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Bleeding Black

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It’s not often that Taehyung feels out of his comfort zone. His friends have called him a chameleon all his life—he can blend in anywhere and talk to anyone. But as his fingers turn the thick, laminated pages of the tattoo shop’s collection book, he feels like an imposter. 

Beautiful, intricate drawings and designs fill the pages in dark ink. Lotus flowers, charming snakes wrapped around swords, bleeding moons. There’s a slow alternative rock song playing overhead that Taehyung thinks fits the vibe. It paints everything in soft browns and glowing golds. 

The shop is empty, which brings Taehyung some comfort. Thinks that maybe if someone else were here, they’d see the initials on his upper forearm, just below the bend of his elbow. They’d ask him about it, figuring he’s here to add to what he’s started. And then, like the idiot he is, Taehyung would be obligated to brush over the fact that he’s here to get it covered, not expanded. 

Taehyung holds the book closer to himself, making the tattoo vanish between the fold of his arm. He swears he feels it burning him like it’s eager to melt off his skin as much as he’s anxious to scratch it off. If Taehyung’s honest, he’s waited too long to do this. 

“All set?” 

Like he’s been caught red-handed, Taehyung jumps. Spins around on his heel and clutches the heavy book to keep it from falling. He’s met by wide eyes paired oppositely with a smug grin. Taehyung sees blond hair peeking out under a black beanie, tattoos covering an arm’s expanse, and silver bracelets. 

The man’s eyes are kind despite the light teasing of his tone. Asks, “First timer?”

Taehyung wishes he could say yes. Figures that at least gives him an excuse to look like a deer in headlights. But he reluctantly unfolds his arm, displaying the tiny initials on his skin, and sighs, “Nope.” He purses his lips and says, “Just… hoping I’m not making another bad decision.”

“Ah,” the tattoo artist says, nodding slowly. “Gotcha.”

Taehyung can recognize pity when he sees it. It’s the usual response to his tattoo nowadays. Makes him want to roll his eyes, but the sad looks and judgment are warranted. Only fools get their ex-boyfriend’s initials tattooed on them. Clearly, he wasn't his ex at the time, but still, it was silly—reckless. Taehyung knew the risk he was taking but didn’t care. Safe to say, it’s backfired now. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, closing the book. “Not my finest moment.” 

The tattoo artist lifts an eyebrow. “Drunken night?” 

“Stone sober.” Taehyung laughs bitterly, the words heavy on his tongue. 

Again, he finds himself wishing he could hide behind that excuse. Could tell people he was shitfaced and made a belligerent, rash choice. One that was a blurry, half-memory when he awoke the next morning and had no choice but to live with his actions. 

But the truth is that he got up on a chilly Saturday morning, booked an appointment for noon, and intentionally got the tattoo. Because he’s a hopeless romantic, lovesick, and thought it would be a grand gesture of love. It’s a grand gesture for sure, but it means nothing if the love is no longer there. 

When Taehyung looks at the tattoo now, it just kind of makes him nauseous. 

A careful thumb sweeps over the ink on his arm, rubbing. Taehyung feels his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, making himself stay still. His breath hitches for a moment when the hand squeezes. 

“Tell me you didn’t get this here,” the tattoo artist nearly pleads. 

His hand falls from Taehyung’s arm, but he doesn’t step back. They’re slightly in each other’s personal space, but Taehyung doesn’t mind. He’s a people person, likes being close. 

“No, um,” Taehyung starts, wracking his brain for the name of the shop from before. He comes up empty and settles for: “Got it across town.” 

The tattoo artist sighs in relief rather dramatically. It makes Taehyung smile, but he isn’t too sure why. 

“Thank fuck. It’s too new to be fading this much. I would hate if one of my guys did it. Or even worse—me.” The tattoo artist puts his hand over his heart like he’s trying to calm it. He shrugs at Taehyung and adds, “Good news for you, though, huh? It’s basically taking itself off already. Gonna be easy to cover.” 

It is good news, actually. Taehyung doesn’t know a thing about tattoos, so he was worried it would be tough to cover letters with something else. It brings him comfort to hear it won’t be a challenge to turn this mistake into hopefully something he won’t hate in three months. Taehyung nods, offers a sheepish smile. 

The tattooist tilts his head and says, “Figured it was nearly impossible you got it here anyway.” 

Taehyung blinks. Asks, “Why? Looks that bad?”

“No,” he says back. “Well, yeah. But no. I just… would’ve remembered you, is all.”

Taehyung’s heart does something. Beats a little funny in his chest for a moment. His eyes fall onto the tattoo artists’ lips. They’re plump and pink and pretty and—

“So, any ideas of what you want to get over it?” 

Imaginary fingers snap in front of Taehyung’s face, making him focus. It’s nearly impossible, though. The longer the two of them talk, the harder it’s becoming for Taehyung to ignore that he’s stunningly attractive. Unique features, clear skin, enthralling aura. Something about him is very literally shining—warm alluring, and Taehyung wants to step inside of his light for a little while.

But falling in line with the conversation, Taehyung’s shoulders slump. “No clue,” he admits. 

He opens the book up again, hoping something will jump out at him. But just like the past fifteen minutes, nothing does. Can’t cover his old tattoo if he doesn’t figure out what he’s going to cover it with. 

“It’s a big decision, I get it,” the tattoo artist says patiently. Taehyung realizes then that he likes the sound of his voice. There’s a sweetness blanketing his tone, soft like silk. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says emptily. “Sorry, I’ll—figure something out soon.” 

“No worries.” He winks at Taehyung so smoothly it makes Taehyung wonder if he even realized he did it. Tells him, “I’ll be here when you’re ready.” 

Taehyung doesn’t mean to watch him leave, but he can’t help it. A confidence—a swagger to the way he walks. Like a runway model off-duty, missing the catwalk. Lean legs wrapped in skin-tight black jeans and a heel high enough on his boots to accentuate his calf muscles. His arms sway with each stride—a comfortable, relaxed angle to his shoulders. Tattoos disappear under his shirt’s sleeve, making Taehyung curious about how much of his body is inked.

“Just have a seat in the first chair whenever you’ve picked something,” the artist calls over his shoulder. “Be back in a minute.” 

When he rounds the corner, Taehyung swears he sees a complacent smile resting on his lips, like he knows he’s got Taehyung’s attention. Truthfully, Taehyung’s here to get his ex’s name removed from his body, not to flirt, but… he guesses, considering his circumstances, there’s no crime in doing a little bit of both. 

 

 

The back of Taehyung’s head hits the wall with enough force to make a sound, frustrated. He closes the collection book for the third time and lets it rest on his lap. Begins to contemplate just keeping the stupid initials because he can’t find anything he likes enough to cover it with. 

From across the shop, the tattooist—Jimin, he’s told Taehyung, because he’s been here long enough for proper introductions—smiles at him. Jimin puts down his phone and raises his eyebrows at him in question. 

“Aren’t tattoos supposed to, like… mean something?” 

Jimin shrugs. “Only if you want them to.” He sits up straighter now. “That’s such a common misconception about tattoos. And, I mean, I get it—it’s on your body for life. But, tattoos are meant to be an expression of yourself. It’s art. You can get anything you like, and just for the simple fact that you like it.” 

Taehyung knows that was supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t. Because now he feels like it should’ve been easy. He should’ve been able to pick something half an hour ago. Just close his eyes and point or something. He’s overthinking, and he’s wasting Jimin’s time. 

He stands now, his loafers making soft clicks on the checkered floor. Trading one collection book for another, Taehyung opens it upon the glass countertop and begins flipping through the pages again. 

“I like a lot of stuff in here,” Taehyung says. Flicks his eyes over to Jimin and adds, “You’re a great artist, clearly. I just… don’t know if I like anything enough to keep it on me forever? Sorry. No offense.” 

Jimin laughs. “None taken. Those books are meant to help spark ideas and give references for me. You’re free to tell me an original idea if you want. Doesn’t have to come from the books or anything on the wall.” 

