Moodboard both on here and on Twitter made by @/vmscherrie!
Jimin swept his hand under his chin, droplets of water spilling over his fingers.
The pink tiles of the bathroom were nauseating; this entire restaurant had dubious interior aesthetics, but the monstrosity of a lavatory was something else entirely. Even the goddamned urinals were pink. For a retro theme, it leant more towards regurgitated bubblegum pop. But they made a killer cherry pie and his boyfriend had craved it tonight. Of course, when he demanded something, Jimin was far too tired to argue for his own choice of eatery and went along with it – perhaps it was his own fault for indulging his lover to a point where he took it for granted. A conversation that needed to be had but not yet, he really was…exhausted.
Jimin brushed the cotton-candy strands of his hair back off his face – silver, like starlight, a comparison his boyfriend made often when Jimin was in a mood, knowing how much he loved Howl’s Moving Castle – and stepped back to fix his belt. From head to toe, he didn’t look as tired as he felt. Skinny jeans, leather-studded belt, a Sex Pistols crop top and a leather jacket to complete. He was aware of the attention he got the moment he stepped into the restaurant and thrived on it – it felt nice to be stared at alongside the rising star that his boyfriend was becoming.
As he turned to leave, the door flew open and in walked a tall stranger with dark hair and an expression to match. It promised trouble. Jimin backed up a few steps as their eyes met, and his breath caught.
“Excuse me – “ he muttered, side-stepping him.
But before he could, a strong hand grabbed at his elbow and pulled him back. Jimin let out a small grunt as he was backed into the wall and pinned by the stranger’s hips against his own.
“I’ve been watching you all night – you don’t look too happy with your man, pretty boy.”
Jimin strained, pushing against him only to find hard chest and muscle blocking him as he pressed his nails into the sleeves of the stranger’s jacket. “Get off me. I saw you staring – like a pervert might I add – and I’m not interested – “
“Pervert?” the man threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. Come home with me and I’ll show you one hell of a perverted time. Your boyfriend could only dream.”
Jimin felt his heart pound, breath coming short as the stranger’s hand clasped loosely around the base of his throat, tilting his face up. Their lips were far too close, and every breath he took was pulled straight from the other.
The door crashed open and another man walked in, barely batting an eye when he noticed them. Jimin and his companion froze, staring at the newcomer as he relieved himself at the urinal like nothing was wrong. Going over to the sink, he washed off his hands, yawning as he studied his own reflection.
“Are you two doing that weird roleplaying thing again?” he said.
“Namjoon, what the fuck – “ Taehyung exclaimed, hitting the wall with his palm as he stepped back from Jimin.
His boyfriend closed his eyes and sighed deeply, trying not to lose his shit as Namjoon grinned from ear to ear, knowing full well he’d ruined it. He flicked water in Taehyung’s direction, cackling as he dodged the kick aimed at his butt and disappeared through the door.
Taehyung turned back to Jimin with a grimace. “Wanna go again?”
Jimin shook his head. “No…it’s ruined. Shame, I was starting to get aroused too. Though those lines you used...bruh. You’re lucky you’re hot, pretty boy.”
“Hey, I’m rusty on the flirting – haven’t done it in what? Five years now?”
Jimin paused at the doorway and slapped Taehyung on the chest. “Five?!”
“Oh, you want me to count the years before you broke up with me?” Taehyung said, with exaggerated comprehension.
“Yeeaahhh!” Jimin mimicked his deep voice, eyes round and that oh-so-familiar fake smile that made Taehyung cower when it was in more serious situations than this. “Say again – how many years has it been since you haven’t flirted?”
“Fine…ten years…but I did flirt when we were on a break, just not with you,” Taehyung scratched his head, honest to a fault and now about to pay for it.
Jimin stared at him a while, letting him squirm as he realised he should have bitten his own tongue. Watching Taehyung flounder was the funniest thing in the world if irritation wasn’t involved. He made a disgusted sound and shook his head, walking out, thoroughly in a strop now. Before his boyfriend could make amends and wheedle his way back into his good graces, Taehyung’s bandmates were crowding him at his reappearance, along with a few fans who had been eyeing him all evening whilst they sat in their little corner booth. Jimin kept going, more than used to the sight of Taehyung being flocked to like seagulls to fish and chips. He’s not getting sex tonight, that’s for damn sure.
Once upon a time, using sex as a bribe was an unheard of thing between them. Maybe it had something to do with hormones when they were younger, but in the days they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, there was no use fighting or arguing for too long. Angry sex and make-up sex could be had in quick succession and all was quickly forgiven. But now, though Jimin felt guilty for using it as a weapon sometimes (Taehyung never did the same thing in reverse – he claimed to like his dick far too much to deprive it of Jimin), the arguments were getting lengthier and both refused to give in first.
This one wasn’t so serious though. It was just…meh.
Meh was the death knell for a relationship and that frightened Jimin no end. Because he couldn’t imagine losing Taehyung, not in a hundred years, and yet the spark wouldn’t ignite since they were both too tired or too busy to work on it. It was a stalemate.
Soon enough Taehyung would be gone, away on another national tour, and then briefly overseas to Japan and Hong Kong. Stigma had gained popularity within their first year of releasing a proper album, their rise meteoric in comparison to most bands who started underground, but all five members seemed to have little grasp on the reality that they were “famous” however loose the definition was. Taehyung got recognised a lot, due to being the lead vocalist/face of the band, but the others were no less popular; no matter how gritty the lyrics or how experimental the music, it was a fact that four pretty faces would bring in plenty of superficial attention.
The youngest, Jungkook, was on par with Taehyung for most popular, though fan service wasn’t his strong suit and he preferred to remain caged behind his drums. Seokjin, the eldest, was one of the two guitarists, Namjoon being the other, and then Yoongi on bass. These three had been friends before they’d met Taehyung, who had been a lone ranger searching for bandmates until he found Jungkook in a bar one day, mired in a brawl and cursing so violently the whole time that Taehyung was enamoured. A combination of muscular arms and a songbird voice meant Taehyung was fully prepared to move heaven and earth to have him as both a drummer and a backing vocalist. He chased Jungkook down relentlessly until he finally agreed to take drumming lessons (Taehyung’s methods of recruitment were unorthodox to say the least). Two years later, once he’d found the other three, Stigma was formed and with a lead singer who had all the personality of Axl Rose onstage but was a complete teddy bear off it, the perfect equilibrium was found.
Jimin had been there from start to end, literally.
He had been sitting beside Taehyung in class at school when he’d scribble Stigma in different fonts all over his notebook, only to be thrown out for the duration of the hour for not paying attention. He had been there to watch his best friend always be the most popular boy in their year, his energy unmatched, his smile vivid. And he had been there the first time Taehyung made him his muse, the one he wrote love songs too, the one he envisioned in every dream, no matter how many times he sealed his lips against Jimin’s own.
That first year, from the age of fifteen to sixteen, when Jimin had been shying away from the thought of a relationship due to the pressure of exams and not knowing how to come out to his parents, Taehyung’s behaviour bordered on obsessive. Creatives and their bursts of passion, seriously.
But Jimin hadn’t minded, it felt good to be wanted, no matter how he tried to use logic to ward Taehyung off and remind him they had a friendship too good to be ruined. But after a mixtape written entirely for him, Jimin’s father chasing Taehyung down the street at 3am for daring to sit in the garden and sing up at Jimin’s window, and countless letters and candies slipped into his desk, his pocket, the brim of his hood, Jimin decided enough was enough.
He loved him.
It was hard not to, he was as lovable as they came. But it was always off-putting knowing everyone else could love him easily too, and some might show their love better than Jimin. His insecurities told him that Taehyung would always have more options than he did, and silencing them took titanic effort at times.
They hadn’t plagued him for five years, but they came back that night as he stood on the sidewalk and pondered getting in the car and driving home alone. Taehyung was still stuck inside. Jimin sucked in a breath of air, and waited.
Nothing new, Jimin, get yourself together. He’s going to come out with that big grin and you’ll melt, you always do, why bother getting angry on your own –
As if on cue, the doors flung open and Taehyung jogged out, his jacket over his arm, and that big grin on his face. He caught Jimin around the waist and swung him around, as his boyfriend yelled to be put down.
“Let’s go home, baby,” he mumbled against Jimin’s lips. “Just want this day to end so I can cuddle in bed with you.”
And just like that, all the anger was done with.
They didn’t talk much on the drive home. Jimin was at the wheel, and the comfortable silence felt right, the summer heat near stifling whenever the car rolled to a stop at the traffic lights. By the time they got home, Jimin could feel the sweat making his shirt stick to his skin, and he wanted to dive into a cold shower without pausing to do anything else first.
They lived in a studio flat in Itaewon, a rather large space for the neighbourhood it was in, and alone, neither could afford it, not easily. Taehyung wasn’t earning enough with Stigma yet, and he worked part-time at a local car mechanic, as well as footed half the rent and the bills. Jimin paid his half of the rent due to his father’s support – before he’d applied to Sungkyunkwan University, Mr Park had promised to pay for accommodation if he got in, but that the cost of living would be his own to figure out. The course he was studying was Fashion Design, and he’d applied later than most kids usually did at the age of twenty-one. The two years prior, he worked full-time, saving up so that he wouldn’t have to spend half his days working part-time when he could be studying.
He still worked full-time during the holidays so until now, his final year, financially it all panned out. But guilt was a common theme in Jimin’s life, and Taehyung’s insistence to pay every time they went out to eat, or to the cinema, or anywhere that cost money, had led to several arguments. And they’d always end with someone saying something ridiculous that would make them both giggle, so the problem swept away until the next time.
I’m not your princess to pamper!
You ARE my princess to pamper!
I hate you!
“Look, the neighbour’s cats are humping again,” Taehyung sniggered suddenly, tugging on Jimin’s elbow.
Up on the second floor, amidst the potted plants on the balcony, there they were, going at it with raucous yowls. The couple below burst into childish giggles. Some things you were never too old for, and it didn’t matter how many times they themselves had fucked in the same position, it was still the funniest thing in the world to see two cats banging without a care in the world.
“Shush, not too loud!” Jimin hissed, as Taehyung knocked into a metal bin, and promptly knocked over the empty milk bottles balanced on top. The glass shattered on the ground, and the pair of them ran for dear life as the lights came on up above. The woman was already shouting in annoyance, her husband shouting back, and when she opened the balcony doors, Jimin crumbled on the steps into the building, red with suppressed laughter as she wailed at the sight of her two cats. He felt Taehyung sink down against him, and when he heard, “Fuck, I think I peed a little”, genuinely believed he would suffocate with mirth.
Thankfully, they managed to make it up the stairs to the flat before either of them exploded into hysterics. The door flew open and Jimin collapsed in the hallway as Taehyung raced to the bathroom chanting “Pee, pee, pee!”
Somehow, the pair of them managed to get into the shower and into their bath robes, getting ready for bed with a routine that suggested they had been married for decades. It was always the same one, tonight was no different. The brief escapade in the restaurant bathroom, an attempt to spice up a sex life that was dying away, was forgotten. Though as Jimin switched on the fairy lights in the bedroom, he wondered how sad it was that the cats in the apartment below were getting more action than they were.
“Jimin, have you seen my night cream?”
“Dresser, fourth drawer.”
He pulled open the refrigerator door and pulled out the cucumber water jug he’d prepared that morning, pouring himself a glass. The flat hadn’t been much to look at when they’d first moved in, but it was now the prettiest place, and Jimin knew he would feel his heart ache when he remembered it in the future, from wherever they ended up moving to.
The hardwood flooring was quite old, and in the beginning, had a few rusty nails poking out. Once they’d fixed that up, plush rugs strewn around solved the problem of cold in the winter. Jimin had wanted the abundance of potted plants, and there were even hanging baskets from the ceiling, filled with climbing ivy, the wicker of the baskets wrapped in fairy lights. The entire west wall sloped downwards and was made up of three large windows, with only the outermost two opening up (if you fought with the rusty handles). The plasma TV attached to the wall was mostly there for Taehyung and his abundance of games (sealed away neatly in a cabinet under the bookshelves and alphabetized by Jimin one bored afternoon) since his boyfriend preferred his laptop.
