Heavy sultry beats, moody stage lights, muted cheers from the crowd, eyes riveted to every sway of his hips … this is Jungkook in his element. He takes his body through well-practiced moves, blood thrumming with the bass of the music. He stares out over the crowd of anonymous faces filled with lust, longing, a desire for connection.
As the music reaches its climax, it’s Jungkook’s cue to remove his top. Tonight’s he’s performing in his favorite police uniform - not that the outfit will stay on his body for much longer. A pair of handcuffs dangle from his belt and he brandishes a baton suggestively as he strides across the stage. The crowd hollers when he rips off his shirt in one flourish and tosses it aside carelessly. He runs a hand sensually down the plane of his body, knowing that he looks good - hours at the gym don’t lie.
Friday night means it’s a packed house at Club Homme, the most exclusive gay strip club in town. Namjoon is selective with his clients: men with fat wallets who seek discretion and the temporary company of some hot young thing to take their minds off their daily doldrums. It’s also one of Jungkook’s most lucrative nights to dance. As tips rain down onto the stage, he grinds up the pole suggestively, making sure to keep his audience captivated and eager for more.
A man at the front of the stage - one of his regulars - waves a ten dollar bill in his direction. Jungkook saunters over, drops to all fours, plucks away the tip while favoring the man with a wink for his generosity. He tucks the money into the waistband of his underwear, then takes his baton, slides it between his legs and rides the sleek, hard length, enjoying the pressure of the rod against his balls.
As the first song comes to a close and melts into the second, a slower, sultrier, bass-heavy beat, Jungkook undoes his belt buckle and slides it off with calculated nonchalance. The crowd seems to hold its breath. It’s all about the tease, he knows. You gotta draw it out to draw ‘em in. Sure, stripping affords him a living, but Jungkook genuinely enjoys the art of it, the control he feels when he’s on stage.
Right now, the audience follows the languid motion of his hand as he slowly unzips his fly. He turns so that his back is to the audience then, looking back over one shoulder, he inches his pants off just enough to reveal the curve of his ass snug in a pair of tight briefs. Then, acting as though he’s changed his mind, he tugs his pants back up to cover himself, smiling cheekily at the audience’s sign of disappointment. Someone catcalls from the back of the club. Jungkook repeats the motion, prolongs the tease, waits a few heartbeats for the music to drop before, right on cue, rips off his pants in a flourish.
The crowd breaks out in hollers and wolf whistles. Jungkook takes a moment to tease his nipples, then makes a show of squeezing the bulge of his half-hard cock. He is now naked save for the piece of skimpy fabric covering his nether region. Namjoon may have a no-nudity rule in his club, but that doesn’t mean Jungkook can’t tease. He throws his head back as he caresses himself to half-hardness, head tipped back and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
Then with a practiced leap, he swings onto the pole, clutching the cold metal between toned thighs and lets gravity do its job as he slowly twirls down the pole. He performs a few more acrobatics, exertion making his torso shine with a sheen of sweat. As the music draws to a close, he ends the set on his knees, sweaty back against the pole and staring out seductively at the audience, many of whom look satisfyingly hot and bothered and twitching in their seats.
The lighting dims and throws the stage into darkness. Jungkook pushes his bangs off his perspiring forehead, gathers the tips littering the stage floor, and makes his way backstage.
“Good one,” Hoseok compliments with a friendly slap to his ass as Jungkook passes him on his way back to the dressing room. The other dancer is waiting his turn to go on stage, dressed tonight in a grungy skater boy outfit that will soon end up crumpled in a corner of the stage. Jungkook gives him a thumbs up and grin of appreciation.
A year into the job, and Jungkook sometimes still wonders how he ended up stripping at a gay club. He had his misgivings at first, of course, but being a broke college student can drive one to do crazier things for money. In the end, it was meeting the club owner during his audition that clinched it. Namjoon was professional and respectful, and not at all Jungkook’s preconceived notions of a seedy strip club owner. Plus, it’s more steady income than trying to get gigs as a dancer, and he makes more in tips in one night than he would in a week waiting tables. Most importantly, he doesn’t have to ask his parents for money or take out a student loan, both of which is infinitely worse taking his clothes off for strange men four nights a week.
Lost in thought, Jungkook doesn’t notice another figure turning in his direction until it’s too late.
On instinct, Jungkook holds out a steadying hand for the person who collided into his chest and was almost knocked to the floor as they both turned the corner from opposite directions. It’s an unfamiliar face, which takes him aback. Jungkook knows everyone who works at the club well; perhaps this is a new wait staff that Namjoon recently hired, getting lost on his way to the kitchen.
Unfamiliar, but cute. He looks to be around Jungkook’s age, maybe slightly older. He’s dressed neatly in a white button-down, dark slacks and matching jacket. Slim build, boyish face framing soft brown eyes and plush lips that Jungkook’s eyes are immediately drawn to.
When he notices Jungkook’s current state of undress, he blushes and casts his eyes downward. This results in him staring right at Jungkook’s barely-covered crotch, which makes him even more flustered and he ends up focusing somewhere in the vicinity of Jungkook’s nipples.
Oh, very cute.
“Are you lost?” Jungkook asks in a friendly voice.
“No - Uh, yeah … maybe a little,” the guy admits with a smile. “I was looking for the dressing room. Namjoon said it’s down here somewhere …”
“Dressing room?” Jungkook asks quizzically. “For the dancers?”
“Yeah. Oh, I’m new, by the way.”
“New dancer?” Jungkook revises his earlier presumption and gives him a slow up and down. “You?”
“What?” the other crosses his arms against his chest in a slightly defensive stance.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says. With him slight build and doll-like face, the guy looks like he belongs more in an indie coming-of-age movie rather than at a strip club. But he decides to reserve his judgment. Namjoon always handpicks his dancers, and Namjoon’s got a eye for the best of them. Perhaps the boss is going for a boy-next-door type to add to Club Homme’s line-up. This guy certainly fits the image.
Speaking of the devil.
“There he is!” Namjoon emerges from his office into the hallway. His looks tired - Jungkook feels a twinge of pity; the man’s barely getting any sleep these days, what with the string of recent resignations from his staff. However, his face lights up when he sees the pair of them, dimples showing and erasing the fatigue from his features.
“Jungkook!” the club owner says as he strides over. “Excellent, I see you’ve met Baby J,”
“Baby J? ” Jungkook smirks. “Namjoon, I told you to stop letting Seokjin pick the newbies’ stage names.”
“Call me Jimin,” Baby J - Jimin - smiles in a way that’s simultaneously bashful and flirtatious. “Actually, I was the one who came up with the stage name. And you are -?”
“Jungkook. And Jungkook is my stage name.”
Jimin’s eyes crinkle and he covers his mouth with his hand demurely. There is an aura of innocent curiosity about him that makes Jungkook wonder what he’s doing in a place like this.
“Really? Hobi told me all strippers have stage names.”
“Namjoon thought my real name has a sense of mystery or some shit,” Jungkook jerks a thumb at his boss, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Wait, you know Hoseok?”
“Oh yeah, he’s the one who hooked me up with this gig, actually!” Jimin replies excitedly. He bounces on his heels, looking more like a kid on Christmas morning than someone about to (almost) bare it all in front of a bunch of horny men. “We went to the same dance academy, known each other for ages. So when I told him I’m looking for a second job to supplement my income, he suggested applying here.”
“Baby J is a natural,” Namjoon pats him on the shoulder. “I couldn’t believe it when he said he’s never stripped before. A real godsend. Between two of my best dancers leaving and Seokjin coming down with the flu last week, there were a couple of nights when I thought I was going to have to get up on that stage and make a fool of myself - and god knows no one wants to see that!”
“I bet you’ve got a great bod hidden under that suit,” Jimin teases, which draws an embarrassed but satisfied smile from the club owner.
“Compliments will get you everywhere, kid,” Namjoon says. “Jungkook, why don’t you give Jimin the tour, show him the ropes. Oh, he’s on at 11. Get him something nice to wear. You know, something cute.”
With a wink, Namjoon strides off.
“Something cute, eh?” Jungkook eyes Jimin up and down. “Shouldn’t be too hard. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the guys.”
He grabs a robe from one of the racks in the hallway and shrugs it on as he leads Jimin through the labyrinthine backstage hallways.
“Yoongi’s our resident DJ and MC. If there’s one thing to remember, it’s this - stay on Yoongi’s good side. He controls the music, so he controls your performance.”
Yoongi’s got headphones on and busy fiddling with the mixer. He spares the two of them a glance and a wave before bending back over his work.
“Once upon a time, we had a dancer - well, an ex-dancer, who pissed Yoongi off. During the middle of the dude’s routine, Yoongi switches his music to Coldplay. No faster way to kill the vibe than Coldplay.”
“He seems ... intimidating,” Jimin says apprehensively.
“Ah, don’t let his looks fool you. Yoongi’s really a big softie,” Jungkook says as he leads the way to the dressing room. “Here’s where all the magic happens.”
Jimin looks around with wide-eyed curiosity at the dimly lit room. It’s a riot of glitter and clothes. Makeup clutter the dressing tables. There are clothes strewn everywhere, on racks but also piled so high on the couch that one can barely tell it’s a couch. Nat King Cole croons from a bluetooth speaker in the corner of the room; Taehyung must have taken over the playlist for tonight.
“Sorry about the mess,” Jungkook turns to Jimin with an apologetic expression. “I wanna say it’s usually not this bad … but it’s usually this bad. Because some people don’t pick up after themselves. Tae, are those your boxers on the coffee table?”
Jungkook holds up the offending garment with one finger and chucks it at Taehyung, who catches it without with a completely unabashed expression.
“Yep,” Taehyung replies. “No, wait, I think someone threw that on stage last week.”
“And you kept it?”
“It’s clean and my size.” Taehyung notices Jimin hovering behind Jungkook. “Who’s the cutie?”
“Park Jimin,” Jimin comes forward with his hand extended. “I’m new.”
Taehyung ignores his hand and pulls him into a half-hug instead. “Dude, we’ll probably see each other’s bit before the night’s over. No need for formalities.”