If Taehyung was a little more well-prepared, he would’ve come to the tattoo shop with at least an idea of what he wanted. Sure, he’s booked the last appointment of the night, but he doesn’t want to hold Jimin up any longer than he has to. Maybe he should just close his eyes and point. A dancing elephant won’t look too ridiculous on him. 

When Jimin speaks again, he’s a lot closer, and Taehyung doesn’t remember seeing him cross the room. He’s leaning on the glass countertop, a pretty curve to his back, one ankle crossed over the other. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Jimin prompts. 

Taehyung laughs. An awkward ‘ha!’ type of sound. But when he realizes Jimin’s staring at him expectantly, he blinks and says, “Huh?”

“Tell me about yourself,” he repeats easily, patiently. “Maybe we can figure out something you won’t loathe seeing forever. Or, at least, rule out the things you would?”

Right. That makes a lot of sense.

“Oh. Ye—oh, okay.” 

God, Taehyung usually isn’t this… amateurish when it comes to making conversation. Typically, he’s good at reading body language and social cues. Doesn’t have many awkward moments or misreadings when someone’s speaking. But something about Jimin throws him off his game. Makes him feel clumsy and a bit tongue-tied.  

Questions like these are hard, though. It’s actually such a vague thing to ask. Tell me about yourself. That could mean anything, and maybe that’s the point. But right now, Taehyung can’t think of a single noteworthy fact about himself. Jimin doesn’t care that his favorite color is green or that he grew up in Daegu. 

“I'm not interesting,” is how Taehyung starts, shrugging. But then he realizes how woeful it sounds and adds, “ Tattoo -interesting, I mean. Nothing, like, significant. And maybe that’s the problem.”

As much as Taehyung loves art, he’s twenty-four and has barely given having a tattoo a second thought until recent events. He thinks they’re beautiful, but never really imagined them on himself. Instead, prefers to admire them on the bodies of others. (Like Jimin.) 

Maybe it’s true that love makes people think backward and contorted, because he was sure getting Sungjin’s initials on him was a great idea. Thought it would be cute to look down at his arm every day and think of his boyfriend. Wanted him to kiss it as they made love, and trace it absentmindedly after as they cuddled. Figured there was no better way to show he was committed than to put it on him permanently. 

But Taehyung was committed, and Sungjin wasn’t. Looking at this tattoo every day since has just been a reminder of how quickly two people can break apart. And that many things, like tattoos, are everlasting, but love, unfortunately, is not one of them. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you’re plenty interesting.”

Taehyung laughs again, but it’s smoother this time. Says, “Yeah, well, you don’t know me.” 

“So let me know you.” 

Like bartenders, Taehyung’s sure tattooists are natural flirts. There’s a rapport that needs to be established between them and the customer. They have to know how to talk to people, make them feel welcomed, and also a bit flattered. It’s good for business. 

So maybe that just makes Taehyung weak for giving in so quickly. But Jimin’s eyes are captivating and kind, and he talks to Taehyung like he’s actually interested in anything he might say back. And Taehyung hasn’t had even the slightest interest in anyone since his ex literally ripped his heart out, so he’s not questioning any easy flow. It’s nice, actually.

Like a challenge accepted, Taehyung crosses his arms and says, “Fine.” Then, with a slight drop to his voice, “As long as I get to know you back.” 

There’s no hesitation in the way Jimin says, “Deal.”

 

 

Just to prove that not all tattoos need to have meaning, Jimin takes Taehyung on a journey through his own. At least, the ones on his left arm. 

It’s a sleeve made up of different designs, and Taehyung’s head sort of spins at how pretty it is. Separately, they’re all random things, but they piece together so well on his skin like a puzzle. 

Jimin’s holding his arm out, sleeve rolled up over his shoulder, showing Taehyung his bicep. He points arbitrarily and says, “I don’t particularly love butterflies or lightning bolts or knives, but I just thought they’d look cool, you know? Try not to think of it as such a declaration.” 

And Taehyung’s listening; he swears he is, but Jimin’s got defined arms, and his mouth is watering a little bit because of it. Has the passing thought of wanting to sink his teeth into where South Korea’s flag is wrapping around the beginning of Jimin’s shoulder and licking all the way down to where the tattooed band on his arm ties into a bow. 

But Taehyung keeps his cool. Says, “I guess that’s part of the problem. I feel like if I get something, it’s because I have to feel passionate about it. So it’s a lot of pressure.” 

Jimin points to the initials on Taehyung’s arm and asks, “You felt passionate about them?” 

For just a moment, Taehyung loses his words. Has flashbacks of him and Sungjin—walking in the park, kissing each other good morning, feeding each other, laughing. They only dated a year and a half, but it was an intense, whirlwind of a year and a half. Maybe it was a fairytale all along. All stories end one way or another. 

The words are salty on Taehyung’s tongue. He nearly spits out, “I loved him.” 

“Hm,” Jimin sort of huffs. He rolls his sleeve down and lets out a deep breath. Finds Taehyung’s eyes and says, “But not anymore, right?”

It’s weird, they’ve been broken up for four months, and Taehyung’s told just about everyone he’s over Sungjin. He’s here tonight to have his initials covered, and to hopefully begin to move forward. But he’s never said those words out loud. Never really admitted to anyone that—

“No,” he says, soft and quiet like a secret. It doesn’t sting as much as he thought it would. “Not anymore.” 

Jimin’s hand rests on his knee and squeezes a bit, a comforting gesture. Taehyung feels like he and Jimin have known each other for years, because he realizes that this should be weird or awkward, but it’s not. Taehyung offers up a half-smile, the wound still open although healing. 

“Then let’s find you something better,” Jimin says. 

And maybe it’s as simple as that. 

 

 

Taehyung only lets himself ramble on about his life and his interests and his shitty ex for about ten minutes before he stops himself. Like some impromptu therapy session, Jimin’s half-hidden behind a sketch pad, drawing as Taehyung speaks. He’s a great multitasker, because he offered up timely and appropriate uh-huh’s and mhm’s, but kept his eyes on the paper nearly the whole time. 

Unsure where to start, Taehyung told Jimin about his love for all forms of art and expression—dancing, painting, fashion, anything. And he spent more than a few minutes on his interest in photography. He tells Jimin about his luck, or lack thereof with love, and his fascination with nature. 

He’s just about to segue into his family when he realizes he’s said way too much to a stranger. Looks over at the gigantic analog clock across the room and realizes there’s only half an hour until closing. Taehyung has wasted forty-five minutes of Jimin’s time being indecisive. 

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m sorry. This is—”

“I think I have something,” Jimin cuts him off, smirking. He looks up from behind the notepad and wags his eyebrows playfully. Asks, “Wanna see?” 

Of course, Taehyung wants to see. If Jimin was able to draw something just from Taehyung blabbering on about random things, he thinks he deserves a bigger tip than Taehyung has on him. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow. “You—”

“Think you might actually like this,” Jimin says as he approaches. 

Taehyung notices his walk again. A bold but comfortable strut. The way his hips sway with each step, hugged tight and attractive in his jeans. Gray t-shirt tucked in stylishly, just where his jeans’ button is, accentuating his tiny waist despite how flowy the material is elsewhere. Taehyung wonders if Jimin realizes he’s the prettiest piece of art in the entire shop. More dazzling and eye-catching than the most flamboyant design on the wall. 

Jimin slides the sketchpad onto Taehyung’s lap, takes a seat beside him, and stays quiet while Taehyung looks it over. Taehyung sees what he recognizes as a plant in a pot. But it’s interesting, the stem of what would be a flower transitions into a camera at its center. Pretty petals, like the ones on a lily, fan out around it. The flash is going off, as if taking a picture. But the flash isn’t just a flash; it’s a sun. It’s pretty—subtle, and minimal, and unique. He likes it. Really likes it. 

“This is amazing,” Taehyung breathes, smiling. His gaze meets Jimin’s for a moment, eye contact direct and close, and notices the way his eyes glimmer even in the crappy tattoo shop light. 