Everything on the ground floor was open plan, stretching from lounge to kitchen, and then a door sealing off a small water closet. Upstairs, the entire level was their bedroom and a small en-suite to go with. Taehyung had started decorating it first, claiming “dibs”, but it amounted to wanting pride of place on the shelves for his gundam figures (Jimin begrudgingly agreed).
They’d found a metal bedframe with a simple canopy built on top, no curtains, at a furniture thrift shop that became their go-to Ikea. It was tucked into a corner of the room, a huge fluffy grey rug taking centre place , with bean bag seats here and there. As with the rest of the apartment, the bedroom was not free of fairy lights and climbing ivy, both stylistic choices that Taehyung to this day was trying to talk Jimin out of (a couple near-death accidents in the middle of the night involved tripping and nearly breaking bones). But Jimin was committed, though he did everything he could to keep them wrapped neatly, away from potential hazards. However, if Jimin fell off chairs as a force of habit, Taehyung was prone to tripping, and there was still the occasional “Fuck! Ow!” in the dead of night when he went for a bathroom break.
After switching everything off downstairs, Jimin tiptoed his way back up, the stairs creaking on every other one, and then slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. The main light was off, and the ceiling dipped down opposite, fitted with windows like the ones downstairs. It was a beautiful view from here, with nothing but the very tops of distant skyscrapers interrupting the night sky’s harmony.
“You’re back?” Taehyung hummed, emerging from the bathroom, fully naked and brushing his teeth.
Jimin hummed in response, kicking aside a bean bag chair, and retrieving his phone from the bed. Silence followed as he remained on the bed and Taehyung finished washing up. When he returned once more, his soft laugh made Jimin lift his head.
“Look who we have here,” Taehyung remarked, nodding up at the edges of the skylight windows. Jimin got up and went to join him, kneeling on the window seat with a chuckle. One of the cats from downstairs had her nose pressed to the glass. She was pale grey with blue eyes, with a lovely little snug face, and was far more daring than her boyfriend who rarely left the comfort of their balcony. When she saw she had been noticed, she pawed at the glass, meowing.
“Shall we let her in?” Jimin cooed.
“Last time we let her in, she wouldn’t leave and we had the cops called on us for being cat-nappers,” Taehyung snorted.
“Hey, if I was owned by the woman downstairs, I wouldn’t want to go back either. Tae, I’m letting her in…come here, sweetheart…” Jimin managed to get the window open, and watched as she carefully edged her way around the brick edge of the roof, so as to avoid slipping on the glass. Jimin reached for her and pulled her into his arms with a purring sound, holding her to his chest. When he lowered, he saw Taehyung giving him an exasperated brow lift. “What? She misses me, look at her. You missed me, didn’t you, Puff?”
“Isn’t her name Coco?” Taehyung yawned, crawling onto his side of the bed.
“Coco-puff, but Puff suits her better. Budge up, let her sleep between us.”
“Jimin, she’s not sleeping between us. Put her at the foot of the bed.”
“Why do you hate cats?”
“I don’t hate cats!”
“Don’t lie! You’re always cringing every time she comes near you!”
“I’m a dog person, doesn’t mean I hate cats!”
“Alright, keep your voice down…”
“You started it…”
Jimin gave in and set Puff on the foot of the bed, beaming at her as he slid in beside Taehyung, careful not to stretch out and jostle her. Taehyung noticed his efforts and immediately shuffled up and grabbed Jimin, curling up around him as the older protested.
“You’ll disturb her!” Jimin giggled, unable to get him off as he fought to get Taehyung’s long legs from kicking out and touching Puff.
“Don’t care. She’s in my bed, my rules,” Taehyung mumbled into his neck. “You smell good…”
“It’s a new perfume…”
“What’s it called?”
“Olympea or something. Tae?”
“Why do you have a boner?”
Taehyung shifted and looked down. “That’s not a boner, it’s my knee.”
“Kim Taehyung, I know what the difference between your knee and your boner is – when did you last try to shove your knee up my ass?”
“Sorry…” he moved back, until there was a little distance between them. Jimin turned to face him, a frown furrowing his brow, softly illuminated by the single string of fairy lights still switched on.
“When was the last time we had sex?” he asked.
Taehyung pursed his lips and thought. “Huh. I don’t know. Three months ago?”
“It isn’t that long.”
“It always feels like ages to me – “
“Stop,” Jimin giggled, prodding his cheek. “I think it’s been a month. I remember, because the night Hoseok and Jungkook had that fight at the bar, I was drunk and you were high, and we both couldn’t stop laughing in the corner. And then we had sex neither of us could remember the morning after.”
“Oh yeah…that fight,” Taehyung grunted, laughing a little as he put his hand to his forehead. “Where would those two losers be if they didn’t have us to be their wingmen?”
Hoseok and Jungkook were a dramatic saga, whereas Jimin and Taehyung were a fairytale story. Jimin and Hoseok had met when they’d both started at SKK uni together, and Hoseok was a year above – that hadn’t stopped them becoming firm friends, and when Hobi had graduated last year, it was the first time he was properly introduced to Taehyung’s bandmates. The spark was there instantly. Jungkook saw him, Hobi saw him right back – and Jimin sat between them and saw them both, wondering when someone would make the first move. Neither did. In fact, Hoseok went home that night and messaged Jimin: the drummer looks like he has his sticks shoved up his butt.
Months of random enmity-bordering-on-hatred later, Seokjin caught them making out furiously on the balcony at a house party. When the others had asked what he meant by “furiously”, he answered, “They were literally clawing at each other, and I thought one of them would push the other over the balcony at one point.”
Still, nothing more happened except for a one night stand. And then last month, things came to a head when Jungkook walked in with a pretty young thing named Eunwoo on his arm, and Hoseok went off.
Jimin and Taehyung hadn’t been much help that day, both drunk and high out of their minds. But the next morning, they’d mediated, Jimin talking to Hoseok and Taehyung to Kook. Eventually, the secret was out. Jungkook fancied Hobi, but Hobi had said he wasn’t ready for a relationship (in casual conversation) back when they’d first met. Jimin immediately relayed this to Hoseok whose answer was, Yeah, well that was then.
Well do you want to date him NOW?
Some three weeks later, and the band was on tenterhooks, always ready for another fight, but Hoseok and Jungkook seemed to be doing surprisingly well.
“They were furious with each other,” Jimin murmured. “And I guess it’s because of how passionate they were about wanting each other too. I kind of miss that.”
“The passion. Of needing to get your clothes off and just…go for it, wherever.”
Taehyung clicked his tongue. “Oh we had plenty of that. Remember the ferris wheel pod?”
Jimin covered his eyes, stifling a snort of laughter. “That poor man knew what we were doing, but he pretended to enjoy the view regardless.”
“Yeah well, you shouldn’t have let out a whimper,” Taehyung grinned, shuffling closer again. “But seriously, we had a lot of passion, we still do. Just work gets in the way, real life. I like being here with you as we are right now, the little things, like brushing our teeth together, cuddling in bed, gaming whilst you’re sitting on your laptop next to me.”
“Five years ago I would never have imagined you’d be content with this,” Jimin smiled, his heart starting to melt the longer he looked into those dark chocolate eyes, the reason for his undoing. “An absolute sex maniac.”
“You think the sex maniac is gone?” Taehyung bit at his cheek playfully. “No, baby, no, he’s waiting to rear his head. Waiting for your studies to stop wearing down your edges so he can wear you out himself.”
“Do I look worn around the edges?” Jimin pouted.
“You’re busy, baby, it’s understandable,” Taehyung answered, kissing his forehead. “You’ve got that presentation to give in a month, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s like a precursor proposal for the fashion line they’re having us create for the show at the end of the year.”
“Is that part of your exam?”
“Mmhm. I’ve already prepared for the proposal. There’s just minor coursework to do on the side now. You’re leaving in a month for the tour, so I guess I won’t be able to go with you on the first few stops.” His face fell as he admitted to it, and Taehyung’s arm was there instantly, pulling him into his chest, tucking Jimin’s head under his chin.
“We’ve got a month together – we can take full advantage of it.”
Jimin pressed a kiss to his collarbone, licking at the warm skin when Taehyung fidgeted. And then, he leaned his head back and looked up, eyes wide, a delightfully mischievous smile on his face.
“What?” Taehyung smirked, knowing that look very well.
“About that sex maniac you have hidden away, what would he say to being allowed to roam free for a month?” Jimin smirked back.
Taehyung’s smirk widened. “He is if his Demolition Baby’s going to join him.”
It was an inside joke, a play on a Def Leppard lyric when they were both nineteen. Taehyung had scrawled Demolition Baby in red lipstick across the plump of Jimin’s ass cheeks, whilst his boyfriend lounged on the bed in lingerie, thoroughly fucked out. The polaroid photo he’d taken was still kept in his wallet.
Jimin answered by cupping Taehyung’s nape, fingers rifling through the soft curls of his hair, and kissed him, a deep, hungry gesture though it was laced with sleepiness. “Tomorrow,” he mumbled, burrowing his face into his boyfriend’s chest and pressing his nose into his skin to inhale that musky, cinnamon scent he had.
“Alright – I’m going to hit you with the roleplay again,” Taehyung mumbled back, cuddling both arms around him tight as Jimin’s hair became his cheek-rest.
Puff mewled, lapsing into a steady purr, lulling both into dreamland.
When Jimin woke the next morning, he had pretty much forgotten the conversation the night before.
It was a Wednesday, but since classes were off for the week, it felt strange not to be rushing to get on his clothes and dash out the door. The clock read eleven am and he grumbled about Taehyung not waking him up sooner (the bed was vacated when he woke up, of both boyfriend and intruder-cat). After a quick shower, Jimin threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, before trudging downstairs in his fluffy slippers, eyes puffy and hair swept back by a headband.
“Where are you?” he droned. “You forgot to wake me up, are you insane? I slept till eleven, wait till I get my hands on you…”
He stopped suddenly, the sight of the breakfast counter taking him by surprise. A breakfast tray was already laid out, with a mug of steaming coffee, buttered bread rolls and a bowl of strawberries and cream. It was such an extravagant, unusual set up to see in their otherwise disorganized eating habits, Jimin first thought he might be dreaming it.
“Well – “ he said, lifting the tray after he’d checked for a note (there was none). “He’s very much forgiven.”
And then he proceeded to curl up on the sofa for a while, watching mindless morning television as he chowed down and blessed Taehyung for being such a darling. Extra kisses and cuddles today – oh wait, didn’t we talk about spicing things up? Sucking his dick it is. Oh hell, I’m going to suck it so good, the man won’t know what hit him –
Jimin’s head snapped around in shock. His jaw dropped, cherry lips in a perfect circle as his eyes followed suit. Sitting on the stairs, resplendent in a suit that was perfectly dishevelled, shirt collar loose, tie hanging open around his neck, was Taehyung, the velvety locks of his hair curling around his ears and falling into his eyes. Roguishly handsome, that was the phrase, except no words entered Jimin’s head in that moment, except Fuck.
“Oh – you – why are you dressed like – thank you for the breakfast, baby,” Jimin stumbled over his words. It always struck him like thunder, that even after ten years, Taehyung could transform him into a blushing, stuttering mess.
“I’m not your baby, darling. You’re my guest,” Taehyung answered, and the dark of his eyes consumed what was left of Jimin’s intelligible voice. He clutched the back of the sofa seat and pressed his legs together, as his crotch began to feel warmer than usual. His boyfriend stood up, tall and perfectly built, and pulled the tie from around his neck. Walking over, he wrapped it around Jimin’s instead, tugging him forward until their noses were touching. “When I kidnapped you away, the deal was that you’re my little toy now, remember?”
HOLY SHIT. We’re playing that game, huh?