“Don’t scare him away on his first day,” Seokjin reprimands from across the room where he’s applying makeup in front of a smudged mirror. “Welcome aboard. I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m also the oldest and the best-looking here, so basically you should do what I say.”
“We humor him and let him think that so he won’t annoy us,” Jungkook says in an undertone.
“So, where did you work before this, Jimin?” Seokjin asks.
“I work with a local dance production company. But we’re struggling a bit until we can get some financial backing, hence me taking on this second job,” Jimin rubs the back of his neck. “But I’ve never stripped, if that’s what you mean.”
Seokjin raises his eyebrows. “You must be something else, then, to live up to Namjoon’s high standards.”
“I try my best not to let him down,” Jimin says, wide-eyed and earnest and not a little bit endearing.
Seokjin chuckles. “No pressure. But first, let’s find you an outfit.”
Jungkook pulls up a chair and straddles it backward. He leans his elbows on its back and surveys Jimin critically.
“What’s with the outfit? I thought you were a new wait staff at first.”
“Oh,” Jimin plucks at his button-down shirt, “wasn’t sure how to dress for the first day on the job at a strip club.”
“Nothing at all works just fine,” Jungkook jokes, just to see him blush again.
In the end, they settle on a simple shirt and tie ensemble that’s not too challenging to remove. Jungkook gives him tips on how to take off each piece of the outfit as he’s dancing, and is pleased that Jimin seems to be picking up the basics quite readily.
“What’s the concept here?” Taehyung comes over and straightens Jimin’s tie. “Let’s see - new fresh-faced intern at the office, ready to do anything the boss asks, including getting on his knees to suck the boss’s dick … Perfect for this crowd.”
“Um …” Jimin stammers.
“Tae’s right though,” Jungkook adds. “It’s easier if you create a story. Get into character, if you will.”
“ Newbie, you’re up in five ,” Yoongi’s voice buzzes lazily over the intercom.
“Alright,” Seokjin says briskly, very much taking on the role of the older brother, “just remember the ground rules, no nudity - this is a respectable establishment, and they’re not allowed to touch you. Other than that, do what you like. Have fun. Break a leg.”
“Not literally,” Jungkook reassures, when Jimin turns to him with a deer-in-headlights expression. “You’ll be fine. C’mon, follow me. Yoongi will announce you.”
Jimin takes a fortifying breath and Jungkook thinks he hears him utter “ new intern, new intern ” under his breath as he exits.
“They’re going to eat him alive, aren’t they?” Taehyung cocks his head. “What was Namjoon thinking?”
As they approach the entrance to the stage, Jungkook signals to Yoongi, who acknowledges them with a slight nod.
“Now, gentlemen, put your hands together for the latest addition to Club Homme. He’s young, he’s hung, and he can’t wait to show you what he’s got. Making his debut tonight, give it up for our newest talent … Baby J!”
Jungkook gives Jimin a little nudge, and the latter makes his way onto the stage, pale-faced but determined. He looks small and a bit out of place and Jungkook can’t help but feel nervous for him. To his knowledge, Namjoon has never brought on a stripper with zero experience; you can be very good at dancing, but that only one subset of the complex skills it takes to make a good stripper -
Jungkook’s thoughts are cut short as soon as the music starts. Pusha T’s Sweet Serenade drifts out of the speakers and the stage lights up with a soft moonlight blue. At the first note oozes out of the speakers, something seems to take over Jimin’s body. He straightens up, and all of a sudden his awkwardness slips offs, and he moves into dance.
It’s unlike any performance Jungkook has ever seen, and Jungkook has seen many a show. Jimin commands the stage; there is no other way to describe it. He starts off with a contemporary grace peppered with R&B inspired precision, hands roaming down his body with just the hint at a strip tease. His dance training is clear in every move. There is no awkwardness; he has complete control of his body and of the crowd.
As the song slides into the bridge, he looks at over the crowd under lowered lashes and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, drawing it out with agonizing slowness as he gyrates his hips in fluid circles. The crowd is riveted as pale skin is revealed, as though they have never seen a naked torso before. Jimin wears a small half-smile as he slides the material down one shoulder, letting it hang off his body as he grinds against the pole, the movement somehow wanton despite him barely having removed half his clothes.
He hides a really nice body under those clothes, lean and toned, which he runs his hands over, all the while favoring the audience with that seductive half-smile. Something glints on his chest which catches Jungkook’s attention - a nipple ring - which he plays with, biting his bottom lip in obvious enjoyment as he does so.
The audience’s anticipation is palpable, excitement rising as Jimin plucks teasingly at his belt buckle. There is a moment with he fumbles with his fly, but he manages to maintain such a relaxed expression and keeps swaying to the beat of the music such that one would almost think the fumble is part of the routine.
The crowd sighs audibly when he lowers his pants with excruciating slowness, revealing the bulge of his cock nestled in a pair of tight black briefs. There is really no sexy way to take off one’s pants, but somehow Jimin manages it, slinking to the floor, feline-like, and shimmies off the garment like he’s born to take clothes off his body.
He’s a walking, dancing contradiction. One moment he’s sitting on his heels, head cocked and smiling innocently, the next he’s flipped onto his stomach and grinding the floor with an expression of ecstasy on his face.
Jungkook can’t take his eyes off him.
The music slides into a remix of Chris Brown’s Take You Down. Jimin surges up from the floor as the first note drops, pulls himself up from the floor by the pole. He has a great ass, and he knows it, the way he turns his back to the audience and sinks down the pole, the metal sliding perfectly between those pert cheeks. He does it again, rises up and sinks down against the phallic pole and, the third time, he lowers himself all the way to floor and drops into a goddamned split, legs spread in perfect parallel and the muscles of his thighs and butt stretched taut and looking divine. The crowd yells its approval and money showers onto the stage. Jimin swings his legs in a wide circle and turns back to face the crowd, face flushed and - oh, he’s completely hard, the bulge of his erection unmistakable in his tight underwear.
Baby J is not shy about his arousal. He seems to soak up the clapping and whistling of the crowd, running his hand down his chest, stopping to pinch his nipples, then lower to caress his cock and balls through his underwear, one arm flung across his eyes so that the audience can only see his parted lips as he pleasures himself.
Jungkook has to hurriedly adjust himself in his suddenly uncomfortably tight underwear. It’s not uncommon for dancers to be hard during a striptease; in fact it’s highly encouraged; helps propagate the fantasy. Taehyung, for instance, likes to prep himself so that he’s already half-hard before going on stage. Jungkook always focuses too much on the technical aspects of performing to maintain a hard-on. But getting hard because of the performance? That’s fucking hot.
Jimin is still on his knees grinding into his hand as the music fades and the lights dim. He pauses a bit, as though unsure of what to do, before getting shakily to his feet and stumbling offstage.
“And that, gents, was Baby J! Wow, what a show - I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more from him in the future …”
The audience is still applauding enthusiastically over Yoongi’s voice. Jimin ducks backstage and for the second time that night, almost runs right into Jungkook.
“Jungkook!” he says, as though surprised to see Jungkook still standing there watching. He’s sweaty and flushed and still visibly aroused and Jungkook is harboring thoughts that are highly inappropriate towards a coworker. “Um, did I do okay? D’you think they liked me?”
They love you, he thinks, I might love you a little, too.
“You did fine, newbie,” he replies gruffly, and Jimin beams. “Now go get your makeup touched up. You’re up again in an hour.”
Jimin integrates so seamlessly into their little group that it feels like he’s always been a part of Club Homme.
Namjoon assigns him the evening sets, so he usually arrives at the club a little later than the rest of them. If he’s tired after a day’s work, he never shows it. He’s all smiles as he greets Charlie the bouncer, leans over the DJ’s booth to offer Yoongi a coffee (black, lots of sugar), then stands for a bit at the back of the club to watch whoever is onstage at the moment.
More often that not, Jimin arrives during the middle of Jungkook’s set. Off the stage, he is almost unrecognizable from the performer Baby J, in his leather jacket, windswept hair and black-rimmed glasses, messenger bag slung across his chest and hands clutching a tray of coffee cups. Jungkook always knows when he’s watching, and it makes him dance that little bit harder, exaggerate his movements just a tad more when he knows he’s got Jimin’s eyes on him. And if he gets a bit hard by the end of the set, he tries not to think too much about it.
Jimin brings small changes with him to the dressing room, Jungkook notes, as he pads offstage and grabs a robe to cover himself. He can already hear the peal of Jimin’s windchime-like laughter before he enters the dressing room, followed by Seokjin’s mock indignant reply. Jungkook pauses at the doorway before entering. The scene is oddly domestic. Jimin has chucked his jacket and bag in the corner where all their personal belongings are strewn. He’s sprawled on the couch, halfway in Taehyung’s lap as the latter plays some FPS game on his phone, giggling at Hoseok’s antics and shooting comments across the room at Seokjin as the elder tries on increasingly outlandish costumes.
“Kookie!” Jimin waves when he enters. He’s taken to calling Jungkook by that absurdly cute nickname, which everyone has immediately adopted. “Great set out there, as always.”
Jungkook drops into his chair in front of his dressing table and picks up the coffee which Jimin has left for him.
“Thanks,” he nods, for both the coffee and the compliment, and takes a chug of the hot drink. Lots of cream and sugar, just the way he likes it.
“Hobi was just telling us about this one client who likes getting slapped. Like, really into it.”
Jungkook turns so that he’s straddling the back of the chair and facing the room. “Oh, you mean Whiskey Sour?”
They usually have code names for their clients, usually by some distinguishing feature or the type of drinks the men favor.
“You know I’m like the most non-violent person ever, yet the man always requests me!” Hoseok exclaims dramatically. “And he always tells me to hit him harder. Once, I refused and the dude - get this - pulls out a crisp hundred dollar bill, tucks it into my underwear, looks me dead in the eyes, and says, ‘Go on then, hit me harder.’ So I close my eyes, picture my ex’s face, and outright punches the man and breaks his nose. He starts bleeding, no, spurting blood from his nose - and at this point I’m panicking and thinking he’s gonna call the cops on my ass, but the guy starts laughing. He liked it!”
