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Parties were loud.

Taehyung had told him there would be a lot of people. He had said there would be music. Alcohol. Drugs. Dancing.

Yoongi didn’t mind all that. He could live with that.

But he hadn’t realized how loud it was going to be.

Yoongi didn’t go to parties. He was much happier to sit at home, work on a track, smoke a blunt if if he had enough weed, maybe hang out with a couple friends. Three or four, maybe five tops. Any more than that and Yoongi might as well not be there. He didn’t talk much in social settings, preferred to kind of sit and watch, and the more people were around, the less he felt like contributing.

Hence his not going to parties.

But Taehyung had begged. Begged. Told him that if Yoongi didn’t go, then he wouldn’t be invited to Taehyung’s future wedding, which, according to Taehyung, wouldn’t even exist if Yoongi didn’t go because how else was Taehyung going to find an excuse to talk to Hoseok.

Taehyung made no goddamn sense.

“Hoseok is your best friend and invited you to the party,” Taehyung whined, rolling around pathetically on Yoongi’s bed while he worked. “He didn’t invite me.” 

“Aren’t you best friends with—with Hoseok’s roommate?” Yoongi had grumbled, pulling his headphone half off one ear. He tried not to think very hard about who Hoseok’s roommate was, knowing Taehyung would ask why are you blushing? “Didn’t he fucking invite you?”

“But you’re Hoseok’s best friend. I’m trying to impress him,” Taehyung said. “Yoongi please. Oh, please, oh please oh please, please—”

Thirty more minutes of that, plus Taehyung unplugging Yoongi’s computer and running around their apartment with the cord yelling “please, please, please, please, please!” resulted in Yoongi sitting on the couch squished between two total strangers and wishing he had something stronger in his drink.

Taehyung, to his credit or whatever, had latched onto Yoongi like a leech for the first half hour, which meant that when Hoseok pulled Yoongi into an excited hug upon seeing him, he’d hugged Taehyung too. Yoongi was pretty sure he was going to have bruises on his arm with how hard Taehyung had squeezed him while it had all been happening.

Yoongi had then said, “Hoseok, can you make Taehyung a drink?” and pried Taehyung off him and pushed him onto Hoseok, who immediately tossed his arm around Taehyung’s shoulder and pulled him away. Taehyung had shot Yoongi a look that was a cross between adoring and terrified as Hoseok whisked him away, and Yoongi had promptly found a seat on the then-empty couch. He’d watched as Hoseok and Taehyung, about fifteen minutes later, made their way back out into the main room and head in to the smaller, adjoining room, where several drinking games were going on. Taehyung had gestured wildly for Yoongi to come with them, and Yoongi had very deliberately shaken his head in declination.

But now his drink was weak, and nearly done, so figuring that was a good excuse as any to get away from the people who had started making out right next to him, Yoongi pushed himself off from the couch and made his way towards the kitchen.

There were still a good amount of people here, but a lot less than there were in the other rooms, so when Yoongi took a deep breath, it actually felt like he could breathe.

“What’s that big sigh for?”

Yoongi startled, nearly dropping his empty cup as he looked across the counter to meet the eyes of the person who had spoken.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

“Are you,” Yoongi said, his voice coming out scratchy and holy fuck. Not good. He licked his lips. “Talking to me?”

Park Jimin smiled at him, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that had Yoongi wanting to duck behind the counter, just for a second. Jimin wouldn’t notice that, right?

But Jimin was very clearly looking at him, and he had been, very fucking clearly, talking to him. Yoongi was just an idiot. Fuck.

“Yeah,” Jimin said, biting his lip coyly as he looked at Yoongi, and shit Yoongi didn’t know what to do with his fucking hands. What did he normally do with his hands? “I’m talking to you.”

Jimin was Hoseok’s roommate, Taehyung best friend, and maybe the biggest fucking douche Yoongi had ever had the fortune to meet.

Yes, fortune. Because Yoongi maybe, possibly, had a massive fucking crush on him, but no one, not even—especially not Taehyung—knew that. Shit fuck, Yoongi barely admitted it to himself sometimes.

Because Jimin was –

Well, Jimin was Jimin.

He was arguably the most popular student at their university. Co-captain of the dance team, right under Hoseok. Top grades, despite only showing up to class half the time. Student body vice-president, and Yoongi was sure by the time Jimin became a senior, like Yoongi currently was, maybe even before then, he’d be student body president.

And it wasn’t that Jimin was this all-around great guy, so to speak. He was just everywhere. Everyone knew his face, his name, the fact that he could hip thrust the air like it was a warm body at the drop of a dime. And speaking of bodies, Jimin walked around in clothes that left little to the imagination, all tight, ripped jeans and sleeveless muscle tees. It all made Yoongi painfully aware of his social ineptness, and very steady look of oversized sweatshirts and trackies. At least tonight he’d swapped out the sweatpants for jeans. Although it didn’t do much to help his social skills.

Jimin on the other hand, had no problem talking with anyone and everyone. He had a careless energy about him, like he wasn’t even trying, which was absolutely infuriating, but Yoongi, unfortunately, knew he wasn’t alone in finding it stupidly attractive, if the amount of girls and boys Jimin had hooked up with was anything to go by.

It wasn’t a huge campus. Word got around. And Jimin was impossible not to notice.

The icing on the cake was this: Jimin was incredibly aware of all of these things. He knew what people thought about him. He was a cocky little asshole, and right now, he was looking at Yoongi like he knew exactly what was going through Yoongi’s head.

“Cat got your tongue, hyung?” Jimin said, leaning forward. He was really dressed to hurt someone tonight. Dark jeans and snug button down with the sleeves rolled all the way up past his elbows and the top two buttons undone. There was a black choker wrapped around his neck, and Yoongi had to try very, very hard not to stare.

“I,” Yoongi said.

Jimin grinned at him, reaching forward and plucking Yoongi’s empty cup right out of his hand. “What are you drinking, cutie?”

Yoongi cursed his pale skin. He could feel himself starting to blush. “Alcohol,” he managed.

“Well,” Jimin said, still grinning as he walked around the island counter to the wall countertop just behind Yoongi. “That makes two of us. Can I make you something, baby?”

Yoongi’s mouth dropped open. “I’m—I—you’re—”

Jimin was still grinning. “Say again?”

“I’m older than you,” Yoongi said.

Jimin blinked, would-be innocent. “Well, I know that. S’why I called you hyung.” He started pulling various bottles and mixers towards him, twirling some handles around to look at the brand names and flavors.

“But,” Yoongi said.

Ah shit.

He’d met Jimin lots of times before. He was Taehyung’s best friend, so he’d been to their apartment plenty of times. He’d known of him since Jimin had started school, as he was in fact, impossible to overlook. But it had been easier to dismiss him when Yoongi wasn’t seeing him in close quarters in his own goddamn apartment every week. Which had been the case since he moved in with Taehyung. Yoongi tended to stare at the ground and respond in grunts and one-word answers before hurrying out of the room. Mostly, Yoongi did his best to make sure he was not in the apartment when Jimin did come over or, if it couldn’t be avoided, locked himself in his room.

It was harder to avoid him when he went to Hoseok’s and Jimin was there, seeing as he lived there and all. He’d started calling Yoongi hyung not long after the first few times Yoongi had been over, asking him how his senior year was going, his internship, his dating life, and, pink-faced, Yoongi mumbled his responses (fine, fine, uh). He just prayed Hoseok chalked up his piss poor answers to Yoongi being anti-social or something.

It was just better to avoid eye contact and being alone in a room together.

To prevent this trainwreck, that was currently happening.

It was ten times worse than Yoongi had ever imagined it would be, because Jimin was acting a lot more friendly than Yoongi had ever dreamed he would. He didn’t know if it was because Taehyung and Hoseok were missing as a buffer, or if it was the alcohol, but Jimin was looking at him like. Like. He wanted to eat him. And even more terrifying, Yoongi was pretty sure he liked it.

Yoongi was suddenly very thirsty. He hoped Jimin would make the drink fast so he could down it and get the hell out of the danger zone.

“You called me ‘cutie’?” Yoongi said, wanting to take back the words the second they left his mouth, but doing his best to look nonchalant. At least he hadn’t brought up baby. Probably because his mind was still trying to comprehend that had actually happened.

Jimin had started making their drinks, and he raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “But you are cute. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

“Not really, no.”

“That’s a shame,” Jimin hummed, sticking his pinkie in the drink and swirling it around the cup’s insides. “Guess I’ll have to make up for it, then.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, then forgot everything he’d been about to say when Jimin popped his pinkie in his mouth and sucked, looking up at Yoongi as he did.

“Hmm,” he said, slowly pulling the digit out of his mouth and frowning, mock-thoughtfully. His lips were really, really—wow. “I don’t think my fingers are long enough to mix it right.” He wiggled a hand at Yoongi, grinning. Yoongi tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, so he just blinked stupidly at Jimin’s cute hands.

Then Jimin was grasping Yoongi’s palm and bringing it close to the cup. “Can I borrow this?”

“Uh—my—what?” Yoongi said.

“Your finger,” Jimin whispered conspiratorially. He took a second to flatten out Yoongi’s hand, and Yoongi was too—too preoccupied with how pretty Jimin’s hand looked laying flat against his, how nice his fingers felt tickling over his own to suggest, maybe, that Jimin get a fucking spoon like a normal human being. Didn’t he live here?

