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“We’re not going anymore, Tae.”


Taehyung, who is currently in the middle of holding up one of two jumpers to his chest for inspection in the mirror, freezes. He’d managed to narrow his selection down to the purple Balenciaga and the navy Chanel when Jimin had spoken up from his position stretched out along the length of Taehyung’s single bed - leaning against the headboard and typing away at the macbook on his lap, the lenses of his gold rimmed glasses reflecting twin rectangles of light from the computer screen.


A Friday evening usually finds Jimin still at the office, staying behind to check over the week’s work once everyone else has gone home - and usually, Taehyung would leave him to it. Usually. As it so happens, they’re going to France tomorrow, and Taehyung hadn’t wanted to risk Jimin overworking himself to the point that he’d be too tired to enjoy their weekend - so Taehyung had decided to call Jimin, wheedling and whining and employing that particular tone of voice, until Jimin had eventually agreed to stop by Taehyung’s apartment after his last meeting was done. Taehyung knows he shouldn’t have been surprised when Jimin ended up bringing work along with him, getting started on it as soon as he’d kissed Taehyung hello - but it’s, whatever. At least this way Taehyung can keep an eye on him and make sure he remembers to eat and take breaks and, y’know, be human.


Anyway, that had been two hours ago - a whole two hours that Taehyung has spent playing dress up with himself, trying on different outfit combinations for their journey tomorrow - though he has still to settle on one fully yet. That's why, when Jimin finally speaks up after being silent all this time, Taehyung is a little startled, and once he processes what Jimin has actually said, is left dumbstruck.


When Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately, Jimin takes a moment to glance up from his screen, expression expectant.


He repeats, “We’re not going to Paris, baby. You know why.”


And then, as if he hasn’t just shattered Taehyung’s entire world in less than ten words (a possible exaggeration, but Taehyung has been looking forward to this trip all week so sue him for feeling dramatic), Jimin turns his attention back to his macbook and continues to type. 


And, alright. So maybe Taehyung sort of... definitely knows what Jimin is alluding to, but, so what if he didn’t pass his art history test? It’s not like it was anything important, just some impromptu quizz his lecturer had decided to spring on the class the day of. There is no way Taehyung is letting an insignificant 3/25 score get in the way of him and dinner at the Eiffel Tower - not in this lifetime.


Making a hasty decision, Taehyung tosses the Chanel into his open suitcase and pulls on the Balenciaga. It’s oversized and warm, making it perfect for a flight in October, when the planes are always a little chillier inside than Taehyung is comfortable with. Jimin had booked their flight for 9 o’clock tomorrow morning, and it’s only just hit 5pm now; Taehyung is more than confident enough in his ability to change Jimin’s mind in that time. He’s just... being a little stubborn, is all.


Now partially clothed (Taehyung still needs to pick out some trousers and shoes, but that can wait for later because he knows how much Jimin likes his bare legs), he turns to face Jimin, pout already out and in full force.


His voice is pitched high, potentially annoyingly so, as he asks, “What do you mean ‘we’re not going’?”


Jimin doesn’t bother looking up again, clicking around at something as he replies, “Exactly that. You need to study for your retake next Thursday, and I know this weekend is the only free time you have to do it.”


And that catches Taehyung completely off guard, because he definitely hadn’t told Jimin about the existence of the retake. He finds himself sputtering, “That - that is not - How did you find out about that?!”


Probably realising he’s not going to get anything else done for the rest of the evening, Jimin closes his macbook shut and slides it onto the bedside table, making sure Taehyung’s prized Little Miss Sunshine mug doesn’t tip over and eat shit on the hardwood floor in the process.


Once both things are relatively safe, Jimin turns to Taehyung with a smile and says, simply, “Jeongguk.”


And Taehyung should have known, because there was literally no one else it could have been, but he hadn’t wanted to believe Jeongguk would sell him out like that - yet here he is, mouth dropped open in shock all the same. See if Taehyung ever buys that boy dinner again in his life, the little shit.


Narrowing his eyes, Taehyung lets out a huff. “Jeongguk is a liar and a traitor and should not be trusted.”


“He’s your best friend, Tae.”


“That is neither here nor there,” Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms. Then adds with a little frown, “and you’re my best friend too, Jiminie.”


Jimin rolls his eyes. “You’re just saying that because I buy you stuff.”


Taehyung can tell he’s trying to hold back a smile, though, so takes that as his cue to make his way over. Hopping up onto the bed, Taehyung plants his knees on either side of Jimin’s hips and settles comfortably onto his lap.


Looping his arms around Jimin’s neck, Taehyung ups the dramatics, “For shame! Just because you’re my rich, older, successful, sexy, gorgeous, honest to god could be a model, Jimin, I’m serious-”


Baby,” Jimin giggles, but he sounds a little delighted. Pressing a finger to Taehyung’s lips, he says, “Please shut up. Also, you are literally only three months younger than me, what the hell.”


Taehyung smiles but carries on speaking, words coming out a little muffled, “-super duper cute, boyfriend, does not mean you aren’t also my best friend.” Pretending to bite playfully at Jimin’s finger until he moves it, Taehyung continues, “And sure we’re technically the same age, but you’re also the CEO of your own fashion company, so... maybe let me exaggerate our age gap a bit? For the sake of my ego?”


“You’re in grad school studying to be an art therapist for kids, Tae,” Jimin smiles, all crinkly eyed and genuine as he drops his hands to rest on Taehyung’s waist, “That’s just as impressive.”


“I - shut up.” Taehyung flushes. “Don’t think you can distract me by getting all sweet, I still wanna go to Paris.”


“I said no, Taehyung.”


Taehyung can feel himself getting petulant. “Seriously? You’re just gonna betray me like that? Betray your boyfriend and bestfriend, just like that?”


Jimin snorts, repeats, “Just like that.” Then, at Taehyung’s deepening frown, says more seriously, “The whole reason you failed in the first place is because I took you to Japan last week. I’m not gonna get in the way of your education, okay? Not when I know how much it means to you,” Jimin presses a kiss to Taehyung’s cheek, “So we’re staying right here - you’ll study, I’ll work, and later, if you want, we can order in from that kimbap place you like. Sound good?”


“Jiminie," Taehyung gripes, curling his fingers into the smooth collar of Jimin’s satin dress shirt, “No.”