“Y-yes sir,” Jimin sank into the roleplay with ease, though it wasn’t hard since he was already overcome to the point of both fearing the power Taehyung held over him in that moment, and the arousal stirring between his legs.
The pull on the tie was forcing him to stand and follow the younger, around the couch, until he stood before him. It was an interesting feeling, knowing the roleplay required him not to touch, and yet all Jimin wanted was to wrap his arms around Taehyung in that moment and make love to him. But they made love as a normal occurrence – it was different today. It would be different for a month, so that sex became something to look forward to, not as a quick means to get their rocks off and fall asleep.
“What’s your name?” Taehyung asked, and there was a glint in his eye that handed Jimin the answer.
“Baby,” he responded immediately, pleased to see the quirk at the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth.
“Turn around.” Jimin obeyed, allowing the push of Taehyung’s large hand to bend him over the back of the couch, a soft whisper of breath escaping when the younger stroked up the sides of his thighs. Every touch felt electric, even the barest graze of Taehyung’s chin over his spine, protected by the tank top. “I own every inch of you, Baby. Does that upset you?” His breath was searing Jimin’s skin, voice so deep it rumbled through the smaller, until the vibrations sparked at his nerves.
“N-no, sir, I want you to have me – want to be yours to own – I’m all yours – “ Jimin murmured back, closing his eyes as Taehyung’s fingers dug into the pertness of his ass.
Jimin turned around, and after a brief thought, deliberately removed his tank top, up over his head, making sure his muscles were flexed as he did. He had a dancer’s body, had taken ballet classes since he was very little, and Taehyung knew just what he was capable of physically, it was written all over his face. Jimin felt like a wanton slut when his lover’s eyes grazed over his smooth chest, down towards the line of his pelvis, and it was turning him on as the old days returned to mind. Back then, he would have done anything for Taehyung in bed, no matter how filthy or debased, he wanted to hear his voice break with pleasure, to feel his sweaty, writhing body quiver between Jimin’s thighs. As the clock struck half past eleven, Jimin wondered what it would be like to hear Taehyung scream like that again.
A small hand pushed at his boyfriend’s mid-riff, giving himself room to slip away and dart for the stairs. He had no intention of escaping, but the giggle he let out was still playful, turning at the top to see Taehyung bounding after him. Jimin flew into their room and landed on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pulling it against him with a deep groan. He stretched like a cat, ass arched up in the air, arms out, hair tousled, and purred in contentment as Taehyung froze a few paces away.
“I’ll give you a show if you want, sir – then you can have your way with me. Fuck me any way you want,” he teased.
Taehyung practically fell into the armchair by the bookshelves. His legs were spread wide, and he shifted a couple times, giving away the state of his erection in his trousers. Jimin grinned from ear to ear before lapsing into full seduction mode, the pillow clutched to his tight body as he began to grind up on it.
“Do you want to watch me come or do you want to take part?” Jimin chuckled, seeing the blush of colour rise up Taehyung’s necks and assault his ears.
“You don’t have permission to speak,” Taehyung shot back.
Fucccckkkk. Jimin’s eyes almost rolled back. The sudden authority in his lover’s voice was yet another spark lighting up his arousal, and he elevated himself up on his hands, thighs straddling the pillow, hips thrusting. It felt like such an animalistic thing to do, humping as if he were sex-crazed, but to have eyes on him, made it ten times filthier and he revelled in it. His cock throbbed, the friction beautiful, and he reached back to lower the back of his shorts and rest them under his buttocks. From the new position, Taehyung got a full view of Jimin’s ass bouncing as he fucked the pillow, tremors running through his thighs as he got closer to the edge.
“Ah fuck I’m gonna come – I’m gonna come – “ he squealed, eyes crinkled shut, fingers clawing the sheets.
A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Jimin gasped, sinking to the bed as he lost his rhythm. Taehyung’s face came into view, his lips pushed against his ear, and the tone of his voice curled deep into Jimin’s gut, the white-heat trebling. “Stop. Lie still and don’t move a muscle.”
“But – “ Jimin yelped as Taehyung’s hand crashed down onto his ass and squeezed the spanked flesh straight after. “O-okay, ‘m sorry.” He lowered onto the bed properly, burying his head in his arms as he waited for whatever was to come next. He wanted to be spanked more, but Taehyung was gone, out through the door and downstairs, presumably to fetch something. As Jimin waited, he remembered how on his twenty-first birthday, they’d gone on a picnic in the park in a secluded glade, and he’d dared Taehyung to spank him then and there. They were both exhibitionists so neither bowed from the challenge, though neither had they really expected to be caught, they were sitting so far from the populated areas. But Taehyung had promised ten and by the seventh one, they heard voices. Neither stopped, Jimin continuing to moan as his ass was tended to.
When the couple turned the corner, they found Jimin sprawled in Taehyung’s lap, pants fully buttoned up, face pink. They both had sparkling eyes and grins stretching from ear to ear as they waved at the passers-by. The sex that night was incredible.
Jimin heard the stairs creak and tensed, anticipating. He heard a clink, and frowned, turning to see what it was. Taehyung had a bowl in his hand, but the contents weren’t visible.
“Take your shorts off,” he ordered, and Jimin couldn’t wriggle out of them fast enough. When Taehyung gave a signal with his hand, he flipped onto his back, removing the pillow, and allowing the other to admire his fully-erect cock, red and drooling at the tip, pinned to his stomach.
And then Taehyung set the bowl on the nightstand and Jimin blurted out, “Oh no.” At the look he got, he sealed his lips again, but he was still on edge as his boyfriend got onto the bed, and took a seat at the end.
“I’m going to balance the ice cubes on your stomach,” Taehyung murmured, stroking his palm over it, the brief brush against Jimin’s length making the older jump as if he’d been electrocuted. “And then I’m going to suck your cock. If the cubes slip off your body, you won’t get to come. Understand?”
Jimin’s expression unravelled, helpless and nervous, but he nodded, biting his bottom lip. He looked so adorable to Taehyung in that moment, having no idea how much the younger wanted to kiss him until he was breathless and wide-eyed. Focused on how he would handle it, he forgot to note the sheer lust in Taehyung’s eyes as he took in his naked form, smoothing an ice cube onto his abs and smirking when he felt Jimin twitch.
“Stay still, Baby,” he warned.
“Yes, sir – “ Jimin mumbled, and then an instinctive aside, “I love you.”
It was breaking the fourth wall of the roleplay – Taehyung suppressed his smile but ignored it. Jimin became very still as soon as the second ice cube was laid on, and before his lover’s impressed face, pulled his thighs back and hooked his arms under them, granting himself more balance. Taehyung stopped once he’d placed three. They were still ice-cold, sticking to Jimin’s skin a little, no danger yet.
“Ready?” Taehyung asked, and Jimin nodded, making a sound in his throat that was more like a whine, adorably soft.
He almost quivered when he heard the baritone scoff of a laugh that came from the other, and prayed to the heavens for any semblance of strength he could possibly get. But as soon as Taehyung’s hot, sinewy tongue wrapped around the base of his cock, Jimin knew he was fucked.
And yet he held out with bravery. He simply stopped breathing, refusing to draw air as Taehyung’s mouth engulfed the tip of his erection and pushed down further, dark eyes fixed on Jimin’s face. He let saliva pool in his mouth, before allowing it to drip down Jimin’s length, and then slurped as he sucked back up, humming with relish. Fucker’s having a lot of fun right now –
Jimin closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, willing himself not to shudder as Taehyung pressed his jaw tight and his cock was suctioned, repeatedly, wet, sloppy motions up and down –
“I hate you,” he let out in a gasp, half-sobbing straight after as his abdomen clenched and one of the ice cubes slipped a millimetre. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you – “
“You love me,” Taehyung whispered back and Jimin sobbed.
The tremors were building up, and he was trying his hardest not to shift his mid-riff, wanting to keep Taehyung’s heat around his shaft. But he knew that the moment he came, they’d fall off anyway, and who knew what punishment lay ahead? So, Jimin gave into the first torturous orgasmic convulsion, and arched his spine as his cock throbbed in Taehyung’s mouth.
All three ice cubes fell off.
Immediately, Taehyung pulled away and Jimin fell back onto the bed with a soft cry of exhaustion. When he tried to close his thighs, to give it just a little more friction, Taehyung’s firm grip prised them apart and he was trapped.
“What did I say?” he said gruffly.
“Y-you said not to come, sir,” Jimin mumbled, unable to keep from fluttering his hips even with Taehyung’s grip holding him down. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it – your mouth feels so good – “
“You’re not going to come now, Baby, you brought it on yourself – “
“But – “ Jimin was silenced by a kiss that took over his senses for a minute, the plush of his lips captured between Taehyung’s, their tongues merging in a sensuous dance of passion. When they broke apart, he was limp in the other’s hold, a little dizzy from the deprivation of climax, and now this. “Can I suck you off instead?” he said in a quieter voice, cheeks pink and lips wet.
Taehyung chuckled, lifting him up into his arms and giving his earlobe a playful bite. “Get on your knees.”
Jimin obeyed, wiggling with excitement as he spread his knees on the hardwood floor and grasped at Taehyung’s trousers once he’d removed his belt. The tie was now wound around Jimin’s throat, and the younger used it like a leash to keep his head steered where he wanted it. Jimin lavished kisses up the length of him, tongue flicking rapidly over that little curve near the top, the so-called imperfection that fucked his sweet spot so perfectly.
“Are you really not going to let me come?” he blinked up with big eyes, and Taehyung’s heart nearly melted.
He kept his resolve however, brushing his fingers over the dampened sweetness of his baby’s cheeks, squeezing under his jaw. “No, I’m not. You failed. And we’ve got a month of this ahead of us, so I don’t think you can afford to keep failing. Remember the last time I edged you?”
Jimin fucking did. He’d edged him for a whole week, and by some insane twist of mind, Jimin had followed the rules without question, not touching himself, even when Taehyung wasn’t there. The way he’d first orgasmed when Taehyung finally fucked him was explosive, but it was still sheer torture to think about.
“Please only make it a few hours,” he whispered, to indicate this wasn’t part of the roleplay. “You’re going to kill me if you make me wait, I need you so bad right now– “
Taehyung shushed him, squeezing his cheek and nodding slightly as if to agree. Jimin paused to give him a brilliant smile, and Taehyung almost dropped the pretence of the roleplay to pull him into his arms. Perhaps this was what had changed, the amount of love now between them. Back in the day, sex was a huge part of their relationship because they were still discovering each other physically, every last bit, but there was more love now to interrupt, and perhaps that lessened how fiery the sexual aspect was.
All such thoughts flew out of his mind, when Jimin’s pointed tongue snaked out and ran a trail up the underside of his thick shaft. Taehyung let out a strangled grunt, sitting back on one hand, the tie-leash still trapped in it. Jimin moaned as he first took one of his balls into his mouth and then the other, repeating the motion until Taehyung’s toes curled and he was on the verge of begging for Jimin to suck his cock to completion. It was throbbing, every modicum of attention that his lover gave to his ballsac travelling through it in electric currents. Jimin was a mess of blushing cheeks, saliva and tears as he forced himself to gag on Taehyung’s length, losing himself in the process.
Taehyung fell back onto the bed, panting, as he called Jimin’s name, eyes lost in the dark of his skull as he struggled not to come too fast. But there was nothing quite like the reflexive quality of Jimin’s throat muscles, not when he was swallowing on purpose, all the while making that sweet humming sound. The room echoed with the wet, dirty sounds of a blowjob done with no restraint, and then Taehyung lost his fucking mind and yanked on the tie, keeping Jimin’s mouth crammed full. He came straight into the back of his throat, Jimin choking and swallowing, tears streaming down his cheeks as Taehyung’s thighs trapped his head in place.
“Fuck!” Jimin let out a gasping cry when he was finally allowed to pull off. Taehyung remained sprawled on the bed, shudders running through him, cock still twitching and frothing at the tip. Jimin got a spray of salty white on his cheek, and giggled, kissing the frenulum and hearing Taehyung curse in response. “You almost sent me into subspace when you started to choke me – “
Taehyung sat up and abruptly cut him off with a kiss. He had one hand loosely cupped around Jimin’s throat and the other at the back of his head, as his tongue rolled into his mouth. And then he ran it over Jimin’s cheek, licking up the cum and pushing it back into the kiss, messy.