But Jimin’s grip was surprisingly firm when he folded all fingers except Yoongi’s pinkie into a loose fist, guiding Yoongi over to the cup so he could stick his finger in and mix the liquid around.

“This is,” Yoongi said. He took a quick breath. “This seems unnecessary.”

“Mixing makes all the difference,” Jimin said easily. His hip was pressed against Yoongi’s, he realized with a start. Ah shit.

“Well,” Yoongi said, and supplied nothing further.

“Besides, baby,” Jimin continued. His voice had a dropped a few octaves, and, consequentially, Yoongi felt his body temperature rise. “I think this is very necessary.”

He then pulled Yoongi’s finger out of the drink and pressed it against his mouth.

Yoongi’s lips parted, and he hoped the wheezing breath that came out was not audible to Jimin, who was watching him, the shadow of a smirk on his lips, which were also parted, Yoongi’s dripping, sticky finger pushed against his lower lip. Jimin’s smirk deepened briefly before he sucked Yoongi’s finger into his mouth.

“Jimin,” Yoongi said. The name came out weakly, and he was grateful he was able to speak at all, because holy shit. 

Then Jimin swirled his tongue around Yoongi’s knuckle, who in turn jerked his elbow on the counter and knocked over the drink Jimin had just finished making. 

Yoongi tried to pull his arm back, more in an effort to see if he could versus actually wanting to, but Jimin didn’t seem keen on letting go just yet. He pressed Yoongi against the counter, away from where the drink had spilled, sucking even harder on Yoongi’s finger, so much so that he definitely, absofuckinglutely heard the much louder gasp that strangled in Yoongi’s throat.

Then, all at once, Jimin pulled Yoongi’s finger out of his mouth with a very loud pop, licking his lips afterwards. “Tastes good,” he said, casually stroking his fingers down Yoongi’s flaming cheeks. He glanced at the drink. “But it’s gone. You’re kinda clumsy, hyung.”

Yoongi blinked once, twice, and then six more fucking times. He stared at the pink liquid slowly spreading across the white tile. He was pretty confident that’s what his face looked like. “You. Put my finger in.”

Jimin chuckled, ignoring the mess on the ground and grabbing two more new cups. “You should maybe finish that sentence. Unless you’re trying to give me ideas.”

Yoongi’s sputtered. “Can you—oh my god. Shut up, maybe?”

Jimin outright laughed. “Is that a question, baby? You didn’t sound so sure.”

Yoongi couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. He huffed, turning his body away and glaring towards the exit.

He could feel how hot his cheeks were.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin cooed.

Yoongi refused to look at him when he responded with, “I’m not fucking cute.”

“But you are,” Jimin insisted, shuffling around on the counter again. “You’re pouting. You’re crossing your arms.”

 Yoongi looked down and saw that he was, indeed, crossing his arms. Like a pouting child. Fucking hell, Park Jimin was going to be the death of him. How long had they been in this room together? Five minutes?

He looked up, and Jimin was standing right there, two cups in his hand. He held one out to Yoongi. “I think I got the formula down.” He put one hand on the counter behind Yoongi, half caging him in place. “Try it.”

Yoongi could do this. Jimin was a shithead, and Yoongi was older than him, and he was leaning so, so close, but Yoongi could do this.

He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip just as Jimin pressed a kiss to his neck.

He coughed, spitting some of the drink back into the cup as Jimin grinned, pulling back but not taking his hand off the counter. 

“Jimin, what the fuck?” Yoongi said, squirming in place and glaring down into his cup.

“You don’t like it?”

“The drink is fine,” Yoongi muttered.

Jimin breath was warm on his neck. “Wasn’t talking about the drink.”

Yoongi decided he’d had enough in the sense that he hadn’t had enough at all and Jimin’s teasing was making him stupidly hot under his ugly sweater and and jeans. He took a large step to the side, away from the counter and Jimin, who turned to watch him as he shuffled away without another word.

He figured silence was the safer option, because he didn’t quite trust himself not to blurt out the spine tingling truth, that he liked Jimin’s lips on his skin very, very much.

-

He decided to look for Taehyung, as walking around with some sort of goal in mind seemed a lot better than just sitting back down on the couch, where the couple from earlier were still kissing. Yoongi glanced around, trying not to suck down his brand new drink too quickly but also quite enjoying the dull little buzz that was starting to tingle throughout his body.

The drink was good too. Whatever.

Taehyung wasn’t in the main room, so Yoongi walked across the carpet and through the double doorway in the room adjacent, a more dimly lit sort of den with one couch and a small coffee table, both of which were pushed up against the wall. Yoongi blinked, taking in the fact that the people in the center appeared to be playing some PG-15 version of spin the bottle.

Taehyung was, blessedly, sitting on the couch against the wall, although he was grinning and clapping along with the rest of the people playing on the floor. The spot next to him was open, and Yoongi strode over, sitting down with a muted sigh.

Taehyung beamed at him. “Hyung. Where’ve you been?

“Just,” Yoongi said as a girl in the center shrieked when the neck of the bottle she’d just spun stuttered to a stop pointing at the girl sitting beside her. “Getting a drink.”

“For an hour? Why didn’t you come join us?” Taehyung pouted.

“Wanted to give you some time alone,” Yoongi said, smiling a little when Taehyung blushed.

“Didn’t need to,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi responded, leaning further back on the couch. From this spot, he could see through the doorway into the main room where they’d come from. “That’s why you dragged me to this thing. So we could hang out the three of us all night.”

Taehyung poked him in the temple. “I told you. I thought he’d be more inclined to talk to me if you came with me.”

Yoongi shook his head. “S’not true, Tae. You don’t need me for Hoseok to talk to you.” He glanced around, looking for said best friend. “How’s it been going?”

Taehyung licked his lip, looking nervous and pleased at the same time. “Ah, good, actually. He just went to the bathroom.” Taehyung nodded at Yoongi’s drink. “That doesn’t look like your usual rum and coke, hyung.” He leaned forward to peer down into it. An eyebrow lifted. “It smells like peaches.”

“Er,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes a little, putting his hand on the cup and tilting it towards his mouth to taste. Recognition flared in his eyes.

“Jimin made this,” he said. He looked Yoongi then, blinked. “It’s Jimin’s booty call drink.”

Yoongi shoved the drink at Taehyung. “Oh my god. Why do you know that?!”

Taehyung pushed it back, laughing. “No, no, keep it! Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Yoongi glared at the ice in his cup. “It’s just a drink.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Taehyung said, but there was a small smile playing at his lips. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“What,” Yoongi said. He licked his lips, then took another sip of the drink.

“Oh. Nothing.”

What.”

Taehyung glanced at the drink again. “Mmm, just. Tastes good." He smiled. "Sweet."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, slouching back against the cushions. “Yeah, okay.”

Taehyung propped his chin up in his hands, his elbows digging into his knees as he shifted to look at Yoongi. “You should get to know him more, hyung.”

“I know him well enough.”

Taehyung was the one to roll his eyes now. “You think he’s a dick.”

“I don’t,” Yoongi said, and he didn’t.  Not really.

Maybe a little bit. But he liked him anyway. Maybe even a little bit because of that.

“You know, I always told him you two would be cute together,” Taehyung said just as Yoongi was taking a sip of his drink. He choked, feeling the peach juice pull up through his nose as he coughed into the cup. Taehyung glanced at him, slightly alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“M’—” Yoongi gasped, eyes watering. He wiped his hand across the front of his mouth. “M’fine.”

Taehyung looked at him closely. “Uh huh.”

“We wouldn’t,” Yoongi said, and Taehyung blinked, as if he’d forgotten what he’d said. Yoongi cursed himself for not letting it just die with his choking.

“Why not?” Taehyung asked.

Yoongi’s eyes wandered back to the other room, where he could see a group of more people gathered around the dining table, taking shots. “We’re from totally different…” He trailed off, pursed his lips, and took another sip.

Taehyung followed his gaze, stopping on Jimin bent over the table, currently licking a line of salt off a cute freshman’s very defined abs. As they both watched, Jimin grabbed a shot glass from someone’s hand, tilted it back, then bent forward again to bite the lime wedge out of the guy’s mouth. He sank his teeth into the pulp, grinning, and playfully stroked under the boy’s jaw before pulling the lime out of his mouth. The people around him were shrieking and clapping, and the boy on the table straightened, looking flushed but pleased.

“Well, it’s true you’d never be caught dead licking a football player’s abs,” Taehyung said with a little nod of his head. “But fortunately we don’t have to base friendships around that.”

Right. Friendships.

The place where Jimin had kissed his neck tingled and Yoongi resisted the urge to scowl. It wasn’t like he was surprised. He wasn’t stupid.

He scratched at the spot on his neck rather hard, tapping against the plastic cup irritably with his other hand. 

Hoseok all but skipped into the room at that moment, beaming hugely when he saw Yoongi had joined Taehyung on the couch. He was quick to come over, pulling Yoongi into a big side hug. “Yoongi-hyung, I’m so glad you came.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows knowingly at Yoongi when Hoseok wasn’t looking, almost like he was saying see?

Yoongi resisted the urge to glare at him and instead took another sip of his drink as Hoseok glanced between them. “Soo, what were we talking about?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung said.

“Love of my life,” Hoseok said seriously. He prodded Yoongi’s knee. “He was super glad when he heard you were coming, Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi blinked at Jimin, who was leaning into the freshman whose abs he’d just licked. “He was what.”

“Glad,” Hoseok said. “Like, you know. Happy? Pleased?” he nudged Yoongi. “He wants to be friends.”