And, the thing is, on any other day Taehyung would be agreeing with Jimin. He’s very well aware of the idea people get of him once they find out about his relationship, but rich boyfriend or no, school has always been Taehyung’s top priority. He’d expressed that to Jimin explicitly before they started officially dating, and Jimin had been completely understanding of it - rescheduling their dates at the very last second (even though it’s always hard for him to get a day off in the first place), whenever Taehyung had a deadline coming up that he was stressed out about.


So when Jimin sighs, sounding exasperated as he says, “Tae, what’s gotten into you today?” Taehyung gets it.


But also, this test was an outlier that absolutely should not be counted, and he needs Jimin to get that.


So he says, “Nothing. Jiminie, I swear the test wasn’t important, I’ll revise for it later, alright?” Then, he wriggles in Jimin’s lap excitedly and continues, “Anyway, I did some research online and there’s this cool boutique in Ternes. They’ve got the cutest vintage berets and I really want one.”


“We can just order them online then, baby, not a big deal. You know what is a big deal, though?” Jimin gives Taehyung a pointed look, “Failing your art history class.”


“I’m not going to fail, Jimin, christ.” Taehyung’s smile drops into a frown. “You’re-” and then promptly cuts himself off.


It’s just - Taehyung knows Jimin is being sweet right now, but he can’t help the way frustration bubbles up inside of him, because - as much as he loves being Jimin’s baby, he is also an adult. If Taehyung says something is fine, especially when it’s concerning his own personal work, then it’s fine. Sure, Jimin is paying his tuition fees, so yeah, maybe it is a little shameless that Taehyung flunked a test - no matter how menial - and still wants to be taken abroad, but, whatever. The bottom line is that this week has been a little rough on Taehyung and he just wants to relax, and for once Jimin isn’t helping.


When Taehyung doesn’t finish his sentence, Jimin asks, “I’m - what?”


Taehyung sighs. “Nothing.”


“Taehyung.” And it’s spoken in that pointed, borderline condescending tone that Jimin knows Taehyung hates.


Fine - if Jimin wants to be like this, then Taehyung’s game. That buzzing feeling it’s giving him (not excitement, not quite) goes along well with the itch under his skin right now, that for some reason is making him want to push at Jimin, and then keep pushing, and just… see what happens.


It’s with that in mind that, rather than deflecting, Taehyung rolls his eyes, gaze falling to the diamond earring dangling from Jimin’s ear as he huffs, “Being a little bit of a dick, maybe?”


The reaction is almost instantaneous, though it’s one Taehyung feels rather than sees - the cool press of Jimin’s rings into Taehyung’s hips as he tightens his grip on Taehyung’s waist.


“Oh?” Jimin breathes, and Taehyung knows that he’s arching a perfectly plucked brow but - funnily enough, he doesn't feel like checking now.


...Except, one of Jimin’s hands is leaving his waist and there are fingers gently but firmly gripping his chin, tilting Taehyung’s head up until he has no choice but to stare deep into dark eyes.


Jimin’s lips are pursed, but there’s also the barest hint of a smirk there too; one eyebrow quirked (Taehyung was right, hah) as he appraises him. The realisation that he’s actually annoyed Jimin makes something like nervous anticipation flip in Taehyung’s stomach.


Nothing is said as Jimin adjusts his hold on Taehyung’s chin, resting it on his forefinger as he rubs his thumb over the swell of Taehyung's lower lip, over, and over, and over again. The air is weighted - almost too heavy to breathe in - and Taehyung finds his mouth dropping open an inch as a result. This time, when Jimin’s thumb passes over the middle of Taehyung’s lip, it’s too tempting to not flick his tongue out against it - so, perhaps against his better judgement, that’s exactly what Taehyung does. The minute Jimin feels the touch, however, he pauses, and with a calculated look, presses his thumb down on Taehyung’s lip until his teeth are pressing uncomfortably against it from inside his mouth.


“I think,” Jimin murmurs, tone conversational even though his voice has already dropped a pitch, “that I’ve been spoiling you too much lately. Wouldn't you agree?”


Taehyung tries to swallow down the saliva that has been gradually pooling in his mouth, and is surprised to find that, when Jimin notices what he wants to do, eases up the pressure on his lip to let him. It’s in that moment that Taehyung realises that he’s still at a crossroads, is still able to choose between dealing with a nicer, softer Jimin, or one that’s a little meaner, a touch colder.


Picking his words out slowly this time, Taehyung makes sure to turn them over in his head, carefully testing out the weight of them before it’s too late to take them back.


“...You are spoiling me,” Taehyung aquicises eventually, whetting his lips. He doesn’t miss the way Jimin’s eyes flicker down to track the movement, and allows a languid smile to curl around his lips as he continues, “but I deserve it.”


Jimin blinks, and then he’s smiling like a shark that’s scented blood; Taehyung can’t suppress the shiver that travels through his body in response.


“I’m not sure I agree with that, Tae.” Jimin pulls Taehyung forward by his hips as he says this, and the surprised squeak Taehyung makes at being moved so suddenly tapers off into a half-hearted moan when he feels the outline of Jimin’s cock in his pretty, pinstripe slacks. Jimin isn’t hard, but even so, he’s still so big, and Taehyung can’t help but grind down a couple times against him, almost reflexively. The picture they paint - Taehyung in nothing more than a loose fitting jumper and a pair of boxers, and Jimin still fully clothed in one of his many designer ensembles - that sends a desperate kind of heat sparking up Taehyung’s spine; so much so that, when Jimin forces him still, he has to hold back a whine.


“Unbelievable,” Jimin tuts, hands under Taehyung’s jumper now as he drags his palms deliberately up his sides. The sensation verges on ticklish but falls just short of it, only serving to stoke the fire in Taehyung’s gut. He squirms impatiently, but Jimin just continues calmly, “No manners whatsoever. I think it’s about time I reminded you of them, sweetheart."


Jimin drags his thumbs over Taehyung’s nipples the exact moment Taehyung opens his mouth to reply, so that all that comes out is a strangled gasp. Glaring weakly at Jimin when he laughs, Taehyung bites out, “If you think you can teach me, then sure.”