Jimin leans a little closer, shoulders brushing now, and begins to explain with his finger pointing on the page. Taehyung sees a hand smaller than his, fingers decorated with pretty silver rings in varying thickness and shine, slide over the page. There’s black polish on Jimin’s nails, and a tattoo over the back of his wrist that says FIGHTER

“You said you really like taking pictures. That it makes you see the world differently. So I figured—camera, of course,” he begins, analytically and slowly, like he’s explaining a complex mathematical equation. 

Taehyung nods. Echos playfully, “Of course.” 

Continuing, Jimin says, “The flash of the camera looks more like a sun because, well, you’re bright.” 

If Taehyung’s not mistaken, he could swear Jimin’s voice gets a little shy when he says it. A little quieter. Like maybe he’s nervous Taehyung would think it’s corny. Well, it is. And Taehyung does. But it’s also… really fucking sweet. Taehyung nods again, smile remaining. 

“All that shit you told me about your ex,” Jimin starts. It’s a natural reaction the way Taehyung’s muscles tighten up, jaw locked. Tries not to change his expression. Instead, he stares down at Jimin’s ringed fingers and watches them trace the stem of the drawn plant. “It just… seems like you’ve been through a lot. With him, with trying to move on, with the tattoo. So. I figured you’re… growing. Like a plant. Symbolic, maybe?”

Jimin sits back, an anticipating squint to his eyes. Taehyung can tell he’s holding his breath, waiting for Taehyung’s reaction. His lips part, beginning to say something else, when Taehyung finally finds his words. 

Taehyung wants to tell Jimin that he thinks this is amazing—intricate and simple at the same time. Jimin has only known him for less than an hour, but he could incorporate so many things about him into one piece impressively. A drawing, no more than an inch or so tall, encompasses Taehyung in a way he didn’t even think was possible an hour ago. And maybe Taehyung’s still emotionally raw from his breakup, but his heart is beating a little quicker. 

They don’t know each other well enough, so Taehyung sees Jimin trying to read his face. 

He swallows and begins, “So do you hate—”

“No, I love it,” Taehyung tells him, snapping his sentence in half. Doesn’t want Jimin to think he’s saying it out of pity or to protect his ego, either. Taehyung really means it.

The breath Jimin lets out borders on relief, and Taehyung thinks it’s cute. 

Taehyung nods at him again. Says, “I want this. I love it. It’s perfect.” 

It’s only then that Taehyung realizes just how close they’re sitting. Feels warmth on the side of his knee from where Jimin’s leg is pressed against it. They’re sharing an armrest, the waiting chairs snug with one another. 

Jimin has freckles, Taehyung notices in passing. Light brown, barely-there spots are decorating the bridge of his nose. Cute, Taehyung thinks again to himself. 

“So,” Jimin says, standing. His jeans bunch around his thighs, and Taehyung subconsciously follows Jimin’s hands when they slide down them, fixing the snug denim. “Let’s get started.” 

He spots triumph in Jimin’s tone. Happy, maybe, that he’s pleased his seemingly most unpleasable customer. And Taehyung feels a bit triumphant himself. He looks down at his arm, the taunting LSJ embedded into his skin… but not for much longer. 

Taehyung rubs at the ink and says, “Yeah. I’m ready to get this shit off.” 

It feels like a breath of fresh air. 

 

 

The sequence they fall into after, although unfamiliar to Taehyung, is second nature to Jimin. All of the talking they’ve done over the past hour began to make Jimin feel like somewhat of an acquaintance. With their easy conversations and Taehyung’s slow-bleeding of his heart all over Jimin’s floor. But now, Taehyung’s reminded that Jimin is a professional, and he’s here for a specific reason—not to chat with the (disgustingly beautiful) shop owner. 

Black latex gloves cover Jimin’s hands now as he unpacks sterilized instruments. Taehyung couldn’t begin to name anything Jimin’s placing on the tray or connecting, but he knows there’s no need to question anything Jimin’s doing. He’s completely in his element now, humming softly to the song playing, head bobbing. 

Together, they’ve decided on a size for the tattoo, and a guide has been placed on Taehyung’s arm. The camera and its sun for a flash overlap Sungjin’s initials. Jimin assures him that with the thicker lines he’ll use and the bit of shading needed, no one will ever be able to tell anything else was there. 

When everything feels set, Jimin holds up the needle, turns on the machine that's followed by an intimidating sound, and asks, “Ready?”

Honestly, Taehyung’s a little nervous. This whole situation is bizarre because he’s not much of a fan of needles. They sort of give him the creeps. Even now, after he’s already experienced one tattoo and knows what to expect. 

When Taehyung doesn’t answer right away, Jimin turns off the machine. It winds down in a diminuendo-like way, but with the grace of an aged lawnmower. 

Jimin’s eyes find Taehyung’s, and they’re a bit softer now. He tilts his head to the side and asks, “Or... not ready?” 

“No, I’m—” Taehyung shakes his head and offers his arm like he’s sacrificing it. He extends it in a way that’s probably not very convincing. Feels a weird sting in his elbow from the stretch. “I’m ready.” 

A questioning lift of an eyebrow is Taehyung’s only response. 

“Just… remember not liking the needle part too much,” he admits, voice lowering. He tries not to hang his head, feeling silly and a bit childish for his apprehension. 

But a reassuring smile is what Taehyung’s met with. Jimin switches on the machine again and leans in. He positions his other hand on Taehyung’s arm, beginning to align the needle’s head with the stencil. 

“Don’t worry,” Jimin tells Taehyung, voice steady and slow. He winks again, as smooth and as charming as the first time, and says, “I’m very gentle.” 

 

 

Taehyung distracts himself by etching the slope of Jimin’s perfect nose, and the bend of his pretty eyelashes, and the dip of his cupid’s bow into his memory. Traces the perfect shape of his eyebrows, filled in just at the ends, to where they come to a precise point. They frame his face beautifully, and Taehyung knows he’s staring, but he can’t stop. 

The machine revs, powering the needle in fast jabs. Taehyung sees it piercing his skin, ink setting in, becoming part of him. Sees the area beginning to redden but feels no pain at all, not when he’s got such a beautiful focal point to stare at. He pulls his eyes up and settles back on Jimin. 

He envies Jimin’s apparent talent with makeup. Warm tones behind his eyelids, soft and gentle, like the sunrise in summer. Peach and pale orange mixed, blended out with a cream-like color. It’s a subtle addition to his face, only discoverable when Taehyung really looks. But fuck, he’s looking and he thinks Jimin is plain gorgeous. 

Eyeliner, smudged and tapering, but intentionally so, adds depth and definition to the corners of his eyes. They’re a unique shape, roundish by nature at their sides, but the liner makes his gentle eyes an intense type of magnetic—seductive. Taehyung swallows hard. 

“Doin’ okay?” 

Jimin’s eyes only click upward for a moment, checking Taehyung over. He smiles through his words, lips stretching cutely, before ducking his head back down and returning to work. 

Air is trapped and slow-moving in Taehyung’s chest. Stings as he breathes out, a cough stuck in his throat. Has he been holding his breath? It’s easier to pin that as the reason he feels a bit lightheaded. Refuses to acknowledge that all his blood is beginning to run south. Has to ignore it, needs to, because he refuses to get hard in this tattoo parlor. 

“Yeah, fine,” Taehyung says back, but it comes out rushed, like one word. It sounds odd, even to him, and he wants to smack himself for being so obvious. 

Jimin must take the unfamiliar bend in Taehyung’s voice as uncertainty or embarrassment, because he lifts his eyes again and says, “I’ve seen worse, you know? Covered worse.”

Taehyung lets out a weak, sarcastic chuckle. “Nice to know I’m not in your top ten.” 

Jimin’s eyes look over him slowly. Taehyung feels them on his skin, crawling down his body. The gaze gets to about halfway down his thighs before they slide back up, locking with Taehyung’s again. 

“Not for most pathetic tattoos, no.” 

A shrug of his shoulders, a tongue dragging across his bottom lip. Taehyung’s eyes follow the motion like he’s hypnotized. Jimin drops his head again when he adds, just barely loud enough for Taehyung to hear, “Other things maybe.” 