“I’ll bet,” Yoongi said under his breath, thinking he might have spoken too loud when Taehyung shot him a suspicious look.

“Are you guys sleeping in here or what?”

The three of them looked up at the very familiar, very loud cheery voice of none other than Jimin, who had his arm hooked through the freshman’s and was looking around the room. His eyes settled on Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi sitting on the couch against the wall, and his smile split into a grin.

“We’re playing spin the bottle!” one of the girls giggled, waving around the empty wine bottle. “You wanna join us?”

Jimin tapped his lip thoughtfully, something a little wicked sparking in his eyes as he looked over the three of them on the couch again. His gaze settled on Yoongi.

“In a little,” he said. “Okay?”

The girl saluted him with the wine bottle before it was snatched out of her hands by the person sitting next to her.

Jimin sauntered over to where they were sitting, pulling the freshman guy in tow and only releasing him when they stopped a foot in front of the couch.

“Budge over, ugly,” Jimin said, kicking at Taehyung’s shin.

“You sweet talker, you,” Taehyung said. He nodded at the freshman. “Who’s baby buff?”

“My name’s Jungkook,” the guy said, raising his eyebrows. He walked around Jimin and sat down on the couch next to Hoseok. Yoongi noticed the way Taehyung pursed his lips.

Yoongi also saw Jimin glance quickly between Taehyung and Hoseok, right before he yanked Taehyung up into a standing position.

Jimin,” Taehyung whined, but Jimin was grinning.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said, and it sounded like a purr, a purr goddamnit Yoongi was going to kill him. “Can you scoot?”

Yoongi wet his upper lip, but moved immediately to press up against the arm of the couch so that Jimin could delicately push Taehyung down where Yoongi had been sitting, on Hoseok’s other side.

He was feeling pretty pleased about it, that is, until Jimin squished himself right inbetween Taehyung and himself, and there just—there just wasn’t room.

“God, Jimin, your ass is too fucking big for this,” Taehyung complained, but he was grinning. Probably had something to do with the fact that Jimin’s squeezing was pushing him right into Hoseok.

“Just put Yoongi in your lap,” Hoseok suggested.

Yoongi froze with his cup halfway to his lips.

“Good idea,” Jimin said. His voice was throaty, self-satisfied, and right in Yoongi’s ear.

“Hey—” Yoongi said, and then there were hands squeezing around his waist, and he was—he was being lifted. There was a brief, but definitive moment where his feet didn’t touch the ground, and he was suspended in midair, held up only by Jimin’s hands.

Yoongi made a sound that he would vehemently deny for the rest of his life, some sad cross between a yelp and a whimper. But holy shit, holy fuck, Jimin had just lifted him like it was nothing, and then he was being pulled back right on top of Jimin’s thighs, which, Yoongi immediately decided had more cushion than the couch. Yoongi clutched his drink in both hands, grateful it was more than halfway gone, else it would have ended up all over both their laps.

Jimin hummed, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist. “Yoongi-hyung. You comfy?”

Yoongi opened his mouth, then glanced over at Taehyung, who was smirking. Smirking. Yoongi thought maybe, if he wasn’t buzzing off the alcohol, he’d be mildly panicking about the fact that Taehyung knew, Taehyung knew he had a crush on his best friend whose lap he was currently sat in, and Taehyung was not going to let this go easily.

Yoongi took a large gulp from his cup instead of answering Jimin. Then another, for good measure.

“Oh my god, hyung,” Hoseok cooed, reaching over Taehyung to playfully squeeze Yoongi’s leg. “You’re so tiny.”

“Hey,” Yoongi said. “Die.”

Hoseok grinned pulling his hand back, and lightly rested it on Taehyung’s thigh.

Taehyung looked down at it, lips twitching into a grin before he cast his gaze across the room, the group of people in the center still screeching and kissing each other accordingly.

“Let’s play a game,” Taehyung said.

Yoongi was trying to figure out where to put his feet. Was it weird if the backs of his vans touched the toes of Jimin’s boots? He licked his lips, wondering if Jimin was going to keep his arms secured around his front the entire time Yoongi sat in his lap.

In his lap.

“A game?” Jimin said, sounding interested. God he was so close. “Want everyone to play?”

“Nah, just us,” Taehyung said. He was still pressed into Hoseok, despite the fact that there was more wiggle room, now that Yoongi was sitting in Jimin’s lap.

In his fucking lap.

Yoongi took another sip.

“I need another drink if we’re playing a game,” Jungkook said, shoving himself up. “Anyone else?”

Yoongi blinked down into his nearly empty cup. “A beer,” he said, figuring it might be best to ease up on the hard liquor. Especially if a drinking game with Taehyung and Jimin was about to start.

Jimin’s grip squeezed around Yoongi as he said, “me too.”

Jungkook nodded, hurrying away. Yoongi shifted, then stopped because maybe moving around so much wasn’t such a good idea.

“Why don’t you have the kid sit in your lap,” Yoongi suggested. “And I’ll sit next to Hoseok.”

“But I want you in my lap,” Jimin said. He smoothed his hands up and down Yoongi’s thighs, and Yoongi, dumbfounded, just stared. “Besides, Kook is too big. You’re the perfect size.”

Yoongi scowled, knocking back the rest of the drink and dropping the empty cup on the floor. “You know we’re like, the same height?”

Taehyung was looking at them both with a wry expression. “Jungkook also has three times the muscle.”

Yoongi leveled Taehyung with a deadpan look. This was the thanks he got for coming along as his wingman?

“You two look cute,” Hoseok added with a shit-eating grin. Yoongi decided he needed an entire new group of friends immediately.

He felt more than heard Jimin laugh behind him, swallowing hard when the other boy leaned forward to hook his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“It’s all you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin said when Taehyung and Hoseok turned their attention back to each other. “Being cute.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi said brilliantly, staring determinedly ahead of him, hoping Jimin couldn’t feel the heat radiating from his cheeks.

Jungkook came back into the room then, holding three beers, keeping one for himself and handing the other two to Yoongi and Jimin.

“Did we decide what we’re playing?” Jungkook said, sitting down with a big smile.

“Let’s do Never Have I Ever,” Jimin said, because of course that’s the game he would pick.

Taehyung snorted. “What’s the point, Jimin, you’ve done everything.”

“Maybe,” Jimin said, and Yoongi could hear the grin in his voice. “But I think it could be fun.”

He began to trace small circles over to tops of Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi’s fingers twitched around the neck of the beer bottle, and he shifted his grip, squeezing at the metal cap.

“Need help with that, baby?” Jimin said, voice soft.

Yoongi turned to level Jimin with a look. “I’m leaving if you open this with your teeth.”

Jimin grinned at him, securing his grip around Yoongi with one arm to avoid jostling him when he reached back to dig for something in his pocket. He came back with a bottle opener.

“Here,” he said, popping the cap off Yoongi’s, then his, tossing them in Yoongi’s empty cup on the floor. He tickled his nose along the side of Yoongi’s neck before leaning back to settle against the couch. One hand was still on Yoongi’s thigh, and although the other was holding the beer bottle, his arm was still curved around Yoongi’s waist.

“So, rules,” Taehyung said, holding up one finger. “First, if you’ve done the deed, you need to drink. Two, no lying. I will call bullshit, and you will have to finish your drink.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “How will you know if we’re lying?”

Taehyung pointed at Jungkook. “I’m a well-versed bullshit detector, freshman. Don’t try me.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, rolling his eyes, and Taehyung gestured with his cup at him. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Sure,” Jungkook said. He grinned. “Never have I ever smoked pot.”

“Oh, cheap shot,” Jimin exclaimed, and he, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok all lifted their drinks to their lips.

“Agreed,” Hoseok said. His lips pressed into a thoughtful line as he considered his statement. “Never have I ever….been on the college football team.”

Jimin snuffled a laugh into Yoongi’s back, and Yoongi had to resist the urge to take a nervous sip of his drink as Jungkook scoffed, but brought the bottle to his lips and drank.

“My turn,” Taehyung sang. “Never have I ever…” he hummed, glancing around the group. “Hooked up with someone playing this game.”

There was a brief silence, during which no one moved to drink.

Taehyung looked between Jungkook and Jimin. “Really?”

Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat when he felt Jimin’s hand slide up his thigh, fingers settling on the inner seam of his jeans. His chin was back on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Really,” Jimin said as Jungkook shrugged.

“A blow job counts as hooking up, you know,” Taehyung pointed out.

“Still nope.”

“Huh,” Taehyung muttered, squinting a little but accepting the decision. “All right. Your turn, hyung.”

Yoongi licked his lips. He considered, for a moment, the situation he was in. On the one hand, he’d rather just get his turn over with a lame question (never have I ever gone sky-diving) and be done with it.

On the other hand, Taehyung had put him into this situation, and the peach drink was making him feel slightly bold.

Never have I ever,” he said. “Tried to kiss someone playing this game.” He smiled innocently at Taehyung. “And failed.”

It might have been a little mean. Taehyung had told the story to him a few weeks prior, with his face shoved into a pillow—how he’d drunkenly tried to kiss Hoseok only to stop inches away from Hoseok’s mouth and dart to the bathroom to vomit. He’d been convinced Hoseok would never speak to him again, but Yoongi had also heard the story from his best friend’s point of view. He’d had a gross amount of concern for Taehyung’s wellbeing, and had added at the end, with an almost bemused smile, that it had been kind of cute.