“Oh, Taehyung,” Jimin exhales, and his smile is both unbearably fond and predatory at the same time. “We both know I’m the only one who can.”


Taehyung shivers, mind going blank for a split-second at the implication of Jimin’s words, and the truth behind them.


“Baby,” Jimin murmurs, lips brushing against Taehyung’s, featherlight, “What’s your safeword?”


“Versace,” Taehyung replies, and bites down on his lip when Jimin’s nose crinkles up all cute - a stark contrast to the way he’s been acting.


“Still not a fan?” Jimin asks.


“Their spring 2018 collection is probably the bane of my existence,” Taehyung answers, only half joking, “If I’m saying Versace in bed, something’s wrong.”


“Noted,” Jimin says, with a faint smile and an incredulous shake of his head.


Then as if a switch has been flicked, the amusement drains from Jimin’s face, leaving only quiet contemplation behind. His eyes are heated, almost molten, and Taehyung can feel the phantom burn on his skin at the places Jimin allows his gaze to linger.


“Three,” Jimin eventually murmurs, and, in response to the confused tilt of Taehyung’s head, elaborates, “That’s how many times you’re going to come.”


There’s a pause the length of a heartbeat as the words register, and then Taehyung’s face flushes beautiful and bright and he inhales sharply because -- three? They’ve… they’ve experimented with multiple orgasms in the past, but to say that Taehyung is responsive in bed would be the understatement of the century; he’s reached three before, but only once, and getting to that last one had been no easy feat. He knows Jimin hasn’t forgotten.


“Jiminie, I don’t, ah -,” Taehyung already feels a little heady, cock stiffening in his boxers from Jimin’s words alone. He tries to articulate the sentence in his head. “I, um, I got off, this morning... So I... I don’t think I can do that. Today.”


“You can,” Jimin returns easily, pressing a kiss to the underside of Taehyung’s jaw like it’s simply a fact he has yet to teach Taehyung. “My spoiled, greedy baby boy, of course you can. And you will,” Taehyung can feel teeth on his neck, a smile against his skin. “I’ll get you there.”


Jimin is quick to lift Taehyung off his lap after that. Setting him to the side uncaringly as he stands up, it’s almost as if... Taehyung is a toy, or an object, something to be moved and positioned and used and - no. Taehyung shakes his head, quashes those thoughts before they can run riot and forces himself to calm down. Because if Jimin… if Jimin really is going to make him come three times, then he definitely doesn’t need his imagination’s help in getting worked up.


Taehyung hadn’t realised he’d been breathing audibly until Jimin taps his cheek to get his attention, then smoothly slides three fingers past Taehyung’s semi-parted lips when he looks up. Taehyung’s eyes widen, but he accepts them without thought, laving his tongue across the pads of Jimin’s fingers properly the way he’d wanted to do before.


“Look at you,” Jimin says, a mixture of awe and disdain. “Already this wrecked and I haven’t done a single thing. You know what I think?” He pushes his fingers deeper into Taehyung’s mouth, pressing down ever so slightly on the back of his tongue; Taehyung sucks desperately around Jimin’s fingers to keep from gagging, but he can’t stop the way his eyes water. “I don’t think you actually want to go to Paris, baby. Think you just wanted this all along.”


Taehyung makes a muffled noise of protest at the back of his throat because that’s not true, but Jimin ignores it, just nods to himself as he looks over Taehyung. A couple strings of spit keep the tips of Jimin’s slick fingers and the pout of Taehyung’s shiny lips connected when he eventually takes back his hand, but they’re broken as Jimin steps away completely to undo the first few buttons of his shirt.


“Everything off, on your hands and knees,” Jimin commands - then, because he knows Taehyung needs reminding, “And no touching.”


Turning his attention to Taehyung’s wardrobe, Jimin crouches down so he can pull out a storage box - no, the box - their box. Most of their playthings are at Jimin’s, because there’s really only so much Taehyung can keep stored in his matchbox-sized apartment; but they do keep a modest collection here, for moments exactly like these.


Taehyung squeezes his thighs together, feeling pathetic when his cock only gets harder at the sight of Jimin holding one of his favourite toys: a 5 inch, hand blown glass dildo, coloured a pretty, pale blue. He can still vividly remember the hour he had spent on his knees for it, the ache in his jaw and the pain that had sparked along his red-raw lips when he’d smiled as Jimin had clicked ‘add to cart’ afterwards.


What the toy may lack in length it more than makes up for in width. Consisting of three parts, the toy is tapered and bulbous - looking sort of like three marbles stacked on top of one another - each one bigger than the last. The largest bulb is around 2 inches wide, but Taehyung never gets that far when he’s alone, because the toy was definitely designed with couples in mind. When he had almost hurt himself struggling to find the right angle to get it to just - fit - Jimin had forbidden him from using it unless he was there to help. So needless to say, seeing the toy in Jimin’s hands right now has Taehyung chewing the inside of his cheek in anticipation.


It’s only when Jimin replaces the box and turns to Taehyung, neutral expression giving way to a severe frown, does Taehyung realise he’s still clothed. Not waiting for Jimin reprimand him, Taehyung shimmies out of his boxers and flings his jumper off to some far away corner of his room (goodbye, Balenciaga). Jimin watches him silently, and Taehyung holds his breath as he waits for some form of approval - feeling exposed in more ways than one.


Jimin tilts his head. “Better,” he allows, but he still doesn’t look happy.


Taehyung blinks, processes that - then his eyes widen and he’s rolling over so fast it’s almost comical, mattress springs squeaking loudly underneath him in his haste to move. Dragging a pillow to his chest Taehyung hugs it tight, tucking his knees up as far as they’ll go so he can arch his back and present his ass up to Jimin.


And though Jimin doesn’t smile, his voice is warmer when he hums, “Good boy. You’re learning.”


The praise washes over Taehyung, and his toes wiggle happily as he watches Jimin take out the bottle of lube Taehyung keeps in his bedside drawer before finally returning to the bed and sitting down behind Taehyung.


From the corner of his eye, Taehyung watches as Jimin slips off his glasses, removing his rings, one by one, before setting them aside together. He rolls his shirt sleeves up next, until they rest at his elbows. There’s nothing inherently erotic about any of the things Jimin has just done, but he’s far too sexy for his own good, and the way his - now exposed - forearms flex when he goes to squeeze out some lube onto his fingers makes Taehyung exhale shakily.


