pace of the song, arching his back as he rolls against Yoongi.
Yoong’s hands slide forward so he’s almost hugging him from behind.
“You think I look pretty?” Jimin says with a small grin, turning to Yoongi again.
Yoongi does lift his head at this. He’d look calm, but there’s a glint in his eyes that’s impossible for Jimin to miss. “You are pretty,” he says.
Jimin lets his head fall back further, feels it bump Yoongi’s broad shoulder, and he grins, biting his lip when Yoongi starts moving his hands again, sliding down towards the top of his thighs, then up their sides again, dragging up and then back, until his fingers are digging into the meat of Jimin’s hips, his thumbs into the sides of Jimin’s cheeks.
“You’re fixated,” Jimin says when Yoongi keeps his hands there, tugging Jimin back so that his ass is pressing into Yoongi’s crotch.
Fuck, it’s—it’s really hot.
“You’re showing off,” Yoongi says, his breath washing over Jimin’s neck. He squirms, pushes his butt further back against Yoongi, grinds in firm circles as he moves his hips.
“And?” Jimin says. Wants Yoongi to kiss his neck, just a little bit.
Okay, a lot, he wants that a lot.
“And nothing,” Yoongi laughs, the sound low and raspy. “I’d show you off too, if I could.”
Jimin swallows his gasp, spinning in Yoongi’s grip so that they’re looking at each other. Yoongi blinks, eyes flickering over his face.
“I’m gonna,” Yoongi says. Jimin sees him swallow. “Touch your ass.”
“Oh my god,” Jimin says, but he’s giggling, grinning, and buries his face against Yoongi’s neck, humming when Yoongi smooths his palms over his backside.
“I feel like I’ve taken too many liberties with it,” Yoongi says against his hair. “I’m trying to make up for it.”
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin laughs. He wants to hit him. He wants to kiss him.
Yoongi pulls Jimin flush against his front, and then—and then there’s something warm, damp, soft pressing on his neck, and Jimin jolts, because Yoongi is actually kissing his neck, and Jimin’s pretty sure he just whined, which is embarrassing since it was a just a brief touch, a brief press of lips on skin, and Yoongi has already pulled back and is grinning at him.
“Shut up,” Jimin gasps.
Yoongi raises his eyebrows. He looks over Jimin’s shoulders, smirks, and says, “Hey sunshine. Think your plan worked.”
Jimin just turns his head, wanting to keep most of his body pressed against Yoongi’s. It’s enough to see what he needs to see. A few feet away, Taehyung’s got two hands cupped around Jungkook’s neck, has one thigh planted in between Jungkook’s as they dance.
And they’re kissing.
Jungkook’s arms are wrapped around Taehyung’s waist, and he’s letting Taehyung press him back, kiss him silly, kiss him in between his own wide grins, and the bumps from the people around them that jostle and separate them. Jungkook chases his mouth whenever this happens, which is what has Taehyung laughing, saying something against Jungkook’s lips that has the other boy blushing, smiling, and dipping his own head until Taehyung coaxes their lips back together.
Jimin exhales. He turns back to Yoongi. “You wanna get out of here?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen a little. “Is that it? You’re not gonna…I don’t know, force them to profess their undying love?”
Jimin shrugged. “I just wanted to see. Wanted them to see I can see it happen and not totally spaz out. Wanted them to see they do like each other.”
Yoongi glances at them. “Yeah. I think they do.” He licks his lips. “You want to…leave.” His hands squeeze Jimin’s hips. “You don’t wanna hang around? Will they get back okay?”
Jimin squirms in Yoongi’s grip. His heart is racing again. “Taehyung peaks really fast on those Blue Hawaiian’s, then sobers up like an hour later and goes home.”
As if on cue, Taehyung leans forward to whisper something in Jungkook’s ear, and Jungkook nods, looking towards the exit. Taehyung glances around and catches Jimin blatantly staring at them.
Jimin raises an eyebrow, and smiles.
Taehyung shrugs, smiles too, and gestures almost helplessly at Jungkook, who looks slightly embarrassed when he turns and catches the exchange, but also happy. He waves at Jimin and Yoongi as Taehyung tugs him towards the door.
Jimin turns back to Yoongi one more time. “Yeah. So you wanna get out of here or fucking what?”
Yoongi hums. “Whatever you say, sunshine.”
Jimin had thought that maybe the walk back to Yoongi’s apartment would be quiet. Charged, but quiet.
It’s not. It’s definitely charged, and Jimin feels like he could cut the sexual tension with a knife, but it’s not quiet.
Yoongi seems to be in a playful mood all of a sudden, saying purposefully idiotic things, primarily about Jimin’s ass, just to rile him up.
“Walk a little slower for me, sunshine,” Yoongi calls after him as Jimin nears the last curve in the sidewalk that’ll then lead them straight to Yoongi’s apartments.
“Make me,” Jimin says.
“How should I do that?”
Jimin smiles at him over his shoulder. “Say please.”
Yoongi grins, looking down at his feet as he laughs, and Jimin pauses enough to let him catch up so Yoongi can hold up his building pass to the apartment building’s side entrance. The light on the pad flashes green, and Yoongi tugs open the door, gesturing for Jimin to go ahead of him.
