Work Text:
mood: higher love – james vincent mcmorrow
Waking up together wasn’t the first pattern they built. The first, more than likely, was their love to bicker. The second was probably their tendency to talk simply through glances and smiles. Many others came after. Habits built for just the two of them. But waking up together very quickly became the pattern Jimin looks forward to the most. If he could, he’d start everyday like this. He’s already getting pretty close.
He smacks his lips, and they brush against soft skin. Tendrils of golden sandy hair tickle against his nose.
Taehyung likes to be held when he sleeps. Jimin pulls him closer.
He knows he shouldn’t draw the morning out. He should unwrap his arms from Taehyung’s waist and sit up. He should wrench open the curtains, and when the sudden light is let in, they should both squint their eyes at the wake up call. There are all these shoulds. They are actions that, if Jimin took them, would probably make mornings like these easier for him to understand. Yet he does none of them. He’d rather be ridden with all the questions brought by waking up next to Taehyung.
He sighs as he lets his eyes flutter open, giving half a smile to the lining of gold around the window, shimmering where the sunlight is dying to push through. His eyelashes dance on Taehyung’s bare shoulder, where his worn, loose shirt has slipped down. Jimin sinks further into the bed. His hand dips beneath fabric to touch Taehyung’s soft belly. He draws out the minutes in the dark before they have to drag themselves up and out.
Jimin doesn’t know when it started happening. He doesn’t know when waking up became something they did as one – something they did together – instead of separately. It used to be that mornings happened to Jimin on his own. He’d bump into Taehyung in the hallway or the kitchen, after sleep had left his body. Now they start their days with their bodies intertwined. They blur morning and night together. Jimin is finding it harder and harder to understand what it means that he wakes up like this.
He fails to stifle a yawn, and even though he’s quiet, it gets Taehyung to stir. It’s funny, really, how Taehyung sleeps like a bear yet only awakens to soft things. He’ll sleep through the loudest clamor and the most incessant alarm, but sweep a soft palm across Taehyung’s forehead and he’ll wake in an instant.
“Mmh, Jimin-ah,” are Taehyung’s first words of the day. “Are we late yet?”
“Not yet,” Jimin replies softly, touching Taehyung’s hip. “Soon, probably.”
They aren’t headed to the same place, but like most parts of their lives, their schedules have fallen into sync without them even trying.
Taehyung’s voice is low and rough in the morning. His words are muffled into the pillow, but they’ve woken up together so many times that Jimin has developed a keen ear. He’s able to understand Taehyung even when he only catches every other word coming out of his mouth.
“Soon, as in I should get up right this second, or soon meaning I can lay here and look at your pretty face for a while?” he asks.
Jimin flushes, pressing his forehead into Taehyung’s shoulder. He should be used to this by now. He dishes out sweet words like that to Taehyung even more than it’s given back to him, but sometimes it still takes him off guard. It still makes his stomach swoop and tighten – especially after nights where they fall asleep together.
“You aren’t even facing me,” Jimin quips.
“I know,” Taehyung replies. He presses his shoulder blades more firmly against Jimin’s chest. His body is big and broad, and his voice is clearer now. Louder. Just as deep. “I’m waiting for your answer, Jimin-ah. If I turn around before you let me know how late I’m running, then I’ll get distracted. I can’t look at you without having adequate time to take you in. Beauty like that deserves time.”
Jimin groans a little bit and laughs. Taehyung is always theatrical like this, and he is always sweet to Jimin, but it’s like spring has come in Jimin’s belly and butterflies are soaring up toward his ribs. But he can’t afford to be distracted, not after an invitation like that. This is another habit. One with origins that Jimin isn’t quite sure of. One day, they just started doing this. He and Taehyung have a game they play, one where they become other versions of themselves and talk as if they’re from parallel universes. Jimin knows this is his cue.
They’re like actors from a drama, characters from a novel. Together, they bring every world to life.
He lowers his voice to something solemn and warning. “Don’t you know that the longer you stare, the further you fall under my spell? Watch out, Taehyung-ssi, my magic is powerful. You might be better off keeping your eyes to yourself.”
Taehyung clicks his tongue, still facing the wall. Jimin realizes that he’s still touching Taehyung’s belly, almost absently. He’s tracing Taehyung’s ribs, his waistband. He feels the way Taehyung talks through every place their bodies touch.
Taehyung hums a little bit. Jimin knows that means he’s thinking, but if anyone else were listening in on their conversation, they’d think him to be perfectly in character.
“You think I don’t know?” Taehyung counters. “I’ve been a witch hunter for more than a decade. I’ve devoted my life to this – I know strong magic when I see it.”
Jimin croons. He lowers his voice to a whisper, and into Taehyung’s ear, he says, “Then if it wasn’t love at first sight, why haven’t you killed me yet?”
Taehyung moves suddenly, rolling out of Jimin’s grasp and swiftly pinning him to the bed. He settles on Jimin’s lap and places both hands on his shoulders. Staring down, Taehyung’s hair falls into his face. It’s unruly and wild, golden and curly. His eyes are wide and devilish. Even though Jimin’s pulse has quickened with anticipation, he knows that Taehyung probably can’t see a thing without his glasses in the morning, so he smiles to himself – a little endeared by Taehyung’s dedication, not giving in to the urge to squint.
But Jimin’s thoughts don’t stray for long. Taehyung leans down further and presses his thumbs into Jimin’s skin. Ominously, he murmurs, “I like to study witches before I kill them, Jimin-ssi. How do you think I got so good at my job? I have to learn you.”