So when Jimin turns his attention to Taehyung, pins him to the bed with the weight of his stare and says, “Remember your safeword,” it’s all Taehyung can do to nod absently before he feels cold, slicked up fingers brushing over his hole.


The sensation makes Taehyung’s breath hitch, but he doesn’t react otherwise, keeping still as Jimin coats the cleft of his ass with lube. When Jimin presses his pointer finger against Taehyung’s hole again, this time with purpose, Taehyung only has a second to prepare himself before it’s sliding in, all the way to the knuckle. Jimin doesn’t wait long before he starts to move, adding a second finger after less than a minute. Taehyung shifts his weight from one knee to the other, panting quietly because it burns, just a little; Jimin ends up taking his time with two fingers, though, stretching Taehyung out with sure and steady movements until Taehyung almost whines at him to hurry up, please.


It’s at that precise moment that Jimin chooses to scissor Taehyung out particularly wide - has Taehyung blinking in surprise when he feels something plastic and odd-shaped and decidedly not Jimin’s third finger press up against his entrance; it’s only when a flood of ice fills Taehyung does he realise that it had been the tip of the bottle of lube, and that Jimin has just emptied half of it into his ass.


Taehyung half squeals and half whines, high in his throat and loud, legs kicking out - but he can’t help it because he feels frozen from the inside out. Jimin returns with three fingers, then, and the squelching sound Taehyung’s ass makes when he starts to fuck them into him makes Taehyung tremble.


“Mm, mh Jiminie, Jimin, I-” Excess lube leaks out of Taehyung’s hole and drips down to his balls; Taehyung shivers because they’ve barely even started but he’s already so wet, so messy - and the embarrassment of that makes him so, so hard.


When Jimin’s pinky finger slides in Taehyung all but shouts, “Ready, ready, I’m ready please-


A sharp slap against the side of Taehyung’s ass has him shutting up as he lets out a choked off groan, the pain turning quickly to pleasure that seems to be laser-connected to the heat pooling in his belly.


“If you don’t behave, I’ll stop here,” Jimin informs him coldly, “shove a plug up your ass and keep you locked up for the week. How does that sound, hm? Would you prefer that?”


The idea alone is enough to make Taehyung tremble violently. Jimin has kept Taehyung in chastity before, and - while Taehyung had ultimately enjoyed the experience, it had been intense - and that was even with the time he’d had to prepare, both physically and mentally. If Jimin caged up his cock now, while he’s this desperate - wet, hard and aching - it would... he couldn’t -


Taehyung begins to stammer, “N-no, no -- no please, sorry I’m, I-I’ll be good. So good, I swear, I, hyung --


The term falls from Taehyung’s lips instinctively, though it’s something he only calls Jimin when he really wants to be taken care of. If Jimin is surprised at how quickly Taehyung is dropping, he doesn’t let it show.


Humming noncommittally, Jimin says, “I guess I could let you try to prove yourself,” twists his fingers inside Taehyung and makes him gasp, “Let you try and make me proud. I wonder if you could, though?”


“Ye-ess,” Taehyung ends up hissing when Jimin rubs at his prostate pointedly, “I can, I will, I’ll,”


And then Jimin’s fingers are gone. The few seconds that Taehyung is left empty feel like an eternity, the loss an acutely devastating punishment, until something smooth and round is being pressed against his entrance. Taehyung exhales harshly, feeling relieved though it’s definitely too early to be, because he knows without being told that Jimin’s got his toy.


Jimin doesn’t push it in straight away, choosing instead to tease it over Taehyung’s hole again and again like he has all the time in the world - and to him, he probably does.


It’s driving Taehyung insane, though.


Trying to be subtle about it, Taehyung rocks his hips back in increments, hoping that the movement will be enough to catch the end of the toy against his rim and have it slide in. 


“Needy,” Jimin mocks, and Taehyung whines as his face heats up because of course he noticed.


But then the pressure against Taehyung’s hole increases and he goes stock still as the first bulb finally breaches him. Jimin fucks it into him shallowly at first, allowing Taehyung to get used to the feel of the glass inside him. Then, he’s slowly pushing the next bulb in, and it’s a big enough jump in size that it has Taehyung choking on a gasp. “Mmph, Jiminie, ah -”


“Big, isn’t it, Tae?” Jimin comments, free hand kneading at the flesh of Taehyung’s ass, “But there’s still more to go. Can you spread yourself for me? Let me see your messy hole better, hm?”


Taehyung flushes and nods into the pillow, though Jimin probably can’t see, reaching behind himself to pull his ass cheeks apart. For a brief moment, embarrassment spears through Taehyung’s core at the realisation of how open and on display he is right now, but then Jimin has two hands on the toy and is changing the angle he fucks it into Taehyung; when Taehyung lets out a broken moan, Jimin makes sure to focus his attention there, and Taehyung can’t hold back the quiet huffs he breathes out as the glass presses up against his prostate, pressure delicious and insistent.


“Good, ‘s really good,” Taehyung slurs, “hyung, mmph, m, m-ore.


Jimin spanks Taehyung sharply on his inner thigh, and the tingling sensation left behind makes Taehyung’s cock drool. 


“Ask nicely then, sweetheart,” Jimin says.


Taehyung apologises immediately, pleads, “Sorry, m’sorry, hyung, Jiminie, please please put it -- in, I wanna feel it, I want it so bad.”


Jimin laughs and it sounds mean, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”


And before Taehyung can reply, Jimin’s hand is back on the toy. Taehyung’s jaw drops as he feels the largest bulb slowly begin to push past his rim, and it’s so big that, even with Jimin’s help and prep, it still kind of hurts. The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung feel liquid-like and pulled-taut all at the same time, and he can’t help the way he squeezes around the toy, holding it in place as he breathes out harshly and tries to adjust.


“...Oh?” Jimin hums lowly, feeling the resistance. “You begged me to put this in your greedy little hole, but when I decide to be nice and indulge you, you suddenly decide you don’t want it anymore?” His voice edges on dangerous when he asks, “Is that how it is, baby boy?”