“Stop…” Jimin whispered, squirming as he felt his cock pulse. “Don’t make me go into subspace if you won’t let me come or I’ll start crying.” He looked up hopefully, as if Taehyung would change his mind, but caught his boyfriend grinning.
“Alright, put your shorts back on once it’s gone down and come downstairs. I have something to show you.”
Jimin sighed. Easier said than done. Taehyung vanished after cleaning up the small pool of cum and saliva left on the ground. It took about ten minutes of meditation, and avoiding all thoughts of the way Taehyung had groaned as he came to get his erection down, but Jimin managed it.
Downstairs, Taehyung was in his usual t-shirt and jeans now, and he was playing Call of Duty. “I found a new mod. Come see.”
Jimin stopped in his tracks, completely bemused. “What?”
Taehyung looked over his shoulders and grinned wide. “You said no more than a few hours. You can wait, right?”
Oh for –
A few hours later meant after it was almost nine pm.
Admittedly, Jimin got distracted by coursework, and after they ordered takeout, Taehyung put on Hereditary, and as the sky darkened outside, a horror movie was enough to keep both of them distracted from the very thought of sex. They were both horror buffs, neither being too afraid, at least not more than a delicious jump or two, whilst sharing a kiss in between, cuddled up to each other.
Ten minutes before it ended, Jimin whispered, “I’ll be back in a bit, baby,” and got up to go upstairs.
He didn’t return. Twenty minutes later, Taehyung heard him scream and was on his feet instantly, running up the stairs in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the en-suite.
What he expected was a spider – Jimin’s fear of arachnids was legendary – but what he got was beyond imagination.
The bathtub was filled halfway up with water, rose petals floating on top (a packet of dried ones Jimin had bought months ago for intended use he never got around to). Little tealights were placed strategically on the shelves, leaving no need for the main switch.
And in pride of place, was Taehyung’s beautiful boy, kneeling in the tub facing away from the door, working his favourite glass dildo into his clenched hole. Taehyung’s mouth turned dry, glued to the sight of his dusted pink ring squeeze against each round curve of the dildo, slippery with lube. Jimin glanced over his shoulder, head pressed to the tiles, and his tongue curled out over his upper lip, eyes half-lidded, nose and cheeks blushing red.
“Do it for me, baby,” he whispered, “Wanna feel your hands on me…”
Taehyung’s fists clenched, his cock lifting in his trousers – record fucking time, looked like Jimin wasn’t the only one on edge today – and he moved forward. But rather than take over the dildo, he pulled it out, and when Jimin protested, pushed his hand to the back of his hair and trapped his cheek to the tiles. “Without my permission?”
“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it,” Jimin whined, looking not sorry at all.
“I’m going to spank your tight little ass raw, until it hurts you to be fucked,” Taehyung growled, unsure where the sudden aggression was coming from, but feeling that familiar shudder in Jimin’s shoulders that communicated that he was enjoying it very much. “Every single time you push it back – sheer pain – get it?”
Jimin growled in response, panting as he turned his head some more, pretty eyes rolling up to meet Taehyung’s. “Do it. I dare you. Fuck me like a whore – like you want to make me your bitch – and make it hurt. I want you to make me hurt.” And then he let out a sharp scream as Taehyung buried his mouth into his neck and bit down. The currents of agony transformed into beams of pleasure, going straight down to his untouched, aching cock and Jimin’s knees quaked, water rippling around them.
Subspace was coming for him tonight whether he wanted it or not, but right now, as Taehyung’s hands grabbed his body like it was his toy, Jimin welcomed it. He pressed his hands to the tiles and pushed his ass back, preparing for his punishment. The very first slap was a sharp burst of pain and thrumming ecstasy, the sting of his flesh cooled by the droplets of water that splashed up.
Taehyung began to grunt with each slap after the third one, and Jimin felt his sanity tear at the seams. He was so happy he could fucking cry – he hadn’t felt like this in a long time, their sadomasochistic games being rooted so far back in the past, he didn’t imagine they would return with the same energy. But that was silly to believe. The glorious weight and size of Taehyung’s hands would never change, and they were lavishing beautiful fucking pain on Jimin’s skin, setting it alight, until –
“Shit, I’m coming!” Jimin screamed, sinking against the wall, as his body gave up trying to maintain control. Taehyung hadn’t touched his erection, but every vibration from the spanks had pushed it to the edge, and the water soon had white swirled into it, turning it cloudy. Jimin’s nails clawed down the tiles, clinging for purchase in the ridges between the smooth marble, voice stuttering.
Taehyung leant back to watch, one foot up on the side of the tub, breathing hard. He’d missed this, the sight of Jimin’s body turning red from head to toe as he succumbed to the pursuit of ecstasy. He had no patience left himself, and pushed down his jeans, releasing his painfully erect cock from its prison.
Jimin hadn’t finished riding the high of the climax, before he felt his hips grabbed and pulled back, knees pressed to the side of the tub and feet sticking up either side. He knew before he heard the squirt of the lube that Taehyung took from the shelf, but it was still hard to prepare for the initial push.
His hands were on the base of the tub but he lost his balance, and let his head dip under the water for a moment, rose petals rushing around him. It felt surreal, holding his breath, feeling every inch of Taehyung’s thick cock stretch him open, fill him to the hilt. When he finally lifted his head, his hair sprayed an arc of water and he let out a cry that echoed through the room, music to his lover’s ears. Taehyung latched one hand around his neck from behind, forcing his head back as he rammed into his ass, setting up an unforgiving rhythm. Jimin came within two minutes, his walls already sensitive from the stimulation given by the dildo and the orgasm he’d had soon after.
Pulled from the bathwater, he was bundled into Taehyung’s arms and slammed against the wall, legs desperately wrapped around his hips. Jimin heard himself start to cry before he saw his reflection in the mirror opposite, drool on his lips, tears pouring down to his chin as he clutched Taehyung and begged to be fucked harder, harder, harder, until he couldn’t stand –
And amidst the sheer chaos of feeling his body come apart in the hands of the most beautiful man in the world, Jimin sobbed into his ear how much he loved him. Subspace usually kicked in with a need to express to Taehyung how important he was, how much Jimin needed him, how he could never live without him no matter what, and even as Taehyung fucked him like he hated him, his lips were soft on Jimin’s, reassuring.
They came together, legs shaking as they sank to the floor in a wet, panting mess.
“I’m not going to survive this month, am I?” Taehyung muttered, lips pressed into the skin of Jimin’s shoulder.
Jimin could only laugh, his brains scrambled.
The next day/night, there was no creative sex. Both seemed in need of a break after the intensity of the first night, but when the sky darkened, neither hesitated when they got into bed. Taehyung slipped between Jimin’s legs, and with giggled kisses, they made love, talking to each other in soft whispers as Taehyung thrust back and forth, coaxing Jimin’s body to open up for him.
Taehyung had something up his sleeve he was thinking of, namely the bondage art of shibari, something he hadn’t practiced in its intricacy before. He’d always intended to use it on Jimin at some point, but impatience was something they shared in common, and it took some time and patience to get someone fully bound into those hemp ropes.
That morning, he was curled up on the sofa, thumb swiping on his screen as he looked through various assortments of rope online, when Jimin appeared from the room upstairs, claiming they needed to run errands.
“You go then,” Taehyung mumbled, comfortable where he was, and fully intending to jack off once Jimin was gone (to the thought of Jimin wrapped up in the ropes - just looking at them was getting him aroused).
“Angel, don’t be like that. Come on,” Jimin clicked his tongue, stamping his feet to get his boots on properly as he walked past the couch to open the curtains. Even for errands, he was dressed like he was going on the runway. Fashion student or not, Jimin’s dress sense had always been pitch perfect, and it wasn’t helping Taehyung’s desire to stroke himself off when he saw the skin-tight black jeans. They hugged the curve of his derriere, the sort of gift wrap that gave away exactly what the contents were, and over them he had on a dark leather jacket and a yellow and black flannel shirt covering a plain white tank top. Sunglasses were sitting ready on his hair, locks artfully ruffled.
“Okay but I’m going like this,” Taehyung grunted, swinging up to reveal the flip-flops, boxer shorts and hoodie he had on.
Jimin paused, bit into his lip and scowled. “You’re doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”
“What?” he threw his arms to the side. “It’s my comfortable Friday wear.”
“You are not being caught dead in that. Stop stalling, and go change.”
“No more ‘angel’?”
“That nickname is for good boys. Scoot.”
Taehyung rolled his eyes, stomping upstairs. He returned with an ensemble that still didn’t get a smile, but a huff and a dismissive flap of the hand. On stage he wore skinny jeans plenty, as well as ripped shirts and leather jackets and the famed bandanas. But off it, his style leaned more towards loose pants and what Jimin called his “grandpa sweater vests” over dress shirts he usually got a size or so bigger. From a distance, he had no doubt he looked like Jimin’s much older uncle just by the clothes, but it was always fun to see people focus on their faces and realise they were actually the same age and very much together.
The “errands” took an hour at the local haberdashery, and during it, Taehyung tucked himself between a roll of blue velvet cloth and an array of small drawers filled with buttons, fixated by his phone.
Jimin wanted to stock up on materials in advance for the line he had to create from scratch, though the proposal hadn’t even been presented yet and neither was the end of the year close. Taehyung liked that part of him, the organized, punctual focused part; nothing was sexier than Jimin when he was focused and serious. He knew better than to help him choose on such outings; he usually got a “tsk” and a shake of the head to whatever suggestions he gave. Taehyung was now resigned to being the chauffeur and carrying the bags his boyfriend acquired on the way – though the saying “happy wife, happy life” his father loved to use didn’t apply completely here, it was still pretty accurate, especially when he caught himself in the mirror with that mindless smile as he followed Jimin’s every move with his eyes. His father had had that same look with his mother so many times, his children teased him endlessly for it.
“Let’s go eat and then go to Dongdaemun Market,” Jimin said, after they’d visited the fourth haberdasher’s in a row.
“You still haven’t found the shade?” Taehyung sighed, “how many different purples are there?”
“Not the one in tulle I want,” Jimin grimaced. He glanced at Taehyung as they sat at a red light, and his expression melted into one of pity and love. “I’m sorry, angel, I know I’m being irritating.”
“It’s okay, I know it’s important,” Taehyung waved it off, busily looking around. “I’m looking for a place to eat around here though, I’m starving.”
Jimin’s smile widened, knowing how much the younger liked to help, but also how much he hated to sit around and wait, especially when it came to shopping. He reached out and made a kissy sound, chucking him under the chin. “We can eat first, it’s still not eight o’clock yet so the market won’t be open. I won’t be long there I promise.”
Taehyung didn’t entirely believe him. If Jimin was obsessive about trawling shops using a map, then nothing could keep him from a night market. They had once spent the entire time from 10pm to 2am at a single night market, because he’d spent the first hour haggling and arguing with a shopkeeper who wouldn’t sell him a few metres of turquoise Banarasi brocade at what he called a “reasonable price.” Taehyung suspected that since Jimin was refusing to move on despite the stall owner’s increasing rudeness, it meant the fabric was probably well-priced and Jimin was attempting to reduce its value. But he wouldn’t have dared say such a thing, and in the end, he had joined in the argument (producing names he’d made up in his head of shops they could buy the brocade from instead) until the stall owner said “Argh, take it!” and cut Jimin the length he wanted.
Taehyung got laid that night for sure.
They found a niche Italian place tucked on the same street as a shop that sold exclusively buttons (and in which Jimin sent fifteen minutes before he chose six marble buttons the colour of jade green). As they sat sharing a freshly-made pizza between them, the phone began to ring, displaying Yoongi’s name on the screen.