Jungkook’s heard Hoseok recount this story too times, but he’s charmed by the way Jimin throws his head back and collapses into Taehyung’s side with laughter.
“What about you, Kookie?” Jimin asks when he finally recovers, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “Any crazy stripper stories?”
Jungkook scratches his chin. “There was that one stalker who started showing up at my university. Namjoon took care of it, though.”
“What happened?” Jimin asks.
“Dunno. Don’t think I wanna know, to be honest. Namjoon’s a scary man at times.” Jungkook shrugs. “Risks of the trade. Other than that, the life of a stripper is pretty uneventful.”
“That’s ‘cos you don’t do private dances,” Taehyung interjects. “Behind closed doors is where the weirdness comes out.”
“You don’t?” Jimin cocks his head curiously. “Why’s that?”
Jungkook shrugs. “I make enough as a dancer to get by. Besides, I’ll take a pass on the weirdos.”
“Baby J, you’re on in five .” Yoongi’s voice interrupts the conversation.
“Shit!” Jimin leaps up from the couch. “I haven’t even put on makeup yet!”
All of them scramble to get him stage-ready, Seokjin throwing random articles of clothing off the racks, Hoseok rejecting increasingly outlandish garments that Seokjin selects, and Taehyung attacking Jimin’s face with glitter. A frenzied five minutes later, they usher Jimin onstage in a bizarre but strangely alluring ensemble of long-sleeved mesh shirt fine enough to show the glint of his nipple piercing, a black leather choker that accentuates his delicate collarbones, and (Seokjin’s pick) a pair of purple harem pants.
Honestly, Jimin can make any outfit work. Because once the music starts and Baby J stares out at the audience with that seductive gaze, it’s not at all about the clothes and all about the sinuous body underneath.
Jungkook watches from behind the curtain as Baby J raises his arms and lets his tight shirt ride up to reveal toned abs. He ought to make better use of his time in between sets and get some studying done, but as usual he’s captivated by Jimin’s stage. Jimin’s good with the crowd, he notes with a mixture of arousal, appreciation and not a small amount of professional envy. He makes sure to make eye contact with individual clients and making them feel like they’re responsible for making him strip off his clothes on stage. It’s a show, but Jimin makes it feel real.
Maybe because Baby J clearly gets off on the attention. Not one song in and Jungkook can already see that he’s hard, the loose front of his harem pants not doing one bit to hide the tent of his erection.
As though he can sense Jungkook’s gaze, Jimin turns his head and meets his eyes dead on from his position just beyond the stage. Jimin smiles and bites his lips, casts his eyes down shyly. He palms the front of his pants, then glances up again at Jungkook, expression now smolderingly intense. The shape of his mouth forms Jungkook’s name as he maintains eye contact for just a shade too long before turning back to the crowd.
Jungkook feels a rush of arousal that makes him lightheaded. He stumbles back, then heads blindly for the nearest bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he collapses with his back to the door, undoes his flies with shaking fingers and hisses when his achingly hard cock springs free.
There is no finesse to his movements as he spits into his palm and starts stroking himself urgently. He screws his eyes shuts and pictures Jimin clearly in his mind … Jimin grinding with abandon against the stripper pole … Jimin on his knees, looking up at Jungkook as his mouth parts around his dick … Jimin wrapping his legs around Jungkook’s waist as Jungkook lifts him and pins him against the pole, moaning his name in that high, sweet voice as he willingly lets Jungkook enter his tight body …
“Fuck, Jim-” Jungkook bites down on the flesh of his palm as he bows over with the force of his orgasm. The entire scene in his head is too vivid and he has to grit his teeth not to make too loud a sound, even though the music outside drowns out any sound that might leak from the bathroom.
As the orgasmic high fades and come starts sticking to his underwear and thighs, a sense of guilt and disgust at his own lack of self-control settles in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach. He shuffles over the sink and cleans himself up thoroughly, checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he looks passably normal.
Now that the fog has lifted from his mind, he is filled with anger at himself and guilt at lusting after a coworker. There have been strippers who get involved with each other - it’s almost inevitable when working in such a sexually-charged environment, but Jungkook has always prided himself on separating work and pleasure. He’s never, ever, lost control so thoroughly over someone he works him.
Jungkook splashes cold water onto his face and groans. He is so fucked.
Jungkook removes his glasses and cracks his knuckles with a tired but satisfied sigh. He hits save on his laptop, feeling tired but accomplished having completed his last research paper of the semester. He glances at his watch and is startled to see that it’s almost three in the morning. Given that it’s a weekday, the club has emptied of patrons and staff hours ago, but it’s not unusual for Namjoon to allow Jungkook to stay past closing, allowing him the peace and quiet of the empty club to catch up on assignments.
Jungkook yawns hugely. Thank god his first class tomorrow is not until noon. He throws his books and laptop haphazardly into his backpack, then turns off the lights. As he heads out through the back, however, he hears the sound of footsteps in the main hall of the club. He walks towards the source of the sound, wary of intruders.
There is a single dim stage light on and underneath it a solitary figure is dancing.
Even without seeing the man’s face, which is half cast in shadow, Jungkook knows it’s Jimin. He’s memorized the lines of the other man’s body, can tell in the precision of his movements. Jungkook lingers and watches him from the shadows, feeling slightly voyeuristic but unwilling to interrupt the moment. Jimin’s brows are knitted in concentration, mouth moving wordlessly counting beats under his breath. The way he dances is a juxtaposition of water-like fluidity and tightly-coiled tension. Every move exhibits the power he holds in his limbs, which he draws on and releases as needed.
When he sinks finally into an ending pose, Jungkook can’t help but break into applause, forgetting that Jimin doesn’t know he’s there.
Jimin jumps and swivels around at the sound.
“Kookie!” He gasps, out of breath, “you nearly gave me a heart attack! How long have you been there?”
“Not long enough, apparently,” Jungkook steps onto the stage to join him. “That was amazing! I didn’t know you could dance like that.”
Well, he had known Jimin is a dancer, of course, and even that he graduated at the top of his dance class, according to Hoseok. But seeing him in action is very different, and now Jungkook realizes that what Baby J performs on stage during his routines shows but a fraction of his true talent.
Jimin shakes his head ruefully. “Thanks, but I messed up that last move. Can never get it no matter how many times I try.”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Jungkook says. “I’d have given you ten out of ten, but now that you’ve gone and ‘fessed up, I’ve no choice but to lower your score to 9.99.”
Jimin ducks his head and smiles. “I’ll take it. By the way, why are you still here so late?”
“Just catching up on some studying,” Jungkook replies. “You?”
“Just catching up on some practicing.”
“Oh right. Duh,” Jungkook says sheepishly. “You literally dance all day - aren’t you tired?”
“Yeah,” Jimin admits, “but it’s what I love doing, and that gives me energy.”
Jungkook nods in understanding. “Guess we’re quite the pair of night owls.”
“Sleep’s for the weak,” Jimin grins. “Heading out?”
“Hang on a sec.” Jimin throws on his jacket and grabs his bag. “Do you have classes tomorrow?”
“Not till noon. You couldn’t get me to function before then.”
“In that case, wanna grab some late-night comfort food? My treat.”
They find themselves at a dingy 24 hour pizza joint staffed by a single disinterested teenager. They settle into a cosy corner table with their reheated pizza and cans of soda.
“So how do you like working at Club Homme?” Jungkook asks as he works his way through his second slice.
Jimin shrugs. “Honestly? It’s more mundane than I expected. You think of strip clubs, you think of mystery, sex, intrigue. But once you know the workings backstage, perform the same routine night after night … it all seems a little contrived, you know?”
Jungkook hums in agreement. “Don’t tell you came looking for true love at a strip club.”
“I’m a simple romantic at heart,” Jimin clutches his chest. “But seriously though, I work with a great bunch of people. I know it’s barely been a month, but you guys made me feel like family.”
“Those who strip together, stick together,” Jungkook says sagely. “Who else would have pizza with you at three o’clock in the morning?”
“Fair point,” Jimin nods. “What about you? How did you come to work for Namjoon?”
Jungkook shrugs. “The usual reasons. Money, twisted notions of glamor. I like to dance and apparently people think I’m attractive.”
“They must have eyes, then,” Jimin remarks, and Jungkook’s stomach flips pleasantly.
“Plus,” Jungkook adds, “my family stopped paying my college tuition once I decided to switch my major from medicine to film studies, so there’s that.”
Jimin clucks in sympathy. “That’s terrible. I think parents should support their kids no matter what their passions are. I’m lucky that my parents always supported my dancing. Then again, I’m not exactly a shining exemplar of success.”
Jungkook raises his can of soda. “Here’s to following our passions.”
“I’ll drink to that.” They clink soda cans.
“I’m gonna grab another slice,” Jungkook stands up. “You’re paying, right?”
“Sure, I think I can afford a couple of slices of pizza.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a cheap date,” Jungkook says, before realizing what he said.
Jimin’s lips quirk up. “Good to know.”
They talk about school, work, their families, their dreams. Jungkook learns that they’re from the same hometown, that Jimin has a younger brother whom he’s very close to, and that he aspires to join the National Contemporary Dance Group.
Their knees knock together as they eat and share stories. Despite what Jungkook said earlier, it feels very much like a date.
“What?” Jimin asks.
Jungkook realizes he has been staring at the other man for the last five minutes, lulled by his soft voice as he recounts stories from his childhood.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says. “I just like listening to you talk.” Then, quickly adds, “I mean, your voice. It’s just comforting, that’s all.”
“I hope that’s not your polite way of telling me my voices puts you to sleep,” Jimin teases.
“To be fair, it is pretty late …” Jungkook suppresses a yawn and checks his watch. “Shit, it’s five already?!”
They had spent two hours chatting over pizza. Jungkook had barely felt the time pass.
“No wonder the guy who served us kept glaring our way,” Jimin giggles as he throws some bills onto the table, including a hefty tip. “Probably thought we’d never leave.”
They stand outside the pizzeria. The dawn sky is already starting to brighten.
“Sorry for keeping you out so far,” Jimin apologizes.
“Don’t; I had a good time.” It’s true, Jungkook hasn’t felt this content in a long time. “Plus, I got fed, so thanks for the pizza.”