One of his big hands trails sharply along Jimin’s collarbones. Jimin’s boneless fatigue from waking up has left him. Suddenly he’s alert, so aware of his body and the way he’s held beneath Taehyung. Jimin stares at him before replying wryly, “Oh, but it’s been a long time already, hasn’t it, Taehyung-ah? You seem to know me pretty well. Maybe you just don’t want to admit that you’ve fallen for me. You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung whispers. He cards one hand through Jimin’s messy, inky hair. He presses his thumb to the corner of Jimin’s jaw. His eyes dart around a little bit, like he’s trying to decide what to say next – Jimin can hardly tell what their characters are at this point. “Maybe I’m waiting it out, trying to decipher if this is magic, or if it’s love.”
Jimin’s breath catches in his throat. This is where the lines always blur. “Can’t it be both?” he asks.
No answer comes, for they’re interrupted by an alarm blaring from Jimin’s phone. He gropes around in the sheets to pick it up and shut it off, and on top of him, Taehyung groans loudly before bursting into giggles.
He hangs his head, whining, “No, that one was so fun! Stupid alarm.” It feels like their role playing is always cut short by something. They rarely ever finish a scene. Their characters seem to come and go as they please, sometimes appearing just for one line, one flourish of drama.
Jimin’s heart is still racing. He huffs, “ Now we’re gonna be late.”
Taehyung sighs, and from his place in Jimin’s lap, he leans down to laugh some more, right into Jimin’s neck. With their chests pressed together and his exhales warm on Jimin’s skin, he says, “Ugh, I’d rather stay where and play with you. You’re the best, Jimin-ah. You’re the only one who can keep up with me.”
“Don’t get it twisted, Taehyung-ah,” Jimin chides. “ You’re the one keeping up with me. ”
Taehyung lifts his head with a cocked eyebrow, and they both share a devious, competitive little grin before they burst into joint laughter. Any bubble of anxiety or anticipation fades away. It’s so much easier not to worry with Taehyung. It’s easier not to think too hard. It’s more natural, even, to simply know that this is the way they are – so close that half of their words are unspoken, full of the kind of love that Jimin has convinced himself there are no words for at all.
At least, that’s the best excuse he can give for not saying anything. His best excuse for not asking questions. Things aren’t so bad just as they are.
Jimin’s day is not quite like the dream he’d woken to. For all of the beauty of waking up with Taehyung pressed to his chest, for all of the soft giggles they’d shared, today it leaves him on edge. After they’d finally gotten up, the two of them spent even longer getting ready. Taehyung had padded down the hallway and begged Jimin to pick him the perfect sweater, and by the time they stopped giggling into each other’s shoulders, they were far later than either of them could discount. There was no time for Jimin’s coffee or Taehyung’s tea, and from the moment Jimin arrived at his office, he was already exhausted.
Messy musings rattle around in his brain, more so than usual. Taehyung is always on his mind, but he’s usually not unsettled by those thoughts. It’s not that Jimin hasn’t always been aware that they’re different. Of course they are. Of course he knows that. It’s only now that he’s starting to ask himself why all this wondering about them has never amounted to anything. All those unasked questions feel louder than ever.
This is the backdrop to his day at work. Already on edge, it feels like everyone around him is pushing him closer and closer to a breaking point. In the office, too many people ask too many questions, and no one seems satisfied with his answers. Part of him knows it must be in his head; the space between his temples feels wound tight from the way he’s worked up. He drags almost all day.
mood: i’ve got you under my skin – frank sinatra
When he gets home, he’s nearly at the end of his rope, but he swings open the front door to his apartment to the sight of dreams. If not other people’s dreams, then certainly his own. There’s Taehyung, sitting upright on their worn grey couch. His eyes are closed, and he’s humming softly. There’s yellow oil paint smeared over his eyebrow, and Jimin reckons he probably doesn’t even know it’s there. Its color brings out the gold tones in his hair. Taehyung has been teaching art for over a year now – to adults in the mornings and to kids after school – and it shows beyond just the paint on his face. He doesn’t know if Taehyung has ever been happier.
His slacks are covered in paint too, but Jimin knows he likes them like that. Somehow, Taehyung’s pretty white sweater that Jimin helped him pick this morning doesn’t have a single stain on it. The fact that he had a good day is written in his expression, and he starts to sing loudly to the old American jazz playing from a record spinning in the corner of the room.
His eyes snap open as soon as he sees Jimin looking tired and weary at the door, and he stands in a hurry, ignoring the takeout in bags on the table. Instead he crosses the room to greet Jimin at the threshold, and he does a bow like he’s greeting a king, hinged at the waist, an arm crossing his torso.
When he stands, he cocks an eyebrow, and he looks so handsome that Jimin almost fails to notice that Taehyung is offering him a hand. He’s tall and beautifully statured. It will be so easy to fall into his arms. Jimin glances at him for a moment, taking in his sharp nose and warm gaze, his pretty lips and the stubble at his jaw. Looking at Taehyung looking at him, his feet suddenly hurt a little less.
“May I have this dance?” Taehyung asks.
Jimin warns carefully, “Taehyung, I’m tired.”
Taehyung wiggles his fingers and smiles, always looking so dashing, so charming. “Oh, but music is good for the soul, Jimin-ah,” he says in his deep voice. “So is dance. Don’t worry, I’ll support you.”
And how could Jimin say no? He brushes their fingers together just to get a glimpse at the touch before he starts to shrug off his suit jacket. Taehyung is behind him in an instant, bringing his fingers underneath the shoulders of Jimin’s blazer to help him take it the rest of the way off. As Jimin toes off his shoes, Taehyung hangs his jacket, and just as Jimin is about to reach for Taehyung’s hand again so they can dance, he’s stopped by fingers at his collar.
Taehyung has come to stand in front of him now, and he’s latched onto Jimin’s tie, his deft fingers working gently at the knot. “I don’t think you need this, either,” he murmurs, his head tilted.