No," Taehyung half wails, shaking his head vigorously into the pillow, “Just, ‘s huge, Jiminie, and I-” Taehyung trails off with a pained gasp when the movement makes him clench down harder on the toy.


“Hush, deep breaths” Jimin instructs, massaging the small of Taehyung’s back. The touch is heavy and steadying, so Taehyung forces himself to exhale as slowly as he can. Jimin responds in kind, “Good, that’s it.”


His tone is firm but Taehyung latches onto the praise anyway, focuses on his breathing, on relaxing his muscles an increment with every breath. When Jimin tries to inch the toy in again, there’s significantly less pushback - so, he presses, slowly, and coos, "There you go. Let it in, sweetheart.”


Taehyung’s stretched around the widest part of the bulb, now, and there’s a brief moment where he’s worried he’s going to tighten up again and push the toy out altogether. The second the thought crosses Taehyung’s mind, panic flares up in his chest and he screws his eyes shut, because - he has to be good right now, he doesn’t want to disappoint Jimin at all.


Fingernails digging into his skin, Taehyung tries to spread himself open even more in the hopes that it will help. Still, he goes to warn Jimin in a stutter, “I-It might, hyung, m’sorry, I think it’s gonna-”


Baby," Jimin says, and the inflection in his voice makes Taehyung wither. He’s about to sniffle out another apology when a hand is closing around his neglected cock, giving it a couple firm strokes that have Taehyung keening and dropping his hands to the bedsheets where they ball up into useless fists. That bright spark of pleasure relaxes all of his muscles instantly, and for long enough that Jimin is able to ease the toy in those last few remaining inches. Taehyung can feel the instant his hole closes greedily around it, and he gyrates his hips in the air in little, broken, stutters - trying to breathe through being stuffed full.


That’s it,” Jimin purrs as he teases a finger around Taehyung’s hole, rubbing at his rim where he’s currently split open. Taehyung moans when his hole flutters weakly, trying to relax even more just in case Jimin wants to slip a finger in along with the toy. The thought makes his cock kick, precum beading at the tip before dripping onto the bedsheets below, and Jimin doesn’t miss the reaction.


“Oh, Tae, you want my fingers too? How did you get so greedy without me noticing?” Jimin presses his finger down harder and Taehyung whimpers. He carries on, “Could barely take your toy but you still want more - always more. God, I wish you could see yourself right now, see what a fucking mess you are.” And then Jimin is pushing, and oh god oh god oh god his finger is so close to breaching Taehyung, and -- then it isn’t, and both of Jimin’s hands are back on the handle of the toy, grinding it in filthy circles inside of Taehyung.


Mean," Taehyung sobs, burying his face into the pillow but pushing back all the same, hoping to get a rhythm going so he can finally come.


“Of course,” Jimin replies, all blasé. Pulling the toy out just far enough that Taehyung’s rim is stretched open at its widest point again, Jimin holds it there and waits, lets Taehyung cry over the feeling of being split open for a few, long moments before fucking it back in mercilessly.


Taehyung’s whole body pitches forward, cock drooling at the constant pressure against his prostate. When Jimin wraps his hand around it again Taehyung is immediately torn - can’t decide which end of pleasure to chase. Jimin doesn’t let him hesitate for long, though, and begins stroking Taehyung’s cock in time with the thrusts of the toy.


“I’m, oh, Jimin, fuck," Jimin twists his wrist and Taehyung inhales so quickly he chokes, mind dizzy, “Can I come? Please? Can I come please hyung please please please,


Jimin’s voice comes out low, bordering on a growl, “Do it, come for me.”


And, oh. Taehyung’s vision blacks out for a moment as his orgasm takes hold of him, pleasure shooting down each notch of his spine, white hot and all encompassing. There’s a loud noise that he doesn’t realise is him, crying out Jimin, hyungmmh thank you so-so much, thank you, a babble of nonsense that he can’t hold back. Jimin strokes Taehyung through his orgasm, milking him gently until oversensitivity hits and Taehyung whines, pushing Jimin’s hand away weakly.


Jimin presses a kiss to the base of Taehyung’s spine before carefully pushing at his side until he flops over - and Taehyung goes easily, because the lower half of his body has turned to jelly. He feels wholly spent, muscles aching after being in the same position for so long; when Jimin slowly pulls the toy out of him, Taehyung rolls onto his back with a shudder.


Letting it drop somewhere onto the floor, Jimin reaches for a spare pillow and commands, “Up,” and Taehyung has just enough strength left in him to raise his hips unaided so that Jimin can position the pillow underneath him. Settling down between Taehyung’s legs once he’s done, Jimin allows an innocent smile to curve at his lips, and Taehyung can only swallow against a dry mouth in response to the promise he sees there.


“That was one,” Jimin informs Taehyung casually, running his fingers through the mess of come on Taehyung's stomach, slicking them up before trailing his middle finger along the length of Taehyung’s cock - hot and red and still somewhat hard. “Which means you have two more to go.”


The touch, though featherlight, makes Taehyung’s hips jerk, and he tries to keep Jimin’s hand away as he mumbles pathetically, “T-Too soon, Jimin. I can’t.”


Jimin just ignores him and grasps Taehyung’s cock loosely, moving his fist slowly, but definitely moving it, as he replies matter of factly, “Yes, you can.”


Mmmhh," Taehyung whines, turning his head into the pillow and nuzzling at it. He doesn’t push Jimin away again, but he bites his lip as he whispers, “Hyung, nnh - I really need a minute. Please.”


Jimin’s other hand goes down to massage Taehyung’s balls, fingers occasionally dancing a little lower to apply some pressure to his perineum. Taehyung is young, virile, and would like to think that he has above average sexual stamina for people his age, but - even he can't recover this fast… Or at least, he shouldn’t be able to. But, with the way Jimin is looking at him, eyes hooded and darting across Taehyung’s body like he’s cataloguing all the ways he can take him apart - Taehyung whines as blood begins to pool in his groin again, cock fattening helplessly in Jimin’s fist.


Jimin giggles and tightens his grip, voice dripping with dark amusement. “See, you don’t need a minute. My perfect little slut, of course you don’t.”