So Yoongi didn’t feel too bad for bringing the memory back up, even though Taehyung was glaring at him, betrayed, over the rim of his cup. His eyes slid over to Jimin. “Go, Jimin.”

Jimin tapped his fingers on Yoongi’s thigh, a featherlight touch that had his muscles twitching under his jeans.

He couldn’t even help it, only hoped it wasn’t obvious to Jimin.

Never have I ever,” Jimin said, drawing out the sentence playfully. “Had sex with more than one person in a night.”

Taehyung snorted so hard that Yoongi swore a booger shot out of his nose, and it was a testament to how whipped he actually was when Hoseok pat his head with gentle concern.

Yoongi turned to Jimin with a raised eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” Jimin replied easily. He raised an eyebrow at Yoongi, then, as Yoongi lifted the drink to his mouth, his eyes darkened with intrigue. Beside them, Taehyung snorted again.

“Yes?” Jimin said, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s thigh briefly.

Yoongi lowered the bottle, pressed his lips together, and said nothing else. It had been after a very drunken night out at a gay club, ironically, the first and only time he and Taehyung had gone out to such a scene together. He’d tried to politely get the two boys the fuck out of the apartment the next morning before Taehyung could wake up, but Taehyung had been awake, cooking pancakes, and cheerfully waved them goodbye while Yoongi flushed a dark red as he walked them to the front door, stalking back to his room and ignoring Taehyung’s amused inquiry.

Of course, with that question, a very clear theme started.

Jungkook claimed he had never fingered himself, to which Taehyung had shown him a very specific finger before he, Yoongi, and Jimin took a sip. Yoongi had nudged Hoseok and said, “Bullshit” to which Hoseok whined about not being able to get off from it, to which Jimin told him he still had to drink.

“Maybe Taehyung can help next time,” Yoongi said, and grinned when Taehyung sputtered and Hoseok grinned down into his drink like an idiot.

Hoseok then stated he’d never used a dildo, adding in a too-loud whisper to Taehyung, his face flushed from the alcohol, that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to try. Taehyung had gulped down his drink like a starving man while Yoongi sipped from his, feeling Jimin do the same behind him.

Jimin’s voice was low in Yoongi’s ear when he said, “bet you look real pretty like that, hyung.”

Yoongi sucked in a breath, turning to—to say something, he wasn’t sure exactly what, but then Taehyung started, “Never have I ever—” and something in his voice caused Yoongi to snap his mouth shut and look over at him. There was a sparkle in Taehyung’s eyes, and Yoongi very much regretted poking fun at him.

“— thought about having sex with Jimin.”

There was a beat of silence, where no one moved. Yoongi felt Jimin’s breath wash warm over the back of his neck, his fingers dancing a little higher up his legs, other arm tightening around him.

Then Jungkook shrugged and took a drink. Hoseok slowly shook his head back and forth, and Taehyung raised an eyebrow at Yoongi, casually taking a sip from his drink without breaking eye contact.

Before their stare off could stretch long enough for someone to comment, and before Taehyung could call bullshit and make it even worse, Yoongi coughed, licked his lips, then, as discreetly as possible, tilted the bottle up to take a sip.

Hoseok grinned so hugely it took up the entire bottom half of his face, while Taehyung giggled into his cup, and Yoongi was seriously about to get up and hide in the bathroom or something, but Jimin’s arms were firm around his waist.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jimin said, sounding pleased.

“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered. “Don’t let it get to your head. Or—or anything else.”

“No promises,” Jimin teased. He then rolled his hips a little, causing Yoongi to lose his balance and fall more heavily against his front, so much so that his feet were now hovering by the barest of centimeters off the ground. Jimin hummed against his shoulder. “Your turn.”

Yoongi glanced down at his beer, noting that it was already more than halfway done. His body felt warm, and he was sure that while the alcohol was to thank, Jimin’s entire front being pressed against his back didn’t help either. Why did he have to be so comfortable?

Never have I ever done a body shot,” Yoongi said in a rush, happy to have his turn over with, sinking a little more deeply against Jimin.

Jimin, however, made a noise of protest. “Oh no. No, I don’t think so,” he said as everyone else took a drink. Jimin did too, then said, “I think we need to fix that.”

Taehyung stood up so fast the couch shifted back an inch. “Yes! I’ll get the tequila!”

“Wait,” Yoongi said. “Don’t you want to finish the—”

“Nope, be right back, don’t any of you fucking move!” Taehyung screamed over his shoulder as he ran out of the room.

Jimin tilted his beer bottle back, downing the rest in a few gulps.

“How have you never done a body shot?” Jungkook said, squinting at Yoongi. “What’re you, like, twenty-six?”

“I’m twenty-three,” Yoongi snapped. “What are you, sixteen?”

“Easy, baby,” Jimin giggled. With his beer finished, he had both hands free, and was using it to his advantage, slowly, gently, dragging his palms and fingers up and down Yoongi’s thighs.

Yoongi tried not to be distracted by how nice Jimin’s hands felt. Goddammit. He downed what was left of his drink, feeling properly tipsy, but it wasn’t the idea of getting drunker that made him pause. He could handle his alcohol.

But he also had no idea what he was doing and had a feeling Jimin was going to be the one he was doing it to, and that thought had him flushing all the way down to his toes.

Taehyung barreled back into the room, juggling a shot glass, a tequila bottle, a plastic container of salt, and a bag of lime wedges in his arms.

“Are we ready?” Taehyung said gleefully. “Yoongi, have you decided who you’re licking?”

“I think we should demonstrate first,” Jimin said. His hands danced up Yoongi’s sides. “What do you think, Yoongi-hyung?”

Yoongi pursed his lips, glancing around. Everyone else was looking at him like they very much wanted this to happen, but knew he was going to bow out. Taehyung was already glancing between the coarse salt to Hosoek, as if debating where he wanted to spread it on his body.

“Okay,” he found himself saying, and Taehyung whipped his head back around. “I’ll do it.”

“Holy shit, move over guys,” Taehyung said, half-kicking at Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok jumped up, and Jungkook shifted over until he was balancing on the arm of the couch.

Jimin laughed, sliding a hand up Yoongi’s back with one hand and gripping his waist with the other. He twisted him around until Yoongi fell with a soft oof onto the cushions, head pressed against the arm of the couch opposite where Jungkook sat.

“Sweatshirt has to come off, hyung!” Taehyung crowed.

Yoongi blinked up at Jimin, who was currently hovering over him, a hand planted firmly into the cushion right next to Yoongi’s head. There was a small, unreadable smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and his eyes were twinkling.

Yoongi sucked his lower lip into his mouth, then released it. “Um. No?”

Jimin’s smile widened. “That’s okay, baby,” he said. “We can do this instead.”

Then he was leaning down, down, tugging at the neck of his sweater to further expose his skin, and all Yoongi could smell was the faded musk of his cologne, still sharp enough to make his nose tingle, mixed with the faintest traces of sweat and tequila. Jimin’s dark hair tickled his chin, and he gasped a little, automatically angling his head up just as something warm and wet dragged up the column of his throat. Yoongi swallowed another gasp, and could feel his Adam’s apple bob under the soft pressure of Jimin’s tongue.

Taehyung was cat-calling and wolf-whistling, Hoseok was shouting excitedly, and Jimin was saying in an airy voice, “Tae, give it here.”

Yoongi blinked twice, trying to focus his vision past the prominent curve of Jimin’s jaw, the way he made his lower lip glisten when he ran his tongue over the pink skin, but found it impossible when that lip spread into a full-on smile, and then there was something rough being slathered along the skin of his neck.

“Salt,” Jimin breathed, and then held the bright green wedge of lime to Yoongi’s mouth. “Open up.”

Yoongi blushed hot, not only at the words but at the dark gleam in Jimin’s eyes, the way he opened his mouth too, like he was showing Yoongi what to do, pushing his tongue out again to run over his lip again. 

Yoongi exhaled and parted his lips.

“I’m gonna lick the salt off your neck, cutie,” Jimin murmured. “Take the shot. Then take the lime out of your mouth. Okay?”

Yoongi blinked, heart hammering in is chest. He nodded shortly, keeping his neck stretched to keep the salt in one place.

“You look so good,” Jimin whispered before ducking down to lick him again.

Yoongi couldn’t gasp properly, with the lime wedge between his teeth, couldn’t press his lips together either, so the whimper that leaked out through his teeth past the lime was inevitable, and surely noticed by Jimin. He could feel Jimin huff against his skin, felt his hand curl around his waist and squeeze. Yoongi’s leg twitched a little, and he made another small sound, muffled only by the fruit, when Jimin ducked back down to lick up the line of salt a second time.

There was more yelling, cheering, and whistling. For a second, Yoongi could only stare up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as he struggled for breath around the lime. There was a sharp, bitter taste on his tongue, and he realized he was biting down on the rind too hard.

His gaze flickered over to where Jimin was swallowing the tequila, head tossed back, his neck a gleaming, golden stretch of skin interrupted only by that fucking black choker. It had Yoongi breathing in sharply again, chest rising in an arch just as Jimin turned back to him.

His knees hit the floor next to the couch with a thud, his hand coming around to cup Yoongi’s jaw as he leaned down.

“Pretty,” Jimin said right before sinking his teeth into the pulp.

Yoongi’s hand jerked, grasping at Jimin’s upper arm and squeezing when he felt Jimin’s lips, so fucking full, drag over his just before he pulled away with the wedge in his mouth. Yoongi felt some juice trickle onto skin, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away, was too preoccupied with getting his brain working properly again. The only thing it seemed able to process was the feeling of Jimin’s lips, briefly sliding over his.