Jimin feels Taehyung’s breath on his cheek. Taehyung lifts the tie over his head and hangs that up, too. His fingers come back to Jimin’s collar to undo the top few buttons of Jimin’s pale blue dress shirt, and when he’s finished, he smooths his hands over Jimin’s chest. His fingers brush along Jimin’s bare collarbones. His touch is gone too soon.
“There,” Taehyung says in a low voice. “That’s better.”
And he takes Jimin’s hand again.
They start slow. Taehyung pulls Jimin into the middle of their tiny living room, and the first thing he does is pull Jimin close to his chest. Jimin lets Taehyung spin and dip him. Their footsteps are practiced to the sweet sounds of jazz, recalling what they’d learned from the one time Taehyung dragged them to a paid jazz dance lesson. With his hand on Jimin’s back, Taehyung leads them around the room. Jimin holds onto his strong shoulder with delicate fingers, and they laugh as they dance.
Taehyung is dazzling. He’s so clearly happy. His eyes are big and bright, and his smile stretches wide. He sings along to every word of the song and hums to the sound of the brass – it’s so clear how much he loves this music. It makes Jimin want to learn the lyrics, too.
As they twirl about the room, Taehyung asks, “How was your day?”
“Ah, exhausting,” Jimin mumbles. The song changes as he speaks, and the next melody that flows through is much slower. They slow with it, just rocking back and forth. Jimin drops his forehead to Taehyung’s shoulder. Dancing continues to come naturally to them.
“Well, darling,” Taehyung begins in a slow drawl, “you’re in for a treat. I got dinner on the table, and there’s not a thing for you to worry about.” He talks like they’re back in time, like they’ve traveled to some other era and they’re some other versions of themselves. For a moment, it feels like it. Jimin isn’t sure if they’re playing or not, but he doesn’t really care. They could be acting, but either way, he knows Taehyung means what he says. Right now, he knows the blurred lines mean nothing.
“Oh, aren’t I just spoiled rotten?” Jimin replies, lilting his voice.
“You might be–” says Taehyung. He dips Jimin again, right there in the middle of his sentence, and they lock eyes. Jimin can’t stop his smile, gazing at Taehyung’s glistening eyes behind his unruly hair. “–but you deserve it. Now let’s get you off your feet. I’m sure you’re hurting.”
Jimin’s head spins a little as he’s pulled upright, but Taehyung guides him to the couch with a hand on his waist the entire way there. Sitting, Jimin tucks his knees to his chest and immediately leans into Taehyung’s side, letting his head fall to Taehyung’s shoulder once again.
“Why are you exhausted?” Taehyung asks softly. He knows that there was something off about the day, but Jimin should have seen this coming. They can always tell, with each other. It’s knowledge that comes only with a glance. Taehyung knows, as if it’s something in the sound of Jimin’s voice or in the sheen of his eyes. “Anything in particular?”
“I just had a rough start to the day–”
“No coffee,” Taehyung interjects rightly.
“Mm,” Jimin agrees. “And then it felt like I was pulled in a million directions. And it’s the middle of the week, so I don’t know. I’m tired. Sometimes I feel like I can never do what people ask of me.”
Taehyung wrinkles his brow. He places a hand on Jimin’s knee. “But Jimin-ah, you always do more than enough. You’re above and beyond.”
Jimin flutters his eyelashes playfully. “Your hero?’
Taehyung swoons, sweeping a hand over his eyes and leaning back dramatically on the couch. “Captain Korea Park Jimin, saving lives and stealing hearts. And God, when you see his abs – you can’t help but fall for him.”
Jimin giggles. Taehyung so seamlessly falls into the role of a fan, but he assumes that probably has something to do with the way they binge watched My Hero Academia a few weeks ago. “I don’t know about saving lives,” Jimin says, still teetering on the edge of the hero character.
Taehyung tuts. “I bet if people who knew me before I met you, met me now, they’d definitely agree that you rescued me.”
Jimin gives in. He leans closer. “Why, because I pulled you from a burning building? Saved you from a villain?”
Taehyung clicks his tongue again. “ And you signed me an autograph. An absolute hero for the ages.”
Jimin laughs again, harder now. He falls halfway into Taehyung’s lap, tittering into his own hands. Taehyung throws an arm around his shoulders and rubs his back. They’re not really that deep into it. Right now, they’re just saying whatever without thinking about it too hard. They’re not taking on roles or diving into some other world, but their game managed to emerge anyway, even if they’re not committed. A hero and his fan, laughing on the couch together.
As soon as Jimin’s laughter subsides, Taehyung flips the switch again. His eyes grow concerned, and he asks, “Was there anything else?”
Right. His day. His mood. His sleepy eyes. That’s what Taehyung is asking about.
He takes a moment to consider it. Jimin knows he could probably be honest. He could probably lay out the million questions that ping-ponged back and forth in his brain all day. He could ask and ask and ask, and Taehyung would listen. He could reach out, take Taehyung’s hand, and sigh – knowing that his once-pressed shirt is wrinkled by now, knowing that there are dark circles under his eyes, knowing that he looks nothing like a hero, or a witch, or the perfect husband coming home after a long day at work. Knowing all that, he could dare to ask: do you love me like this?
Do you love me like I love you?
But he waits. He has a headache settling in that he knows food will fix, and he’d much rather have a clear head for whatever might come from that conversation. Part of him has already decided that it will be tonight. Tonight will be the night he finally asks, is just Jimin alright? Just me, like this, exhausted and wanting to hold your hand? All of him aches for the answer, but patience has never been a problem of his.
Jimin shakes his head, says, “Nothing in particular,” and they eat. Taehyung pulls a half-empty bottle of white wine from the fridge, and they dine on Jimin’s favorite takeout, right there on the couch. Taehyung’s pretty music keeps spilling from the record, and the city twinkles outside their window. It’s a peaceful meal, mostly spent in silence. All their gaps are filled as Jimin listens to Taehyung’s soft hums and the words he sings along to in English, lyrics about love and the moon that even Jimin thinks are worth dreaming about.