Jimin inclines his head with a smile. “Small price to pay for good company.”
They linger awkwardly, neither seeming to want to take leave of the other. Jungkook has a sudden crazy desire to kiss Jimin good night. Jimin wets his lips and Jungkook wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.
“Well, then,”Jimin says bracingly. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night at the club.”
Oh, right. Coworkers, Jungkook reminds himself.
“See ya,” Jungkook waves, and heads home, smiling the whole way.
Sometimes Jungkook catches Jimin staring, and when their eyes meet, Jimin would drop his gaze to the floor in momentary shyness. Then his eyes would flicker up to meet Jungkook’s again, expression shifting from soft and bashful to intense and almost challenging, and it makes the nape of Jungkook’s neck prickle with heat. Sometimes, the tip of Jimin’s tongue would dart out to wet his lips and Jungkook has to shift in his seat to accommodate the sudden tightness in his pants.
Surely he’s not imagining the the flirtation. It has to be on purpose. Jimin can’t be that oblivious to the effect he has on Jungkook.
Then again, Jimin flirts with everyone . Even now, as he’s trying to make his way through a dense chapter on postmodern symbolism in film, Jungkook keeps getting distracted by Jimin’s peels of laughter from across the room. He’s sitting on the couch with Seokjin, cajoling the elder to feed him spoonfuls of Indian takeout. Jungkook tries not to focus on their thighs are pressed together, or the way Jimin keeps touching Seokjin’s arm and smiling that crinkly-eyed smile as Seokjin launches into another one of his crazy stories.
Jungkook wishes there was someone he could talk to about all these confusing feelings he has towards Jimin. He’s already ruled out his friends at uni; the fact that he works part time as a stripper is not knowledge that he has shared with his wider social circle there. There’s always Taehyung, Hoseok, and Seokjin (even Yoongi, he supposes). But they’re still his coworkers and Jungkook would rather not stir up any drama or speculation.
So if Jimin flirts, or looks for ways to touch Jungkook more than is strictly necessary, or if they start making it a habit to have late night pizza dates … Jungkook tries not to read too much into any of it.
“Oi, I told you not to move,” Jimin chides as he brings the liquid eyeliner closer to Jungkook’s eyes.
“Just don’t poke me in the eye with it,” Jungkook eyes the instrument distrustfully.
“Yes, that’s been my secret plan all along, to infiltrate Club Homme, earn your trust, and stab you in the eye with eyeliner,” Jimin sighs.
Jungkook tickles Jimin on the side, which makes him curl into Jungkook with a giggle and almost drop the bottle in his hand.
“Jesus, I said stay still or I’m gonna make you go out there looking like a clown!”
“A sexy clown, you mean,” Jungkook waggles his eyebrows, which makes Jimin laugh harder.
“Okay, you leave me no choice,” Jimin says and sits right in Jungkook’s lap to hold his body still. “It’s either this or tie you up.”
Jungkook freezes, then slowly settles for placing his hands lightly on the outside of Jimin’s thighs as the latter makes himself comfortable on his lap and starts attending to his makeup. He hums as he works, his face so close to Jungkook’s that Jungkook can’t help staring at his glossy lips, parted slightly in concentration. He wonders if they feel as soft as they look …
“Close your eyes,” Jimin whispers. “I’m going to add a bit of eyeshadow.”
Jungkook does so and exhales shakily while Jimin dabs at his lids. God, he hopes his body doesn’t betray him. Jimin’s ass is right on top of his dick and he would definitely feel it if Jungkook got hard …
“Okay, open your eyes.”
Jungkook blinks open and their eyes meet.
“Wow,” Jimin says, looking slightly stunned. “Beautiful.”
Jungkook wets his lips in sudden nervousness. Jimin’s eyes dart to his mouth. When did he get so close?
“You two, get a room,” Taehyung announces as he enters, wiping perspiration from his forehead and grabbing his robe from the rack. Jungkook jumps, startled. Jimin slides gracefully off his lap and turns to rearrange the makeup brushes.
“Jungkook, boss man was looking for you,” Taehyung says.
Jungkook frowns. “Did Namjoon say what he wanted?”
“No idea,” Taehyung shrugs.
So Jungkook makes his way to Namjoon’s corner office.
“What’s up, Joon?” he asks, poking his head around the ajar door.
“Jungkook, come in,” Namjoon beckons across his messy desk. “Have a seat.”
Jungkook moves a pile of papers off the chair and sits.
Namjoon cocks his head. “Hey, did you do something different with your makeup? It looks good.”
“Oh, thanks. Jimin wanted to try something different,” Jungkook replies.
“Ah, yes, Jimin. I wanted to talk to you about Jimin,” Namjoon says, shifting in his seat.
“About Jimin?” Jungkook says curiously, heart beating a tad faster. He tries to suppress the small smile that rises unbidden to his lips, like some Pavlovian response to any mention of Jimin’s name.
“I’ll be frank with you, Jungkook. You - well, you know how I feel about workplace romances,” Namjoon begins. He steeples his fingers and looks like he would rather not be having this conversation.
Jungkook frowns. “We’re not - I’m not -”
Namjoon raises a hand to cut him off. “Look, far be it for me to tell you what to do in your own time. You’re both adults. Young, hot-blooded adults. But you’re also my best dancers, and I can’t afford to lose either of you in a potential fallout. You remembered what happened not too long ago, right?”
Jungkook does. Two now ex-employees were involved in a love triangle that quickly devolved, ending up in an ugly screaming match backstage that could be heard from the front of the club. Both ended up walking off the job. It was a terrible week for all of them.
“Anyway,” Namjoon continues, “Whatever is going on with you two ... I hate to set rules. You know I’ve always let you guys operate with common sense and discretion. But for the good of the club, for the good of your employment here, I have to strongly discourage you to deepen your involvement with each other.”
For the good of your employment here . Was Namjoon threatening his job? Jungkook feels a bubble of panic rise in his chest and swallows hard to suppress it.
“You don’t have to worry,” he replies, keeping his face expressionless. “There’s nothing going on between us. Seriously. You know how people like to spread rumors.”
Namjoon gives him a searching look, then nods. “Okay, I trust you, Kookie.”
Jungkook leaves Namjoon’s office, troubled and deep in thought. Even as the edges of resentment tugs at him, he doesn’t blame Namjoon. The man is just looking out for the best for his business, and all those he employs.
The thought of being fired feels Jungkook with a deep dread. Sure, he can go back to waiting tables, or even dance at some other club. But it’s the thought of leaving the guys at Club Homme that tears at him. Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin, Yoongi … they’ve formed a bizarre but weirdly close family of sorts.
But most of all, Jimin …
“That was quick,” Jimin comments as Jungkook wanders aimlessly back into the dressing room. “What did ‘Joon want?”
“Uh, nothing,” Jungkook says shortly.
“Then get back here, I’m not done with your face,” Jimin says.
Jungkook grabs his backpack and starts taking out books and notes. He turns away, not meeting Jimin’s eyes.
“Nah, I should get some studying done,” he mumbles.
“Oh, okay,” Jimin says, deflating slightly. Then he perks up again. “We on for tonight? I found an Italian place nearby that’s open late. We can finally upgrade from pizza!”
Jungkook shakes his head tightly. “Nah, I’ll pass. ‘Sides, I think I should stop staying out so late. I’m starting morning classes next semester, guess I should stop screwing around with my sleeping schedule …”
It’s a stupid excuse. Jungkook cracks open his textbook and bends over it so he doesn’t have to look at the hurt expression on Jimin’s face.
Jungkook is self-aware enough to admit that he’s perhaps not the most emotionally mature person. Emotionally constipated, is what Taehyung called him once, which Jungkook thinks is a bit unfair. Look, just because he doesn’t gush about his every feeling doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him.
So Jungkook deals with his emotions like an adult and avoids facing it. Avoidance, he’s decided, is the perfect defense mechanism.
It’s just as well that midterms are approaching. In his downtime between sets, Jungkook withdraws from the socializing and buries himself in his books, trying to crowd out the thoughts in his head.
He knows he’s being stupid, and miserable, and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way except that he’s resentful at Jimin, and Namjoon, and the fact that he’s resentful makes him even angrier at himself because it’s neither of the two’s fault. It doesn’t help that Jungkook continues to desire Jimin with an aching need. But he has too much riding on this job to let his emotions ruin his sole source of income.
Rationalizing it in his head doesn’t make him want Jimin any less, however. He misses the way Jimin envelopes him in a sweaty hug when he leaves the stage, misses the way Jimin would rather sit on his lap than in a chair, misses making Jimin laugh so hard he falls to the floor or curls helplessly into Jungkook’s chest.
The worst part is that Jimin seems unaffected. If he notices the way Jungkook withdraws into himself, he doesn’t mention it. He still leaves coffee on Jungkook’s dressing table each night, compliments him after his sets, touches him on the shoulder or cheek in that careless, subconscious way he has when they pass by each other.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Taehyung and Jimin’s heads bend together to converse in an undertone. They’re no doubt talking about him, and Jungkook feels a surge of annoyance. He slouches further into his chair and tries to remember which paragraph he left off reading.
A few minutes later, Jimin’s soft footsteps approach. Jungkook tenses up unconsciously.
“Hey stranger,” Jimin says softly, “You look stressed out recently. Everything all right?”
Jungkook grunts in a noncommittal way, keeping his head down and eyes glued to the page but none of the words are entering his head, he’s too keenly aware of Jimin’s proximity, as though every cell of his body is attuned to Jimin’s whereabouts at all times.
Jimin sighs. “Wish there was something I could do to help you out.” He touches the nape of Jungkook’s neck then, tentatively, starts rubbing soothing circles into his neck and shoulders.
Jungkook closes his eyes and leans into his touch in spite of himself. He quickly catches himself and jerks away, despite every cell of his body crying out for more of that familiar, comforting touch.
“Yeah, you could help by stop trying to distract me,” he says in a low voice.
There is a silence, before Jimin gives him one last squeeze on the shoulder and pads away.
A few minutes later, Taehyung shuffles over.