“Hyung,” Taehyung said in greeting, mouth stuffed with food, putting it on speakerphone.
“Hnh.” Yoongi grunted back, sounding as if he’d just woken up (on his off-days, he could comfortably nap through the day and work at night). “Question – can we rehearse at your place on Monday? My neighbour’s father just passed and they’re holding the memorial then.”
“Ah – “ Taehyung broke off when he saw Jimin’s eyes lift up to stare at him, anxious. He pursed his lips and sighed, making an apologetic face at him, before saying, “Sure we can, hyung. How long it’s going to be? We’ve got a pretty sketchy neighbour ourselves. She hates our guts, and might call the cops.”
“Good, I haven’t been to jail in a while. I miss the ambience. Anyway thanks – and say hi to Jimin for me – “
“He’s right here, say hi yourself,” Taehyung answered.
“Hey, Yoongi hyung,” Jimin laughed, caught off-guard by the sudden accosting, and hurried to swallow the pizza he had in his mouth. “How are you doing?”
“Cruising,” Yoongi drawled. “What are you two up to?”
Once it was explained where they were headed, the conversation petered out, and Yoongi’s grew increasingly monotone until Taehyung laughed and signalled for Jimin to wrap up the convo. He knew how much the older male hated small talk, whereas Jimin was faithful in his attempts to keep it up, not wanting anyone to feel slighted.
Dongdaemun started out the same way as usual; Jimin leading, Taehyung following. They’d stowed away the bags they had into the boot of the car, so Taehyung was free of anything in his hands except an ice cream that he frequently tried to gain Jimin’s attention by seductively licking. But his boyfriend was as focused as an army sergeant, going through each stall with military precision and for once, not arguing too much with the owners (he’d received his pay cheque yesterday, maybe why).
It was when they passed a stall-owner selling fishing nets, that Taehyung’s attention was finally distracted. Jimin wandered on, unaware that he wasn’t following, as the younger ran his hands over the anchoring rope also up on sale; the entire store seemed dedicated to selling boating and fishing equipment but Taehyung’s mind was far from that purpose. These ropes were too rough for Jimin’s skin, he knew it already, but just feeling the texture of one made his stomach tighten, eyes searching for the older. Jimin was at the end of the row of stalls, laughing as he conversed with the owner, and Taehyung remained motionless for a moment, just staring at him.
“Hey kid, either buy something or move it along,” the man behind the stall grunted. He’d been staring at Taehyung staring at the rope, and didn’t like the expression on his face. In his mind, he was pretty sure the boy was up to no good (frankly, Taehyung did look rather intimidating when he was staring). Muttering an apology, he moved along to catch up with his boyfriend, this time thanking the stars for the baggy trousers he’d worn; if the man had seen the boner growing as Taehyung touched the ropes, he would have been jailed for indecent public display, a pervert everyone to see.
“Baby, how much longer?” Taehyung muttered.
Jimin twitched in surprise at the urgent tone of his voice, and how close he pushed up against him. And then his hand brushed his crotch and he laughed a little, breathless. “Seriously? Here?” he muttered back, avoiding the curious eyes of the woman who he had just been talking to.
Taehyung nodded, looking shifty, like a child in trouble, and Jimin’s heart melted into his palms. He nodded, and patted his shoulder, before asking the lady for a small bag of the emerald ribbons to her right. Taehyung moved from one foot to the other, feeling his cock move with his thighs, still only semi-erect and not yet pushing against the material of his pants to form a tent.
“Where’s the car?” Jimin asked, and Taehyung snatched at his hand, forcing him to jog behind him.
All the way back, Jimin was giggling, telling him to slow down, that the world wasn’t ending. But to Taehyung it was; he did not deal well with boners in public, and wanted to attend to them the minute they sprang up.
As soon as they got in the car, Taehyung drove, pulling away from the curb and driving as fast as he could (without breaking the limit) towards the nearest secluded street. Jimin couldn’t stop laughing.
“You’re funny when you’re desperate and horny,” he sniggered, curled up in his seat, with an elbow on the window sill and a relaxed slope to his shoulders. The car came to a standstill and Taehyung rolled up the windows before turning the A/C on to keep the interior cool against the summer heat.
The smile on Jimin’s face certainly wiped fast when Taehyung’s hand grabbed at his thigh. He was hauled into his lap, as the seat fell backwards, and gasped out, “Slow down, baby, slower – fuck – we don’t have lube – “
“Forget lube – “ Taehyung groaned, hand already entangled in Jimin’s hair.
“You’re not fucking me dry – last time you did that we were both on drugs, and never again – “
“I won’t fuck you dry,” Taehyung growled, trying to stop Jimin from pushing him back. When he saw the way Jimin’s eyebrows gathered, he relaxed and sighed, stroking his hands over his hips and cupping the firm curve of his ass. “I just want to – “ he finished the sentence by grinding upwards, sending across the message.
Jimin gasped and his hand flew up to grab the side bar, hanging from it as Taehyung rocked his hips up and made his small body roll with him. “Well why didn’t you just say so, silly – “
“I was trying – “
“No, you were grunting and heaving and grasping at me like you were in heat – “
“Don’t you like it when I get like that?”
Jimin bit back a smile, which quickly changed into a tortured cry as every inch of Taehyung’s hard length rubbed against his own tightly bound cock. In a haste, he got his jeans off, removing the briefs with it, as the look of satisfaction on Taehyung’s face grew. Jimin shivered the moment his large hands grasped, fistfuls of flesh squeezed on his thighs and ass, keeping him straddled and spread for him.
“Take your pants down too – I want to feel you slipping against me – “ Jimin murmured, lips already kiss-swollen with the way he’d bitten down on them. Taehyung obeyed without question and then sank his head back as the mounds of Jimin’s ass cushioned his cock, his hand pushing it further between them until it was gripped there, the friction blissful. He took hold of Jimin’s manhood, squeezing the tip and coaxing him to move faster.
The windows fogged up despite the blaring A/C and the car began to rock as Jimin sped up his gyrations, cursing and crying out Taehyung’s name, over and over, as if he was bound to an altar, calling out for the only god he would acknowledge in that moment. Beneath him, Taehyung was no better, speechless like he’d lost his mind, drinking in the sight of Jimin writhing on top, nubile and hungry.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered at one point, no longer aware of what he was saying, entranced and peaking to the point of climax. The pre-cum steadily oozing from his tip was giving enough lubrication for his cock to stroke from Jimin’s ballsac, his taint, all the way to his clenched rim, and it was making the smaller shudder from head to toe, thighs gripped onto Taehyung’s hips with every stroke.
He came first, all over Taehyung’s palm and fingers, white draped over caramel skin, and his lover came soon after, sitting up to grip Jimin against him, his teeth finding the flesh of his shoulder and biting down hard. Jimin screamed, from a mixture of post-orgasmic bliss and pain that made him dizzy for a moment, but Taehyung let go at just the right time, allowing him to fall back against the dashboard, spent.
“Let’s go home. I want to fuck you till your eyes cross,” Taehyung panted, and Jimin couldn’t agree fast enough.
The shibari ropes he had ordered would take another week to arrive, but in the meantime, they held to their promise to have sex every day, wherever, or whenever either of them felt like it. Usually, it was Taehyung who was the hornier of the two, but with a lessening of school and work responsibility on his shoulders, Jimin was just as hungry for it, taking pleasure in nymph-like behaviour that had his boyfriend frothing at the mouth. He’d run around in skimpy shorts, doing the chores half-naked, every glance he passed Taehyung’s way, flirty. Taehyung had no choice but to fall for the bait every single time, and Jimin finally had the chance to flaunt the lingerie he’d made himself, designed for his own body, and also to pull Taehyung’s sanity apart, piece by beautiful piece.
Come Monday, even the members of Stigma noticed the changed aura around Taehyung when he opened the door.
“You look like you just got fucked,” Namjoon said bluntly, walking past. “Which means Jimin isn’t far. Jimin! We’re here! Don’t be walking around naked!”
Seokjin paused to sniff at him, flapping his hand over his nose with an, “Ah, the musk of fornication,” whilst Yoongi just drifted through with a vague grin that said more than words could. Jungkook was oblivious, grunting with a nod, drumsticks sticking out of his backpack, and heavy boots trekking skid marks on the floor.
If Jimin noticed, he had the politeness not to confront Jungkook, but Taehyung saw him later go and quietly start scrubbing on the ground, pausing to glare at the heavy boots where they sat on the shoe rack.
He laughed at the sight of him, muttering “Cute” before continuing to pull out beer cans from the fridge. Even though he presented as being focused on rehearsing, his head was full of nothing but Jimin. It almost felt alien to feel this way again after so long – it was like the first time Taehyung had begged him to date, that incredible longing for him, even though his best friend was right there, within reach. Now he was his boyfriend, and yet still, Taehyung craved him in a way that was almost frightening, intense and inescapable. For a musician, it was napalm, a muse that never died, always there to exploit and write about, but as a human with a breakable heart, it scared him that someone could hold such power over him and not be aware of it.
Upstairs, Jimin wasn’t thinking about such serious topics at all. He had his headphones in, his sketchbook out, and Puff curled up on the skylight above, watching him through the glass. He could hear the pounding of Jungkook’s drums even through his own music, but it was muffled enough to not be an annoyance, legs swinging under table, shirt slipping off one shoulder and eyes adrift with dreams.
It was still early evening, the sky outside brushed blue, awaiting the change in canvas colour when streaks of purple-red and orange would join to turn it into a display of Van Gogh. The view was spectacular here, even from the smaller windows under the skylights; though half of it was just apartment buildings and views onto balconies where clothes hung out to dry, it broke open onto the wider city and Han river beyond, as well as the very distant shape of the mountains edging Seoul.
He had had a bowl of ramen already, and nachos lay in a dish across from him, as well as a jug of iced cucumber water; Jimin had prepared it all so that he wouldn’t have to go downstairs again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the band, far from it, but rehearsals tended to get rowdy or downright uncomfortable and he didn’t want to walk into the middle of an argument on creative differences (those were the worst kind and had once ended with one of the members in hospital – dramatic, but then again, what would Jimin know of the woes of musicians).
The clock wound its way around from 6pm to 10pm, time flying past. The fairy lights were on now, the desk lamp adding illumination, and Puff was gone, back to her own home, presumably after being disturbed by the sound of music from the boys. Jimin was still hunched at his desk, scribbling annotations on a feathered dress with its own headgear that he had temporarily named ‘Black Swan’. Behind him, the door opened and Taehyung’s head peeked around the corner.
“You up, baby?”
Jimin laughed shortly, looking over his shoulder. “I’m clearly up and sitting here. How’s rehearsal going?” Taehyung closed his eyes and then chuckled, slowly. And it was then that Jimin became aware of the scent clinging to him. He dropped his pencil and turned fully around. “You guys got drunk?”
“Occupational hazard…hey.” He lifted both hands in defence, still giggling, cute and lazy, and though Jimin wanted to smack him over the head with his folder, he couldn’t help laughing with him. “So I take it you’re not rehearsing anymore?”
Taehyung shook his head rapidly. “Nope, nope. Came up to ask if you wanted to drink with us.”
Jimin turned to look back at his work and decided he’d done enough for the day. “Alright, but just one.”
“Okay wait, I’ll bring it up – don’t worry your pretty head – don’t worry, be happy – “ he launched into a steady croon of song as he pranced away, and Jimin continued to laugh, as he tucked away his things and pulled a beanbag chair over the floor to sprawl himself across it.
The sound of footsteps was doubled on Taehyung’s way back, quickly explained by the appearance of another face beside him.
“Okay, he’s definitely drunk,” Jimin announced, watching Yoongi stumble in.
“Seokjin and Namjoon are asleep, and Jungkook’s on the phone arguing with Hobi, so I thought, why not take Yoongi out of an uncomfortable situation and put him here with us?” Taehyung explained, guiding Yoongi to another beanbag chair with plenty of tripping and snorting in between as they both attempted not to crash into the bookshelves. Jimin stared in complete flabbergasted awe as they proceeded to praise each other for being ‘bootiful’, and then rolled onto the floor, beanbag chairs forgotten.