Taehyung makes a choked off noise as he flushes all the way to his chest. His skin is dewy with sweat, and compared to Jimin, who’s still mostly fully clothed and looking barely affected (even though Taehyung knows he is, is just a master of self-control) - Jimin’s words sink heavily into his core. Taehyung isn’t ready, needs at least five minutes to rest - but, but - he’s Jimin’s slut and he wants to be good and make him proud. So when Jimin begins to jerk his cock with steadier strokes, Taehyung just whimpers and makes fists in the bedsheets and lets him.


Jimin’s palm feels like a brand, burning hot, and the drag of it against him stings, despite being slick from residual lube and Taehyung’s own come.


“Hyung. Hurts,” He manages to breathe out, fighting with himself to remain still.


“Mm, I bet it does,” Jimin says, and presses a kiss to the crease of Taehyung’s thigh. From there, he trails a path until he reaches the base of Taehyung’s cock, and Taehyung breathes out heavily through his nose - almost violently expelling the air - at the first touch of Jimin’s tongue. Jimin licks up Taehyung’s cock, while at the same time sliding both hands up Taehyung’s thighs to settle around his waist and draw him closer - locking him in place so that when he finally suckles beneath the head of his cock, Taehyung has nowhere to escape.


Hyung," Taehyung whimpers, making a sad little noise in the back of his throat when Jimin brings the tip of his cock into his mouth, running his tongue in tight circles around the head as he licks hard over Taehyung’s slit.


When Taehyung’s hips jerk involuntarily, Jimin pauses and pulls away slightly - Taehyung’s cock still cushioned between his plush lips as he speaks. “Stay still, Tae.”


Voice thick, Taehyung says, “Trying, so--so hard. But, m’still sensitive, Jimin- ngh!


Jimin’s tongue flicks out. “But you’ll keep trying, won’t you?” And that’s about as much of a warning as Taehyung gets before Jimin takes Taehyung’s cock back into his mouth and swallows down to the base.


Taehyung wails and feels the urge to buck his hips well up inside him - it takes the most effort he can ever remember expending to fight it, to keep still and behave as Jimin sucks him off in long, deep, pulls. He can’t stop the trembling, though, the way his thighs shake pitifully under Jimin’s palms.


Taehyung manages to last almost a minute before Jimin starts to hum low in his throat. The vibrations travel down his cock and make him jolt like he’s been electrocuted, and Taehyung feels tears prick behind his eyes as he pushes at Jimin’s head, messing up his hair a little but not having enough in him to care much beyond that as he begs, “Can’t, hyung, I can’t, I can’t -”


Pulling off with a wet ‘pop’, Jimin presses fairy kisses along the length of Taehyung’s shaft and looks up at Taehyung with heavy-lidded eyes.


“Sweetheart,” Jimin begins, managing to sound admonishing despite the way his voice comes out rough and a little wrecked. “Weren’t you gonna be good for me?”


“I-I am, m’trying hyung-!” Taehyung squeals when Jimin flicks at his slit hard, and feels humiliation prickle under his skin when precum beads at the tip of his cock afterwards.


Jimin brushes his fingers against the head of Taehyung’s cock, and they come away sticky. “I don’t think you are, Tae. I actually think you’re being greedy again. Can you hold your legs up so I can eat you out, or do I have to do that too, hm?”


Taehyung finds himself nodding before Jimin finishes the question, not caring if it makes it look like he’s agreeing with what Jimin said before that - because rimming is one of Taehyung’s favourite things and Jimin always does it so well, is so thorough in making Taehyung wet and sloppy and loose and ready to be fucked.


Hugging his legs to his chest before Jimin has to ask again, Taehyung hooks his arms behind his knees and waits - toes wiggling a little in excitement.


“Such a slut,” But Taehyung can’t find it in himself to be too embarrassed, because the words fall from Jimin’s lips like an endearment this time.


Then Jimin’s mouth is on Taehyung, and his mind blanks out.


Taehyung can feel Jimin grin against him, but the way he suckles at Taehyung’s rim is making Taehyung feel dizzy, and he can only mindlessly tilt his hips upwards to try and chase the feeling into something more. Jimin takes his sweet time with it, though, alternating between open mouthed kisses and delicate kitten licks that build up frustration in Taehyung’s chest until it bubbles over into a loud sob.


“Jiminie, please, I want it inside.


Flattening his tongue, Jimin licks a fat strip up to Taehyung’s balls, says, “Mm, what about what I want, though? I like this.”


And true to his word, Jimin keeps up a languid pace. When Taehyung looks down, he can see the way Jimin’s cheeks and chin are all shining with spit and lube, and his stomach tightens at the sight but he feels awful desperation claw up inside him because it’s still not enough.


“In, in, in, in," Taehyung’s world has been reduced to a single word.


When Jimin’s tongue gets pointed, when it begins to spiral around Taehyung’s hole - widely at first, but getting smaller, closer to where Taehyung needs it to be - Taehyung almost groans with relief.


But then Jimin stops, just short of breaching Taehyung, and murmurs against his rim, “Touch yourself.”


“I - Jimin, no," Taehyung feels frantic, has to get Jimin to understand how sensitive he still is, “I can’t touch yet, I can’t do it.”


Pulling back a bit, Jimin blows lightly against Taehyung’s hole and watches it flutter. He sounds amused when he says, “You will if you want my tongue, baby.”


Fuck," Taehyung moans plaintively, because he knows Jimin means it. Letting one of his legs drop to the side, Taehyung obediently moves a hand to his cock; Jimin waits until he’s given himself a couple tentative strokes before finally, finally, licking in past Taehyung’s rim.


Jimin licks Taehyung deep, licks him open, and when he sneaks two fingers in to spread his hole just wide enough to spit into it, Taehyung sobs - and, he’s actually crying now: hot tears that leak past long, dark lashes, down the sides of his face to pool at his ears. Jimin fucks his tongue into Taehyung in earnest, pausing to nip at his rim every so often before burying his face back between Taehyung’s cheeks, working him open expertly. Taehyung tries to jerk himself off in time with Jimin’s tongue, but it’s hard when he feels like a livewire, every single nerve in his body sparking and seconds away from being set alight as he chases his orgasm down for the second time that night.