Jungkook shuffles his notes in annoyance. “What is this - an intervention?” he asks without looking up.
“Nope, just here to try to take that stick out of your ass,” Taehyung says drily, “and see if you wanted a dumpling.”
Jungkook waves his hand in dismissal. “Nah, I’m good. Already had dinner.”
His stomach growls loudly.
“Stick. Ass,” Taehyung says archly, so Jungkook sighs and swallows the proffered dumpling.
“Is that all?” he grumbles.
“Look, I know you’ve got stuff on your mind, and I don’t need to remind you that you can come talk to me any time. Just - try not to take it out on the rest of us, okay?” Taehyung says with a pointed look at Jimin, and leaves Jungkook alone to his turbulent thoughts.
“Jungkook, have you seen Jimin?”
Jungkook looks up from his laptop and sees Hoseok, who looks worried.
“No, we’re not attached at the hips, Hobi,” he snaps.
“Calm down, cowboy,” Hoseok says, holding up his hands palms out. “I was just asking.”
“Why?” Jungkook asks, despite himself.
“He’s up next, but no one’s seen him around. It’s not like him to not show up without notice …” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Wasn’t he with a customer earlier?” Taehyung says. “One of his regulars, that guy with the hat.”
A sudden sense of foreboding grips Jungkook. Pulling out his phone, he dials Jimin’s number.
Jimin’s phone vibrates from his dressing table.
“He never goes anywhere without his phone,” Hoseok picks up the device. “Hey Kookie, where are you go-”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for him to finish before dashing out of the dressing room. He can’t shake off the feeling that something bad has happened.
“Charlie,” he asks one of the bouncers at the door. “Have you seen Jimin around?”
The man shakes his head. “Nope. Was busy dealing with some trouble with a customer earlier. Dude got rowdy, had too much to drink, I reckon.”
Jungkook waves his hand in thanks, then speeds away. His heart pounds. Could something have happened to Jimin? He checks the private rooms, kitchen, back entrance alley … no sign of Jimin. And then …
“I’m an idiot,” Jungkook mutters, and heads towards the bathrooms. Instead of the men’s room, though, he approaches the one with a ladies’ sign on it. Given the nature of the club’s staff and patronage, almost no one ever uses this restroom. Jungkook has suggested several times to Namjoon to just change the sign into a gender-neutral one, but as usual Namjoon has forgotten, so it has fallen into disuse.
Jungkook pushes open the door softly.
His heart leaps with simultaneous feelings of relief and anxiety when he spots Jimin’s small form. He’s sitting on the linoleum floor, legs hugged into his chest.
“Kookie?” Jimin replies. His voice is thin and wavering.
“Where were you? Hoseok was looking for you.”
“S-sorry, must’ve lost track of time.” Jimin rubs his face.
Jungkook frowns and steps closer. Has he been … crying? He kneels down in front of the other Jimin and peers at his face. Jimin turns away.
“Hey, is something wrong?”
He reaches out to touch him and Jimin flinches as though electrocuted. Jungkook grabs him firmly by the shoulders and turns him forcibly to face him. Jimin’s eyes are red and there’s a nasty split on his bottom lip.
Jimin struggles against his hold for a second, before visibly sagging and collapsing into Jungkook’s chest. His small frame shakes with silent sobs and Jungkook holds him tightly. With one hand, he digs out his phone and shoots a quick text to Hoseok.
something happened w jm, can u cover for him
The response is immediate.
np tell him he owes me one
Jimin is now taking large hiccuppy gasps like he’s trying to gather himself. He extricates himself gently from Jungkook’s embrace.
“I-I need to go do my set,” he says shakily.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Jungkook says sharply.
“Hobi’s got you covered.” Jungkook smoothes Jimin’s hair back from his forehead. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
Jimin shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
Jungkook touches his split lip and Jimin winces. “This is not nothing.”
Jimin doesn’t appear to be forthcoming, so Jungkook holds him and waits patiently.
Jimin finally takes a shuddering breath and says, “Remember Bowler Hat?”
Jungkook frowns. “One of your regulars?”
“Uh huh. Remember I mentioned once I thought I had a stalker?”
Jungkook nods. He hadn’t thought much of it. It’s such a common occurrence … customers waiting for the dancers outside the club, cajoling to take them home, thinking they’re the same person on the stage and off ...
Jimin sniffles. “Well, it wasn’t just that one time … I kept seeing him outside the club … this started happening about a month ago. I thought I was going mad, but one day a bouquet of blue roses were delivered to my dance studio and the next day, another one delivered right to my apartment. There was no message but I knew they were from him because they were the same roses as the ones sent to me backstage a few weeks ago.”
“He knows where you live and work,” Jungkook says grimly. “Jimin, Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Jimin replies in a small voice. “It seemed like a harmless gesture. I didn’t think much of it.”
Jungkook suppresses a sigh. “What happened tonight?”
Jimin takes a shaky breath. “He requested a private dance. I’ve danced for him before, before the whole thing with the flowers, but he’s always been respectful so I agreed to it. But I think he had too much to drink tonight. Or was in a bad mood and looking to take it on someone.
“Halfway through the song he kept grabbing me, to the point where I was getting really uncomfortable. But he’s one of our biggest customers so I didn’t want to piss him off. I told him he’d have to pay extra if he wants to touch. A-and then -” Jimin’s voice shudders before he continues, “h-he says, ‘How much for me to fuck you?’”
Jungkook makes a sound of outrage but doesn’t interrupt and lets Jimin continue.
“I told him I don’t do that, and this harsh, ugly look came over his face. He said I thought I was too good for him, that I would never look at him twice if I wasn’t paid to do it. At this point I’m panicking because he’s raising his voice and holding me down, not letting me go. I tried to get him to calm down, said he’d had too much to drink and I could help call him a cab home … and that’s when he lost it. He - he threw me to the floor, calling me a w-whore. Said that I belonged to him because he paid for me.”
Jungkook jerks spasmodically, his hands tightening on Jimin’s shoulders.
“I tried to scream and call for help, but the music was too loud and that was when he hit me across the face,” Jimin touches his puffy lip with a trembling hand. “I was so stunned for a second that he pulled the rest of my clothes off and then he-he started trying to force himself inside me.”
“Oh Jiminie,” Jungkook whispers. His hands curl into fists and a cold rage boils in his heart. “Are you - did he hurt you? I’m gonna kill the bastard!”
“I’m okay,” Jimin grabs his arm and reassures him. “I managed to get my leg in between his and kneed him right in the balls. He let out this yell of pain and let go of me. I got out of there as fast as I could. I’ve been in here since … dunno what happened to him after that.”
“I’m gonna kill the bastard,” Jungkook repeats. “I’m gonna hurt him so bad he’s gonna think a kick in the balls is the best thing he’s ever felt!”
Jimin wipes his eyes and manages a small smile. “I hope he’s not seriously hurt, though … I don’t want to get Joon into trouble.”
“Namjoon will stand by you,” Jungkook reassures him. “He has zero tolerance for this kind of behavior. We should let him know as soon as possible.”
“Wait,” Jimin says, grabbing his arm as he makes to stand up. “Kookie, don’t go yet. Just - can you stay a bit longer?”
Jungkook’s heart aches as he pulls Jimin into an embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“For not being there. I should have known what was going on.”
Jimin’s voice is muffled against his chest. “You’re here now.”
Namjoon’s face is somber as Jimin recounts the events in his office, some time later. Charlie, the bouncer has told his version of events, which fully corroborate Jimin’s. Jungkook holds his hand supportively the whole time, still caught between between fury and guilt.
“This will be investigated thoroughly,” Namjoon says grimly. “This piece of scum will regret the day he walked into my establishment and dared attack on one of my dancers. And it’s a oversight on my part that you didn’t come to me earlier when you detected suspicious behavior.”
Jimin hangs his head.
“I’m not putting any blame on you,” Namjoon says gently. “You’re the one being wronged. Go home, take the rest of the week off. I’ll make sure this man gets what he deserves.”
“Thanks, Joon,” Jimin says quietly.
“And Kookie -,” Namjoon adds. He looks at their interlocked hands and gives a small smile. “Take care of him, won’t you?”
Jimin clutches his hand the whole way home on the subway. When the train jerks, Jimin falls into Jungkook’s chest with a gasp, grabbing onto his arm for balance.
“Sorry!” he gasps, but doesn’t pull away once he’s regained his balance. A fiercely protective bubble rises in Jungkook’s chest. He wraps one arm around Jimin, holding him so close he can feel the other’s body heat, and makes threatening gazes at anyone who dares look at them sideways.
“My stop is next,” Jungkook says almost regretfully as the train pulls into his station. Jimin nods, but makes no move to let go of his hand.
Don’t let him go , a voice whispers in Jungkook’s head.
“Hey, wanna stay over at mine tonight?” he asks Jimin as the doors slide open. “You know, in case the creep is still hanging around your place?”
Jimin looks at him, wide-eyed, then gives a fervent nod. Without a second thought, Jungkook tugs him off the train and they manage to get off just before the doors close behind them.
Jimin keeps ahold of his hand as Jungkook leads him the two blocks to his building. It’s still early enough in the evening that the streets are littered with drunken merrymakers who pay them no mind.
“Hope you don’t mind the mess,” he warns Jimin as they make their way up the stairs to his third floor walk-up apartment. “I don’t have guests over very often.”
“Really? Popular guy like you?”
Jungkook snorts, but pleased to see that Jimin’s recovering his sense of humor. He unlocks the front door, toes off his shoes in the foyer, then makes a mad dash to pick up discarded underwear and empty cartons of takeout strewn around the living room while Jimin makes his slower way in behind him.
“Sorry, it’s not very glamorous,” Jungkook says sheepishly as he snags a pair of jeans off the floor and tosses it into the laundry hamper.
“It smells like you,” Jimin says with a slight smile.
“Um,” Jungkook runs his hand through his hair awkwardly, unused to playing host. “Are you hungry? D’you want something to eat? Drink? I’ve got some cheese in the fridge. Maybe some bread - might be a bit stale though … I could order something if you want -”
“I’m fine,” Jimin interrupts his rambling, though he looks amused at how flustered Jungkook is getting. “Can I just use your shower?”