He wanted more.

Jimin was laughing next to him amidst their friends’ shrieking, his hand still cupped around Yoongi’s jaw. Taehyung was already pouring the next shot, grinning with Hoseok’s arms wrapped around his waist while Jungkook watched it all, looking wholly entertained.

Jimin peeked down at Yoongi and ran his thumb over his tingling lips, wiping away the stray trail of lime juice that had started a slow, stinging path over his mouth.

Yoongi tightened his grip on Jimin’s arm and sat up.

“It’s your turn,” he said, his voice coming out rough. He hooked his fingers in the collar of Jimin’s button down, tugging hard enough to lift Jimin from his knees and get him on the couch. With some more maneuvering, their positions were switched, with Jimin flat on his back laying longways across the cushions and Yoongi, supporting himself on the back of the couch with one hand as he looked down at Jimin.

“Think you got the gist?” Jimin said, tilting his chin up and highlighting the long line of his neck, the black ribbon sitting pretty at the base. 

“I think I got it,” Yoongi said. He licked his lips, eyes flicking up and down Jimin’s body. Fuck the self-control. Fuck the entire fucking game. Yoongi tugged at the button of Jimin’s shirt. “Lose this.”

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” Taehyung shrieked, sounding delighted.

“Take it off!” Hoseok chanted. “Take it off!”

Jimin smiled slow, slipping his hands under Yoongi’s fumbling ones to deftly undo the rest of his shirt buttons. They both moved to part the fabric at once, and Yoongi wasn’t surprised by the defined lines of his abs, but that didn’t mean he was prepared for it. And who could have warned him about the way they flexed as Jimin breathed in, calm and steadily, his eyes hot on Yoongi’s face.

“Can I—” Yoongi said, voice cracking a little. He gestured at Taehyung, opening and closing his fingers rapidly. “The bottle.”

The neck of the bottle was shoved in his fingers, and, foregoing thinking things through, Yoongi tilted it over the lines of Jimin’s stomach. He’d meant to just wet the skin, enough to spread the salt, but of course more amber liquid then he’d intended came out, spilling over Jimin’s stomach, little rivulets running down his sides and dampening the cushions underneath him.

“You like it messy, huh?” Jimin leered.

Yoongi snapped his gaze back up to meet Jimin’s, exchanging the tequila for the salt and lime. Before dipping his fingers in the salt, Yoongi leaned forward and shoved the wedge in between his teeth.

“Maybe this will keep you quiet for two seconds,” Yoongi said, tapping on Jimin’s lip before swinging his leg over Jimin and straddling his hips.

If Taehyung wasn’t taking photos, Hoseok definitely was, but Yoongi didn’t care, he didn’t fucking care, not when Jimin’s eyes were glittering up at him, daring him to keep going, or even worse, stop.

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop.

It was easy to tune out the whistling and cheering as he ran his fingers down over Jimin’s stomach, wetting his lips when the muscles jumped under the touch. The salt stuck easily to his skin, a messy smear of coarse, white grain.

Yoongi glanced up at Jimin one more time, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks when their eyes met.

He was quick to shuffle back a few inches on Jimin’s lap and when he ducked down, it was easy to press his tongue against the white trail of salt that began a few inches above the waistline of his jeans.

The smell of sweat and alcohol was much sharper, now coating the insides of his mouth. Yoongi breathed out, feeling the salt grains catch, rolling over the ridges of Jimin’s abs as he dragged his tongue slowly upwards.

There was suddenly a hand in his hair. Not pushing, or tugging, simply carding through the strands, tickling his scalp, and it came through as a gentle praise. Yoongi could almost hear Jimin’s voice in his head, telling him he was doing good, so good.

Yoongi squeezed his knees tight around Jimin’s hips. His mouth was watering from the salt, and he knew, because wasn’t kidding himself anymore, from the hard lines of Jimin’s abs under his tongue. They were smooth but fucking firm, and when Yoongi finally flicked his tongue upwards, curling it back into his mouth to gather the last of the salt, he wanted to go back and do it again, feel the muscle twitch under him, suck an angry bruise into the skin.

There was a beat, as he was pulling his tongue back into his mouth, where they just looked at each other. Yoongi’s cheeks burning so hot they prickled, Jimin with his head tilted forwards so he could watch, a smidge of lime juice slowly trailing down his left jaw, likely a result of Yoongi shoving the fruit into his mouth without finesse. His hand was still in Yoongi’s hair.

When Taehyung (or Hoseok, Yoongi honestly wasn’t sure at this point) shoved the shot glass into his hand, Yoongi tossed it back, and before the burn of it could make him shudder, or the warmth of it could even spread through his belly, Yoongi rocked forward, planting his hands deep into the cushion on either side of Jimin’s head as he ducked down to bite the lime. 

He—he wasn’t sure what came over him. He’d seen Jimin do it. He’d seen plenty of other people do it. He knew you were supposed to take hold of the wedge with your teeth and then sink in, a safe distance from the other person’s mouth.

Fuck that. Clearly, safe distance was a thing of the past.

He’d been moving quickly right up until his teeth cut through the pulp of the lime. When he bit down, he did so almost slowly, slow enough that the juice didn’t come out in a burst, but in a steady trickle, dripping past the corners of Jimin’s lips until Yoongi took it out of his mouth completely, tilting his head back so what was left of the lime juice slid down his chin, leaving a cool little trail in its wake.  

There was some more screeching and cheering come from beside them, but all Yoongi could focus on was Jimin whispering, “You’re a fast learner, baby,” before he surged up after him, lips fastening on his neck where the lime had spilt, sucking far harder than was necessary considering how little there was. But Yoongi, feeling flushed and warm, and maybe, fuck maybe a little hard, choked out a laugh, spitting out the lime as his hands came around to the back of Jimin’s head, weaving through the strands and tugging.

And then Jimin put his lips against his ear. 

“Wanna fuck you,” he whispered, quiet enough so no one else could hear.

Yoongi jerked in his grip ‘cause holy shit, he’d just said that, and Yoongi—Yoongi was definitely a little hard. His eyelashes fluttered as he glanced around, dimly registering that Hoseok was covering his eyes and Taehyung was essentially squealing, and, for some reason, kicking at Jungkook’s shins.

Jimin’s hands slid up Yoongi’s thighs, palms dragging over his ass before settling just at the top, fingers digging into the small of his back. “Tell me to stop,” Jimin whispered into his ear. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Yoongi didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want him to stop either. And Jimin fucking knew that.

He didn’t have the patience to worry about regretting it in the morning. Jimin was licking at his ear, his piercings clicking between his teeth, and Yoongi didn’t care, didn’t care if he was kind of a douche, if he’d said the same thing to fifty other people. He wanted to come so hard he cried, wanted to see the way Jimin looked at him when that happened.

“Where the fuck is your room,” Yoongi said, yanking hard on Jimin’s hair and tugging him back so their eyes met.

Jimin blinked, then grinned, tightening his grip on Yoongi so that when he stood, Yoongi stayed essentially in the same position, with his legs wrapped around his waist.

“We’re gonna go clean up,” Jimin said.

Hoseok peered out over his fingers, Jungkook rolled his eyes, and Taehyung, looking marginally startled, glanced between Yoongi in Jimin’s arms and Hoseok so much that Yoongi briefly thought he might be having a stroke.

Then Taehyung grabbed Hoseok with one hand and held up the tequila in the other. “This,” he said to him. “Me. Your room?”

Hoseok didn’t even look Yoongi and Jimin’s way, wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s over the neck of the handle and leading him out of the room that way without a backwards glance.

“I feel,” Yoongi said as Jimin laughed, continuing out the room. He pressed his mouth to the curve where Jimin’s neck met his shoulder, bare thanks to his undone shirt. “Mercifully overlooked.”

“Mm,” Jimin said, ducking into a short hallway with one door at the end. His lips quirked as he held Yoongi close to him with one arm so he could twist the handle open. “Enjoy that while it lasts.”

Yoongi exhaled sharply across Jimin’s neck just as the bedroom door clicked shut. He tightened his legs around Jimin’s waist even as Jimin pressed him against the door and buried his face in his neck.

Yoongi had expected him to move hard and fast, roll his hips against Yoongi’s and bite bruises into his skin almost immediately. But he didn’t do that.

Instead, slowly, he slid his hands off of Yoongi’s ass and down to his thighs, guiding until his feet touched the ground again. Without saying anything, Jimin tilted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the pulse point just under Yoongi’s jaw.

Then he did it again.

Jimin paused, breath washing over the same spot as he fingers toyed with the hem of Yoongi’s sweater for a moment before slipping underneath and caressing his bare hip bone.

He kissed his pulse point again, lingering a little longer before pulling back. His hand slipped up higher, tickling over his ribcage, back down, then up again.

He kissed the same place, this time laving his tongue over the skin as his fingers ghosted over Yoongi’s nipple. Yoongi gasped, head knocking back against the door, and Jimin followed the movement with ease, kissing the same fucking spot, briefly sucking it in between his teeth before releasing. He thumbed across Yoongi’s nipple with added pressure, pushing and then flicking, ducking forward to suck under his jaw.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his pulse point fluttering under Jimin’s mouth, was positive Jimin could too, feel the quick thump-thump-thump of his heart jumping in the vein under Jimin’s tongue as he licked and suckled, occasionally pinching it between his teeth.