There’s a tightening in Taehyung's stomach. A wanting type of twist that he hadn't felt since his ex. For months, he’d been so emotionally drained—void of any feeling that wasn’t frustration and regret. Lived in a bubble of self-pity, nearly blind to any other human—even the attractive ones. 

There were instances, during the time between the break-up and now, that Taehyung attempted to feel alive again. He’d go to the bar with his friends, have a few drinks, even try to mingle. But the world was colorless for so long, washed out by Taehyung’s sadness. He felt nothing but underwhelming disinterest in anyone he met. 

So this feels… foreign. In the best way. The slight skip in Taehyung’s heart, the itching in his palm, the tug for a smile at the corner of his lips. He’s missed this. Flirting, and actually enjoying it. Taking notice of someone’s beauty and feeling breathless because of it. 

“Guy came in once with a gigantic picture of this girl he met at a bar tattooed on his ass,” Jimin segues, not missing a beat. “A headshot, like from a yearbook or something. Shit was nuts. Think he lost a bet.” 

Taehyung huffs at the mental image of Jimin hunched over the ass of some poor soul, tattooing something bigger and more intricate to cover a face of a stranger. 

“Did you laugh at him?” Taehyung tips his head and squints his eyes, pretending to be prepared to scold Jimin any moment. 

“Hell yeah, I laughed! He was an idiot. Even drunk-you has to have some type of common sense.” Jimin rolls his eyes and says, “Charged extra for making me look at his ass for five hours straight.”

Although more animated now, Jimin’s lines remain precise, and his hand is steady. And he was right, he’s gentle. The needle feels like a feather on Taehyung’s skin, merely a tickle. Honestly, Taehyung feels nothing but the soft waves of something—attraction, interest, lust—crashing against the lining of his stomach, burning like acid. 

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Not an ass-guy, huh?” 

Definitely an ass-guy.” Jimin gives him a look. “Just… not on middle-aged dudes who party with kids barely old enough to drink.”

“So, you’re saying all of that didn’t turn you on?” 

The back and forth, the playful banter, it’s easy. And maybe Jimin’s just good at making conversation, or maybe he’s trying to distract Taehyung from the heavier pressing he’s doing now for the shading, but Taehyung doesn’t care. It’s nice. This feeling, this moment, is nice.

Jimin presses a little harder with the needle, smirking when Taehyung jumps. Comments, “I was inverted, I think. The whole situation was very unsexy.”

Their sense of humor fits well together. Comfortable teasing despite only knowing each other a short amount of time, and jokes that bounce off one another effortlessly. 

When Taehyung looks down again, the tattoo is nearly done. He doesn’t remember the time slipping through his fingers, but he guesses it has.

 

 

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung whispers, eyes widening. Jimin rolls back in his chair, adjusting the lighting so Taehyung can have a better look. 

Taehyung’s in awe; it’s stunning. Sharp, clean lines strung together to create a tattoo so pretty and so meaningful. And Jimin was right, no one will be able to tell there’s another tattoo hiding under it. 

For the first time in a long time, Taehyung doesn’t feel regret or anger when he looks down at his arm. Now, he feels peace and giddiness. There’s a weight off of Taehyung’s heart now, like he’s finally been set free. 

Jimin pulls off his gloves and asks, “Is that a good holy fuck or a bad holy fuck? Because I can cover that one too but—”

If Taehyung had something to throw, he would’ve. So he settles for a joking raise of his hand. An empty and cute threat that Jimin plays along with, and ducks behind his hands as a weak defense. Jimin’s laugh is addicting; Taehyung thinks he wants to hear it all the time now. 

Although it’s ink and not going anywhere, Taehyung’s nervous to touch it. Still feels like it’ll smudge if he runs his fingers along the black lines. His skin is a caramel-rose color, glowing, but still no pain. Taehyung smiles at Jimin, satisfied in a way he never could’ve predicted he’d be first walking in tonight. 

Still, Jimin’s touch is gentle. With a clean pair of gloves, he massages a layer of ointment over Taehyung’s skin. It glosses the tattoo over, really makes the flash of the camera pop. 

“Looks good on you,” Jimin says, holding a bandage in place. His other hand secures plastic wrap around Taehyung’s arm, just snug enough to stay. 

Even though the tattoo is gone now, hidden under the bandage so it can begin healing, Taehyung still stares. He touches now, lightly over the plastic, picturing it in his mind. 

“I can’t thank you enough.” Taehyung shakes his head, reaching for his wallet. The quote Jimin gave him earlier is sitting on the stand beside him. He glances it over, and then tips Jimin with all of the extra cash he has with him at the moment.

It’s a messy wad of bills, half-crumpled and out of order, but Taehyung gives him all of it. It’s well over what Jimin charged for such a small tattoo, but Taehyung doesn’t care. 

Jimin attempts to apply some order to the money in his hands. He shakes his head at Taehyung and tells him, “This is more than enough.” He takes a few bills out of the pile and hands them back over. “Actually, it’s too much. Really, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stares at Jimin’s back as he cleans up. Disregards the tattooing needle, wraps up the cord, puts the ointment and bandages back in the cabinet. His eyes glide over Jimin’s shoulders, and then to the curve of his waist. Taehyung blinks, snapping himself out of it. 

“I have to give you something if you won’t take my money,” Taehyung presses, looking down at his wrapped arm again. “You did such an amazing job, and I’ve kept you here way past your closing time, I just—” He laughs a bit awkwardly, fingers flipping nervously through his hair, and says, “Feel like I at least owe you a drink or something for the trouble.”

The water on the faucet turns off. Jimin’s drying his hands as he says, “It was no trouble, I promise.” 

Jimin looks out the vast shop windows, then back over to Taehyung. He’s almost smiling, eyes glimmering prettily with an idea like all the stars outside have collected in them. When their gazes meet again, Jimin adds with a shrug, “But there's a bar up the street.” 

Taehyung’s heart gets stuck in his throat. Or maybe falls out of his ass. He was half-joking, not expecting Jimin actually to take him up on his offer. But yes. Fuck yes, Taehyung wants to get a drink with Jimin. 

Blinking, pleased and a bit stunned, Taehyung asks, “Really?”

There’s a growing smile on Taehyung’s face. Probably big and goofy and way too obvious that he’s fallen deep into a black hole of infatuation with this perfect stranger, but who cares. Taehyung’s tired of second-guessing and policing everything in his life. Sometimes things just feel right, and there’s no need to question it.

Being with Jimin feels right in a way Taehyung can’t explain. Maybe he’ll never be able to. And that’s okay. 

“I’m down if you’re down,” Jimin tells him. “Just gotta close the shop properly, but that should only take about ten or fifteen minutes. Do you mind waiting?”

Of course, Taehyung’s down. In fact, only fools would blow off an offer from Jimin. Too charming, too captivating, too alluring to not get caught in his web. Taehyung is happily surrendering to whatever spell Jimin’s casting over him. Hopes it lasts all night, making his head spin until he's dizzy and carefree. 

“All good. Take your time,” Taehyung says, trying to sound casual, watching Jimin from one of the waiting chairs now. 

Loose strands fall into Jimin’s eyes as he counts the money in the register. He makes a show of adding Taehyung’s payment to the pile. Wipes pretend-sweat off his brow, like Taehyung’s made him a millionaire. 

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to close up. Taehyung tries not to stare as Jimin sanitizes the chair Taehyung sat in and then the countertops. He takes the money somewhere in the back, and then locks the door when he comes out. There’s a light switch near that Jimin presses, making the shop go dark. 

“Ready?” Jimin asks, gesturing with his head toward the door. Taehyung stands, nodding, following him out.

The last thing Taehyung expected was to leave here tonight with the tattoo artist that covered his ex’s initials, but he’s so fucking glad he is. If nothing else, he’ll have one hell of a story to tell his friends tomorrow.

 

 

This bar up the street must often be a place Jimin frequents because he’s greeted with calls of his name just seconds after entering. It’s crowded, but that’s to be expected for this time of night. Despite that, the bartender spots Jimin easily and beckons him over. 