“Oy,” he said, smacking Taehyung’s butt. “Where’s my drink?”
“Oopsie, I forgot,” Taehyung gasped, pulling his earlobes in apology.
Jimin sighed, kissed his forehead and went down to retrieve a bottle of cider instead. He was an admitted lightweight and cider was usually enough to make him feel as airy-fairy and giggly as the other two.
He returned to find them stretched on the carpet, staring up through the skylights, in contemplative silence. Jimin put on some music, soft through the speakers, a combined playlist of Rimsky-Korsakov, Vivaldi and Debussy, before crawling onto a beanbag beside his boyfriend to stare up at the stars too. After about ten minutes of comfortable silence and hands entwined, Taehyung mumbled, “Yoongi’s asleep.” Jimin leaned over to look and smiled softly when he saw the older male’s head turned to the side, hand in his hair, guileless as a child. “He looks younger when he sleeps.”
Taehyung turned on his stomach, chin propped on his hands to admire the sleeping beauty that was Min Yoongi and then chuckled as he turned to Jimin. “Is this what it feels like to have a baby and watch him sleep?”
“Maybe one day we’ll be standing over an actual cot with a little ball of cuteness inside,” Jimin murmured, and the edges of his smile were soft, like the nostalgia of a tintype photograph.
Taehyung’s honey-brown eyes softened, and he leaned in for a kiss, that stretched and turned into another and then another, until they were intoxicated on them, their mouths making love the only sound in the room.
Lifting Jimin up from the floor, there wasn’t even a discussion about who else was in the general vicinity. Both figured together that if they were quiet enough they could get away with it, and besides, Jimin felt the whines coming on the more Taehyung pressed up on him. He needed to have him inside, and better here than anywhere else in the house (with two others downstairs – Jungkook had already gone, no doubt to have angry sex with his boyfriend after yet another spat).
They kept it vanilla, for the sake of urgency. Jimin’s fairy lights began to fall from their twisted perch on the metal slant of the bedpost, raining down like threads of starshine, covering their entwined bodies. He spread his legs, already breathless with pleasure as his cock throbbed against his abdomen, one hand leisurely stroking it, whilst the other tended to Taehyung’s. Lube dripped onto the sheets, slick and clear, as their impatience for each other amounted to open-mouthed ravenous kisses, hearty gasps of air, and then that combined groan when Taehyung finally pushed in.
The bed springs creaked, a steady swaying motion of posts, as Jimin muffled his mouth against Taehyung’s neck and squeezed around him, determined to make him let out the first uncontrolled sound. Knowing they weren’t alone excited him, even if Yoongi was passed out, and it became a sort of game to see if his boyfriend would forfeit first.
But Yoongi had woken the moment the bedsprings began to creak. Understandably disorientated, he hadn’t moved or said a word. At least, not until now, when he started to sit up in the bean bag chair, eyes transfixed on the hypnotic sight of Taehyung’s balls pressed to Jimin’s ass, cock pushed deep and gyrating inside him to stretch him open. It was making the older produce the loveliest, silkiest sounds, soft pants and little admonishments for Taehyung to stop because he might get too loud –
Yoongi was positive this was a dream, and as with dreams, he let go of his inhibitions and casually slid a hand into his pants, stroking his semi, timing the movement of his hand to the rotations of Taehyung’s hips each time they drove forward. At some point, when he leant up on one hand, legs gripped around his lover’s waist, Jimin saw him over Taehyung’s shoulder. But there was no gasp of surprise, or scrabble to hide. Instead, he continued to moan, getting louder as Taehyung sped up, tongue licking up the side of his neck whilst his eyes remained on Yoongi.
“H-harder – fuck me harder – I need it, baby – “ Jimin whined, clawing at Taehyung, until the younger forgot they had another presence in the room and ground him into the bed, fucking into him with an aggression that sped up Yoongi’s hand on his cock. Jimin’s legs shook as they flailed up, toes curled, and his small hands grabbed at Taehyung’s ass, helping him to penetrate, to impale himself on his cock each time.
Taehyung heard the groan Yoongi let out, and looked back over his shoulder once, face registering shock. But before he could do anything else, Jimin twisted it back and kissed him, hips thrusting and circling, ass swallowing his cock to the hilt. When he broke apart, he cried out “Fuck!” head hitting the mattress and Taehyung forgot all about Yoongi.
They fucked until they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore, a mixture of drunkenness and exhaustion. Yoongi came in near silence save for a quiet grunt, before he slumped back into the beanbag chair and fell asleep.
“Did I hallucinate him watching us?” Taehyung muttered, once their pants were back on and they were on the bed properly.
“He was watching. He might have thought he was dreaming though. He didn’t try to say a word,” Jimin giggled, still tangled up in fairy lights.
Taehyung turned to look at him, a blissful smile on his face, and then dipped his head under a string of them, pushing his face under Jimin’s shirt to rest it in his stomach. “I like that you have a little tummy fat now. Softer pillow,” he mumbled.
“I do not have tummy fat,” Jimin scowled, slapping his shoulder.
“Just a little, right here,” Taehyung said, blowing raspberries on it until the older burst into frantic giggles and pulled away.
Jimin left the bed to hang up the fallen fairy lights, turning off the desk lamp and swathing the room in their cosy twinkle. He clambered onto the mattress, throwing his arms around Taehyung’s neck and a leg across his lap, whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you so much” peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “You smell of cinnamon and sweat.”
“You smell of fairies,” Taehyung whispered back, turning his head to nuzzle him.
“And what do fairies smell like?”
Taehyung gave him a deep sniff. “Like talcum powder, jasmine and bergamot.”
“Very accurate!” Jimin laughed, “Even whilst drunk you have the nose of a bloodhound.”
Sleep refused to be forthcoming, and their attention turned to the nail polish sitting on the night stand. Jimin had a case of it a friend had given him to store at his place whilst she was in the process of organizing things for a new move, and he had recently pulled out a deep purple one to test swatch and match to fabrics (the colour was gorgeous).
“Let me paint your nails,” Jimin muttered, reaching for it.
Taehyung covered his hand and pulled it back, shaking his head with an “Uh-uh.”
“Why not?” his boyfriend frowned. “You paint them when you go onstage.”
“I paint them black.”
“That’s black.” Jimin decided a little lie was no harm, but then he laughed when Taehyung snatched it up and squinted at it under the nearest fairy light. He reached over to pinch Jimin’s cheek, shoving him into the bed, with a “It’s not black!”
“Okay fine! It’s purple, and it’s sparkly and velvety and glittery and you’d look so, so pretty wearing it!” he pouted.
“I don’t want sparkly shit on my nails – “
“Toe nails then?”
“Jimin – “
“Okay, toe nails it is.”
It wasn’t just the toenails of course. The moment Jimin was done with them, Taehyung strangely fascinated by the sight of his toes wedged into separators, he turned big, puppy eyes towards his boyfriend and was answered with a huff and an offering of both hands.
“It dries really fast,” he said fondly, once he’d finished applying the last layer of top coat, and blew across Taehyung’s fingers.
Taehyung wasn’t really listening anymore. He was focused on the windows, dark eyes reflecting the pale glaze of the moon. Jimin quietly set the nail polish back and cuddled up beside him, head tucked against his chest, at ease. Every thud of the younger’s heart kissed his ear, a soft caress, butterfly wings against his ribcage, and Jimin was mesmerised by the rhythm, lost with the rise and fall as if he were on a little boat out at sea. There was no anchor, a love such as theirs remained anchorless, too strong to allow anything to halt and ground it, but it was not a frightening feeling. No matter what happened in the future, whether they split up or remained together, Taehyung would never stay out of his life for long; he could not picture something so traumatic as never having this man around till death made them part.
Of course, at the thought of a break-up, as it always did, Jimin’s soul shrivelled, so he quickly dispelled those thoughts and held onto Taehyung tighter. The younger felt the change in his physical presence and wrapped his arms over him in return.
“Are you comfortable, baby?” he whispered.
“Always,” Jimin whispered back, smiling as he felt Taehyung press kisses to his hair.
The happiness he felt was so sublime, he felt he could cry. But before a single tear could fall onto Taehyung’s chest, sleep finally made an appearance, pulling back the curtains and swallowing Jimin in her warm embrace.
Yoongi did not remember the events of the night before…or at least, he brushed them away as a dream and left the apartment rather speedily. Namjoon and Seokjin stuck around for a while, helping them get everything cleaned up (and taking immediate note of Taehyung’s sparkly purple polish with teasing comments thrown out here and there that he shrugged off with suave indifference). Jungkook had left the night before to go straight to his boyfriend’s place, throw him up against the wall of the hallway and had as much angry sex as they could before one of Hoseok’s roommates walked by unnoticed, grabbed a jug of water and flung it on them (“It’s half two in the morning you horny freaks!”)
Once they had their flat to themselves again, Jimin asked Taehyung what he wanted for lunch, since they’d all woken up closer to noon. “Not bothered,” came the grunted response, and Jimin proceeded to roll his eyes as he figured out new ways to get Taehyung on a healthy-eating streak. The younger simply did not care what he shoved into his mouth on the best of days, and it was painfully obvious when he thought to fill his stomach properly, all he needed were six consecutive packets of ramen. He’d complain about being puffy the next morning, but would do the same thing the next time too. Jimin kept the fridge as well-stocked as he could (considering their expenses) but everything green appeared invisible to Taehyung’s eyes.
“What’s this?” Taehyung said in surprise the moment Jimin put down two bowls on the table before them.
“Nourish bowl,” Jimin said blithely.
His boyfriend eyed the insides of it with hesitance. “Okay. But what’s in it?”
“Don’t look so disgusted. It’s some broccoli, lettuce, chopped up potatoes, olives, edamame beans and look – your favourite chilli sauce drizzled on top because I know what a baby you are about eating healthy food.” Jimin gave him a bright smile and dug into his own.
“But I don’t like broccoli,” Taehyung said in a quiet voice, and Jimin wanted to both smack and kiss him out of frustration – he could so often act like a man child. “Wait, there’s some leftover steak in the fridge, let me add that instead of the broccoli – “
“Kim Taehyung sit your ass down!” Jimin commanded.
Taehyung slowly sank back onto the couch, and with a sullen mutter that sounded suspiciously like “Okay mom” he pulled the bowl forward and began to pick at it. Interesting, really, that he scarfed it down faster than Jimin and was done in five minutes. Another point of contention – he needed to chew slower to feel fuller on less, but Jimin decided that was a lesson for another day.
They had eaten in silence, and though Jimin wasn’t annoyed, not by far, Taehyung still meekly gave out a “Thank you for the food, baby” and kissed him on the cheek before taking their empty bowls to the kitchen to wash them. On his return, he hopped back over the back of couch, as Jimin keeled sideways into his lap, the TV displaying re-runs of Reply 1998.
“What do you think about going away for a week sometime in the future?” Taehyung asked halfway through the third episode.
“Sure,” Jimin hummed, “Though I’d have to figure it out with school after you get back from the tour. Where were you thinking? It’ll probably be wintertime by the time we get to it, is it really worth it?”
“I’ve always wanted to experience a really cold, pretty winter, so why not…Iceland?”
Jimin lifted his head with a laugh. “Iceland? Where did that came from?”
Taehyung shrugged, grinning. “I don’t know, it’s a beautiful place. Besides, Northern Lights season starts in October, and goes all the way through to March. Imagine renting a small cabin and watching the lights through the windows with the fire crackling in the hearth.”
“Oh, you’ve really thought this through,” Jimin kept giggling, kind of enjoying the idea, but not believing with committed certainty that it would even happen. They’d made lesser plans, to visit Kyoto, and those had fallen through miserably. He could not begin to imagine an alternate reality where they managed to carve enough time and energy to go all the way to Iceland.
“Down to where I want to go to watch them. We book a hotel in Reykjavik for a short while, rent a car, go on a road trip and end up in Vik. They’ve got a black beach there – imagine strolling across it and watching the lights cover the northern skies.”