“Yeah, of course! This way. Let me get you something to wear.”
Jungkook finds him a t-shirt and pajama bottoms that he hopes are clean, some towels and a spare toothbrush.
As the sound of running water fills the small apartment, Jungkook busies himself with setting up the couch in the living room and tries not to think about the fact that the man he has been crushing on for months is currently under his roof (naked) and taking a shower (naked). He sighs; if only Jimin were here under better circumstances …
Fifteen minutes later, Jimin emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of mist and the smell of Jungkook’s fruity body wash. He tugs on the hem of his borrowed shirt self-consciously; it’s a little too big on him and the collar dips low to reveal his collarbones.
Jungkook tries not to stare.
“C’mere,” he beckons. Jimin sits down on the couch, tucking his feet under him.
Jungkook waves a small half-used tube of ointment.
“My nana’s cure-all,” he explains. “She used it for everything - scraped knees, cold sores, a broken heart, you name it. Nana’s cure-all ointment plus some tough love.”
“She sounds like quite the woman,” Jimin says. He leans towards Jungkook with his lips slightly parted and closes his eyes in anticipation.
Get your mind out of the gutter , Jungkook lectures himself sternly, as he dabs some of the clear ointment on the cut on Jimin’s soft bottom lip.
“There, all done,” he says, drawing back.
Jimin licks his lip tentatively. “Hmmm, tingles.”
“That means it’s working,” Jungkook says, re-screwing the cap. “Um, I set up the couch for you. Might be a bit cramped but you’ll survive.”
“Thanks,” Jimin says. “Now stop worrying about me. Go shower, it’s getting late.”
A hurried shower later, Jimin has tucked himself in. He gestures towards a framed picture sitting on the coffee table showing a stately-looking elderly woman holding a baby.
“Nana?” he asks.
“The one and only,” Jungkook replies, toweling his hair. “I think I was about two in that picture.”
“Cute,” Jimin whispers, smiling peacefully as Jungkook messes with the blankets, tucking them a bit tighter.
Jungkook then hovers protectively and fidgets. “Everything okay? Let me know if you need anything else.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m not an invalid. Get your cute ass to bed already.”
“‘K, g’night.” Jungkook fusses with him some more, then retires to his room. He leaves his door open after a second’s deliberation, then gets into bed. He lies in the darkness, feeling wide awake and tense, hardly a good prelude to sleep. The walls are thin and he can hear the creak of the couch each time Jimin moves.
Jungkook groans softly into his pillow. He really ought to have had a quickie in the shower to relieve the tension (but he didn’t want to in case he took too long in the shower and then Jimin would suspect what he was up to). He can’t do it now because he stupidly left his door open and Jimin would hear and definitely know what he’s up to. On the other hand, Jungkook thinks as he sneaks a hand down the waistband of his boxers, sharing a room with other people during his first year of college has taught him the value of furtive masturbation and maybe he could just be very quiet ...
“Kookie, are you asleep?”
Jungkook jerks his hand out of his underwear. His face heats up even though there’s no way Jimin could have known what he was doing under the cover of bedsheets and darkness.
He sits up. “What’s wrong?”
Silently, Jimin pads barefoot into his room, climbs into his bed and slips under the covers.
Jungkook automatically scoots over to give him space. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest and - oh fuck - he’s still hard.
They lie on their sides, staring at each other in the dark. Even though they’re not touching, Jungkook can feel Jimin’s body heat and it takes every fiber of his being not to cross the tiny gap between their bodies and touch him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
Jimin gives a minute shake of his head. “Felt lonely out there.”
“Oh,” Jungkook’s heart twists. “I’m not really good company.”
Jimin shifts under the covers and Jungkook feels his slightly-cold feet slide against his own.
“‘M also cold.”
“I knew you only wanted me for my body heat,” Jungkook deadpans. Now that Jimin has initiated the contact, he feels bold enough to press their legs closer together until he’s got one of Jimin’s legs wedged between his.
“Hands too,” Jimin pouts, and Jungkook snorts before clasping Jimin’s smaller hands between his own.
“Better?” he asks.
Jimin nods happily. They keep staring at each other, except now somehow they’ve moved so that their faces are inches apart. Jungkook can count his lashes under the moonlight.
“Thanks for letting me stay over,” Jimin says.
“I mean, you are a bit high maintenance -” Jimin kicks him lightly in the shins, “- but you’re welcome to any time. I mean it.”
“Thanks. I feel safe here. You make me feel safe.”
Jimin’s face is suddenly very close. They noses bump together lightly, then Jimin tilts his head and his lips are on Jungkook’s. Jungkook freezes in surprise, barely breathing. Jimin presses in a bit more insistently and Jungkook responds belatedly, angling his head to slot their mouth together. Jimin tastes minty and slightly medicinal, soft and full and perfect. They kiss tentatively in the dark, lips then tongue. It’s suddenly too hot under the covers. Jungkook feels like he’s burning up. He wants to kick away the sheets, pull off Jimin’s clothes and kiss his way down his body ...
Jimin makes a little sound and pulls away.
“Sorry, still hurts,” he says a bit sheepishly, touching his finger to his bottom lip.
“Shit, sorry, I forgot!”
“It’s okay, not your fault. I started it.”
“I-I shouldn’t have. Not after what happened today,” Jungkook says. A wave of guilt overcomes him; how could he think it was okay to touch Jimin, after the latter was violated mere hours ago? The guilt doesn’t chase away his arousal, however. What’s worse, Jimin has a thigh pressed between his and there’s no way he can’t feel feel how hard Jungkook is.
“I guess you’re right,” Jimin says, sounding regretful. “Let’s just sleep.”
He sighs and curls up into Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook closes his eyes and relaxes fractionally into the embrace, willing his body to calm down. It’s going to be a very long night.
After the Night (Jungkook feels the need to capitalize it in his head), everything and nothing changes between them.
On Jimin’s first day back at the club, Namjoon comes over to reassure him that he’s dealt with Bowler Hat and made sure that the offender is blacklisted from every club in the city. (In fact, Namjoon’s exact words were: ‘he will never be able to lay a finger on anyone ever again’.) Nevertheless, Jungkook insists on walking Jimin home each night, just in case. Jimin protests that he’s fine, really, but he never complains too much, especially when the night usually ends with them making out in the foyer of his building until they’re caught by some scandalized ajumma.
Jimin doesn’t invite him up, and Jungkook doesn’t push. He figures the other needs space. He’s okay with it. Mostly. He’s an adult with self control, Jungkook tells himself. An adult who deals with his sexual frustrations through intense and admittedly unsatisfactory masturbation sessions.
At work, they no longer keep the flirting subtle. Taehyung declares that they’re “gross” while Hoseok claims they’re “super cute together”. For his part, Jungkook doesn’t quite know what they are. All he knows is that he’s walking around with a perpetual hard-on these days and that Park Jimin is the biggest tease ever.
“You’ve got lip gloss on your face,” Seokjin remarks.
Jungkook grabs a tissue and wipes off the mark, courtesy of one clingy dancer.
“You’ve also got a stupid smile on your face,” Taehyung adds.
“Shut up,” Jungkook retorts, still smiling.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you guys kissed and made up,” Seokjin says. “By the way, Tae, you and Hoseok owe me.”
“Shit,” Taehyung swears. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
Jungkook looks between them inquisitively. “Forgotten what?”
“We had a pool going,” Seokjin grins. “Oh when you two would finally fuck.”
Jungkook cough. “I mean - we haven’t -”
“What do you mean, you haven’t?” Taehyung demands. “You’re telling me you guys haven’t done the hanky panky yet?”
“‘Hanky panky’?” Jungkook repeats. “What is this - third grade?
“Seriously, what are you waiting for?”
Jungkook sighs. “After what happened with that customer, I don’t wanna push. I want him to take the initiative.”
“Kookie,” Taehyung sighs. “Listen up, ‘cos I’m just gonna say this once. You’re a idiot. A gallant idiot but still an idiot. Jimin has been practically throwing himself at you. If he takes any more initiative he might as well be sitting on your dick. No, wait, never mind, he’s already doing that.”
Jungkook gapes at him. Seokjin gives him an encouraging pat on the back.
“Never thought I’d be encouraging this kind of behavior, but go get it, cowboy.”
Jimin’s set is coming to an end and Jungkook finds himself making his familiar way towards the stage. Was he really going to do this? They’ve danced around each other long enough, literally and figuratively. All thoughts are pushed aside when he spots Jimin walking off the stage, looking flushed and gorgeous. Fuck, he’s wearing only a thong that makes his ass look divine and leaves very little to the imagination.
Jungkook wants to push him up against a wall and eat him up.
Oh, he reminds himself - he can do just that.
Jimin makes a startled sound when Jungkook grabs his wrist and pulls him into a kiss. He melts into Jungkook immediately, arms coming up to hook around Jungkook’s neck.
“Kookie -” Jimin gasps, pleased. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I guess watching you out there got me a bit worked up,” Jungkook admits.
“A lot worked up, by the looks of it,” Jimin glances down at the front of Jungkook’s pants.
Jungkook groans. “Come over to my place tonight. After work.”
Jimin’s eyes glitter and he nods. “Okay.”
Their lips meet in one last hurried kiss, before Jungkook hears Yoongi announcing his name to the audience. Jimin sends him off with a cheeky pat to the ass. And so Jungkook gets onstage with his hair a complete mess, shirt half unbuttoned, and dick straining in his pants. All in all, not a bad look,
With the taste of Jimin’s lips still on his, and the promise of a memorable night on his mind, Jungkook throws himself wantonly into the striptease. The audience picks up on his sexual energy, voicing its appreciation in wolf whistles and dollar bills.
Jungkook is three quarters of the way into his routine, stripped down to a button down shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, when the atmosphere of the audience shifts palpably. There is a sudden buzz of excitement directed towards the other end of the stage.
What is going on?
Jungkook turns to see the source of the commotion and his mouth falls open. Jimin has re-emerged onto the stage, still clad in a thong that he left the stage just minutes earlier in.
What is he doing?