When they’ve finished, they move their wine glasses to the sink and their containers to the garbage, and they find themselves back on the couch.
“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs.
Taehyung just boops his nose and grins like Jimin is being silly for even saying so. “I always finish work earlier than you on Thursdays,” Taehyung says. “You’ll always come home to dinner, unless I decide to take you out.”
Jimin grins and giggles. There are moments like this one where Jimin is not quite sure if Taehyung knows exactly how lovely he is. Are things like this just natural to him? Does he know he’s as bright as the first purple crocus in the snow? His eyes are curving with happiness as he looks at Jimin, and his hair falls perfectly by his eyes. When a smile forms on his face, it’s like the sun bursting through clouds for the first time on a grey day. Jimin thinks he must taste like sweet summer tea – mint and sugar.
“How were the kids today?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung’s smile grows impossibly bigger. He stretches his arms out before laying down, resting his head in Jimin’s lap to talk to him like that. “They were great. We played a game where we pretended we were in space. First we sketched out some aliens just for a fun exercise, but the real project we started today were paintings of planets and stars.”
“You always come up with the most creative projects for them,” Jimin says. Almost unconsciously, his hands slip into Taehyung’s hair to play with his curls. “Did you tell them about our plans to move to the next galaxy?”
Taehyung’s eyes widen in feigned shock. He fumbles around for one of Jimin’s hands to squeeze it urgently. “Of course not, Jimin-ah, we haven’t finished drawing up our plans for the spaceship! I wouldn’t want anyone to beat us there. Those kids are smart, they could definitely foil our plans. We have to be stealthy about this.”
Jimin laughs dreamily. He twists a tendril of Taehyung’s hair around his finger and does his best not to sigh when Taehyung lets go of his other hand. “I think we’ll do well in the stars.”
“I think so too,” replies Taehyung. He lowers his voice. “But I think I’d like to be alone there with you, so forgive me for keeping secrets.”
“Oh, I agree,” Jimin says. “I don’t even want you to be sorry.”
“Mm,” hums Taehyung, fluttering his eyes shut. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
Jimin doesn’t know where to go from here. That’s the thing about the game he and Taehyung play. He knows certainly, undoubtedly, that Taehyung is always listening. But still, Jimin’s self-doubt gets the best of him at times, and every so often he has to wonder if his words will always be taken the right way. Will Taehyung hear them for what they are, or will they become the fodder for another scene, for another fantasy? If Jimin gave him his heart, if he asked for them to collide – would it be real?
Sometimes he thinks it would be so easy for his words to just get lost up in space, littered in amongst stars.
But he doesn’t blame Taehyung for any of this. He knows Taehyung has all the same problems. Jimin himself is just as much at fault, because this is his game as much as it is Taehyung’s. He’s the first to grab Taehyung by the hand in the middle of the street and take off into a dash, pretending they’re running for their lives. He’s the first to stop them in the middle of a rainstorm and ask Taehyung to dance like they’re long lost lovers. He’s the first to bow and brandish a sword from midair, challenging Taehyung to a fight to the death.
Yes, the onus falls onto them both, but Jimin wonders if all the worlds that they have constructed are stopping them from going further in the real one.
This morning, they were clearly in love. A forbidden romance, between a witch and his hunter. And what about now? What about these moments, the mundane ones after their dance is over and they’re just sitting on the couch, bellies full and eyes tired? What if Jimin asked if he could have him? Would Taehyung say yes, as he is, right here?
Jimin wants to have and be had. Just like this.
Taehyung once said to Jimin that he tells his students that there’s no question unworthy of being asked. He once told the same thing to Jimin, too. His eyes are still closed where he lays on Jimin’s lap, so Jimin scratches his scalp and touches the little freckle on the end of his nose.
When Taehyung looks at him, Jimin asks, “Taehyung-ah. Have you ever thought about us?”
Taehyung is a little sluggish in his response. He’s sleepy now, Jimin can tell. He blinks twice. “Hm?”
There may be no question unworthy of being asked, but Jimin knows there are certainly better ways to phrase this. “We’re… different, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are,” Taehyung answers. He smiles, always assuming the best in Jimin. “But different from what?”
Jimin winces at his own poor wording. Taeyung’s attention is unwavering. “Have you ever thought about if we collided?”
“Collided?” Taehyung repeats. There’s no furrow between his brow. He doesn’t seem confused, only like he’s making things clear.
“If we fell into each other,” Jimin explains. Fell like stars. Crash landed onto earth. Met each other head on.
Jimin doesn’t have the right words for this. He can only hope that Taehyung understands.
“I–”
“I mean,” Jimin cuts him off, “if I learned down and kissed you.”
Taehyung’s straight face falters a little bit. His breath catches in his chest. His eyebrows move up his forehead. “Of course I have,” he breathes.
“But if I did, would it be me?”
Now Taehyung is confused. He shifts his head on Jimin’s thigh to look at him more directly. “Jimin-ah, I don’t understand.”
Jimin laughs nervously. “Sorry,” he says. He fiddles with his hands in his lap. His fingers skirt by Taehyung’s temple. Maybe his thoughts don’t make as much sense aloud. Their actions have always spoken just as loudly. “Can you just… Can I? And then we can–”
“Darling,” Taehyung exhales, “just kiss me.”
mood: beauty & essex – free nationals
The first thing Jimin does is touch again. His small hand seems to fit perfectly as he cups Taehyung’s face, and he moves his thumb along Taehyung’s cheekbone. Jimin can’t help but stare. Taehyung’s eyes are beautiful and expectant, hazel behind his contacts and moving in slow blinks. Jimin takes it all in, and then he leans down to kiss him. Parts of this are familiar, like the kisses they’ve come close to before, like their pecks on the cheek and on the lips – but this is their meteor strike. Their crash and fall.