There was a faraway, dreamy quality to Taehyung’s eyes when he spoke of it, and despite himself, Jimin felt his resolve crumble. Whenever the other looked like this, Jimin would have done anything to lay the world in his palms, just to see him continue to look so happy.
“Alright, when the time comes,” he said, sinking back against him. “I’m going to have to start saving up now though.”
“I’ve got a rainy day fund stashed away– I can dip into it and create a Northern Lights fund,” Taehyung said, his deep voice rippling with content.
They were a fortnight into their month of passion, but the “passion” part was starting to fade away some.
It was all well and good having plenty of sex in all kinds of outrageous positions for the first week or so, but eventually, the old routine began to creep in, especially since Taehyung was now beginning to stress out about the approach of the tour and various things going wrong with stage outfits, booking hotels, vehicles, the whole deal. Their manager and company were not prolific or big, so the members themselves had to shell out as well if things went wrong at the last minute.
Jimin on his part was absorbed with touching up the remnants of his presentation whilst having an existential crisis over whether his ideas were too derivative and if he had enough time or will to go over it again and do a complete overhaul.
Needless to say, both were stressed, even in constant close proximity to each other, and as stress is wont to do, they took it out on each other. Arguments broke out over the state of the bathroom after a shower, dishes in the sink, guitar leads on the floor, the volume of the TV speakers – mundane things that they were both afraid of fighting over and yet could not help but to.
It came to a head one Monday afternoon, after Jimin got out of bed to find the skylight left wide open directly over his desk. It had started raining at some point in the night, and it was still going. He dashed to close it, heart hammering as he looked down at his portfolio book lying open. The water had soaked through ten pages, designs distorted. He had not yet managed to colour photocopy them for the copies he would be handing to his professors during the presentation.
Words failed to come.
Taehyung woke to the sound of Jimin screaming at the top of his lungs.
“What?” he exclaimed, eyes wide as he flung back the sheets.
His boyfriend was crouched on the ledge, one hand still gripping the skylight handle, as he shook, face turning red. Dark eyes turned in Taehyung’s direction, making his blood run cold as he saw the mess of the desk and the rain falling outside. In a rush, he remembered waking in the middle of the night to open the skylight up because it was hot; before they’d fallen asleep, Jimin had told him not to, as the forecast was rain.
“Jimin, I’m sorry – “ he began to say.
He got no response, nothing save for a strangled sound and an index finger to make him stop, before Jimin’s hand clenched into a fist. He left the room, fast, before he could blow up on Taehyung and say something he would definitely regret later.
Behind him, Taehyung kept repeating “fuck” as he tried to lift up the portfolio book and water pooled in its spine splashed onto the table. His face crumpled, guilt freezing up his veins, and though he did his best to clean up the rest of the floor with a mop from the bathroom, the real damage was done. He dried the can of pencils individually before fetching the blow dryer and plugging it in. He alternated between the hot and cold settings, unsure which would work better as he wafted it over the pages, eyes still half glued shut with sleep, hair a mess.
Jimn reappeared as Taehyung was realising that drying the pages would not bring back the colour and painstaking line work. The door creaked open and Taehyung looked over his shoulder to see Jimin holding the scraps of a torn open package in one hand and red ropes coiled in a cellophane bag in the other.
“What the hell is this?” he said.
Oh shit. He’d forgotten he’d ordered them with Jimin’s name so the other would get to open the parcel and be surprised. What a fucking day the courier had chosen to deliver.
“Surprise?” Taehyung muttered, guilty to the tips of his red ears as the blowdryer dangled uselessly in his hand.
Jimin looked at it, and then the book which was showing no signs of returning to its original form. He flung the ropes at Taehyung’s head and walked out. There was a silence downstairs, then, the crash of the coat rack, before the front door slammed and he was gone.
“Fucking hell, Taehyung.” He sank against the wall in disbelief at his own folly. Of all the things to mess up –
He had no idea where Jimin had gone, and a few hours later, he knew it was still too soon to ask. So, as he cleaned the house rigorously from top to bottom – Taehyung usually stress-cleaned – he called Hoseok to see if Jimin’s best friend had any ideas.
“Yeah he’s with me,” Hoseok said the moment he picked up.
“Is he okay – “
“No he’s not. He came and cried for a straight hour.”
“God.” Taehyung dropped the brush in his hand and sat down on the floor with a twisting pain in his chest.
He wanted him back, desperately. Jimin rarely cried like that, and he himself could only remember it happening last year, maybe once or twice, one time when he was stressed beyond words with schoolwork, and once when his father was in the hospital after having a small heart attack. But he had not cried because of Taehyung in a very long time, and even those periods, Taehyung had been there to at least embrace him before the tears could turn to rage. He preferred the angry fights to the tearful ones. He couldn’t stand to watch Jimin in pain.
“Hey, don’t sound so gloomy,” Hoseok comforted, “He’s better now. We talked about it, and I said I’d help him redo it again, but also, he mentioned wanting to change some things anyway so I suggested it would be a good chance to do that without overthinking it. If we both work on it together, him doing the line work, me colouring, it’ll be finished in a week tops. It’s not like he’s making them from scratch, he has the draft versions.”
“Okay – okay good,” Taehyung breathed out in relief, “I can drive over and bring his laptop and what’s left of the book – “
“That’s okay, I’ll come get them – “
“D-does he not want to see me?” Hoseok’s immediate response flared suspicion in Taehyung, along with the sinking realisation that he had fucked up badly enough that not even a few hours of separation could mend it this time.
“Actually…” Hoseok’s voice trailed off. “Here, talk to him yourself – “ he muttered something, and then there was a mutter back and Taehyung heard Hoseok say, “Look I can’t tell him, this is between you two – “ and his heart fell even further.
But finally –
“Hi,” Jimin’s voice sounded.
“Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m a fuck-up, it was all my fault – “
“Taehyung, it’s alright, mistakes happen, I’m not blaming you.”
His shoulders tightened and then fell as he breathed. “Then can I come over and see you? I’ll bring all your stuff.”
“Tae, I heard Hobi brushing it off like it won’t be a lot of hard work recreating that portfolio book again, but it will. And though I know it’s not your fault, I need to work on it without distraction and finish it. I already feel guilty for him having to help. So…I want to stay with Hoseok for a week to get it done.”
“But – Jimin, this was our – “ Taehyung cut himself off, realising the selfishness about to spring out. He changed his tone, making it soft, and then added, “No, I get it, of course. Stay with him and call me if you need me to get you anything. Like photographs of fabric you need, buttons, ribbons, whatever – I’ll go to Dongdaemun or wherever and match for you all day if I have to.”
Jimin laughed, and though it was a sad, quiet sound, it was still a huge burden off Taehyung’s heart and he smiled, trying to ignore the sadness wrenching his own stomach.
“I will. I love you,” Jimin said.
“I love you too, Jiminnie.”
Only after he’d hung up did it strike Taehyung that Jimin hadn’t tagged on the usual angel afterwards.
The portfolio book wasn’t as good as it was before.
Jimin knew it the moment he flipped through. Hoseok’s colouring was perfection itself, and his own linework wasn’t bad, detailing every last thing on the dresses, the trousers, hats, socks, shoes, everything. But he had cut corners, left out the extravagant colour wheels listing different shades of the same hue, completely pulled out some of the comparison projects between his own work and the work of established designers. It had been something to gain extra credit, not lingered on for too long, but a sign to the professors that he was more than aware of the world he was attempting to breach, and that even in the promotion of his own work, he was not ignoring the contributions before it. The little details helped.
But as Hoseok said, “Plenty of time for that in the theory exam,” and though Jimin was still victim to feeling blue whenever he thought about it, he was tired of poring over it and he was missing his boyfriend and his home.
It had been a feat of massive effort to tell Taehyung he’d be staying away for a week; he knew how much the younger would blame himself, even if Jimin assured him otherwise. The truth was, Jimin did blame him, he was just ignoring it for the sake of being the person he wanted to be, not the one he knew he was. He held grudges, and it had taken him a year to get over the break they’d had where Taehyung had dated other people and he had not. It was a trait he wished he could cut out of himself with a scalpel and though it had lessened over the years, the first flares of grudging obstinacy were as strong as ever.
And yet, like magic, when he stepped through his front door and saw the back of Taehyung’s head where he was crouched watering the plants, Jimin felt it wash away like the tide had crept in.
The door clicked shut and Taehyung turned. For a moment, they did not move or say a word, just looking at each other. Then, Jimin lowered his bag onto the hallway, propping up his portfolio folder against it, and removed his hat. Taehyung straightened, walking straight for him. Jimin didn’t hesitate or blink, arms going up to go around his neck as his boyfriend lifted him up off the ground, pressing him to the door. The apology did not need to be reiterated again. Jimin could taste it on his lips, his tongue, as he kissed him with equal voraciousness, clutching at the solid mass of his body, reluctant to let him go.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered, when they broke apart, his mouth immediately going to scrape up the side of his neck.
“I missed you too,” Taehyung said, muffled, kisses lavished over the back of Jimin’s ear, teeth finding skin.
Perhaps it was the two weeks prior when they had focused on not much else except each other, but normally, removing their clothes in the middle of the day and getting down to it was unusual. Both were too eager to get to the bedroom, and Jimin ended up on the plush rug in the living area as Taehyung moved between his legs, their moans soft and their movements raw and passionate, finding solace.
Now, there were only five days left before they’d be parted again, and the subdued moroseness of separation was settling in.
It was Jimin who broached the topic of the ropes the next evening.
“You’ve never done it before – this isn’t like handcuffs to the bed,” he said.
“I know, but I’ve been reading up and watching tutorials. And I may or may not have had Jungkook come over at one point so I could practice on him,” Taehyung answered.
Jimin pressed his lips together to hold back a smile. “How did he take it?”
“He did not like it too much,” Taehyung nodded, “In fact, he started to make a game of flexing his muscles to see if he could snap out of them. But all that did was ruin the leather jacket he wouldn’t remove first so now he hates me.”
Jimin threw his head back, shoulders shaking with laughter at the thought of Stigma’s youngest straining himself. “Serve him right for being such a muscle pig. But I guess your knots are good then.”
“We don’t have to do anything complicated. Look – “ Taehyung took his arms after turning him around and secured them behind his back. “I can tie them so they come down your arms and end at your wrists.”
“That’s tame, don’t you think?” Jimin lifted an eyebrow.
“What do you mean tame?” Taehyung said, open-mouthed. “You’ve never done shibari before, you can’t jump headfirst into more.”
“They came with a suspension ring, I saw it.”
“Jimin, I’m not doing that – “
“Don’t you want to see me suspended and completely at your mercy?” Jimin grinned, tongue licking out between white teeth. He shrieked with laughter when Taehyung growled and grabbed his cheeks, squishing them between his fingers.
“It’s dangerous,” he said, “And I’m not doing it to you because I don’t trust myself to keep you safe in such a position, not without way more practice. But I know you’d be up for it straightaway, you sexy little fucker – “
“Ha, I missed you calling me that,” Jimin breathed, puckering up his lips for a kiss. “The wars we used to wage on each other when we were angry…”
“Bad times – I was on the verge of being a drunk and so were you,” Taehyung responded, for once being the level-headed one. And yet when he met the glint in Jimin’s eye, he grinned. “But I do remember bending you over the hood of the car on the way to Daegu and fucking you right there on the side of the empty expressway. Imagine being insane enough to instigate an argument in the middle of driving.”
“Imagine being insane enough to see a man getting his brains fucked out and calling the cops to stop the fun,” Jimin snorted, “Though I guess I kind of see why they did it…they had their kids in the back of the car.”
“At one in the morning? They were up to no good,” Taehyung scoffed.
Jimin pulled his arms from his grip, shifting around to face him, and a loaded pause followed. He leaned in for a kiss and Taehyung reciprocated eagerly, hands finding the curves of Jimin’s waist and pressing every line of himself up against him. Outside, the sky was going from a pale blue to a subdued violet as evening began to turn into night, and the lights of the city flickered, fireflies in the dark.