Jungkook’s heart stutters in his throat, and it’s only muscle memory that allows him to keep moving to the beat of the music. Ignoring the audience completely, Jimin moves towards him with smouldering intent, hips swaying hypnotically, the stage lights picking up his glittery eye shadow and making him look positively ethereal. The crowd picks up on the sizzling tension between them. There is a growing murmur, which increases as Jimin slinks over until they’re close enough to touch. The crowd is restless with excitement. When he’s close enough, Jimin leans right into Jungkook’s personal space, lays a hand on his chest, whispers into his ear.
“Sorry to steal your show, babe, I couldn’t wait until tonight.”
With that, Jimin fucking winks and rips open Jungkook’s shirt just as the beat of the music drops, buttons popping everywhere. The crowd roars its approval. Jungkook has a second of rational thought - fuck, he planned this - before his brain shuts down again because Jimin is dropping to his knees at Jungkook’s feet. He looks up with eyes filled with promise and slides a hand up Jungkook’s thigh, lips parted as he leans into Jungkook’s crotch.
Surely he wouldn’t -
Jimin’s eyes flutter shut as he leans in and licks along the dip of Jungkook’s V line. Then, without so much as a by your leave, presses his lips against the prominent bulge tenting the front of Jungkook’s booty shorts. Jungkook hisses at that tiny bit of contact and his dick jerks hard. His hips surge forward of their own volition Jimin looks up through a smirk - and isn’t that a sight to see - and open his mouth to suck at Jungkook’s clothed dick right where the sensitive head is, quickly rendering the fabric wet with a combination of saliva and precome. He caresses Jungkook’s thigh with one hand and with the other, gently rolls Jungkook’s balls through his underwear.
Jungkook abandons all inhibition and groans out loud, grinding his dick into Jimin’s lips and tongue to the beat of the music. There is a part of him that can’t believe this is happening - the crowd is whipping itself into a frenzy; dollar bills are raining onto the stage and Jungkook thinks he even spots a few 20’s, but he couldn’t care less when Jimin’s on his knees in front of him, seemingly intent on sucking out his soul through his underwear. Silently, he curses the no-nudity rule - all he wants to do is whip out his frustratingly hard cock and push it into that warm, wet mouth.
Jimin rises to his feet, a dangerous smirk dancing at the corners of his lips.
“Let’s give them a show they won’t forget,” he says.
He pushes Jungkook till his back is up against the pole, and captures his lips in a sensual kiss. The crowd cheers, but Jungkook registers the sound dully, all his senses captured by Jimin - the heat of his body pressed up against his own, the musky scent of his aftershave, the slight moan he makes in the back of his throat as Jungkook cups his plush asscheeks and brings his hips closer for their erections to slide together, the friction sweet but not quite enough. Their bodies find a natural chemistry, moving in tandem to the music in a sweet, dirty grind.
“Fuck, the things I wanna do to you,” Jungkook growls against his lips. Momentarily forgetting the audience, he spins Jimin around so that he’s gripping the pole, his very attractive backside presented to Jungkook. Jimin arches his back in clear invitation. His ass is obscenely framed by the thong, the black material disappearing between his cheeks and teasing what’s in between. Jungkook grabs his swaying hips and slides the bulge of his clothed cock in between Jimin’s ass. Even over the heavy bass of the music and the hoots of the crowd, he can hear Jimin’s high choked-off moan. He’s got his forehead pressed up against the pole, gripping it white-knuckled and pliantly letting Jungkook manhandle his lower body in a crude simulacrum of fucking. Jungkook feels the familiar sizzle build in his groin, but before the beginning of orgasm can build, the music fades and the stage lights dim, casting the two of them into darkness.
The crowd is still cheering and littering the stage with bills. In the darkness, Jimin straightens up and pulls away, leaving Jungkook cold and disoriented. Harsh reality hits him like a ton of bricks. Did he really just try to fuck Jimin through their underwear onstage in front of hundreds of onlookers? What the fuck was he thinking?
A warm hand finds its way into his.
“Kookie, c’mon,” Jimin murmurs.
Jungkook follows him blindly backstage. He vaguely registers passing by Namjoon, who looks flabbergasted, and Hoseok, who whistles and cheers. All he is aware of is following Jimin into the dressing room. Taehyung is the only one there, bent over his phone. He looks up as they enter.
“Can you give us some privacy, sweetie?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung takes one look at them, eyebrows jump to his hairline, then hightails it out of the dressing room, muttering, “Fucking finally …”
As the door shuts behind Taehyung, Jimin pushes Jungkook down onto the couch, eyes full of smoldering intent. He climbs into Jungkook’s lap and immediately slots his lips against Jungkook’s own. Jungkook’s hands automatically finds purchase on his ass and he uses that as leverage to pull the other man closer, rutting his dick in the space between Jimin’s balls. Jimin makes a choked off gasp, still kissing him desperately, but is a quick learner and starts riding Jungkook’s cock through his abused shorts.
“I - can’t - believe - you - did - that,” Jungkook gasps in between kisses. He squeezes the globes of Jimin’s ass and Jimin moans.
“If I knew I’d get this much of a rise out of you, I’d have done it months ago,” Jimin sucks at his pulse,
“Namjoon’s gonna murder us.”
“I don’t care, he can do it after you fuck me,” Jimin growls.
“Christ -,” Jungkook sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth, then moves lower to leave inelegant love bites all along Jimin’s neck and collarbones.
He finds out that Jimin has sensitive nipples, and gets loud when Jungkook tongues his piercing. Jungkook can’t get enough of those sweet sounds that Jimin seems incapable of holding back. He tugs the ring lightly with his teeth, then licks the bud of his nipple to soothe the pain as Jimin mewls and writhes in his lap, the front of his thong increasingly wet with precome.
Jungkook can’t stop touching him, running his hands down his waist, across the curve of his ass and the length of his thighs. He takes his fill of Jimin like a man stumbling upon an oasis after traversing a great desert, so many months of looking and teasing and holding himself back from touching. Finally, Jimin pushes Jungkook back against the couch and slides to his knees on the floor between Jungkook’s outspread legs.
“Wanna suck you properly,” he says, pupils blown dark. He tugs the waistband of Jungkook’s shorts until the head of his cock pokes out over and Jimin presses his lips to the tip and making them glossy with precome.
“Jimin - fuck - so pretty …” Jungkook runs the pad of his thumb over Jimin’s shiny bottom lip and Jimin catches it in his mouth, sucking lightly as he tugs Jungkook’s shorts off. Jungkook’s cock springs free and nudges against the side of Jimin’s cheek. Jimin turns his head and catches it between his lips, lashes fluttering shut as he suckles lightly at the head.
Jungkook watches, breathing harshly, as Jimin takes him almost to the root, before pulling off with a gasp to trace his tongue along the side and dipping his head lower to nuzzle at Jungkook’s balls. Rubbing the back of Jimin’s neck, Jungkook guides his mouth back to his cock, where he starts sucking slowly. The wet slide of his cock between Jimin’s lips makes Jungkook’s toes curl in pleasure and he can’t help tightening his fingers in Jimin’s hair and pushing his cock deeper into his throat. Jimin moans, the sound reverberating up the length of Jungkook’s dick. He looks up and their eyes meet and, fuck, Jungkook wishes he can imprint on the backs of his eyelids forever the image of Park Jimin on his knees with his lips stretched around Jungkook’s cock.
“God, Jimin, c’mere,” Jungkook tugs him up to kiss him again, sliding his tongue against Jimin’s and tasting himself. He pushes Jimin down onto the couch, unceremoniously pulls off his thong and holds his thighs open. Jimin flushes a bit at his unabashed stare, his cock straining against his stomach.
“Kookie,” he moans and spreads his legs wider. “Please.”
Jungkook reaches between his legs and strokes the soft skin of his perineum, then lower, mesmerized as Jimin’s hole twitches under his touch and his abs quiver.
“I wanted to fuck you right there on stage,” he admits.
Jimin bites his lip hard. “God, I’d have let you. I wanted you to.”
“You’d totally have enjoyed it, wouldn’t you? All those men watching as I slide my cock into your sweet ass, wishing they were in my place.”
Jimin arches up into his hand. “Kookie, stop talking and do it already. Want you inside me so bad.”
“Lube, we need lube.” Jungkook stumbles off the couch and starts rummaging violently through drawers. A minute or so later, he growls in frustration. “Oh my god, this is a strip club, how can there not be any lube?!”
“I’ve got some. In my bag, Condoms too,” Jimin gestures. “The red backpack. Side pocket.”
Jungkook stumbles over and searches as directed, very much distracted by the sight of Jimin sucking on two fingers before reaching down to tease the rim of his hole.
By the time Jungkook finds what he’s looking for, Jimin’s already splayed out wantonly on the couch, two fingers lodged in his ass.
“Do you always carry lube and condoms with you?” Jungkook feels a twinge of irrational jealousy at the thought of other circumstances in which these items would come into use.
“Only after I met you,” Jimin replies, and two spots of color appear high on his cheeks.
Oh fuck . Jungkook squeezes out way too much lube onto his fingers and replaces Jimin’s fingers with his own, marveling at the way Jimin sucks him in, how tight he clamps around his fingers. He can’t stop kissing Jimin as he opens him up with his fingers, from chest to stomach to the sensitive divot of his pelvis to the soft inside of his thighs.
Jimin gasps and arches up when Jungkook finds his prostate, he’s so beautifully responsive that Jungkook wants to make him come with his fingers and tongue alone, then bring him to orgasm a second time with his cock. But Jimin has no such patience. He endures a few more minutes of Jungkook massaging his prostate, before placing a restraining hand on his arm.
“Kookie - want you inside me before I come,” he pleads. “Wanna feel your cock splitting me open.”
Jungkook fumbles and drops the condom in its foil because his fingers are slippery with lube and because the sight of Jimin naked and spread out underneath him is really damned distracting. He crawls under the couch, cursing, to retrieve it while Jimin giggles.
“You’re so cute,” Jimin says when he emerges red-faced.
“Cute? Thanks, that makes me feel so manly,” Jungkook complains as he rips open the foil with his teeth and rolls the condom onto his dick.