Usually, Taehyung’s extremely social. Loves meeting new people, has no problem socializing. But as Jimin leans over the bar, all he can focus on is the curve of his ass, and the cute way his hair fans out over his nape. 

Jimin introduces Taehyung to the bartender and orders them both a round. Taehyung offers to pay, but Jimin shakes his head, flopping the wad of cash Taehyung gave him on the counter. Jimin winks. “This ones already on you,” he says. 

The booth Jimin picks is in the back of the place, giving them privacy. And they try to make conversation, try to learn each other, but Jimin’s foot is rubbing over Taehyung’s leg, and he feels his sanity slipping. The boot lifts Taehyung’s pant leg, sends all the blood in Taehyung’s body south. 

Jimin’s drink of choice is straight whiskey, opposite Taehyung’s cranberry-vodka. But Taehyung’s not really drinking—too mesmerized by the way Jimin’s lips glisten. He’s got perfectly white teeth, an adorable front tooth that’s set a bit crooked, and rosy cheeks. 

Taehyung does learn a few things. Like Jimin has a younger brother who’s into extreme sports, and that he’s been a tattoo artist for three years, and that his cousin is the co-owner of the shop. Jimin has the type of personality that makes people want to bask in everything he is, and his eyes shine when he talks. 

When Jimin tells him he thinks he’s been talking too long, Taehyung tells him a bit about himself. He means to steer the conversation away from his ex, but it lands there anyway. Ends with Taehyung saying that although breakups suck, he tries to find the good in everything.

“Yeah, well, the guy sounded like a jerk anyway,” Jimin grunts, taking another sip of his drink. 

Taehyung shrugs. “Yeah, well. Love is blind or whatever. He was good to me when he was… then not when he wasn’t.” 

The last thing Taehyung wants is a pity party. It’s the perfect recipe for a boner killer—the direct opposite of Taehyung’s hopes for the rest of the night. 

Jimin makes a passing comment about how sometimes the best things happen when they’re least expected. But Taehyung doesn’t dwell on it, too wrapped up again in how beautiful Jimin’s face is. Like he’s been hand-crafted by something holier and godlier than the mortals on Earth. 

And if Taehyung’s not misreading—which he doubts by the feeling of Jimin’s foot still teasing against his leg—Jimin’s looking at him the same way. Fighting to tame something inside of them. A need boiling over in the pits of their stomachs. 

It’s nearly unbearable. Soon, all Taehyung’s mind is consumed with is kissing Jimin. He wants to do it right here, on the table, in front of everyone. Wants to kiss Jimin until he’s breathless and dizzy and begging him to do it again. 

They only last a drink and a half like that—nearly buzzing, fighting bursts of almost uncontrollable urges to grab one another—before Taehyung asks, “Wanna get outta here? I actually don’t live too far from here.”

Taehyung watches Jimin’s index finger swirl around the rim of his drink. He picks it up, brings it to his lips, and downs the remaining half. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jimin says, already pushing himself out of the booth.

 

 

Although Taehyung only lives on the third floor of his apartment building, the elevator ride up seems to take years. Trapped within its four walls, his and Jimin’s sexual tension has nowhere to go. It’s like freezing cold water, quickly filling up the space. Starts as just a harmless puddle around their feet, dampening their socks, but it’s soon up to their necks, threatening to drown them. 

They’re on opposite sides of the elevator, leaning back against the railings, feigning some sort of indifference or self-control—something that’s maybe meant to resemble patience. But their gazes keep locking, and each time Taehyung sees flames in Jimin’s eyes. A want that’s nearly oozing out of him. Like he could swallow Taehyung whole right here, right now. Jimin can’t stay still; the toe of his boot taps against the elevator floor.

And Taehyung feels the same. Skin hot and anxious from the anticipation of the inevitable. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hard already, straining and showing through his pants. Each time he tries to focus on something else, his mind gets consumed with Jimin and the idea of kissing him, touching him. 

There’s just something about knowing you’re going to fuck someone. When it’s at the point where it’s no longer a question or up in the air. There’s no mistaking here. He and Jimin are taking this elevator ride up to Taehyung’s apartment for one reason. And Taehyung’s chest is tight just thinking about how good Jimin’s going to feel. He thinks his hands are shaking, and feels the want and the desperation infecting him like a virus. 

Taehyung chews on his bottom lip, watching the number two lighting up above the elevator door, indicating they’ve reached the second floor. It’s like torture—dragging out the space between floors, moving as slow as a snail. It’s silent in the elevator, no mindless music, so Taehyung hears when Jimin huffs. A laugh that isn’t a laugh at all. More like a frustrated chuckle. Taehyung’s starting to think maybe they should press the emergency stop on the elevator and just fuck right here.

But then the elevator dings and the number three lights up. They power walk out of the elevator, shamelessly unraveling, Taehyung taking the lead. With an unsteady hand, Taehyung punches in the key code. And maybe he would’ve gotten it right the first time if Jimin wasn’t breathing on his neck, lips so close, pressed up against his back. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung groans through his teeth in annoyance when the tiny red light flashes, indicating the code is incorrect. 

He feels Jimin closer a moment later—hand on his waist, a firmness against his ass, lips on his earlobe. He whispers slowly, “I will if you open the door.”

Taehyung’s vision blurs a little, breath coming to a screeching halt in his throat. Jimin must notice the change in his demeanor. Or maybe he does actually gasp out loud. Because then he hears Jimin humming a giggle, like he’s amused by the way Taehyung’s literally melting. 

Thank fuck the code to Taehyung’s apartment is more muscle memory than anything, because his mind is very much blank when his fingers start typing again. But this time the tiny sound of a lock retracting lets Taehyung know they’ve been granted access, and Jimin nearly pushes him through the door. 

Everything is dark in Taehyung’s apartment, but maybe he just has his eyes closed. It’s a blur, and he wishes his mind would slow down, but it’s trying to catch up to his hands which are all over Jimin by now. He’s got Jimin pressed up against the entranceway wall within seconds, kissing him like he needs it to breathe. 

It’s sloppy and rushed and needy—all tongues and spit and heavy breaths. Jimin tastes like the whiskey he was sipping on. Taehyung doesn’t like the taste of alcohol too much, but it’s addictive off of Jimin’s lips. He licks into Jimin’s mouth, tongue over tongue, and feels a wave of lust hit him when it earns him a moan.

“Wanted you the first second I saw you,” Jimin tells him between kisses. Although he has no bearing on Taehyung’s home layout, he walks them both deeper into the apartment. Taehyung guesses he figures they’ll run into a couch or a bed eventually. Taehyung loves his confidence; takes a step when Jimin does, allowing him to lead for a minute.

Hearing that makes Taehyung’s head spin. Wonders if Jimin was holding back the way he was that whole time in the shop. Jimin’s got a way with playing it cool, a casual type of flirty. Taehyung feels a little triumphant knowing something about him got to Jimin. 

But all of that is quickly forgotten when Taehyung feels the back of his legs coming into contact with the side of the couch. Jimin’s trying to sit him down, wants to kiss him here, but this isn’t good enough. If they’re going to do this, Taehyung wants it properly—in his bedroom, on his bed, limbs tangled in blankets. Wants to be pressed hard against his mattress, wants to hear the headboard banging against the wall.

“Down here, down the hall,” Taehyung whispers hurriedly into Jimin’s mouth, lips sliding into lopsided kisses as he tries to speak. Jimin’s smiling against his mouth as they begin to stumble their way in the direction of Taehyung’s bedroom. It’s cute; Jimin holds one arm out, trying to feel for anything they may knock into.

Unfortunately, his efforts don’t assist much. They bump into the end table, toppling over a picture and a decorative artificial plant. Taehyung hears Jimin mumbling an apology between kisses and soft bites to his bottom lip. But Taehyung couldn’t care less about his furniture right now. 

The journey from Taehyung’s living room to his bedroom is a tornado. Fast winds at dangerous speeds, threatening to sweep them away. He and Jimin spin and spin and spin, losing layers of clothes and self-restraint in the process. By the time Taehyung’s being pushed back onto his bed, he’s shirtless and shoeless and even still, it’s not enough. He looks up and sees Jimin—jeans so tight they’re painted on still hugging his lower half, a belt in the way, unneeded socks. It’s not enough. 