“I’m on the fourth floor,” Yoongi says, would-be casual. “Wanna take the stairs?”
Jimin knows why Yoongi is suggesting this.
He also knows that Yoongi knows he knows why.
He wants Yoongi to look. So he shrugs, would-be coy, and says, “okay.”
They’re rounding the second landing when Yoongi says, “Can I tell you something?”
Jimin hums. It echoes in the stairwell.
“When I walked in on you, I wanted to pin you in place, spread you open and just—”
Jimin stumbles, catching himself on the railing.
“—look at you.”
Jimin huffs when Yoongi comes up behind him, smoothing his hand across Jimin’s hip.
“Just look?” Jimin says.
“At first,” Yoongi says. His mouth ghosts over the skin behind Jimin’s ear.
Jimin’s breath hitches, and he can hear it echo loud in the empty air around them, and it’s like a switch has been flipped.
They both move at once, Jimin shifting to lean back against the railing and pulling Yoongi close even as Yoongi presses him back, finding a grip on his hips as he leans in to kiss him.
He’s not gentle, and Jimin loves that, because it allows him to push back even harder against Yoongi, kiss him back just as furiously. They’re sloppy in their haste to just inhale each other, but Jimin ignores the prick of pain when his lip catches in Yoongi’s teeth, the way sometimes they miss each other’s mouths altogether. It’s okay, because Yoongi’s searing kisses all across his jaw, down under his chin, then his neck. Jimin moans, and the noise jolts him a little, embarrassingly loud in the echoes of the stairwell.
“Would love to hear how you sound getting fucked in here,” Yoongi whispers, and it sounds like he’s almost musing outloud. Jimin bites his lip, but his gasp still rings in his ears.
“Who, who says,” he says, fumbling when Yoongi yanks him off the railing and starts to lead him up the steps. “That you’re gonna be the one fucking?”
Yoongi laughs, stopping on the third floor landing to crowd Jimin against the wall, face first. Jimin swallows a whimper when Yoongi puts his hand on his ass and presses his fingers against his crack, dragging up slow and firm. The silk feels soft in between his cheeks, and Jimin can feel himself twitch when Yoongi pushes his finger forward, scraping over his entrance.
“This does,” Yoongi says against his neck. He crooks his finger up and down, stroking his hole through the silk. “S’just begging to get fucked, sunshine. Kissed and licked and spoiled.” He mouths the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Don’t you want me to do that?”
Instead of answering, Jimin grasps Yoongi’s arm, tugging them both away from the wall to climb the last flight of stairs. Yoongi takes the lead when they enter the fourth floor interior, walking down a short hallway and unlocking the first apartment door around the corner.
“Do you wan—” Yoongi starts, turning once he’s finished locking the door back up, but Jimin doesn’t give him a chance to respond, pouncing on him. Yoongi’s back hits the shut door with a thud, and Jimin is grabbing Yoongi’s hands, pulling them around his waist until they settle on his backside.
“I wanted your mouth,” Jimin pants against Yoongi’s neck, violently untucking his button down so he can touch the skin underneath. “Like, maybe 30 seconds after you walked in. Wanted you to lick me, hyung—”
“Fuck,” Yoongi says. He grinds Jimin against him, head falling back against the door, eyelashes fluttering. Jimin shrugs off his shawl, can feel it tickle his skin as it falls off his body and drifts to the floor. Yoongi’s gaze sharpens as he looks at him, and he says, “Fuck—come on,” he before yanking Jimin after him towards what must be his bedroom.
Jimin makes a quick side trip to Yoongi’s bathroom to wash up, despite Yoongi’s protests that it’s fine, especially if he showered before going out.
With an ass like that, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He just wants to taste him.
“Nasty,” Jimin grins at him before shutting the door.
So Yoongi switches on a lamp in his room and sits on his bed, taking the time to calm himself down, and breathe. The last thing he wants to do is speed through this.
He wants to take his time.
It’s a few minutes later when Jimin slips into the room. He’s gotten rid of the shirt but is still wearing the silky pants, and before Yoongi can say anything, Jimin is climbing onto the mattress on all fours, lowering his chest so his backside curves upward, full and round and Yoongi can physically feel his mouth watering.
“Jimin,” he groans quietly, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Gonna let me look at you this time?”
Jimin nods, tucking his chin against his shoulder as he ever so slightly wiggles his butt. “Want you to take these off.”
“Oh?” Yoongi says, shrugging his shirt off and going to take off his pants.
“Yeah,” Jimin says. “I was at the bar like this, you know.”
Yoongi kneels on the bed behind Jimin in his boxers, and smooths a hand up the back of Jimin’s thigh and over his rear till his fingers catch on the waistline of his pants. “Like what?” Yoongi says.
Jimin laughs, peeking at Yoongi over his shoulder. He wiggles again. “Look and see, hyung.”
Yoongi swallows a growl. He’s not sure what to expect. Lingerie, a thong, maybe, god forbid a plug—
But when he tugs down the silk over Jimin’s behind, he’s faced with absolutely nothing except the full, plump expanse of Jimin’s bare ass.
“Baby,” he breathes. The endearment slips out without a thought, but the way Jimin squeezes his thighs together and presses his chest further into the mattress, arching his back even more tells Yoongi it’s not unwelcome. He says it again. “Baby, look at you.”