It strains his neck and his back to fold over his own lap like this, but those feelings seem unimportant next to what comes of it. He tilts his head so their lips meet just right, and they don’t hesitate. They’ve never held back with each other. Jimin clutches Taehyung’s face with both hands, inhales, and lets their mouths meet.
His next thought is that he wants to just fall into Taehyung. He wants their bodies to line up the same way their minds always do.
The first few kisses are soft and chaste. Jimin kisses him and pulls back, then kisses him again. He gets a feel for Taehyung’s soft lips and the way they move together, tasting the sharp sweetness leftover from the wine on Taehyung’s mouth.
Taehyung makes a quiet sound against Jimin’s lips, then an exhale. It’s a restart, breaths saying to Jimin again, again. Jimin goes to kiss him deeper. He wants to part Taehyung’s lips and savor him fully, to get the taste of summer that Taehyung is made up of; Jimin wants to drink in his thunderstorms and his sweet berry flavor, red and ripe as if strawberries are hanging right at the edge of his pursed lips. But when Jimin’s tongue pushes against the seam of Taehyung’s mouth, there’s a pause.
“Hang on,” Taehyung murmurs. He touches Jimin’s face gently and leans into Jimin’s palm, brushing his lips along Jimin’s lifeline. It’s Taehyung’s way of saying not to worry, that he’s not going anywhere.
He sits up carefully and crawls onto his knees to seat himself in Jimin’s lap. With his legs straddling Jimin’s waist, it feels not too unlike the way they were in bed this morning. Taehyung stares at him the same way, always with those wide, loving, curious eyes. The differences are subtle. Taehyung’s pupils are blown a little wider. He smells like the remnants of his perfume that he’d rubbed on his neck this morning, after they’d gotten out of bed. That little paint smudge still tracks over his eyebrows. But his hair is just as unruly, and their bodies are just as close.
“There,” Taehyung says, voice swelling with fondness. “Now I can look at you… touch you.” He runs his fingers through Jimin’s navy blue hair. His fingertips trace along Jimin’s neck and behind the shell of his ear.
This time, he’s the one who tilts their heads together. He uses his big palm to angle Jimin’s face, and he kisses him like it’s been a long time coming. He presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, the same way Jimin had thought about doing a moment before. Jimin gasps at the contact. He exhales through his nose before he pours his body into the kiss. Taehyung curls their tongues together, wet and hot and drawing up flames where they touch. There are a thousand stories between their mouths.
When they kiss like this, Jimin grows a little desperate. He knows he hasn’t said enough. He hasn’t asked enough questions; he hasn’t double checked exactly who it is that’s sharing this kiss. Yet somehow he’s not scared. Jimin isn’t scared of Taehyung’s answer, but he’s aching to know. He’s aching to kiss Taehyung knowing that he understands exactly what Jimin’s mouth means.
Quiet moans spill from his lips when Taehyung separates their mouths to kiss down Jimin’s neck. Jimin tilts his head so naturally, and Taehyung moves his lips back and forth over his collarbones, right by the very buttons of Jimin’s shirt that he undid earlier.
“Oh–” Jimin whines when Taehyung stops to drag his teeth. He shudders, inhales, inhales. His head falls back against the cushion, and when he remembers to open his eyes, he finds Taehyung staring.
“Aren’t you so beautiful?” Taehyung says. He kisses Jimin’s neck again.
“Tae,” Jimin breathes. He fists his hand in Taehyung’s sweater. “Kiss me again.”
Taehyung obliges, and as their mouths move together, Jimin remembers that there’s a whole body in front of him and not just a mouth. He reaches his hands toward Taehyung’s waistband, first touching the material of his soft sweater and then untucking it from his slacks. Taehyung’s body is hardly uncharted territory for Jimin. They’ve touched each other in love and laughter, in comfort and pain. They’ve even teased each other before, wandered fingertips on each other’s bare skin and sensitive spots.
But this is different, because Jimin doesn’t have to worry about when the end will come. He doesn’t think about not remembering this feeling. If he forgets, he can just touch again.
His hands start at the base of Taehyung’s spine. He wanders up the ridge of his spine and lands all the way at his shoulder blades. Jimin lingers there, tracing over the place where wings sprout on the days they become angels. Taehyung’s skin is hot and golden, and Jimin moans when Taehyung licks into his mouth again. He curls their tongues together over and over again, and when he pulls back, it’s with a bite at Jimin’s plush bottom lip.
Against Jimin’s ear, Taehyung’s deep baritone rumbles, “Jimin-ah, is this what you meant, by falling into each other?”
“Yes,” Jimin is quick to gasp. “Yes, but there’s more.”
Taehyung’s fingers massage softly at the nape of Jimin’s neck. “Tell me,” he urges.
Jimin whines; he knew Taehyung would ask but he hadn’t thought how this conversation might go after they’d been making out. He’s getting hard under Taehyung’s lap, his cock filling between his legs, and even as Taehyung waits for his answer, he stays relentless. His big, deft hands are still moving, and Jimin is overwhelmed by his touch. Taehyung is wandering Jimin like clouds roll through the sky – easy, gentle, taking every shape and telling every story. His hands are like daydreams, undoing a few more buttons on Jimin’s shirt and starting to trace over the slightness of Jimin’s shoulders.
He lifts his thumb to Jimin’s mouth and works a finger over his bottom lip just to watch it pop back into place, and he’s started to roll his hips a little bit, like that’s the way they’re supposed to move together.