Taehyung’s lips are on Jimin’s midsection as he fumbles with Jimin’s belt. He sits on the edge of the bed, Jimin slotted and standing between his legs, licking at any centimeter of skin he can get his mouth on. Tonguing wet lines down the dips in Jimin’s abdomen, stretching his neck to lap over the piercings through his nipples.

There are hands in his hair, decorated with pretty silver rings, tugging just hard enough for it to sting. Taehyung loves it—wants Jimin to pull harder, to put him right where he wants. He closes his eyes and lets his face press against Jimin’s skin, lips smearing by his navel, breathing out slowly when he finally loosens Jimin’s belt to help him shimmy out of his jeans.

Jimin’s thin briefs are no match for his hard-on. A tent in the fabric that might be a bit comical if Jimin wasn’t so fucking sexy and if Taehyung wasn’t so horny he was dizzy. Taehyung feels Jimin’s length against his hand, a wet patch dampening his palm. And Jimin’s thick, can feel it even through his underwear. Taehyung has the passing thought that he might not be able to stretch his mouth wide enough to fit it. 

But he’ll be damned if he doesn't try. 

“Wanna…” Taehyung’s voice trails off when he removes Jimin’s briefs halfway, only getting as far as mid-thigh. His cock springs up straight, fully hard and ready, and Taehyung’s mouth waters. He licks a little lower on Jimin’s stomach and whispers—nearly begs, “God, wanna suck you off.”

“So open up,” Jimin tells him, voice steady and quiet. He sounds… amused? Fascinated, maybe, by the way Taehyung’s coming apart, although not much has happened yet. 

Taehyung’s mouth is just big enough to fit Jimin’s cock. Feels the stretch at the corners of his mouth, trying to keep his teeth out of the way. He likes the taste of Jimin’s skin, and the taste of his pre-come dragging down the length of his tongue. He can only take Jimin in a little more than halfway, but Jimin’s making pretty noises above him, so he guesses that’s enough. 

“Holy shit,” Taehyung hears Jimin moan, and doesn’t look up to check, but he imagines his head falling backward and his eyes screwing shut. 

Jimin’s hand is cradling the back of Taehyung’s head now, offering encouraging nudges forward as he clearly tries to keep from bucking his hips. He’s holding back, Taehyung can tell, but he wants Jimin to lose himself in all of this. They may only have tonight, so they might as well give it their all. 

When Taehyung pulls back, it’s only for long enough to reposition them. Guides Jimin to the bed and has him lay back. Keeps eye contact in the dimmed lighting as he frees Jimin completely of his briefs and his jeans pooled around his ankles. 

And here, lying naked in the middle of Taehyung’s bed, he’s able to see all of Jimin. Every beautiful inch of him and he’s breathtaking. All he’s doing is laying there, slow-stroking himself while he waits for Taehyung to come back, but it’s art. 

Jimin’s a masterpiece. He doesn’t just have a full sleeve, but also tattoos on his midsection. One across his ribs, one down his side, another wrapping around his leg. It’s a snake, winding itself around Jimin’s mid-thigh, the head coming up by his hip bone. It’s sexy. Everything about him is sexy. His piercings—silver bars through both nipples, and a delicate diamond hanging from his belly button—catch Taehyung’s attention. All he wants to do is kiss over them.

“Pretty,” Taehyung breathes, slotted between Jimin’s legs now. He’s licking over the inked scales of the snake that adorns Jimin’s inner thigh, but Taehyung thinks maybe he’s talking about everything else he sees too. All of Jimin—the softness of his skin, the outline of his muscle in his legs, the neatly kept hair above the base of his cock, the way he’s leaking onto his lower stomach, the subtle twisting of his face—everything.

Making his way inward, Taehyung peppers kisses on Jimin's skin. And in turn, feels him trying to stay still, muscles strained under his fingertips. Taehyung drops his head lower and sticks his tongue out. Licks from just under Jimin’s balls all the way to the tip of his cock. At that, Jimin moans, a rough hand in Taehyung’s hair. 

Taehyung kisses somewhere near the center of Jimin’s cock and whispers again when it twitches, “Pretty.”

Above him, Jimin giggles. Asks, petting Taehyung’s hair away from his face, “Did you just call me pretty while kissing my dick?”

“Mm,” Taehyung hums, stroking Jimin’s cock now. He squeezes, watching the redness around the head fade to a flush pink, wetness dripping. “It’s pretty, too.” 

But then it’s Jimin that’s all praises when Taehyung gets back to work. Whispers a string of compliments about how beautiful Taehyung is, and how magical his mouth is. Jimin tries to keep his voice steady, but Taehyung hears the subtle shakiness to his tone, fighting to maintain his composure.

Taehyung actually likes sucking dick, and he thinks it shows. Loves the fullness in his mouth and knowing someone’s feeling pleasure because of him. Taehyung lives for the involuntary twitching, and mumbles of profanities, and yanks on his hair when it feels too good. Absolutely loves making someone come just from his mouth.

Jimin doesn’t let him get that far, though. Pulls him off a bit roughly by the hair, panting, “Your turn.”

And Taehyung learns quickly that when Jimin takes control, he takes control. Firm and guiding hands pulling Taehyung onto the bed, switching their position. It’s only then, when the discomfort of his pants against his crotch becomes apparent, that Taehyung realizes his bottom half is still clothed. There’s an unmistakable feeling of wetness inside his briefs that should gross him out, but all he feels is want and desire as Jimin’s ridding him of his clothes.

The air is cool against Taehyung’s legs and his ass, making him shiver. Reaches for Jimin to come back, wanting his warmth and his pleasure and his body. Jimin returns to him quickly, just one peck to his lips before telling him, “Roll over.”

Already, Taehyung’s so sensitive, he whines at the pressure on his cock now trapped between the mattress and his stomach. And without even realizing it, starts moving his hips, chasing any type of friction. It feels good, the slow drag of the sheets against his dick and Jimin’s lips kissing down his lower back. There are hands on Taehyung’s ass, massaging, teasing. 

Teeth sink into Taehyung’s cheek, hard enough to leave a temporary mark, but not hard enough to hurt. Despite that, Taehyung silences a yelp. Smushes his own face into the sheets to silence himself. 

Between Jimin’s mouth and his hands, Taehyung doesn’t know what to focus on. He’s kissing slow, tempting kisses over Taehyung’s ass while roaming his hands up and down Taehyung’s thighs. He feels every hair on his body stand up, anticipating Jimin’s next touch, craving it like he’s addicted. 

Hears, “Gonna eat you out,” just split seconds before there’s a tongue lapping at his entrance. Taehyung doesn’t have time to process the words, barely has time to process the touch, and digs his nails into the mattress, pleasantly stunned. 

Jimin is skilled with his tongue, but Taehyung’s not surprised. Wet circles and half-kisses, half-bites as he works Taehyung open. Taehyung sees stars despite his eyes being closed. Actually—sees fireworks and shooting stars each time Jimin’s tongue fucks into him. Feels the wet muscle entering him with determination, slick fingers prodding at his hole, and kissing sounds matching the lips he feels on his ass and thighs. 

“Where’s your lube, baby?”

Taehyung thinks the pet name catches him a bit off-guard; he doesn’t answer quickly. His brain restarts slowly, overwhelmed from trying to process everything that's happened in the last few minutes.

A dip in the bed lets Taehyung know there’s a shift in Jimin’s weight, most likely sitting up. There's a hand in Taehyung’s hair, ruffling it gently, trying to get him to focus.

“The drawer?” Jimin asks, already leaning over and opening the top one. Taehyung watches him almost blankly, mind starting to become sharp again, and shakes his head. Jimin finds humor in this. Chuckles and asks patiently, “Okay, so where?”

Finding his voice, Taehyung tells Jimin there’s a box under the bed. Not the best hiding place, but Taehyung’s not really hiding it. It’s for easy access, for times like now. Lube, condoms, toys. Everything Taehyung and any of his partners will ever need.