“That’s your job,” Jimin says, voice thick.
“You’re right,” Yoongi says lowly. He continues to tug on Jimin’s pants, slowly, can see goosebumps sprout up as he uncovers more skin. The pants are halfway down Jimin’s thighs when he wiggles again, but he’s impatient now, not trying to tease.
“You’re taking forever,” Jimin grouses.
Yoongi doesn’t change his pace. “There’s a lot of real estate to uncover here, sunshine.”
Jimin’s ugh gets muffled into the covers. Yoongi pays him no mind. He’d told him to look. So he’s gonna fucking look.
Save for the little goosebumps, which are starting to fade as he adjusts to the air, Jimin’s skin is smooth. God, it is so smooth, and it’s taking a stupid amount of self-control to not just press his face against his plush, smooth fucking ass cheek and inhale.
Yeah. He can admit he’s fixated.
Yoongi shifts, eyes roving over the swells of Jimin’s butt. He feels like a total moron thinking it, it’s such a dumb fucking obvious statement—but fuck Jesusfuck he’s really got a nice ass.
“Pretty, baby,” Yoongi says, still slowly dragging down Jimin’s pants.
Jimin makes a small noise into the covers, as if he can’t help himself.
“M’not even doing anything yet,” Yoongi says quietly, not bothering to keep the smugness out of his voice. He’s forced to stop pulling down Jimin’s pants when they reach his knees, pressed into the mattress, and he shifts his hands so he’s able to trace featherlight patterns on the backs of Jimin’s thighs.
“I know,” Jimin says. “You’re being—” he shivers when Yoongi’s fingers skip up his skin a little, but no where near his ass just yet. “Rude.”
“Rude?” Yoongi laughs. “Spoiled, aren’t you? What would you like me to do, huh?”
Jimin turns his head so he can look at him better. “Touch me.”
Yoongi likes how the goosebumps are raising where his fingers brush. “I am touching you.”
“Are we gonna play that game?” Jimin snips. “Fucking touch me. Touch me, Yoongi.” He shifts, tries to move back with the pants wrapped twisted around his knees, and does a decent job of it until Yoongi lays both hands flat on the backs of Jimin’s thighs hard enough to make a slapping noise, and squeezes, stopping him in place.
“Hey,” Yoongi says, softly. He squeezes harder. “Be patient, sunshine. I am touching you, hm?” He drags his hands up, then down again, avoiding where he knows Jimin really wants him.
Jimin groans into the bed. “You’re the worst.”
Yoongi ignores him, using his grip to spread Jimin’s legs, grateful for the stretchy waistband of his pants. “And I’m looking, like you said I could.” He hums, and this time, when he pushes his hands up Jimin’s thighs, he keeps going, exhaling softly when his palms slide over the round curve of his ass, fingers digging automatically into his flesh. It’s impossible not to. There’s so much of it, and the sound Jimin makes when he digs in goes right to his cock. “Damn,” Yoongi says as he gets a proper grip so he can finally, finally, spread his cheeks. “Jimin,” he breathes.
He’s going to have to apologize to Taehyung next time he sees him, and maybe have a chat with Hoseok about crying over smooth assholes, because he might be choking up a little at the sight of Jimin’s perfectly waxed ass.
He thinks he understands why Jimin was shrieking like he had been, because there’s not a stray hair in sight, not near the ridged, puckered skin of his entrance, not near the delicate skin of his balls, hanging between his legs. Yoongi pulls his cheeks apart a little wider, chewing on his lip at the whimpering sound Jimin makes when he does this. He adjusts his hand slightly, just enough so he can drag his thumb up his crack and press it on the smooth strip of skin right by his entrance.
“Taehyung did a nice job,” Yoongi says, slowly stroking his thumb up and down the flesh. It’s so fucking soft. “Could look at you all day.”
“Please,” Jimin says. He’s already breathless.
“You want me to do that?” Yoongi says. He digs his thumb in, and Jimin yelps, pressing his face into the bed.
“I want you—want you to—ah, fuck,” he says when Yoongi takes his other thumb and begins to do the same thing, stroking up and down between his cheeks, occasionally stopping to dig near his hole.
“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty,” Yoongi whispers. “Can you arch your back for me?”
Jimin does, without hesitation, dipping so his elbows dig into the mattress. It brings his ass a little closer to Yoongi, forces his cheeks to spread even wider.
“Good,” Yoongi breathes. “Thank you, baby.” He massages Jimin’s ass, squeezing and kneading his cheeks. “You feel good?”
“I feel frustrated, you dick,” Jimin groans. “I should’ve known you’d be—the biggest fucking—tease.”
“Maybe if you tell me what you want.”
Jimin presses his face fully into the bed for a moment, then turns his head so he can mumble, “Told you. Want your mouth.”
Yoongi chuckles, dips forward to brush his lips over Jimin’s ass cheek. “Like that?”
He can see Jimin’s knuckles go white for a brief second. “No.”
Yoongi kisses the other cheek and can’t resist the urge to bite a little. Jimin squirms.
“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that, I guess,” Yoongi says.