“How do you want to do this then?” Jimin whispered, licking at his tongue in between words. Taehyung’s hand was already at his ass, massaging through the thin shorts and pushing between his cheeks. Every exploration of his fingers made Jimin’s hole tense up against them, his cock already swollen at the base.
It was something else to see Taehyung’s long fingers holding the ropes, and Jimin was on the bed immediately, pulling clothes off, running his hands over his skin as he teased and giggled for the other to come closer. Taehyung was nervous. He’d practiced the knots on Jungkook and done them loosely enough that the other hadn’t complained about numbness or pain (minus his foolhardy attempts at bursting out of them like he was superhuman), but it was different to see Jimin arching on the bed, pretty and flushed, eager for him to begin.
“You have to tell me the moment something feels wrong or you feel anything go numb,” Taehyung reminded him, to which Jimin stuck out his tongue. “Jimin, I’m serious – “
The older propped up his head on his elbow and nodded, more sober this time. “Taehyung, I trust you. You said they were basic knots, and no suspension because you don’t think you can do that yet. I know I’m in the safest of hands.” He leaned up to give him a kiss and then squealed when Taehyung’s hand slipped between his thighs.
Things got quieter when Taehyung finally unravelled the ropes and began. Jimin was subdued, watching him with sweet concentration. He had agreed to have two coils of rope binding each calf to a thigh, and the very first placement of the red against his skin was enough to make Taehyung’s breath catch. Jimin was a lot less still when he finally started, suppressing shivers, which made the other’s head lift in worry every time. But he murmured, “Your hands feel good,” and shook his head when asked if the binding was too tight.
Taehyung began to learn the shudders in his breath and the whimpers were good, and he kept glancing up just to see Jimin squirm the more securely the knots were fastened. By the time he got to the other leg, Jimin was arching off the bed, his cock twitching on his navel, pre-cum drizzled into his bellybutton. The tell-tale tremors that ran through his thigh each time Taehyung stroked it were intense, until finally, the first knot was bound and he suddenly said, “Jimin, are you about to – “
He never managed to finish his sentence, his lover coming untouched then and there. He barely made a sound, a vein in his neck pulsing as he pressed his head back into the pillow, spine lifted. Taehyung breathed out, ragged, as he saw the creamy white painted over Jimin’s abdomen, and lowered his mouth onto his knee. Jimin sank down, laughing shakily, as taken aback as the other, his joy bright.
“Haven’t come untouched in a while,” he panted, moaning a little as his legs shuddered, wanting to unfold, but unable to. “Fuck, this is hot, keep going – “
There was an urgency to his voice, short and intense, and Taehyung said nothing more, continuing to bind the rest of his leg until he was almost done. But on a whim, he suddenly looked up. “I can tie your wrists to your ankles too.”
Jimin’s eyes widened, and he nodded. There was a glazed tint to his expression. He was teetering on subspace already, his cheeks stained pink, and his chest rising and falling as his cock refused to go down. He’d just had an orgasm and he was still hard – the madness it was stirring in his boyfriend was veiled, but in retrospect, Taehyung did not know where he’d gained the patience to untie the ropes at his ankles just to bind Jimin’s wrists with them too.
Once he was done, Jimin tested the ropes experimentally, and the sound he let out was high-pitched, at once soft and pure sin; his pupils were blown, and the inability to do anything at all except rock against the bed, was pushing him deeper into the blissful, empty blank in his mind where he knew nothing and needed nothing except for Taehyung.
He was shaking as he watched Taehyung remove his own clothes, swallowing down whimpers as the lube was uncapped and the mattress dipped under his weight. The vulnerability was unlike anything he’d ever felt before; they’d used handcuffs, silk ties, whatever they could get their hands on for basic restraints, but never ropes and never like this. The knots weren’t even that tight, he could move his calves away from his thighs an inch or so, but he didn’t want to, he wanted to keep them bound. He was spread open, thighs pulled back, hands secured to his legs, nothing but a pleasure toy for the man he adored above everything else, and if there was a colour Jimin could have associated that emotion with, it was a deep fuchsia, traced with decadent purple. It was addictive.
The moment Taehyung started to push in, the very briefest brush against Jimin’s prostate had the smaller twitching his way to another orgasm. Taehyung pushed in deeper, hilt-deep, and Jimin let go, nails scoring his palms as he screamed and screamed and screamed –
All his orgasms in subspace were better than the others, and he was a mess of gibberish as he begged for things he did not understand himself. But Taehyung knew, he always did. His own head was burning up and dizzy, overcome by the sight of Jimin enveloped in sublime ecstasy, but he forced his wits to remain about him, aware for even the slightest signal that the other was in trouble. And yet it was hard when he began to thrust, and the sounds out of Jimin’s mouth stoked the fire that made him want to ruin the older.
With patience he didn’t know he had, Taehyung cupped Jimin’s face, running his hand down his neck, to his chest, soothing his body as it strained against the ropes, against him, all the while measuring each thrust.
“Are you gonna come for me again, pretty baby?” he crooned, and Jimin could only whimper, tears wetting the pillow as he convulsed towards another high.
He whined in the back of his throat, and nodded, eyes opening just enough to peer at Taehyung through glittering, tear-stained lashes. It melted the younger’s heart, even as he tried not to come himself, the tighter Jimin’s walls constricted around him.
But it was impossible, and the first contraction made him stutter, letting out a hoarse “Fuck” as the puckered ring of Jimin’s hole squeezed every ridge on his cock when he pushed back in. Taehyung sank down, hand still braced to the bed, thighs spread against the cushion of Jimin’s ass, and came with him, riding the peak of the wave behind clenched eyelids. He let out a shuddering gasp as he kept Jimin’s body from squirming away, steadying him with a hand on his navel as his orgasm refused to abate. Finally, it took Taehyung pulling out that made him relax some, and by then, Jimin was gasping for the ropes to be taken off.
Taehyung was on it immediately, fingers skilful after plenty of practice undoing the knots, and he questioned him as he did. “Does it hurt? Is something going numb?”
Jimin shook his head, frantic, trying to speak past the buzzing in his head. He managed a “Wanna hold you” that made Taehyung sink into a relieved, breathless laugh, though he worked faster for his baby’s sake. Once they were off, he pulled Jimin into his arms immediately, feeling the smaller cling to him like a koala bear, as if he would never let go.
“I love you so much,” Taehyung muttered into his hair, squeezing him as they sank to the bed, and Jimin refused to let go. “So, so much…”
They drifted into sleep for a few hours, as the night truly set in outside, but around one in the morning, when Jimin woke up for a sip of water from the jug on the nightstand, Taehyung woke with him. Not many words were exchanged before the sheets were ruffled again, and they were cuddling, the cuddles quickly turning into kisses and then more fumbles until Jimin had him inside again. His eyes filled with the light of the stars as he whispered lovable endearments, chest aching with that pure, unadulterated love that often manifested in the early morning or late night – simple and untainted.
It was as if something had unlocked inside him, more potent than before, and he wanted to communicate everything through physicality – words seemed so stuffy. They fell asleep again, until dawn brushed over the sky and Taehyung woke to feel something between his legs. When he mumbled, he heard Jimin giggle from under the sheets and fell back into the pillows with a husky laugh of his own, that quickly trailed off into a moan, a hand reaching down to grip onto his boyfriend’s hair.
Jimin called it his “early breakfast”, drunk with happiness and sheer bliss as he lazed in the sheets and refused to get up. Taehyung couldn’t bear to ruin this rare moment where he was completely carefree and not stressing over something, so he told him to sit tight, ran downstairs like his life depended on it and cooked them both breakfast. It was again one of those pretty breakfasts, with toasted buns, sugared cream and jam, a bowl of cut fruit, as well as a mug of coffee for Jimin and tea for himself.
It was a week day but it was their holiday, and neither found any fault in spending hours in the bed after breakfast was over.
It was happiness in its purest form, to put on a movie on a laptop tucked against the foot of the bed, and not watch a minute of it because they’d rather be wrapped up in each other.
As most good things do, the month finally came to an end in three days.
On Sunday, Stigma performed in Seoul as the kick off to their tour, and the very next day they were set to leave for a performance in Incheon. Following on from there, the nationwide tour would last the best part of two weeks, and then onto Japan and then Hong Kong, with a few tour stops added in Taiwan and one in Singapore thanks to popular demand and a last minute rush by management. It did not take long to set up the stage for them, their entourage was small, so the haphazard manner of extending the tour was seen as beneficial to the band’s publicity in the end.
It did however mean longer durations spent without Jimin, and though Taehyung usually kept a professional mindset when it came to Stigma, he felt his stomach turn a few times as he packed that Sunday night. Jimin had been unnaturally cheery throughout the show and the afterparty, but Taehyung knew when he was faking for the sake of it. They were both reluctant to sever the physical connection, considering how cathartic it had been to be around each other for a whole month with minimal interruption (save for the disaster of a week Taehyung had accidentally ruined Jimin’s portfolio book).
“All done?” Jimin asked, walking into the bedroom.
Taehyung forced a grin as he stood up, pressing down on his suitcase with his boot. “Yeah pretty much.”
Jimin’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and Taehyung’s grin turned sheepish. He should have known better than to try to hide his true emotions from the other. He sank into the embrace Jimin lavished on him, burying his face into the shoulder of his soft fluffy jumper. He always smelt so good, of perfume and fabric softener.
“You’ll be back before either of us know it,” Jimin said quietly, more as if he were trying to reassure himself than his boyfriend. “We’ll both be so busy, this month will pass by in a blink. And when you come back, I’m going to shower you in so much pampering and love, you’ll get sick of it.”
“Fuck no – never – “ Taehyung growled, squeezing him tighter. “I could never get sick of anything to do with you.”
Jimin laughed, a clear sound, and stroked his fingers through the curls of his hair, kissing his ear. “Yeah well, I’m going to be all the way with you even as you tour. That sex toy you bought for me is still in its case waiting to be used. What else is video chatting for, hm?”
“Don’t make me horny, not when I’m too busy being depressed at the thought of leaving you,” Taehyung joked lightly, before pulling back and clasping Jimin’s face between his own. He played for a bit, squishing it together, forcing him to pout his lips and chuckling as the smaller whined in protest. “It’s not even the sex – I’m going to miss just watching you and feeling you near and around me. Cuddling you to sleep at night, hugging you from behind to catch you by surprise, kissing you when the urge takes over – when I want to kiss you whilst on tour, video chatting won’t be enough.”
“I know,” Jimin pouted, leaning up to press a kiss on his mouth. “But we’ve done it before, we can do it again.”
“Never for this long though. It could extend beyond a month.”
“You’ll see me in between for a short while. I’m coming with Hoseok for the Busan show, remember? You have a few days then before you leave for Japan, right? We don’t have to leave the hotel, and I won’t let a single scrap of clothing touch my body.” A smile spread on Jimin’s face, full of mischief, and he leaned up to tease Taehyung’s earlobe with his teeth. “I’ll be master’s little plaything all day and all night…and I’ll bring the ropes too.”
“Jimin,” Taehyung said, and there was a hint of warning in his voice. But Jimin wouldn’t stop, arousing him with that velvety drawl of a voice as it listed off all the nasty things they had yet to indulge in.
It had the desired effect as Taehyung forgot about his sadness, and lifted Jimin up off the ground, his boyfriend screaming with laughter.
They barely got a wink of sleep that night – the next day the others noted this in Taehyung’s grumpier than usual behaviour – but it was worth it. Together, just the pair of them, with no outside influences or interruptions, it was always worth giving up everything, including sleep.
The month they’d spend like this, taught them something.
Even after ten years, the reluctance to part was strong, and the sex was still passionate. And though sometimes the fire simmered down, thespark would never die, not as long as there was a Jimin for Taehyung and a Taehyung for Jimin.
In a world such as this, who could ask for more?
Both comments and kudos very much appreciated!