Jimin is a little breathless. “It’s just–” he begins. He has to still his own hips and he fights the urge to grind up against Taehyung. “This is me, Taehyung-ah.”
“I know it is,” Taehyung murmurs. He cards through Jimin’s hair.
Jimin bites his lip. “Not a– not a witch.”
Taehyung quirks his lip, like he’s not sure if he should smile or grow somber. “I know.”
“Or a prince,” Jimin insists. When Taehyung starts to smile, Jimin can’t help his own.
“I know,” Taehyung says again.
“Not a swordsman, or a runaway, or a rocket scientist.” He cups Taehyung’s face. Their noses bump. “We’re not in the stars, Taehyung. We’re here. Right here.”
Taehyung stops to kiss him once, hard and short. “I know. Jimin-ah, Jimin, my angel. Those are all you. When we play those games, it’s always you and me.”
He ducks his head to kiss Jimin’s neck again, and Jimin lets out a soft whine, immediately making space for Taehyung. “And it’s okay, when it’s just me?” Jimin says breathily. Taehyung’s tongue is wet on his neck. “I’m – I’m just Jimin, and fuck, I want you so bad, Taehyung. Want you in every way.”
“You,” says Taehyung against Jimin’s ear, “can have anything you want.”
And Jimin believes him. He knows it’s true. He shivers with his whole body. “You feel so good,” he drawls. He didn’t notice when both of their hips started to move in earnest, but Taehyung rocks down onto him, and he bucks up to meet every grind and curve of his body.
As they move, Taehyung reaches for Jimin’s hand and brings it between their bodies, placing it over his hard cock. Jimin’s fingers close over it immediately, feeling his heat, his length. “I want you, Jimin-ah. You. ”
Jimin doesn’t have to say that Taehyung already has him.
He squeezes his hand, and Taehyung’s cock twitches beneath his touch. Taehyung lets out a quiet, strained sound. Jimin smirks. “Hard for me, baby?”
Maybe the transition is too seamless, but Jimin got enough from their brief exchange. They’ll talk more, after, when they’re not aching to touch each other. The answers to all of Jimin’s questions will be the same if they come now or later.
“Mmh,” Taehyung moans, hips gently rocking into Jimin’s palm. His deep voice sounds so good when it’s breathy. “Yeah. Want you to touch me. Wanna make you feel good.”
One of Jimin’s hands wanders back beneath Taehyung’s sweater, and he scratches his nails lightly down Taehyung’s spine. Taehyung’s back arches in return. His eyes roll back into his head. “You make me feel absolutely everything,” Jimin tells him. He hopes Taehyung understands that extends far beyond just touch. “I’ll touch you however you want.”
Taehyung’s pink tongue flicks out to lick at his pretty lips, over his perfect cupid’s bow. “I wanna just… Let’s–” He cuts himself off and talks with his hands instead. His fingers reach out to Jimin’s collarbone again, trailing slowly down his chest until they reach the final few buttons on Jimin’s shirt. He undoes them carefully until Jimin’s blouse is billowing around his waist, and he stares hard at Jimin’s chest, his cut abdomen, the tattoo across his ribs. Then he pushes the shirt down Jimin’s shoulders, and his hands and mouth are everywhere on Jimin’s skin.
His hips start to move again, rutting down harder into Jimin’s lap. His mouth starts at Jimin’s neck and works its way down. When he stops to lick at Jimin’s nipples, Jimin can’t help but gasp and moan into the room.
“Fuck, Tae,” Jimin breathes.
Taehyung grazes his teeth over one of Jimin’s nipples. He pulls away to see it hard and red. “One day I’ll ride you like this,” he says.
Jimin whines, then he laughs breathily, almost in disbelief. In a hushed voice, he asks, “You think about this?” He lowers his eyes.
Taehyung pauses with his mouth right in the middle of Jimin’s sternum. He looks up, serious. “I swear I’ve thought about everything with you, Jimin-ah. I thought you could tell.”
Jimin’s heart picks up speed, punches at his ribs. It feels like his whole chest swells with love. It’s like he hardly has enough space for all he feels toward Taehyung. He laughs again quietly, still breathless. Nothing is funny, but these little sounds come from his mouth to mask his incredulity. He needs to remind himself that all of this is real, here and happening.
With his hand still between their laps, he squeezes Taehyung’s cock again and watches him bite his lip. Taehyung’s length is hard and long in his slacks, hot and begging to be touched. Jimin wants it in his mouth. He wants to take him deep, to taste him, to feel the heavy weight of him full on his tongue.
“I can’t assume what you dream about,” Jimin says coyly, trailing his fingers teasingly over Taehyung’s length.
“Park Jimin,” Taehyung starts. It’s clear that he’s trying to keep his voice low and stern, but all of this seems to be getting the best of him. His voice is a little strained, a little floaty. His hips keep rocking up into Jimin’s hand. “It’s not an assumption if I make it clear. You’re in all of my dreams.”
Jimin tilts his head to fit into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, where he starts to leave wet, hot kisses. “Yeah?” he teases.
“Of course,” Taehyung replies. Jimin kisses over his ear, and that seems to be a weak spot, because Taehyung’s arms erupt into goosebumps. “You’re like a fairy who visits me even when I’m sleeping.”
Jimin grinds his palm against Taehyung’s cock. He wants them undressed. He wants them skin on skin.
“And do I ever touch you like this in your dreams?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung laughs breathlessly. Always shameless, he hardly seems embarrassed, but he does get a little flustered. He moves his hips in slow circles, and now it’s his turn to speak into Jimin’s ear.
“Only when I get lucky.”
“Ohh, I see,” Jimin drawls. He presses a kiss to the corner of Taehyung’s mouth. “I dream about you too, you know.”