“I thought you knew what I wanted,” Jimin snaps, and really, Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised. “I thought you could guess what I’d like.”
Yoongi pauses for a second, and there’s a tense silence, like they’re daring each other, waiting to see who will cave first.
Yoongi doesn’t think he’s got a very fair advantage, considering what’s three inches from his face.
But Jimin’s wild gasp, when he uses his thumbs to hold Jimin open as he flattens his tongue against his hole, is worth it.
“Yoongi,” Jimin groans, his ass canting up even higher, and the responding moan that bubbles up Yoongi’s throat is guttural. He presses in further, so much more that his nose burrows between Jimin’s ass cheeks, and he breathes out hard, then, very slowly, breathes back in.
Jimin muffles his next moan into the covers, or his hand, Yoongi’s not quite sure. His senses seem muted, surrounded by Jimin, his full cheeks, his smooth skin.
He’s not complaining.
Yoongi growls a little, presses his tongue harder against Jimin, then pulls back so he can lick at him again, but lower this time, so he can slowly drag his tongue upwards along his crack, enjoy the smoothness, the way Jimin is squirming under him, particularly when he reaches his hole again and rubs against it.
“Baby,” Yoongi mumbles. He peppers kisses all over Jimin’s skin, along his ass cheeks, nosing up along his crack and moaning when he flicks his tongue back and forth over his entrance.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ,” Jimin gasps.
“Told you to say my name.”
“Fuck,” Jimin pants, “you.”
Yoongi places his lips around Jimin’s entrance, kisses it wetly a couple times, then sucks.
Jimin slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the squeak from coming out of his mouth. Holy fuck, holy fuck.
He’s never had someone eat him out with as much eagerness as Yoongi’s currently got, and he doesn’t know if it’s because his ass is waxed or if Yoongi is just that into rim jobs. Or maybe it’s a combination of both.
He certainly sounds like he’s enjoying himself. He’s noisy. There’s the wet, smacking sounds his mouth makes as he essentially makes out with Jimin’s ass, dragging his tongue over and around Jimin’s hole, sucking on the sensitive flesh. And it really is sensitive. Every little touch is heightened. It’s only been a few days since he waxed, and the skin there still bears that feeling of being a little raw, overexposed. It elevates every single touch of Yoongi’s mouth, his tongue.
And Yoongi is moaning. Deep, low sounds that vibrate against Jimin each time he flicks his tongue upwards or presses his mouth against his skin, and they’re making Jimin feel overheated, like he’s going to burn out from the inside.
Then Yoongi shifts. He keeps one hand on Jimin’s ass, but lifts the other to grab at Jimin’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth.
“I want to hear you.”
Jimin struggles, not hard enough to actually pull away, but just enough to be difficult. He looks back at Yoongi. “Thought you didn’t. Thought I was too loud.”
Yoongi presses Jimin’s arm against his back and pushes so that Jimin’s front falls against the bed. “You’re screaming for me though this time.”
Jimin’s swallows. He knows his cheeks are burning, and the way Yoongi’s eyes are darting over his face isn’t helping. “M’not screaming,” he says.
He knows he’s being a brat, but he likes egging him on. He likes it a lot.
“Aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, then ducks down and circles his tongue around his hole, once, twice, then pushes past the first ring of muscle.
And Jimin does scream. It’s hot, wet, and he can feel himself clenching around the tip of Yoongi’s tongue, can feel the warm puff of breath tickle his skin when Yoongi chuckles against him.
“You’re so tight. I can’t even get inside.”
“St—stop,” Jimin whines. “Oh my god.”
Yoongi rubs his hand in a soothing circle over his ass cheek. “Stop?”
“Stop teasing me,” Jimin says. He huffs, shifting around, and then he’s got both hands on his cheeks, bumping Yoongi’s out of the way as he spreads himself. “There,” he breathes, gripping hard. The only thing supporting his upper half is his chest pressed into the mattress, and he knows it’s a sight, and ironically, similar to how Yoongi had first seen him. The thought makes him feel giggly, playful. “S’that good, hyung?”
“I ought to slap you,” Yoongi says, faintly.
Jimin’s giggle breaks off into a yelp when Yoongi bends his head and uses his thumbs to spread the skin around Jimin’s hole even more, so when he thrusts his tongue forward, it dips further inside.
“Oh,” Jimin pants. He can feel spit gathering under his tongue. His voice is thick with it. “Fuck me—ah, ah.”
Yoongi hums. The vibration has Jimin choking on his words, saliva dribbling out the side of his mouth as Yoongi does just that. Fucks him with his tongue, firmly, slowly, dragging it along his insides in a way that has Jimin whimpering. In, and out, and in again. Jimin can feel Yoongi wiggle his tongue back and forth in an effort to get deeper.
“Nn—fuck,” Jimin moans. He’s got spit smeared along the corner of his mouth, down his chin. He makes half an attempt to wipe it on the blanket. “That’s so good.”
“You’re,” Yoongi says, pausing in between his words to kiss and lick at him. “So good.” He nips the inside of one cheek. “So nice and soft.”
Jimin gasps, loudly. “God—fuck—”
Yoongi kisses him, sucking a little as he pulls away. Jimin can hear the grin in his voice. “My name, sunshine. Having trouble remembering?”