Jimin’s gone and back in a flash. His warmth is comforting, hovering over Taehyung, kissing between his shoulder blades. Soothing kisses to his skin, persuading Taehyung’s heart rate to come down to a normal speed. Hears the lube bottle opening, the distinct click of the cap, and his body goes tense all over again—want overtaking him. 

The rings that once decorated Jimin’s fingers must be disregarded on the nightstand, because when Jimin sinks his fingers into Taehyung, he goes all the way to the knuckle. Just one finger at first—chubby and curved for pleasure—entering him in a steady rhythm. And just when Taehyung’s breathing catches up to speed, Jimin adds another one. It’s useless, Taehyung moans loudly, pushing back on the digits.

And although Taehyung’s working his hips on Jimin’s fingers, Taehyung soon registers a rocking that doesn’t match his own. It’s more upbeat and desperate. A quick bouncing on the bed that’s almost double the speed Taehyung’s moving his hips to. 

Curious, Taehyung looks over his shoulder and sees Jimin with his other hand behind his back. Taehyung can’t quite see, but it becomes rather obvious after just a few seconds. Jimin’s fucking himself open with his other hand, rocking back onto himself while he fingers Taehyung, and Taehyung thinks he’s going to pass out. 

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung whispers. The short visual of Jimin fingering himself somehow affects Taehyung more. His cock twitches under him, a lightning bolt of something passing through him, and he grinds down, chasing friction. 

Soon, Jimin’s kissing the shell of his ear and explaining, “Dunno if you have a preference. I don’t care either way. So I just figured—”

Still, Taehyung feels like Earth is spinning too fast for him. Jimin can’t be real. Too sexy, too perfect to actually be here with him. But if he’s a fantasy, Taehyung wants to enjoy every second he has. He opens his eyes and tells Jimin in a gush that probably sounds like one word, “I like whatever you like.”

There’s a hand on Taehyung’s waist, turning him onto his back. And when he looks up, Jimin’s over him, pupils blown, pretty blond hair falling onto his face. He’s straddling Taehyung, so Taehyung’s hands come up to his ass. 

Jimin settles and starts a rocking motion, a blissful slide of their cocks against each other. Under him, Taehyung hears himself whine. Everything feels too good. Taehyung doesn’t think he’s going to last long no matter what position they end up in. 

Jimin has control over his hips like Taehyung’s never seen—never felt before. He kisses Taehyung in a way that feels beautifully suffocating. Both hands on either side of his face, keeping him in one spot, tongue exploring. 

“How ‘bout…” Jimin starts. His voice is a deep, hypnotizing whisper. He shifts forward and Taehyung’s cock slips between his asscheeks. Taehyung makes a soft noise, a hissing sound, and Jimin kisses him quiet. Jimin keeps rocking, this time bringing a new sensation with him. There’s a steady finger tucking hair behind Taehyung’s ear as Jimin follows up with, “...I ride you?”

Only a fool would pass up this offer. Taehyung barely recognizes his voice when he says back, breaths coming short, “Please. Fuck, yes… please…”

Like a professional, Jimin makes quick work of the technicalities—bites the wrapper of the condom, rolls it down Taehyung’s length for him, and adds another coat of lube. Then he’s back to straddling Taehyung, knees bracketing Taehyung’s midsection, looking all types of beautiful.

There’s a look in Jimin’s eyes like he’s got Taehyung right where he wants him. He keeps eye contact as he lifts himself just enough to line up with Taehyung’s cockhead. And it’s just that sensation—just the feeling of his head pressed against Jimin’s slicked ring of muscle—but Taehyung already moans. 

Jimin drops down slowly. They both try to keep their eyes open, but it’s nearly impossible—Jimin’s too tight, too warm, too wet. Snug walls close around Taehyung and he digs his nails into Jimin’s skin by reflex. Subconsciously trying to keep himself grounded because this all feels a little too close to heaven, and Taehyung thinks he’s going to float away.

“So big, baby…” Jimin sighs, perfectly content, taking the last of Taehyung inside of him. He’s breathing quickly, the NEVERMIND tattoo on his ribs expanding and retracting.

In all ways, Taehyung is completely in awe of Jimin. The moonlight is flattering, painting his abs' outline in a pretty pale white, highlighting the muscles. His body is tight—all taut skin and defined muscles—Taehyung admires him and tries to remember to move his hips in time. Taehyung’s hands trace over his tattoos, slide over his belly button piercing, and then settle on his upper thigh. 

Jimin rides like he’s dancing. An impressive, upbeat pace that Taehyung admittedly has trouble matching at first. With one hand for leverage on Taehyung’s stomach, Jimin fucks himself on Taehyung’s cock, smirking as he does so. And all Taehyung feels is heat, heat, heat. Inside of Jimin is deliciously warm and it’s making his orgasm creep up quicker than he’d like. 

“You’re unreal,” Taehyung whispers, mesmerized. Traces Jimin’s pretty lips with his finger and says, “An angel.”

Jimin huffs at that. Mumbles, “The opposite, maybe.”

Taehyung digs his heels into the mattress, trying to get some traction to fuck up into Jimin. Doesn’t want Jimin to feel like he’s doing all the work, but in all honesty, Jimin seems entirely in his element. Knows he has Taehyung wrapped around his finger, inching closer to his climax, falling apart wonderfully. 

It’s all too much. The way Jimin feels, the way Jimin looks, Taehyung can’t take it. Feels a familiar tugging and warmth at the base of his cock, amplified each time Jimin sinks down. Taehyung thinks how close he is must be written in his eyes, because Jimin starts fucking himself on Taehyung’s cock faster now. He’s broken a light sweat, bottom lip bit red between his teeth, thighs shaking. 

Bends himself at the waist, smacking away Taehyung’s hand that tries to stroke his bobbing cock. Presses their mouths together, keeping his pace, and tells Taehyung, “This is about you right now. You’re close, right? Gonna come for me? Go on, baby. Let me feel it.”

The words are so enticing, Taehyung’s eyes fall shut without him even realizing it. His fingers grip harder on Jimin’s waist and fucks up into him with more determination. Jimin stops moving—holds himself in one spot so Taehyung can chase his orgasm. Let’s Taehyung’s cock push into him again, and again, and again until Taehyung’s shaking. He’s using what’s left of his energy to hit his climax, panting as he works his hips. 

Fuck, that’s it,” Jimin coaches a bit breathlessly, like he’s high off Taehyung. “Come for me, baby. That’s it.” 

Taehyung doesn’t recognize the sound he makes when he comes. A cry of pleasure mixed with an almost instantaneous whimper. The sensation of over-stimulation hits like a train only seconds after because Jimin feels too good. He’s so tight around Taehyung, squeezing around his cock now, like he’s trying to milk Taehyung dry. 

Tuned into Taehyung way too well for someone who just met him tonight, Jimin lifts himself off, sparing him. Taehyung’s cock—spent and nearly useless now—plops onto his stomach. But there’s no time for a slow recovery or dwelling on the slightly uncomfortable feeling of his come snug against him in the condom. 

Jimin kisses him hard. Lips over his lips, then across his cheekbone, then against his ear. Already grinding against Taehyung, Jimin whispers in a blurry, horny rush, “Can I fuck you? God, I wanna fuck you so bad. Baby, can—”

It’s then that Taehyung swears Jimin’s half-robot or something. Can't figure out how he’s not exhausted yet, or at least in need of a two-minute break. 

But his erection is pressing heavily against Taehyung’s thigh, slick from the head smearing over his skin, and Taehyung figures that must be what’s driving him. A primal type of need making him restless, tunnel-vision. 

Taehyung’s mind feels hazy in a different kind of way now. The post-orgasm, dipped in honey, type of hazy. He feels Jimin and hears him, but his reactions are a bit off-beat, sluggish. His arms feel heavy as he rids himself of the condom, hopes it lands in the bin when he tosses it, and rests a leg over Jimin’s shoulder, inviting him in. 