“Oh do you?” Taehyung taunts. There’s that expression of his again – that cocky little eyebrow quirked high on his face, the smirk, his dark eyes.
“Mm,” Jimin replies lazily. He starts to work Taehyung’s cock better through his pants. Tracing the shape of it, teasing the head, wondering if there’s a wet spot on his briefs where he’s leaking. He figures he should just find out. “Can I touch you? Take these off?”
“Only if we make it fair,” Taehyung replies. He moves his ass slowly over Jimin’s own hard length, sensual and dirty. “Let me touch you too.”
Jimin smirks at him. “Of course. You know I want you too, right, baby?”
Taehyung clicks his tongue, knowing that Jimin is challenging him a little bit, but he leans back and lets himself go boneless when Jimin surges forward to kiss his neck. Jimin fiddles with the hem of Taehyung’s sweater.
“Can I take this off, too?” Jimin asks softly.
Taehyung answers by simply peeling it over his head. Shirtless and hard, Taehyung is gorgeous above him. His skin is golden and soft, and his shoulders are broad. He feels neverending. Jimin hopes this is.
Between them, Jimin reaches for the fly of Taehyung’s slacks, unzipping them and pulling them down with his briefs. Taehyung doesn’t bother to get up to take his pants all the way off, but he focuses his attention on Jimin instead, taking his cock out and immediately grasping both of their lengths together. When their skin touches for the first time, Jimin can’t help but gasp.
He doesn’t care how unrefined they’re being. He doesn’t care that they’re about to jerk off on their couch instead of falling into one of their beds and taking it slow. He likes it like this. It feels like it’s happening naturally. It’s dry at first, but Taehyung’s cock is long and hot next to his. It feels so good when Taehyung’s big hand wraps around the both of them, even if it’s not yet wet the way they want it. Taehyung’s cockhead is dripping just the way he suspected it would be, and all Jimin can think about is reaching down and taking it into his mouth.
Taehyung runs his thumb over the slit of Jimin’s cock and presses at the bottom of the head. “You were supposed to tell me what you dream about.”
“Was I?” Jimin asks coyly. He reaches out to touch Taehyung’s chest and arms, feeling his soft skin and all the warmth that was trapped beneath his sweater.
“Well, I wanted to know,” Taehyung admits. He tightens his fist but doesn’t drag too hard. Jimin bumps their hips closer together, their cocks sliding against each other.
Jimin trails featherlight fingertips over Taehyung’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll save that for later.” He looks down at Taehyung’s big hand gripping both of their lengths. “Just know that this is close enough to whatever you’re imagining.”
Taehyung grins wickedly before he follows Jimin’s eyes. He moves his wrist one more time before loosening his grip and lifting his hand up to Jimin’s mouth. He presses two long, deft fingers to the seam of Jimin’s plush mouth, and Jimin takes them in without question. He laves his tongue around them, making sure they’re nice and wet. It’s not nearly as good as the weight of a cock in his mouth, but it’s better than nothing, so he hollows his cheeks and sucks. He even makes a show of it, bobbing his head the way he would – the way he will – when he sucks Taehyung off. He keeps his eyes trained on Taehyung’s the whole time, watching the way his dark gaze fixates on his lips.
Taehyung moans softly, and his cock twitches against Jimin’s between their laps. When he finally pulls his fingers away, Jimin’s mouth feels empty, but he’s soon distracted by the way Taehyung licks the rest of his palm and closes his hand around their cocks again. He uses the precome beading at the heads to get it even slicker, and then Jimin is whining beneath Taehyung as he tugs on both of their lengths together.
Jimin watches and feels for a little while, leaning back against the couch as Taehyung’s big hand does all the work, but eventually, looking isn’t enough. He wants to touch, too, so between his uneven breaths he gets his own hand wet before bringing a hand to help Taehyung jerk them off.
They’re both dripping and worked up. Jimin imagines Taehyung sitting forward again so he could slip his cock between Taehyung’s cheeks, and when he reaches a hand around to grip Taehyung’s ass and squeeze, Taehyung moans. His fist speeds up, his grip grows tighter. His hand is a little calloused but so practiced in the way he twists his wrist. It feels like he knows exactly what Jimin wants, exactly what Jimin’s body reacts to.
“Taehyung-ah,” Jimin chokes out, feeling his belly already start to tighten.
“Hmm, feel good?” Taehyung asks. His voice is even lower than usual.
“Yeah,” Jimin says. Taehyung’s thumb dips into the slit of his cock, and Jimin pitches forward suddenly, his forehead coming to rest on Taehyung’s shoulder. He moans. “Yeah, it’s just– you stopped kissing me.”
Jimin looks up in time to see Taehyung’s big eyes softening. “Oh,” Taehyung murmurs. He uses his free hand to cup Jimin’s cheek, and he crashes their mouths together.
That’s all it takes for their patience to thin; any composure turns into desperation. Both of their hands speed up, knocking together until Taehyung laces their hands together over their cocks. Taehyung rocks his hips down hard, and he presses his thumb into Jimin’s jaw as he licks into his mouth. The room is filled with wet sounds – their kisses and their hands slick and sliding.
Jimin gets whinier and whinier as he gets close, and when he feels himself about to break, he cries, “Fuck, we’re gonna make a mess.”
“S’okay,” Taehyung groans against Jimin’s mouth.
“Oh, you like it messy?” Jimin asks. Something hot and dark coils in him, the thought of Taehyung with a red mouth and come on his belly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Taehyung pants.
“Then come for me, baby,” Jimin says, watching Taehyung’s face tighten up. “Make me come.”