“Fuck,” Jimin moans. “I hate you, I hate you.”
Jimin’s hips kick when he feels Yoongi’s fingers curl around his cock. God he’s so fucking hard. “You don’t,” Yoongi says.
“I fuckin—” Jimin squeaks, biting down on the bed covers when he feels Yoongi mouth at his dick. “—do! Fuck.”
“Hmm,” Yoongi mumbles, nosing up his skin, leaving little kisses as he does. He licks at his hole again. Jimin feels himself twitch, and it’s fucking embarrassing but also possibly the hottest thing he’s ever experienced in his life. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Jimin squirms, feeling a faint ache in his arms from the way he’s holding himself, but he doesn’t want to—doesn’t want Yoongi to stop. He can’t believe how turned on he is, can’t believe how close he feels already, and Yoongi’s barely touched him.
Yoongi puts his hands over Jimin’s, still gripping his cheeks. He briefly interlocks their fingers before gently nudging him away.
“Gonna make you come,” Yoongi says. “So get comfortable.” He kisses Jimin ass cheek, surprisingly gentle.
Jimin knows his face is bright red. “You’re confident.”
“So?” Yoongi says. He’s stroking a finger over Jimin’s hole now, purposefully teasing. “You’re close already, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Jimin says, just as Yoongi dips his finger inside him. “Yoongi.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes, slowly working it deeper.
Jimin squirms, goes to reach for his cock, but Yoongi tsks, using his other hand to stop him. “I don’t think so.”
“The fuck,” Jimin hisses, feeling the drag of Yoongi’s knuckle as he pushes in. It stings, but it’s more than bearable. He’s slightly mortified at how wet it is, considering they haven’t used any lube.
It’s all Yoongi.
“God, you got me—” Jimin stops, feeling his cheeks flame.
Yoongi’s voice is insultingly mild. “What?”
“Wet,” Jimin says.
Yoongi laughs softly. Jimin can feel him shifting, feels his fingers dragging back out, and Jimin whines—
Then feels something warm and very fucking wet slide between his cheeks.
Jimin jerks, shoving himself up onto his forearms so he can look behind him, just in time to see another string of saliva drip from Yoongi’s pursed lips, right onto his crack.
“Y-Yoongi—” Jimin says weakly.
“Hm,” Yoongi hums, taking his fingers to spread the spit around his entrance. Jimin drops back down, nearly faceplanting into the bed. Oh god. Oh god. “That better?”
“I didn’t,” Jimin grits. “I didn’t mean—” he breaks off when Yoongi pushes his finger in again, quicker, all the way up to the second knuckle. “Yoongi,” he chokes.
“Wanna feel you tighten around my tongue,” Yoongi murmurs. He’s lowering himself again. Jimin can feel his breath puff over his skin. “Think you can do that?”
Jimin brings his hands up near his head and digs them into the sheets. His cock is throbbing, and he thinks he can, knows he can, but he doesn’t want to tell Yoongi that. “Yoongi,” he whispers.
“I like you saying my name,” Yoongi mumbles against his skin. He wiggles his finger, pulls out a little, then flicks his tongue around Jimin’s entrance. Jimin bites down on his retort, wanting very, very much to rut his cock against the sheets.
“It’s okay, baby,” Yoongi purrs. He’s still got one hand on Jimin’s ass cheek, and he uses it to knead his flesh. “Just relax.”
And then he’s pressing his lips against him, pushing his tongue in alongside his finger, humming as he does. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls his finger out but keeps pushing his tongue forward.
“Yeah,” Jimin finds himself gasping. “Yeah, yeah, fff, yeah.”
Yoongi murmurs against his skin as he picks up a rhythm, securing his hands on Jimin’s cheeks again to spread him wide.
Yoongi could do this all night.
Fuck Jimin open with his tongue, slide in and out of his tight little hole, suck on his rim, wet and noisy with each pucker of his lips. Jimin feels so good, tastes so good, and the way he’s clenching around Yoongi’s tongue has him rock hard, licking into him faster, heedless of the spit around his mouth, smearing over his chin.
He could do this all fucking night.
Jimin is mewling Yoongi’s name into the sheets. He’s so fucking loud Yoongi is sure his neighbors are able to hear him, the way Jimin’s begging for more even as he pushes his ass back against Yoongi’s face.
“Y-you—” Jimin hiccups, moaning when Yoongi squeezes him and answers, “hmm?”
He tries again. “You—it feels so—good—I’m—”
“Mhm.” Yoongi pulls Jimin closer, as close as he can, until he can feel velvet skin against the bridge of his nose, and it’s just his soft flesh, his twitching little hole, and his moaning.
“Yoongi—” Jimin tries to move, forward or backwards, Yoongi’s not sure, because he’s got a tight grip on Jimin, has him exactly where he wants him, where he’s wanted him all week, and he’s not moving in inch. Yoongi licks into him deeper, faster, sucks on him harder, huffing out a low chuckle when Jimin muffles a shriek into his bed, his skin twitching under Yoongi.