Yoongi didn’t see he was grinding against Jimin until the other boy pushed back against him with his hips, not stopping until he was pressed flat against the door, unable to move. He didn’t notice he was moaning until Jimin laughed, his breath warm against the damp skin of Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi’s voice caught in his throat, and he blinked, realizing his head had been lolling to the side, just to give Jimin more, more to kiss and bite and lick, but he just pressed his mouth back against the same spot, rubbing his finger over Yoongi’s nipple again, and Yoongi was going to lose his fucking mind.

“Jimin,” he said, and he wanted to die because he sounded wrecked already. They hadn’t even taken their clothes off. “Jimin.”

“Baby,” Jimin said, lips moving against his neck. “You feel good?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi said. He shut his eyes again. “Fuck, you’re—killing me.”

Jimin huffed out another laugh, sucking the skin a little bit more firmly into his mouth, curving his other hand around Yoongi’s waist. “I didn’t think you’d be so sensitive.”

Yoongi swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling. “Surprise,” he said hoarsely.

He felt Jimin’s teeth bare against his neck in a grin, and then he was pinching Yoongi’s nipple between his fingers, hard, and biting the tingling flesh under his jaw, hard. Yoongi jerked, one leg hiking up around Jimin’s waist, neck arching as much as the door behind his head would allow, and he groaned, burying his hands in Jimin’s hair and trying his damndest to move his hips, to get some fucking friction.

“Or needy,” Jimin whispered. “You never pay attention to me when I come over. Maybe we can make up for that right now, hyung.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi said. His body was hot and his thoughts a jumbled mess, save for one thing. Jimin, and what he wanted Jimin to do to him. “Jesus Christ, shut up and do something.”

“What,” Jimin grinned, slowly pulling his hands away. "What do you want me to do?”

Yoongi groaned, still unable to roll his hips properly with the way Jimin was pressing him back. He took his hands out of Jimin’s hair, reaching for his hips to make him move, but Jimin—Jimin straight up giggled before catching both of his wrists and slamming them up against the door. He stepped back so that for a long moment, there was nothing but air in front of him, which was almost worse than having something there and not being able to grind against it.

Definitely worse.

Then Jimin brought his knee up and pressed it hard against Yoongi’s crotch.

Yoongi gasped, hips canting up immediately to rub against Jimin’s leg before he settled, not wanting to make a total idiot out of himself. But god he was hard.

“It’s okay,” Jimin said, squeezing his wrists. He leaned forward, adding a delicious pressure to Yoongi’s crotch. His breath broke across the tingling spot under his jaw. “Rub yourself on me.”

“God,” Yoongi said before he could help himself. Jimin had begun kissing his neck again. His head was swimming, and he knew, he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was something else thrumming through his veins, making his blood run hot, and it all had to do with Jimin. “God fuck shit god.”

“Mhm,” Jimin said. He inched his knee up a smidge then rubbed it back down, softly sucking then releasing the same sliver of flesh. He hummed when Yoongi, with a shuddering sigh, began to roll his hips. “That’s it,” Jimin said. “There you go, hyung.”

Yoongi couldn’t move his hands to cover his face, wrists still pinned against the door. He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing his whimper. It felt so good to get some goddamn relief, and Jimin’s thigh was large and firm against his crotch. He almost didn’t care about the layers of clothes in between.

Almost.

“You think you could come like this?” Jimin trilled, pushing his knee up a little harder against Yoongi and giggling again when Yoongi gasped. “Come in your pants and make a mess for me?”

“God, do you ever shut—” Yoongi broke off when Jimin shunted his leg forward with enough force that the door behind him shook.

“No,” Jimin said with an easy smile, kissing under his jaw again, and at that point, the spot was so sensitive that even the barest brush of his lips had Yoongi swallowing a whine. “Specially not when you react so cutely.” Jimin paused, just to look at him, pretty eyes curved in his smile, lips full and pink. “God you’re so hot.”

Yoongi exhaled, breath pushing through his clenched teeth in a hiss. He tried to get out Jimin’s grip, maybe to smack him, maybe to pull him closer, but Jimin didn’t budge.

“Did you want to move?” he teased, eye flickering down to watch the way Yoongi’s hips were rutting over his thigh. “What if I wanna fuck you against the door?”

Yoongi’s insides coiled, and he swallowed a moan at the image of Jimin turning him around, bending him over and just splitting him open against the cheap wood paneling.

Fuck.

Jimin let go of his wrists without warning, fingers coming down the pull at the buttons of Yoongi’s jeans and Yoongi—Yoongi didn’t stop grinding against him, only looped his arms around Jimin’s neck to pull himself a little closer, a little harder against him.

“Wow,” Jimin murmured, sounding pleased. The zipper made a quick zzz sound as he jerked it down, working the waistline over Yoongi’s hips as much as he could given their position. And Yoongi definitely wasn’t helping, rolling his hips against Jimin’s leg like a fucking teenager, his blood boiling in his veins, staining his cheeks pink. Jimin’s fingers were like hot pokers on the bare skin of his upper thigh. “You’re so desperate, hyung.”

He looked up at Yoongi’s face, and there wasn’t much more of a warning before he was lowering his knee and leaning forward to kiss him.

Yoongi froze for a second, because with all the stupid teasing and flirting, this was the first time they’d actually kissed, and—fuck.

He was kissing Jimin. Fucking Jimin, the crush he’d been hiding from for months, because Jimin was Jimin, brazen attitude and carefree smiles.

And Yoongi was Yoongi.

But Jimin’s mouth was soft, sticky with lime juice and tequila, and the one thing Yoongi was very clear on in that moment was that he wanted more. He didn’t wait to slip his tongue out to taste, his arms tightening around Jimin’s neck. He gasped shallowly into the younger boy’s mouth as he nipped at Yoongi’s lip, sliding his tongue over the spot before pushing inside Yoongi’s mouth.

He was pulling at Yoongi’s bottoms again, now that his leg wasn’t in the way, and had managed to get the jeans and boxers to Yoongi’s knees before Yoongi took over, wriggling and using his feet to try and tug the denim down, finally getting them off one leg but grunting in frustration when they caught on the other ankle.

He could feel Jimin smile against his mouth before he pulled away. He dragged his thumb over Yoongi’s lower lip, dipped forward to kiss it and then, with a grace that was only possible because it was him, dropped to his knees.

Yoongi’s hands shifted up to sift through the sweaty hair at the back of Jimin’s neck as the other boy looked up at him. He was so fucking beautiful it wasn’t fair, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, the black choker a little crooked on his neck. A few wayward bangs hung in front of his eyes, which were trained on Yoongi’s, hot, dark, and gleaming.

Yoongi wound dark strands around his fingers and gripped hard. “What,” he said, voice raspy.

Jimin smiled, giving the jeans a solid yank to remove them completely before hooking his fingers around the backs of Yoongi’s ankles and slowly sliding up the backs of his calves. “You’re cute.”

“Stop saying that,” Yoongi grumbled, squirming with no where to go, his sweater rucking up slightly against the doorway as he fidgeted. “I’m fucking older than you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin said. His palm were dragging over the backs of Yoongi’s thighs now. “N’look at you.” And Jimin was looking at him, eyes roving over his bare legs, the hem of his sweater stopping just past the tops of his thighs, lingering on the place where his cock, embarrassingly hard, tented the fabric. “You’re cute, baby.”

Jimin grinned, and Yoongi blushed, blushed so red his head spun, vision blurring when Jimin ducked forward and kissed the tip of his dick through the sweater.

Yoongi inhaled, nails scraping the back of Jimin’s neck as Jimin pushed the fabric up the shaft of his dick to slowly reveal the flushed, pink skin, murmuring pretty one more time before surging forward and pressing his lips against it.

Jimin,” Yoongi gasped, hips rolling forward so much that his cock bounced against Jimin’s cheek. He immediately pulled his hands out of Jimin’s hair, ready to press his palms against his eyes, but Jimin snickered, grabbing hold of one hand in each of his and weaving their fingers together.

“Look at me,” Jimin said, squeezing Yoongi’s hands in his until Yoongi blinked down at him. Keeping his eyes on Yoongi’s, Jimin leaned forward and slowly wrapped his lips around the head of his cock.

Yoongi bit down on his lip and was about to knock his head back against the door, but Jimin tightened his grip in warning, even as he moved further down his length, lips puckered tight around his girth, tongue stroking the underside.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin pushed forward until his nose brushed the trimmed hair around the base, looking up at him all the while. “Oh fuck.”

Jimin pulled back and swirled his tongue around the tip, half-grinning when Yoongi whimpered, pulling Yoongi’s hands to his shoulders and disentangling their fingers so Yoongi could rest them there. Yoongi parted his lips as he breathed in, shallowly, then out. He breathed in again and just—held it as Jimin swallowed him down again.

He was making noises in the back of his throat, low, choked off hums that vibrated around Yoongi’s cock as Jimin bobbed his head. He was still watching Yoongi, eyes a little watery, but overall, appeared incredibly fucking content with the situation.

It made Yoongi blush hot, all the way down to his fucking toes, seeing Jimin on his knees in front of him, very clearly enjoying himself. Enjoying having Yoongi’s cock in his mouth, stretching his lips wide, and enjoying the way Yoongi, standing over him, was struggling to breathe. He could feel his own eyes stinging, stomach coiling hot with pleasure and the sight. If Jimin kept this up, Yoongi wasn’t going to last.