Taehyung lets out a high whine, managing to say, “Fuck, Jimin, you’re so beautiful,” before his eyes shut and they meet for another kiss. He spills over their hands a few seconds later but doesn’t stop touching either of them until Jimin follows with a shudder soon after.
mood: hey boy – omar apollo
It takes them a while to come to, their cocks messy and softening between them. As soon as Jimin looks down at their bellies and hands covered in come, he shudders all over again, and just to be a tease, he takes Taehyung’s hand and licks and sucks on his fingers the same way he’d done before.
Taehyung groans loudly at the sight of it. “Shit,” he breathes.
“If you like a mess, we have to clean up, don’t we?” Jimin asks, his eyes sparkling.
Taehyung lets out a breath of disbelief and then pinches his own thigh. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Taehyung-ah, this is me just getting started,” Jimin teases.
“For some reason I don’t find that hard to believe,” Taehyung replies. He gets off of Jimin’s lap soon after, tucking his cock away with his clean hand and reaching over to the side table to grab them some tissues. They clean up quietly, and once they’re side by side on the couch again, Jimin doesn’t know how to pick up where they left off.
He feels little love marks on his neck and licks at his swollen lips, but with the afterglow gone, he doesn’t know how to connect what just happened to where they’ll go next.
Luckily, Taehyung makes it easy for him, just as he always does. He reaches for the blanket thrown over the arm of the couch and covers them both, cold without their shirts. Beneath the soft fabric, he lays one hand on Jimin’s thigh and brings the other to the back of his neck, pulling their mouths close to meet in a soft, warm kiss.
“That felt so good,” Taehyung murmurs when they pull back. As soon as the kiss is over, Jimin wants another one. The hand Taehyung had on Jimin’s thigh comes to pet at his belly. “ You feel so good.”
“Ah, yeah,” Jimin says. His face is flushed, and he lifts both hands up to his hot cheeks. “Ahh, Tae.”
“What is it?” Taehyung asks. His eyes are wide and earnest. His face never backs away from Jimin’s, which only makes Jimin’s blush stronger.
Jimin pinches him. “Aish, quit playing it cool. I know you’re flustered too.”
“Maybe a little,” Taehyung admits under his breath. He smiles suddenly, cheeks bunching up round.
Jimin giggles at him, suddenly too fond, overwhelmed for what he feels for the person by his side. “My sweet, cute Taehyungie,” Jimin sighs. “Kiss me again?”
“Anything for you, darling,” Taehyung replies, but he says it in a goofy voice, so Jimin rolls his eyes at him just before they flutter shut. They kiss a few times, mouths and tongues lazy and slow as they curl up beneath the blanket. Jimin finds Taehyung’s hand blindly, and he weaves their fingers together in his lap. He squeezes hard. The feeling is so familiar that it makes Jimin’s chest tight. In the most perfect way, nothing has changed. It feels like they’ve been holding hands since the day they met.
Jimin is not sure how long they spend kissing like that, but eventually, their mouths fall away from each other. In a nervous habit, Taehyung starts to play with Jimin’s fingers under the blanket, tracing over his knuckles and along the length of his pinky and thumb. Gliding his thumb over the ridges between Jimin’s fingers, he says, “I thought about kissing you this morning.”
Without question, Jimin replies, “I thought about kissing you, too.”
“It wasn’t the first time,” says Taehyung.
“For me either.”
“Why didn’t you?” Taehyung asks.
Jimin flushes all over again. Taehyung squeezes his hand. “It sounds silly now, but… I wanted to make sure you knew it was me.”
He’s pretty sure Taehyung understands it now. After all, the lines blur the same way for the both of them.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung murmurs softly. He tucks a strand of Jimin’s hair behind his ear. It hardly helps with the mess that’s become of Jimin’s once-neatly parted hair, but it makes Jimin smile anyway. “I know I said it before, but darling… when we’re playing those games, it’s always you and me. I thought you knew.”
“Well, I did,” Jimin mumbles, still feeling shy. He wets his lips and looks into Taehyung’s eyes. “But it’s easy to get caught up in your head when you’re trying to figure out whether or not you should tell someone that you’re in love with them.”
Taehyung can’t fight his smile, but he’s good at being smooth, so he simply tilts his head and bumps their noses together. “Will it make things easier if I tell you I’m in love with you too?”
“Maybe,” says Jimin, acting cute.
Taehyung knocks their noses together again, kisses Jimin once. It’s so light that it hardly feels like a kiss at all. When he speaks, their lips continue to brush against each other. “You knew though, didn’t you?”
“I did,” says Jimin. He leans back to get a better look at Taehyung’s face. “The same way you knew. But it’s nice to hear it.” He pauses, feeling a little shy in a way he usually isn’t when it comes to emotions. “I love you.”
He probably says those words to Taehyung every day, but they sit much heavier in his mouth this time. Yet they roll off his tongue so easily.
He watches Taehyung’s face swell with an uncontrollable smile. His cheeks rise like the tide, as if Jimin is the moon, pulling him into happiness.
Taehyung grasps Jimin’s hand even tighter. Earnesty pours from him. “In every world, in every life, Jimin-ah. It’s us. Even if we had different names and different faces, I’d still love you.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin exhales, “baby.” Tears sting at the corners of his eyes; emotions always flow too easily from him.
Taehyung smoothes Jimin’s hair again, and then he untangles their hands to wrap Jimin in the biggest, most lopsided hug on their old couch. Against Jimin’s ear, he murmurs, “For the record, I think our witch x witch hunter forbidden love story is pretty romantic. It’s a good trope.”
Jimin nods seriously into Taehyung’s neck. “Oh, I agree.” He ends their embrace to look at Taehyung with a cocky glint in his eye, “So my spell finally worked? Have you fallen for me? They say my magic is pretty strong.”
“I fell for you a long time ago,” Taehyung replies breezily. “Maybe even the moment I met you – the moment I looked at you.” He captures Jimin’s lips in a quick kiss. “It was just as you suspected.”