“I’m—” Jimin jerks, feet kicking at the mattress on either side of Yoongi. He growls and presses against him harder, nails digging crevices into Jimin’s ass. Jimin gasps. “Yoongi, I’m so close—”
“Good, baby,” Yoongi says, licking him once with a broad, flat stroke of his tongue, enjoying the weak moan this brings forth. He does it again, kisses him, then teases with small little kitten licks, breathing out another low laugh when Jimin whines and begs. He’s practically vibrating.
It’s fucking beautiful.
“God please, please, hyung, please, just a li-little more—ah—!”
Yoongi stretches his tongue out, shakes his head back and forth as he works it back inside Jimin, moans against him, grasping and releasing the plush flesh of his cheeks as he fucks him deep as he’s able. He can feel the ache in his jaw, but he can also feel Jimin clenching up, hears the way his breath is coming out in sharp, high-pitched whimpers. He wants to tell him to come, fucking come for him, but he’s not about to stop for that.
Not about to miss the way Jimin’s ass feels tightening around his tongue when he comes.
“Yoongi—!” Jimin cries. His feet knock into Yoongi’s knees when he kicks again, and this just eggs him on, has him groaning in encouragement, licking him sloppier, wetter, pushing his tongue so far into him he doesn’t really know up from down, doesn’t really give a shit, just wants to see what Jimin tastes like.
“Mmm—I’m—m’coming—” Jimin chokes out. Yoongi makes sure to press his tongue forward and keep it inside just as Jimin starts tensing up.
All he can think is Jimin’s so good, fucking coming untouched, clenching so tightly around Yoongi he nearly pushes his tongue out, but Yoongi, with a bruising grip on his ass, keeps him close, keeps him spread, and moans with him as he rides out his orgasm. He can feel his cock throb hard between his legs as Jimin babbles, keening into the sheets as his knees slip further apart. Yoongi hums deep in his throat, reaching around to grasp Jimin’s cock, just to feel the last bit of cum spurt out and drip over his fingers.
“Yoongi—” Jimin sounds like he’s almost crying. “Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi, oh my god.” He squirms, because Yoongi is still licking him, more softly now, gentle, little dips of his tongue as he hums against his rim.
“Jimin,” he mumbles, tugging him back in place when Jimin wriggles away an inch. “Fuck. You’re—” another kiss. Jimin moans, and stays where he is. Yoongi sighs, lowly. “So good.”
“Yoongi,” Jimin pants. “Are you—can you—”
Yoongi looks up, unable to stop the smile on his face when he takes in Jimin’s red cheeks, shining eyes, spit smeared lips. Pretty. “Can I what?”
“Fuck me,” Jimin says. He parts his legs more, and Yoongi has to take a moment to stare, because holy shit, that’s hot. There’s saliva all around his hole, open to the air as Jimin spreads his legs wider. Yoongi bites the inside of his lip hard, looking back up at Jimin, who’s watching him with hooded eyes over his shoulder. “Fuck me,” he says again, more quietly. “I wanna feel you come.”
Yoongi grins at him, reaching over to grab lube from the bedside table. He squeezes some onto his fingers, and then some more onto Jimin directly. Jimin shivers, legs twitching a little further apart, a deep arch curving his back.
“Did you like that?” Yoongi asks as he spreads the lube over his skin.
Jimin shudders. “What do you fucking think?”
Yoongi pushes in one finger inside him without much resistance. “Want you to sit on my face in the morning.”
Jimin’s head falls forward. “Jesus. Fuck.” He glances back at Yoongi, cheeks pink. “Really?”
“Mhm,” Yoongi says, working in a second finger. It’s tighter. “Wouldn’t mind if you woke me up like that.”
Jimin’s blush darkens, but his eyes are bright with interest. “You want to wake up with my ass in your face.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, crooking his fingers. “I do.”
“You’re a freak.”
“Tell me that again in the morning,” Yoongi grins, nipping a little at Jimin’s back as he fucks into him hard with two fingers. The lube and spit squelches. “You’re so wet.”
“I told you,” Jimin groans, throwing his head back when Yoongi teases a third finger around his rim, scissoring the other two. “Oh—god—”
“Almost,” Yoongi soothes, lightly teasing as he works in the third. “Almost there. You’re so tight.”
Jimin gasps. “S’—fucking sensitive.”
Yoongi starts to pick up a rhythm, enjoying the light little smacking noise his hand makes whenever it comes back against Jimin’s ass. “You look good.”
“’Mm—'course—I do—” Jimin jerks forward when Yoongi starts twisting his wrist, dragging his fingers against his walls as he pulls back. “Ah—ahh—”
“You’re a fucking brat though,” Yoongi says. “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve heard it.”
Jimin laughs, breathlessly. “Nn—maybe you should—spank me—?”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches how Jimin takes his fingers, how he subtly pushes back against his hand, a little bit more with each forward motion. He’s tight, but there’s a lot of lube, and he’s starting to throw Yoongi impatient looks and make soft little whining noises. “Yoongi,” he mumbles, tossing his head.
Yoongi stops without warning, pulling out and smacking Jimin hard on the ass. “Get up, baby.”
Jimin scrambles off the bed as Yoongi slides off after him, pushing down his boxers before standing. He goes to get a condom, ripping open the packet quickly. He doesn’t need to even touch himself, he’s still so fucking hard.