And he really didn't want this to end just yet. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi said, voice strained. “Jimin—“

Slowly, dragging his lips, Jimin pulled off. He tapped his finger against the tip of Yoongi’s cock, finally breaking eye contact to watch the string of precum stretch between his pointer finger and Yoongi’s slit.

“You’re wet,” Jimin murmured. He smiled, leaning forward to suck the tip into his mouth again. Yoongi released the breath he’d been holding, hands scrambling for a grip on Jimin’s shoulders.

Then he felt Jimin’s fingers slide under his balls, up his perineum, and circle around his hole.

Fuck,” Yoongi exclaimed. He moaned, knees buckling when Jimin pushed against the first ring of muscle. “Oh—oh fuck, Jimin—?”

Jimin hummed around him, wiggling the tip of one finger just barely inside, then, pushed his head forward until the head of Yoongi’s cock was hitting the back of his throat.

Yoongi couldn’t do anything except slump against the door, legs shaking, fingers twisting in Jimin’s hair. There was a slight burn where Jimin was pushing his finger, but he wasn’t forcing it to the point of discomfort.

And his mouth around Yoongi was an entire distraction.

Yoongi’s hips rolled forward all at once, like his body couldn’t hold back anymore. Jimin made a small noise of surprise, his eyes bright as they held Yoongi’s gaze, his hand between Yoongi’s legs shifting to curl around the back of his thigh. He breathed out harshly through his nose, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked.

Yoongi moaned, whispering Jimin’s name when he pulled off him again, still maintaining eye contact until the string of saliva connecting his mouth to the tip of Yoongi’s cock broke.

Yoongi’s back slid down the door a couple more inches.

“Let’s go to the bed,” Jimin said, fisting Yoongi’s cock. “You can hardly stand, baby.”

Yoongi licked his lips, keeping his hands around Jimin’s neck as he stood so their faces were level again. Jimin’s gaze flickered over him, surely taking note of his bitten lower lip and pink cheeks. His lips twitched before he leaned forward to kiss Yoongi hard, licking into his mouth, securing his hands on the backs of Yoongi’s thighs and hiking him up til his legs wrapped around his waist.

“You’re so light,” Jimin mumbled against his mouth, walking backwards towards his bed. “S’cute.”

Yoongi, face burning, purposefully licked across Jimin’s lower lip before biting down. Jimin’s grip tightened around his legs, but instead of jerking away, he leaned into it, kissing Yoongi harder than before.

“Wanna play like that?” Jimin teased. “Play hard to get, like you have been for the last four months?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Yoongi said, kicking his legs until Jimin loosed his grip. They were right at the foot of the bed, and the minute Yoongi’s feet touched the ground, he planted his palm on Jimin’s chest and shoved.

Jimin gasped, more an instinctive reaction than anything, barely catching himself on his palms. He wasn’t quite finished bouncing on the mattress before Yoongi was crawling on after him, working at the button of his jeans.

“Want something?” Jimin grinned, even as he lifted his hips off the bed so Yoongi could tug off his pants. Yoongi swallowed, taking in the way Jimin's cock curved up against his abs, the tip pink and leaking.

“I want you to fuck me,” Yoongi said gruffly, jerking his head up to glare at Jimin, who, ridiculously, was still half wearing his unbuttoned shirt, with one shoulder exposed. His skin was smooth, golden, and Yoongi had an insane desire to bite it.

So he did.

Jimin’s fingers were the ones weaving into Yoongi’s hair now as he sucked on his skin, flicking his tongue hard over the skin clamped between his teeth. He let his head fall to the side, giving Yoongi better access, a soft moan punching out of his mouth. As Yoongi suckled, he unfastened the choker, wanting an uninterrupted expanse of Jimin's skin under his mouth. 

“Feels good, baby,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi nipped where the choker had been. He tightened his grip in Yoongi’s hair. “Feels really good.”

Yoongi lifted his mouth from Jimin’s skin, pushing the shirt off the other shoulder. Jimin tilted his head to look at him.

“Where’s your lube?” Yoongi said.

Jimin smirked and nodded towards his bedside table. “Right on top.”

“’Course it is,” Yoongi muttered, giving Jimin another push so he fell flat on the bed as  Yoongi stretched to grab the clear bottle. He untwisted the cap and squeezed some out onto his fingers.

Jimin touched his wrist, lifting his torso. “Let me.”

“Let me,” Yoongi said, widening his legs over Jimin’s. He licked his lips as he brought his hand around behind him, circling around his entrance. He felt it twitch in response, and grunted, head falling forward.

Jimin’s fingers dipped under Yoongi‘s sweater and curled around his cock, slowly stroking as Yoongi pushed in a finger to the first knuckle. “You do this a lot?” Jimin whispered to him. “Finger yourself open till you come?” He twisted his wrist, and Yoongi pushed his finger inside all the way with a gasp. “Or do you do it just enough till you can fuck yourself with your toy?”

“I don—”

“Liar,” Jimin said, smiling wider. “We played Never Have I Ever, Yoongi-hyung. You can’t lie now.”

Yoongi flushed, blaming the alcohol, and the fact that he was two fingers deep for the flub.

And the way Jimin was looking at him, his fingers tightening at just the right moments as he pumped his cock.

“I wanna see you do it,” Jimin said. He leaned forward, tugging Yoongi’s earlobe between his teeth. “Next time I come over. Show me.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi whispered, feeling himself clench around his fingers. He buried his face in Jimin’s neck, shivering at his words, the idea of a next time, how tight he was around himself and how he still wanted more.

“How many do you have in, baby?” Jimin said, kissing under his ear.

“Two,” Yoongi whispered.

“Mhm,” Jimin said. “Can you put in a third?”

Yoongi nodded against his neck, already testing the first ring of muscle with another finger. He parted his lips in a wet gasp against Jimin’s neck, and moaned lowly when Jimin let his hand slip off Yoongi to push further up under the fabric of his sweater. His palms settled against the small of his back as Yoongi slid in the third finger alongside the other two, muffling his next moan into Jimin’s skin.

“How’s that?” Jimin said, puling back to kiss his open, panting mouth. “Good?”

Yoongi, cheeks hot, nodded. “Tight,” he muttered. “But I—”

Jimin was massaging little circles into his lower back, dipping occasionally lower to rub the tops of his cheeks. He hummed, waiting for Yoongi to continue. “Tell me. You what?”

“Want more,” Yoongi said. He twisted his fingers, eyes rolling back when the tips brushed his prostate. “Fucking please.”

Yoongi glanced over at the bedside table, and sure enough, there was a box of condoms.

“Needy, needy.” Jimin looked smug as he grabbed a foil packet from the box. He put it down next to him on the mattress, then tugged at the hem of Yoongi’s sweater. “Can I take this off?”

Yoongi nodded, breath hitching when he scissored his fingers before slowly dragging them out. He felt himself clench and unclench. Now was usually when he fucked himself with a toy. Usually his rubber pink dildo.

But Jimin was here, almost gently helping him tug the sweater over and off his head, leaning forward to kiss him when it had been discarded. He shrugged off his button-down as their lips slid over each other so they were both finally naked.

“Hyung, mm, wow,” Jimin said, hands roving up and down his sides. “God. Pretty little thing. You sure you can take my cock?”

“How about you let me worry about that,” Yoongi said in almost a growl. He pushed Jimin onto his back again. Jimin, half laughing, grabbed the condom packet and ripped it open with his teeth—which was totally unnecessary but not surprising. Yoongi squirted lube into his palm and Jimin had just barely finished rolling on the latex before Yoongi was slicking his cock with the liquid, fast and determined.

Jimin grabbed the tops of Yoongi’s thighs, squeezing when Yoongi reached back behind him to spread the excess lube around his entrance. There was a lot of it. He was kind of clumsy, accredited it to that tequila shot and the way Jimin was touching him.

“Messy,” Jimin teased when a drop landed on his thigh.

“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Yoongi grumbled. He shifted, guiding Jimin’s dick between his cheeks, and holy god he could feel himself clenching and unclenching, and could only imagine what it looked like.

Jimin was looking up at him with dark eyes, tongue wetting his lower lip when the head caught on Yoongi‘s rim. Yoongi grunted, swiveling his hips, head tilting back when the tip breached.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin breathed as Yoongi planted his hands on Jimin’s chest and sank down a couple more inches. “Goddamn you’re tight. Baby.

Yoongi’s nails scraped red lines into Jimin’s skin as he lowered himself. He was probably going a little too fast, but he thanked the alcohol for numbing the stretch, and really, even without it, he’d never minded a little pain.

He wanted this, he wanted to get fucked, fuck himself on Jimin more than he cared to admit, so much that he felt it burn his blood hot and raise a flush to his skin.

It didn’t take long for his ass to press against the tops of Jimin’s thighs. He could feel his muscles spasming around Jimin, couldn’t quite control the tremble in his thighs as he adjusted. But Jimin’s fingers were digging into his skin hard enough to bruise, and he was muttering “fuck” under his breath over and over.

So Yoongi began to move.

He tightened the muscles in his legs to lift himself, then relaxed them as he dropped back down, unable to stop the smile at the light smacking noise that followed. Jimin let out a sharp gasp.

Yeah, okay. That felt fucking good.

“You’re so fucking tight—” Jimin exclaimed, hands jumping up to Yoongi’s waist and squeezing. “Hyung, holy fuck.”

Instead of responding, Yoongi focused on picking up his speed. The ache in his lower back was starting to recede, the burn shifting into a sharp pleasure that punched short little gasps out of his mouth.