“Well, stud, come and fuck me with that big, manly cock until I can’t remember my own name,” Jimin coos in a mock-sexy voice, which is cheesy and unbelievably hot at the same time. Jungkook squeezes more lube onto his condom-covered dick, then settles between Jimin’s legs.
Jimin whines impatiently when Jungkook rubs the tip against his entrance, wetting his fluttering rim with so much lube it runs down his thighs. Jungkook surges his hips forward, the way smoothed with lube but Jimin’s so hot and tight .
“Slowly,” Jimin pants. “It’s been a while.”
It’s torture to hold himself still. He lowers himself, forcing Jimin’s legs apart even further to kiss him, needing the distraction from how good it already feels, how hard it is not to just slide all the way into that sinful body.
Jimin makes a sound against his lips and it seems to be a sign of agreement, for he then hooks his legs around the backs of Jungkook’s thighs and uses that as leverage to pull their hips together, allowing Jungkook’s cock to sink all the way inside until he bottoms out.
“Oh f-fuck, Jimin -” Jungkook’s hips stutter. They’re skin to skin, barely an inch of space between them. Jungkook takes a moment to savor the way Jimin writhes beneath him, completely wanton and beautiful, before pulling out and thrusting back into him.
“Yesss,” Jimin hisses and pulls his hair to the point of pain. “Fuck, Kookie, yes, just like that -” He’s like some sort of sex demon - no, more like a sex angel, if such a thing exists, which it must, because Jimin is the epitome of one, flushed and beautiful and gazing up at Jungkook like he’s the sun. He meets Jungkook thrust for thrust, moaning and biting those alluring lips until Jungkook just has to pause and lean down to kiss him breathless, until Jimin whines and clenches his ass to get him moving again.
“You can fuck and kiss me at the same time, you know,” Jimin laughs, which is unfair because he’s way too coherent and all that’s going through Jungkook’s mind is a string of Jimin mine gorgeous fuck yes -
“Multitasking is overrated,” Jungkook grunts, pushing his dick in deep then holding still to kiss Jimin again just because he can, the fact that Jimin is letting him do as he likes still an unbelievable concept to him.
“Then fuck me hard,” Jimin commands. And so Jungkook does, hips snapping back and body is no longer his own. He surrenders to his most base instincts and plunders Jimin’s body, the slap of skin on skin obscenely loud. Jimin goes a little wild underneath him, moaning unabashedly each time Jungkook hits his sweet spot and racking his nails down Jungkook’s biceps and back. Jungkook feels sweet pressure build in his balls. It’s too soon … not yet … he pulls out of Jimin completely and grips the base of his cock hard, gasping like a man out of water.
Jimin whines and pushes his hips up in a futile attempt to draw him back inside. “Why’d you pull out?”
“Don’t wanna come so fast,” Jungkook pants, resting his forehead against Jimin’s chest. He squeezes the base of his dick until the ebb of orgasm recedes. “Wanna make it last, wanna make it good for you.”
“You’re already making it so good for me, baby,” Jimin croons, and it’s true - he already looks deliriously fucked out, cheeks flushed and lips puffy from how much they’ve been kissing. “Wait - get up for a sec.”
He gets up from the couch in a fluid motion, then, kneeling on the seat of the couch with his one elbow resting on the seat back, he arches back and holds his ass with the other hand so that Jungkook can see his pink and glistening hole.
“C’mon then. What are you waiting for?” Jimin purrs.
“Oh God, you really want me dead,” Jungkook says hoarsely, before positioning his cock at Jimin’s entrance and pushing inside that addictively tight heat once more. He gives up on being gentle this time, grabbing Jimin’s hips and pulling the smaller boy onto his dick, fucking into him hard and dirty and animalistic.
“Oh - fuck- yes!” Jimin cries, his body rocked by the force of Jungkook’s thrusts. Jungkook misses watching Jimin’s face and kissing him as they fuck, but this position presents him with the most glorious view of Jimin’s ass and the shaft of Jungkook’s dick as it disappears into Jimin’s slick hole again and again. Jimin jerks and buries his face in his arms when Jungkook finds his prostate, and he keeps hitting that sensitive spot until Jimin is reduced to sobs.
“So fucking gorgeous,” Jungkook bites the lobe of Jimin’s ear. “Wish they could see you, all those men out there, watch you take my dick like a pro. I should do that next time, lube you up beforehand and fuck you right there on stage for all of them to see -”
“God, yes!” Jimin keens, either in agreement or in encouragement as Jungkook continues to pound into him, every hard thrust knocking the air out of his lungs. Jungkook reaches around Jimin’s bent over body to stroke his cock, wanting - needing - to see him come.
“Kookie!” Jimin’s thighs literally quiver as his cock jerks in Jungkook’s hand. Semen seeps through his fingers and paints the back of the couch. Jimin clenches so hard around Jungkook’s dick it’s almost painful, and he keeps going, continues to fuck Jimin through his orgasm. The combination of the pressure of Jungkook’s dick in his ass and hand on his softening cock must be sensory overload, but Jimin takes it stride, moaning softly and letting Jungkook use his body to chase his own orgasm. Jungkook lasts exactly another fifteen seconds before he comes, gasping into the nape of Jimin’s neck and hands clutching Jimin’s hips so hard it must hurt.
He collapses against Jimin, front pressed to Jimin’s back and tries not to pass out from the force of his orgasm.
“Hey,” Jimin murmurs, “I’m right here.”
Jungkook realizes he’s been clutching Jimin tightly around the middle as though afraid the other would fly away. Loosening his embrace, he pulls out of Jimin gently, discard the condom, and maneuvers them so that they’re lying lengthwise on the couch, facing each other. It’s a tight squeeze for two grown men and Jimin has to hook his leg around Jungkook’s lower body to keep him from tipping off the edge.
“You’re amazing,” Jungkook says, feeling more content and relaxed than he has in a long, long time.
“Not too shabby yourself,” Jimin smiles fondly.
“Okay, if this is gonna happen again I’m gonna need more positive feedback than that,” Jungkook complains, swatting Jimin’s ass.
Jimin kisses the tip of his nose. “You were better than all my fantasies combined.”
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. “You fantasized about me?”
Jungkook looks at him expectantly, then, “You can’t just tease that and not elaborate.”
“I’d rather show you,” Jimin purrs. “Later. On a bed.”
“Oh, okay, works for me,” Jungkook breathes, and kisses him again. The make out session grows heated and Jungkook feels his dick start to take an interest again when they’re suddenly interrupted by the buzz of the loudspeaker.
“ This is a public service announcement to remind Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin to clean up after themselves,” Yoongi’s drawl crackles through the static. “Probably a good idea to disinfect the entire room while you’re at it. I know you’re young and horny but that’s no excuse to desecrate public spaces. Also, use condoms.”
Jungkook buries his flaming face in Jimin’s shoulder, which is shaking with laughter.
“The others are never going to let me live this down,” he groans.
“D’you think I can get these come stains out?” Jimin eyes the defiled couch skeptically.
“Just throw a blanket over it,” Jungkook suggests.
“Gross,” Jimin pulls a face and laughs.
“Knowing the history of this place, we aren’t the first to make our mark on this couch. Nor will we be the last.”
“Oh my god, stop talking,” Jimin groans. “Why do I like you.”
“Because I’m funny and hot and a great fuck?” Jungkook waggles his brows.
Jimin sighs. “Yes, all of the above. Now let’s clean this place up before Namjoon fires our asses.”
Another night, another crowd, another performance.
On Friday nights, Jungkook and Jimin strip together for the closing set and it’s always a packed house. The duo has become something of a hit performance, the crowd feeling off their sexual energy as much as they feed off of each other. For all of Namjoon’s business talk about ‘synergy’ and ‘core competency’, Jungkook thinks he finally understands. As his eyes meet Jimin’s from across the stage, his stomach flips just like it’s the first time.
The crowd goes rowdy, high on a cocktail of hormones and alcohol, as Jimin slinks over the Jungkook’s side of the stage. He pushes Jungkook onto his back on the floor of the stage and straddles him. It’s towards the end of their set; they’re both down to their underwear, hard from mutual teasing.
Jungkook lets Jimin take the lead, cock already aching in his tight underwear. They never plan the routine beforehand, preferring to let the heat of the moment guide them when they’re on stage together. He watches as Jimin grinds their erections together in a dirty dance, arms raised above his head to accentuate the lean lines of his torso and abs. As Jungkook watches, barely breathing and as enthralled as the audience, as his partner reaches into his underwear.
He groans when Jimin’s hand makes contact with his bare cock. Jimin barely moving his hand, just holding Jungkook’s achingly hard cock in a loose grip and drawing teasing circles around the wet slit with his thumb. Jungkook pushes up into Jimin’s hand, ignoring the crowd, which is going wild at this brazen display of sexuality. Jimin glances out towards the audience and winks, as though taunting the onlookers and letting them know that only he is allowed to touch Jungkook this way. He always remembers to play to the crowd, but Jungkook forgets the crowd as soon as Jimin touches him. His world shrinks down to the other man and the touch of his hand and the feel of their bodies moving as one.
It’s frankly surprising how much much you can do with your clothes still on, as Jungkook and Jimin continue to find out. Namjoon complains once or twice that they’re turning his respectable establishment into a sex club, but quickly shuts up once he realizes how popular their duo act is and how much money they make him in one night.
It’s just as well that Namjoon continues to enforce the club’s no-nudity rule, because most nights it’s the only thing standing between Jungkook getting on his knees and sucking Jimin off, or Jimin full-out riding his cock on the floor of the stage. Instead, the audience is treated to fifteen minutes of intense sexual tension and drawn-out foreplay.
As Jungkook knows well, it’s all about the tease. Get ‘em horny, leave ‘em waiting and keep ‘em coming back for more.
But the best part?
“All those men out there wishing they could have you, and knowing that you’re all mine, Park Jimin,” Jungkook says fiercely, pushing the other into a wall and kissing him senseless as soon as they leave the stage, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in his ears.
“Likewise,” Jimin says, returning his kiss with equal fervor. “Now take me home and show me exactly how much you want me.”