When he turns, still rolling on the condom, Jimin is already bent over, planting his elbows on the mattress and shifting his feet apart. He looks at Yoongi over his shoulder, eyes dipping down to his cock.
“Fuck,” Jimin says. “Fuck, what the fuck. Please fuck me.”
Yoongi puts his hand on Jimin’s back and pushes, pressing his chest to the mattress. “You mind if I—”
“Fuck me hard and fast,” Jimin says. “Please. Please, hyung. I wanna feel you come.”
“Jesus,” Yoongi says. He slides his hands over Jimin’s ass, grasping a handful in each palm. He pulls the flesh up, shifting Jimin’s backwards until his cock catches on his rim. “You’re so—” Yoongi mutters, but doesn’t finish the sentence because Jimin’s shifted his hips just right, and he’s sucking him in, slowly—it’s so tight—but he’s taking him, taking all of him. Yoongi’s blood is thrumming loud in his ears, pulsing hot in his cock.
“Fuck,” Jimin whispers when Yoongi bottoms out.
Yoongi lets his head fall back and exhales slowly, hearing it shake, rattle in his lungs. Fuck was right. It was taking a lot, a lot to not just shift his hips back and snap forward against him.
“Yoongi,” Jimin says.
Yoongi blinks, hums, rubbing circles over the top of Jimin’s ass.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin says again, sounding petulant. “Look at me.”
Yoongi swallows. “Baby, I’m trying really hard not to hurt—”
Jimin rolls his hips. Yoongi’s breath hitches, gripping Jimin very tightly. “Jimi—”
“Look at me,” Jimin demands.
Yoongi finally looks down.
Jimin is still bent over the bed, a pretty dip in his back as he arches it. Yoongi’s buried to the hilt in his ass, and that’s—that’s—
Yoongi curses under his breath, squeezing the flesh in his fingers, using it to rut Jimin forward then back against him.
Jimin gasps. “Oh—again—please—”
“Fuck,” Yoongi grits. He lightly smacks his ass, then does it again, harder, and the third time when his palm lands, he finds a grip again, using it to fuck Jimin back onto his cock. “Baby—fuck—”
Yoongi’s at a loss for words. His belly is coiling hot, watching Jimin’s ass bounce against him as he fucks into him, how pretty and smooth it looks when he spreads his cheeks. He growls, fucking forward so hard Jimin slides forward on the mattress with a surprised whimper. “Jimin, Jimin—”
“Mmmm,” Jimin moans. “Please don’t stop—keep fucking me—Yoongi, pl—please—”
“Hang on baby—just—” Yoongi bows forward, knows his nails are digging red lines into Jimin’s ass as he grips him tighter, fucks him harder. “S’tight, you’re so fucking wet and tight—” he gasps, raggedly, watching how well Jimin sucks him in, how full his ass is. And so fucking smooth. “Are you—even real—?”
Jimin laughs, the sound a little wild, desperate. “Fuck—yes—m’gonna make you come?”
Yes, you are you’re so good, so fucking gorgeous, so perfect, Yoongi wants to say, but he doesn’t, he can’t, can’t do much except fuck into Jimin harder, punch out more high-pitched cries and broken gasps. His stomach coils tighter, hotter, and he knows he’s close.
“Sunshine,” he mutters. Jimin looks back at him, hazy eyed and beautiful, and that’s when Yoongi comes, digging so hard into Jimin’s ass he knows there’s going to be bruises, probably already are, but he can’t stop squeezing, moaning deep, hurried curses, something like fuckfuckJiminbaby— and Jimin whining back at him (yes hyung, yes so good) is making it that much better, that much more.
He’s still for several moments, hunched over Jimin, both of them breathing hard. Jimin mumbles something unintelligible into his arm, and Yoongi moves first, carefully pulling out and discarding the condom. He eyes the covers where they’d been earlier and lightly pats Jimin’s butt. “Hey. Come here.”
“Don’t want to move,” Jimin says into the covers, curling his knees up to his chest.
“Do you want to sleep in a puddle of cum and spit?”
Jimin peeks up at him with a smirk. “I don’t know, do I?”
“And you call me the freak.” He pulls Jimin off the bed, just long enough to get rid of the soiled duvet. The sheets underneath are in pretty good shape, so he falls onto them, dragging Jimin back down with him. “Shit.” His voice is hoarse. “That was. Really good.”
Jimin stretches, pulling at Yoongi’s bedsheet and shimmying underneath it. “You really like eating ass.”
Yoongi grunts as he slides in next to him. “You could say that. But I really like your ass.”
“You don’t say,” Jimin grins.
Yoongi is about to make a jab at him, but Jimin locks his fingers around his neck and tugs him close for a kiss.
“What about me,” Jimin mumbles against his mouth in between gentle little kisses. “Do you like me?”
“Depends,” Yoongi says back, pausing when Jimin licks playfully along his bottom lip. “On how you behave on our date tomorrow.”
Jimin’s eyes flutter open and he pulls back slightly. “So it is a fucking date.”
“Of course it’s a fucking date.”
“Why were you playing coy?” Jimin says, tugging on his hair a little.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “There’s a mirror in my bathroom, if you wanted to look in it.”
Jimin’s scoffs, but Yoongi can see a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, tugging Jimin back to kiss him some more. He slides his hands down over his back, coming to rest on his ass. “C’mere, you little shit.”