He hadn’t fucked someone in at least—god, two months, maybe three. And that had been a shitty Tinder hookup to boot. But this was Park Jimin underneath him, Park Jimin digging finger shaped bruises into his hips and gasping out soft little curses everytime Yoongi dropped his weight back down into his lap. Park Jimin, hissing up at him, fuck, baby, just like that, keep fucking me like that, hyung.

Yoongi gasped when Jimin’s cock hit his prostate, arching up and freezing in place for a heartbeat.

“Did you find it?” Jimin said. His fingers skipped down over Yoongi’s thighs, then back up to his waist. “Don’t stop.”

Yoongi rose up and slammed back down, a high-pitched noise slipping from the back of his throat, and before he was even done whimpering, he was coming back up again, then back down a harder than before. His hair tickled the top of his back as he tilted his head back.

For a minute, it was just Yoongi moving, bouncing so hard in Jimin’s lap that they both rose a little off the mattress when their skin smacked together. The high pitched whimpers, noises usually muffled into his pillow alone at home, were becoming consistent, and Yoongi could feel precum smear on his skin as his cock slapped against his stomach.

“If I’d known you make noises like this, hyung,” Jimin said. “I would have done this a lot sooner.”

“Fucking asshole,” Yoongi gasped, his rhythm stuttering. Holy fuck he was close. His legs burned, shaking on every downward thrust. He ignored the pain and leaned forward, pressing his hands against Jimin’s chest for leverage and moving his hips as hard as he could.

“You’re clenching,” Jimin whispered, and his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked. He rolled his hips up to meet Yoongi’s, who fell forward a few inches as a result. His arms were burning now too. “Wish you could see what you look like, hyung.” Yoongi screwed up his expression, realizing his eyes were wet with unshed tears while the heat in his cheeks stained them red. Jimin sighed, tilting his head back into the pillows while soft whimpers tumbled out of Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you close?”

“F-fuck,” Yoongi hissed. Jimin slipped one hand off his waist and wrapped his fingers around Yoongi’s cock. “Jimin!

“C’mon, baby, fuck me till you come.” Jimin was breathless too, and Yoongi moaned again at the fact that it was because of him. Jimin gasped on a particularly hard downward thrust. He squeezed his fingers around Yoongi, creating a perfect grip for him to fuck up into. He whined, god, whined, his voice raspy and pitched higher than he’d ever care to admit, but Jimin was twisting his wrist perfectly, and his cock felt so good inside him so he just whispered his name again. And again. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

“Yeah, m’here, you’re so good,” Jimin whispered up at him. “Come on, baby, come for me. Let me feel you.”

Oh god he was really gonna come. He couldn’t muffle his noises, supposed that ship had sailed a while ago. He could feel tears smudging around his temples as he titled his head back again, and when Jimin said, sounding almost as wrecked as Yoongi, “you’re so fucking beautiful” Yoongi felt his last bit of self-control snap.

“Jimi—” Yoongi broke off, voice cracking at the end as his orgasm crashed over him, shooting up over his chest, some of it landing across Jimin’s stomach. He could feel his legs starting to give out on him, and was moaning wordlessly when Jimin leg go of his cock, curling his hand back around Yoongi’s waist. He could feel him slip a little, fingers wet with Yoongi’s cum, but he just squeezed harder to secure his grip.

Yoongi moaned, could feel himself go boneless in Jimin’s hold as the other boy began to control his up and down movement as Yoongi came, and god it was so hot, so fucking hot that Jimin was the one bouncing him in his lap. Yoongi’s moan broke on a sob, and he shouted when Jimin abruptly stilled his movements only to fuck up into him.

“Tightening up around me, fuck,” Jimin hissed, hips snapping against Yoongi’s skin. “Fuck, hyung, you're amazing.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whimpered. “Harder, Jimin. Harder.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened, and then Yoongi’s world literally flipped when Jimin sat up, toppling Yoongi onto his back. There was an agonizing moment when Jimin pulled out of Yoongi completely, and Jimin grinned as he fucked back into him, cutting off Yoongi’s desperate whine.

“Baby just needs my cock, hm,” Jimin goaded, pushing Yoongi’s legs up and snapping his hips forward. “God, Yoongi-hyung—so fucking needy—”

“Want you to,” Yoongi gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as his body rucked up against them with the force from Jimin’s thrusts. “Come on me, please—”

Jimin exhaled sharply, leaning forward to kiss Yoongi hard. “Yeah, yeah okay,” he said in between kisses, his voice breathless. “M’kay, hyung, fucking—gonna come, y’feel so good—”

Please,” Yoongi was whispering. He gasped up into Jimin’s mouth, moaned when Jimin flicked his tongue over his lips, whimpering at every hard, forward thrust. His body shifted up on the mattress another couple inches.

Yoongi,” Jimin whispered, and then he was pulling out, breathlessly hushing Yoongi’s whines as he tugged off the condom, pumped himself just a few times before he was coming all over Yoongi’s front.

Yoongi arched up off the bed, dimly registering the dampness around his mouth, flushing, if possible, even darker at the image he must make. Drool around his lips, tears clumping his eyelashes, face flushed, body flushed, his stomach a mess of cum.

Goddamn.

“Baby,” Jimin whispered, and he ran two fingers through the cum on his front. “God, so pretty,” he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself. His gaze flickered up to Yoongi’s. He held the fingers, shiny with the traces of both their orgasm, right up to Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi didn’t think twice, parting his lips to suck the fingers into his mouth, making a soft, weak noise at the bitter taste. Jimin exhaled slowly. He looked ridiculously good, his hair a wild, dark mess, collarbones shiny with sweat, lips plump and pink. He ran his tongue over them as he watched Yoongi suckle on his fingers, leaning closer so when he finally pulled them out of Yoongi’s mouth, he could kiss him.

The kiss was sensual. Yoongi’s toes curled against the bedspread when Jimin twirled his tongue around Yoongi’s, pressed short, soft kisses across his lower lip.

“Fuck, hyung,” Jimin whispered softly. “I could fuck you every night, you know?”

Yoongi chuckled weakly, despite himself. “Goddammit.”

“Wait here,” Jimin said against his temple. Yoongi’s eyelids fluttered shut as Jimin slid off the bed and made his way to the bathroom in the corner of the room. He heard him twist open the faucet, the sound of running water a soft, soothing sound before it cut off and Jimin was walking back. The mattress dipped as he climbed back on beside Yoongi, who opened his eyes to see Jimin holding a damp washcloth.

He licked his lips, nodding when Jimin brought it closer. Jimin smiled and began to wipe up his stomach.

“S’nice of you,” Yoongi said.

“It’s common courtesy,” Jimin said. He raised his eyebrows at Yoongi. “You expected me not to?”

“No, it’s—” Yoongi grunted, turning onto his now clean stomach at Jimin’s nudge, feeling himself blush when Jimin wiped between his legs. “It’s nothing.”

Jimin didn’t say anything, just finished cleaning Yoongi up, tossing the rag at the hamper standing up against the far wall. Yoongi folded his arms under his chin, trying not to let himself get too comfortable, even as Jimin began to run his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll go in a sec,” Yoongi mumbled, trying to remember when and where his pants had come off.

Jimin made a small, displeased sound. “Go? Go where?”

“Um,” Yoongi said. “Home?”

Jimin tugged on his shoulder, nudging Yoongi onto his back again. Yoongi wiped at his face before he flipped around, swallowing as he looked up at Jimin.

Jimin was frowning a little. “You don’t want to stay?”

Yoongi opened his mouth, the snapped it shut. Jimin raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to stay?” Yoongi finally managed.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Yoongi-hyung.” He looked Yoongi up and down, looking like he was considering something. He finally hummed, stretching out beside Yoongi and planting an elbow into the mattress, resting his face in one hand. He used the other hand to feather his fingers over Yoongi’s front. Then he said, “You know I’ve had a thing for you since you moved in with Taehyung, right?”

Yoongi’s brain screeched to a halt. What.

“What,” he said. “That was—five months ago.”

Jimin smiled slowly. “Uh huh.”

He stared at Jimin, then up at the ceiling. Slowly, his brain sputtered back to life. He thought, furrowing his own brow. “Did Taehyung know?”

Jimin dipped forward, planting a kiss on Yoongi’s jaw, right on the spot he’d been kissing earlier. Yoongi felt it tingle, and knew there was probably a florid bruise there. The image made him internally preen, and outwardly flush. “Uh huh,” Jimin said. “Tae knew.”

Yoongi rubbed his palms over his eyes. What. “But you’re so…”

Jimin huffed out a laugh. “Yeah?”

Yoongi squirmed, but Jimin just giggled, rolling a little so he was half lying on Yoongi, keeping him in place. “You’re so,” Yoongi tried again, “not the kind of guy who would have a thing for me.”

Jimin chuckled. “Could say the same thing about you.”

Yoongi pursed his lips. “Who says I like you?”

Jimin smirked. “Really?”

Yoongi wanted to shove him, but instead, let Jimin kiss him.

“Stay,” Jimin said against his lips. “Stay with me.”

Yoongi knew Jimin wasn’t confessing his undying love, or that he even wanted to date Yoongi. Hell, Yoongi didn’t know if that was something he wanted either. At the moment, he didn’t really think it mattered. Jimin’s hands were gentle on his sides, the hickey just under his jaw tingling pleasantly, and for now, Yoongi thought, he would stay.