For a while, Taehyung thinks he’s going to be toeing the knife edge of this near-pleasure for the rest of the evening, too overstimulated to let the sensations of Jimin’s tongue or his own hand do anything other than overwhelm him and make him cry. But then - then, Jimin does something with his tongue and his fingers together, and Taehyung chokes on a gasp as his orgasm is torn out of him and he spills weakly over his knuckles, stroking himself through the aftershocks with stilted movements until he really, actually can’t anymore.


Jimin sucks hard on Taehyung’s rim one last time before finally raising his head, and the image of him, all slick cheeks and bright red lips makes Taehyung’s head cloud up.


“You still have one more to go, but,” Jimin begins, then pauses, taking in Taehyung’s trembling thighs and tear-streaked face with a smirk, “My baby boy got a little worked up, huh?”


Taehyung knows he isn’t mishearing the fondness in Jimin’s voice, but he still whines, ashamed, and tries to close his legs; Jimin keeps them open easily, a hand pressed gently but firmly on the inside of either thigh as he says, "Sweetheart. Give me a colour.”


And mmm, Taehyung has to think. It’s hard, with the fuzziness in his mind, the light, floaty feeling carrying him miles away from the bedroom - but it’s something he has to do. Taehyung knows without a doubt that he wants to be a good boy for Jimin and make him proud, so what he needs to be asking himself is: can he? Jimin had made a very deliberate point of being honest about his boundaries in the past, after Taehyung had pushed himself beyond what he was comfortable with and ended up dropping somewhere deep and unknown, a place that had taken Jimin hours to pull him back up from. So, Taehyung thinks - pushes past the fog as best he can and catalogues how his body feels, but also where his mind is at. Then,


“...Green. But mmn, be careful?”


Jimin gives Taehyung a look at that, serious beyond the role he’s playing right now. He murmurs, “Always, Tae,” and those two words are all it takes for Taehyung to feel safe.


Getting up onto his knees, Jimin rolls his shoulders, stretching out the muscles there. His earring swings with the movement, diamonds catching the hazy pink light of the setting sun and refracting tiny spectrums of colour onto the side of Jimin’s neck. When Jimin finally unbuttons his shirt, Taehyung whimpers. He doesn’t take it off completely, but just the promise of what’s underneath is enough to make the breath catch in Taehyung’s throat - he’s always thought Jimin was beautiful, but sometimes, during moments like this, it overwhelms him.


Jimin’s lips form a small, surprised, ‘o’, before quirking into a soft smile - and though it only lasts a second, it’s enough to let Taehyung know that he’d been speaking aloud.


Crawling forward, Jimin lays down on his side and rearranges a pliant Taehyung until he’s satisfied with their position. Like this, with one leg hitched over Jimin’s hip, chests close together, Taehyung’s cock is trapped between their stomachs, and every tiny movement leads to a friction that has him biting down on his lip, brows furrowed.


When Jimin’s fingers eventually find his hole, Taehyung does a full-body shudder, hands reaching out to grasp either side of Jimin’s shirt as he presses his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck. Two fingers slide in so easily - Taehyung doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was wetter down there - and Jimin wastes no time curling them towards Taehyung’s prostate.


Taehyung pants, digging his teeth into his lower lip. “It hurts a, a little.”


“I know,” Jimin kisses the side of his head, “but you’re taking it so well.”


Taehyung inhales a deep shuddery breath that catches in his chest. “So much,” he chokes. His voice is strained, small ‘ah’s falling from his lips as he starts to circle his hips downwards, meeting the movement of Jimin’s fingers. “It’s--so much,” fresh tears track new trails down Taehyung’s cheeks, “Oh my god, Jimin--”


Four fingers. Taehyung arches his back involuntarily and ends up rutting his cock against Jimin’s stomach, whimpering at the painful oversensitivity.


“Fuck, fuck,” Taehyung spits, yanks at Jimin’s shirt and feels a button tear off,  “Oh my god, hyung, oh my god," It’s way too much, Jimin's fingers inside him, twisting and curling and pressing insistently at his prostate. He thinks he voices this, but Jimin just hums and fucks into him faster, fingers flexing. Taehyung gasps and starts to curl in on himself, his leg squeezing a deathgrip around Jimin’s waist.


“Tae,” Jimin begins, voice considering. “I want you to take five. Can you do that for me?”


Taehyung groans and glances down at his cock, stiff and wet, smearing precome onto his belly; he can’t believe he’s this hard again, lying heavy and full between their stomachs like he hasn’t already come twice. The thought of touching it has Taehyung almost physically recoiling, knowing it would be far too much for him to handle. But... while five fingers is - is still a lot - Taehyung thinks that maybe he could take them. He’s still stretched loose from the toy earlier, anyway.


“Mm- I...yeah, Jiminie. S’okay,” Taehyung agrees, then kisses messily at Jimin’s collarbone to distract himself from the pressure of his thumb pushing in past his rim. 


When it’s in - when Jimin’s entire fist is in, Jimin leans down, nudges his nose against Taehyung’s temple before brushing his lips against Taehyung’s ear to say, “This is where you belong, Tae. Look so beautiful crying on my fucking fist, pretty cock still so hard.”


Taehyung hiccups - is distantly aware of the way a few errant strands of Jimin’s hair tickle his face - but is far too gone to care, focused instead on the words that are funneling sin into his brain and dissolving it so beautifully.


Jimin continues in a rasp, “You think you can come like this? Mm, no, I know you can, you’re such a slut for me, baby -- always wanna be good, make me proud. I know you’ll come just like this.”


“Mmmhfuck, fuck, fuck, fu- ck," Taehyung’s voice breaks as he sobs, “Hyung, hyung, shit, I’m--so--so full, ’m so--”


Taehyung is trembling, shaking as he fucks himself down on Jimin’s fist, trying his best to get Jimin in as deep as he can. It’s so much, he feels far too full, like he’s seconds away from bursting at the seams. The way Jimin’s twisting his wrist, making sure to get as many of his knuckles brushing against Taehyung’s prostate as he can - it’s all Taehyung can do to hold tight to Jimin’s shirt - the thin, satin fabric being the only thing keeping him grounded right now.


“You’re gonna come for me now, okay?” And it’s not a question.


Pushing his fist in the deepest it’s gone so far, Jimin allows his fingers to spread open, just the slightest bit. It doesn’t make much of a difference to the thickness inside Taehyung - but just the suggestion, the idea of what Jimin could do, how vulnerable Taehyung is in his arms right now and how much he trusts Jimin to look after him - that’s what makes Taehyung’s jaw drop open in a silent moan as he comes for the third time - completely dry and utterly spent.