Jimin smiles as Yoongi kisses him, and the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is how soft Jimin feels. His skin, under Yoongi’s palm. His lips, under Yoongi’s own.
Yoongi actually walks Jimin all the way back to his dorm building the next morning, when they finally get out of bed. Jimin had coaxed Yoongi out of sleep with soft, wet open-mouthed kisses to his neck, and when Yoongi had just started to open his eyes, Jimin had clambered on top of him, swinging his thighs over his chest with his ass fully in Yoongi’s face.
Yoongi hadn’t said anything, but Jimin’s thighs still tingle when he thinks of how hard Yoongi had grabbed him, how solidly he’d held Jimin against his face, eating him out until he came again, half sobbing as he jerked himself to completion before bending down to suck Yoongi off until he came too, his hands digging into the meat of Jimin’s upper thighs.
Now, at the dorm, Yoongi makes a show of sticking his arm in front of the elevator door until Jimin has walked completely inside, crossing his arms at Yoongi when he steps in after him.
“I can get to my room, hyung,” Jimin says as the elevator lurches upwards.
“I know,” Yoongi says. “Consider it something else I’m making up for.”
“You’re making up for a lot,” Jimin comments, tugging Yoongi closer by his shirt collar.
Yoongi smirks. “Maybe I just like you.”
“Doesn’t sound right,” Jimin grins. The doors ping as they open to his floor. He tilts his head at Yoongi, batting his eyes a little. “Walk me to my room?”
“Whatever you want, sunshine,” Yoongi says, and Jimin tries not to let his smile widen too much.
“Careful, don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” he says lightly.
“Never would,” Yoongi replies, patting Jimin’s ass as they walk out of the elevator.
Jimin entwines their fingers, taking the lead and tugging Yoongi after him. He pauses outside Taehyung and Jungkook’s door, raising his eyebrow at Yoongi.
“You think they fucked?” he whispers.
Yoongi glances at the door. “It’s open. When will you guys learn to properly shut your fucking doors?”
“No it’s—oh my god, it is,” Jimin says gleefully, spotting the small crack in the frame. Before Yoongi can stop him, Jimin bursts into the room. “Hey, my loves, you decent?”
“Nope!” Taehyung calls back, popping out from under the covers on his bed. He grins at Jimin, waving animatedly at Yoongi. “Hello. You guys look satiated.”
Jimin glances back at Yoongi, who hasn’t pulled his hand out of Jimin’s but is hanging back just a little, eyeing Taehyung’s bare chest warily. “Hi.”
The covers next to Taehyung rustle, and then Jungkook is looking out over them. “Oh. Please, come in.”
“Ugh, put a shirt on,” Yoongi groans. “This is awkward.”
“Oh,” Jungkook sits up straighter. “This is awkward? This? Not when you walked in two days ago with Jimin’s ass getting waxed?”
Jimin snorts. “Jesus. You’re grumpy.”
Jungkook glares at them, expression melting comically fast when Taehyung turns to kiss him square on the mouth. “Yoongi doesn’t want to worship your ass, Jungkook, that’s why this is awkward. Keep it covered.”
Jungkook looks at Taehyung weakly, then burrows back under the covers. “Can you guys shut the door on your way out?” he says from under them.
“Fine, fine,” Jimin says breezily. “You’re welcome, by the way. You two wouldn’t have gotten over yourselves without my help.”
“Goodbye,” Jungkook calls.
Taehyung pats the lump next to him affectionately, smiling up at Yoongi and Jimin as they start to head back out. “You guys have a good night?”
“Yes,” Jimin preens. He smiles at Yoongi, smug. “I think Yoongi-hyung here has something to say to you.”
Taehyung raises his eyebrows, looking amused. “Oh?”
Yoongi was leading Jimin towards the door, but he does pause to look at him. “Taehyung,” he says. “You could open up a salon, if you wanted.”
“Ugh!” Jungkook says, voice muffled.
Taehyung is beaming, though. “That good, huh?” He nudges Jungkook’s lump excitedly. “See? I told you! Told you straight up.”
“You did,” Yoongi says seriously. “I’m sorry. And thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Taehyung waves, looking very pleased.
“Please, don’t,” Jungkook grumbles.
“Bye now~” Jimin says, waving back as they leave. He pulls the door shut carefully behind him, grinning at Yoongi as he leans up against it. “Hi.”
Yoongi smiles, cupping his cheek. “Hey.” He leans in to kiss him. “I’ll be back at eight.”
“Okay,” Jimin whispers, tugging him closer and kissing him again. He doesn’t exactly want him to leave, which is sort of lame, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, humming and pressing him against the door as he noses down his neck.
It’s when Jimin wraps a leg around Yoongi’s waist, prompting Yoongi to grasp his ass and shove him harder against the door that he moans, and there’s an angry yell from inside the room.
“If you guys fuck against our door I’m gonna kill you! ” Jungkook shouts.
Jimin gasps out a laugh when Yoongi grins against his neck, giving his butt one last, hard squeeze before stepping away.
Jimin presses his palms to his cheeks, not bothering anymore to stop his smile. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says. He smiles too before turning back towards the elevator. “You will.”