Taehyung doesn’t think he could stop the tears if he wanted to - and he doesn’t, because all this tension that he hadn’t realised was there is finally leaving his body and it feels so fucking good. Taehyung’s vaguely aware of the way Jimin carefully slips his fist out so that he can hug Taehyung properly, but the loss makes him whine and cry harder because not yet. But, when Jimin maneuvers Taehyung so that his head is resting atop Jimin’s bare chest, ear pressed over his heart so he can hear it beat, he settles down a little, feeling secure. The words that Jimin has been murmuring to him the entire time slowly register, too, like drops of molasses, sweet as can be, “-rettiest baby, you did so well, made me so proud. I love you so much, Taehyung, I’m so lucky to have you -”


They lay there for a while, Jimin lazily playing with Taehyung’s hair, trailing patterns down his spine, squeezing gently at his hand as Taehyung cries himself out, and then starts to float.


Taehyung’s not sure how much time passes after that, but he thinks it takes around half an hour before he feels okay letting Jimin slip out to grab a drink and something to clean him up with.


The feel of the rough, synthetic material of Taehyung’s shitty hand-towels wiping against his stomach and thighs brings him down a little more - though Jimin’s honeyed kisses, pressed onto every area he touches, definitely long out the process. In the end, it probably takes almost an hour before the haze in Taehyung’s mind clears up completely.


Clearing his throat before he speaks, Taehyung’s voice is still gravelly when he says, “I came dry, that last time.”


Jimin kisses Taehyung’s forehead, the arch of both eyebrows, the bridge of his nose. “I know, baby. You did so well.”


“I came dry," Taehyung emphasises. Jimin quirks an eyebrow, smiling confusedly, and he looks funny so Taehyung laughs, “I came dry. What the fuck, Jiminie.”


Jimin giggles along with Taehyung, resting their foreheads together. “Mm, yeah. Did I push you too hard? You didn’t use your word.”


“Nah,” Taehyung doesn’t even bother trying for anything other than the truth, doesn’t have the energy to uphold dramatics that insinuate that he didn’t thoroughly enjoy Jimin wrecking him within an inch of his life, “that was really fucking hot.”


“It was,” Jimin agrees, but then furrows his brows a little. “But you cried a lot at the end there, baby,” running a hand through Taehyung’s hair, he scratches at the base of his scalp in a way that makes him shiver pleasantly. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”


Pushing his head back into Jimin’s hand to keep him petting, Taehyung flutters his eyes closed as he answers, “Ugh, I don’t know. A catharsis, I guess? I mean, you fucked me so good and - oooh, there, Jiminie, right there - school has been hard. Art history sucks, like, I swear that lecturer has it out for me. Bet she’s gonna fail me on that retake too, just cuz. Might’ve been stressing me out more than I realised.”


Jimin’s hand freezes in his hair, and Taehyung sleepily blinks his eyes open, ready to voice as heated of a complaint as he can at that - when he notices the look Jimin is giving him, eyebrows raised pointedly, a half-smug smile in place.


It’s then that Taehyung belatedly realises what he’s just said, and wait, no - "Paris," Taehyung moans, already defeated. Stupid, loose-lipped, postcoitus self.


“Will be there next weekend, Tae, after you pass your retake.” Jimin kisses the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, and then his mouth directly, and Taehyung decides to put his pouting on hold because Jimin is probably the best kisser he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing; 10/10 skills, would make out with forever if possible.


When they part, Taehyung breathes hotly against Jimin’s lips. He asks, “What. What were we talking about again?”


“The joys of studying in Korea,” Jimin laughs, pushing himself to sit. With a steadying hand between Taehyung’s shoulder blades, he helps Taehyung up next, pressing a glass of water into his hands after he’s sure Taehyung won’t immediately flop over. Taehyung drinks - slowly, after a reminder from Jimin - though very much resents being vertical; he hadn’t planned on actually moving for at least another two hours, give or take.


Catching Taehyung’s overall disgruntled expression, Jimin pinches his cheek playfully. “No offence, Tae, but you’re kind of disgusting right now. Shower, okay? Then you can wow me with some facts about Picasso. It’ll be fun.”


Taehyung grumbles something along the lines of we’re doing impressionism, not cubism, but goes to stand easily enough - though he definitely needs Jimin’s full support when walking to the bathroom, with the way his legs are about as strong and steady as those of a newborn deer.


It’s when Jimin has deposited Taehyung to sit on top of the sink counter that a thought occurs to him. He says, “Hey, Jimin. Shower sex? It’s been a while.”


Jimin, who had been in the middle of testing the temperature of the water - a necessary step before every shower at Taehyung’s place, because his boiler is a temperamental bastard - stops and fixes him with a look that is equal parts amused and concerned. “Taehyungie, baby. If I actually fucked you after all that I think you would die.”


“The only way I’d wanna go,” Taehyung counters, waggling his eyebrows. When Jimin laughs brightly in response, eyes forming half-moon crescents, warmth blooms in Taehyung’s chest.


Taehyung makes grabby hands at Jimin, who stops fiddling with the hot water dial to step between his legs and rest his hands on Taehyung’s waist. He shakes his head and grins, “I know I’ve told you this before, but you really are ridiculous, Tae.”


“And you’re hard,” Taehyung complains, reaching down to palm at the very prominent line of Jimin’s cock through his slacks. “At least let me watch you get off, or - oh! Come on my face?”


Resting his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder, Jimin takes a moment to gather himself before looking up with a tired smirk. "Menace. Yes to the first thing, no to the second - you’re supposed to be getting clean, Tae.”


Taehyung pouts out his lower lip, “It’ll wash right off!”


And Jimin leans in to kiss it away, “Then there’s no point in doing it in the first place, is there?”


“I-” Taehyung can feel a rebuttal at the tip of his tongue, but it dies the second Jimin steps away to shuck off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor along with his trousers.


And, oh. Well, Jimin never was fond of wearing underwear.


Stepping into the shower cubicle, Jimin glances over his shoulder with a wry smile. “You were saying?”


Funnily enough, Taehyung can’t remember.