Careful, lubed fingers wipe against Taehyung’s entrance, then push inside. Just for a moment, slicking him up, but Taehyung feels a punch to his gut—air being ripped out of him. 

With his eyes closed, everything is a cacophony of ruffling wrappers, creaking of beds, and slow breaths. Jimin’s lips are gentle and soothing over Taehyung’s, kissing him as he pushes inside, entering him. 

“Fuck,” Jimin moans, fingers squeezing at Taehyung’s side to hold him in place. His lips place sloppy, wet kisses down Taehyung’s neck like he needs a distraction. Breathes out, pure bliss, and whispers, “God, Taehyung.”

It’s one push, even and steady, until Jimin bottoms out. Taehyung’s brain turns to mush, and his body feels like it’s made of fireworks, every nerve sparking. Jimin’s cock stretches him beautifully, every inch announcing itself as it slides inside. Jimin fucks him in deep, hard strokes. All the way in and nearly all the way out. 

The sensitivity of having already come makes Taehyung feel everything ten times over. But even still, he thinks he’d still be sweating and panting as much as he is. Thinks his eyes are rolling back each time the head of Jimin’s cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of him. And Taehyung doesn’t even know if he’s hard again, but he feels like another orgasm is building. His whole body feels on fire. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Jimin tells him, breath hot against his face. He’s got a hand around Taehyung’s neck, not quite squeezing, but Taehyung feels lightheaded. Wants Jimin to destroy him in every way possible. Jimin bites at Taehyung’s mouth and moans, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Jimin seems just as lost in Taehyung as Taehyung is in him. Has his eyes closed, face depicting nothing but pleasure, forehead glistening with tiny beads of sweat. He’s looking down at Taehyung like he’s something immaculate, fucks into him like he has something to tell him that his mouth can’t quite speak. 

But then, with a thumb petting over Taehyung’s cheekbone, Jimin whispers, “Whoever let you go is out of his fuckin’ mind.” He kisses Taehyung deeply, like he can’t help himself. Says, “A complete fool.” 

Taehyung’s nails dig into Jimin’s shoulders, but he thinks Jimin likes the pain. Keeps their mouths locked together, so Taehyung couldn’t answer even if his brain was forming complete sentences right now. Kisses Jimin back in a way that he hopes tells him what he’s thinking—sometimes someone’s loss is another person's gain

Piercing, strong hands grip Taehyung’s waist, strong enough to leave Jimin-sized bruises on his skin. He lifts his ass off the mattress and fucks back, scrunching the bedsheets into his fists. They fall into a perfect rhythm, becoming one, even if it’s just for a little while—one fluid motion. 

It’s evident by the stutter in Jimin’s stroke that he’s close now. Eyebrows knitted tighter, chest heaving, abs working with all their might. Taehyung wants to watch—wants to look as Jimin’s cock fucks into him, wants to see Jimin reach his limit, but Taehyung can’t keep his eyes open. 

“No, baby, look at me,” Jimin calls, voice soaked in desperation. There are hands on Taehyung’s face again, an index and a thumb holding either side of his face, making him focus. Jimin leans forward, positions them forehead to forehead, and says, “Kiss me.”’

Jimin moans into Taehyung’s mouth when he comes, the prettiest sound Taehyung’s ever heard. Even through the condom, Taehyung feels Jimin pulsing and throbbing inside of him. He buries his face in Taehyung’s neck, nearly locks their hips together, and fucks him in deep, short strokes, finishing himself off. 

And Taehyung doesn’t remember coming for a second time, didn’t even jerk himself off, but there’s a new puddle of wetness trickling off his stomach, staining the sheets. He feels Jimin running his fingers through it, playing, coating the tips. 

Then there are fingers on Taehyung’s lips. Jimin hums lowly, “Open,” and Taehyung tastes himself. Sucks on Jimin’s fingers, licking them clean, while Jimin murmurs praise in his ear about how sexy he is. 

They part slowly, Jimin pulling out cautiously, tugging off the condom. The two lay side by side, trying to catch their breath, minds processing. Jimin’s a cuddler; disregards the slow-creeping realization that they're both sweaty and gross, and presses their bodies together. 

“That was…” Taehyung begins to say, voice slow and dazed. He lets out a deep breath, the air feeling cleaner than ever before. 

Jimin’s petting through his hair again like they’re familiar with one another. But it’s comforting, so Taehyung leans into the touch. Something about Jimin is soothing—calm and captivating—and Taehyung already finds himself hoping they can do this again. 

It’s probably too much to say that was the best sex he’s ever had, so Taehyung doesn’t quite finish the sentence. Let’s the words linger over both of them like a cloud. 

Like he understands, Jimin giggles and says, “Yeah.” 

They only lay there for a few more minutes—the ceiling fan above them and the busy street outside the only noise filling the room. Taehyung can hear Jimin breathing, feels his heartbeat slowing, and doesn’t stop himself from hugging him closer. 

Jimin lifts his head. Taps at Taehyung’s chin to get his attention and asks, “Mind if I use your shower?”

Looking down at his stomach, Taehyung chuckles and says, “We’re pretty disgusting, huh?” 

Cutely, Jimin makes a face. 

“Towels are over there. You can use whatever soap and shampoo you want,” Taehyung instructs, almost reluctantly letting Jimin go so he can sit up. Jimin slips away, a thankful pat to Taehyung’s thigh. 

As always, Taehyung’s eyes are glued to Jimin. Watches him walk naked around his room, collecting a black towel and tossing it over his shoulder. It’s then that Taehyung spots a tattoo on Jimin’s back. Looks like a dragon, the fire it’s breathing wrapping around Jimin’s shoulder. Taehyung’s refractory period is nonexistent tonight; thinks he feels his dick twitching in interest. Fuck, Jimin is going to be the death of him. 

Jimin’s body is like the ones Taehyung sees in paintings. Smooth, tight skin. Lean muscles defined on his thin frame. He’s got a tiny waist that’s highlighted by the way the moon’s shining, marking every curve. Taehyung sighs, trying to commit this image to memory. 

“You know,” Jimin begins, turning around, a devilish smile painted on his face. He cocks his head to the side and says, “You can join me if you want.” 

And again, Taehyung thinks only a fool would pass up an offer like that. Honestly, he thinks he'd say yes to just about anything Jimin propositions him with. Taehyung nearly pounces off the bed and chases Jimin into the bathroom, giggles and sounds of kisses bouncing off the tile. 

 

 

It’s the ache in Taehyung’s muscles that let him know last night wasn’t a dream. Thigh muscles sore, stomach muscles throbbing, his head fighting off a dull ache. 

Hard to tell, though. Because Jimin’s unquestionably someone pulled straight out of Taehyung’s fantasies. Last night felt more like a beautiful mirage than a real-life experience. Taehyung’s still half-convinced he dreamt it all when he forces himself to sit up, curls of his hair falling onto his face. 

The last thing Taehyung remembers before falling asleep was Jimin’s arm wrapped around him, holding him close, soft breaths on his neck. They showered together and then cuddled like it was the most natural thing. It was Jimin’s warmth that helped Taehyung drift off.

But now Taehyung’s bed is empty, the sheets are ruffled, and the jeans Jimin left in front of his bed are gone. Figures, Taehyung thinks, pushing away feelings of disappointment. A one night stand is exactly what it was, Taehyung knows he has no right to feel… anything. 

Taehyung looks down at his arm, fresh tattoo looking back up at him and smiles. Doesn’t feel that emptiness in his heart anymore. In fact, he still feels that same happiness he felt the first time he looked at it. 

It’s a weekday, so Taehyung has work today. Only allows himself to stay in bed for a few more minutes before dragging himself out. As he stands, hands above his head in a stretch, something catches his eye. 

A note, ripped from a notebook, with a fast scribble on it. But Taehyung knows exactly who it’s from and he’s already smiling before he starts to read it.



had to open the shop or would’ve done 
breakfast w/ you. last night was amazing.
if you ever wanna hang out again,
you know where to find me... 

— JM



The note has Jimin’s number on the bottom, an adorable series of hearts to follow. With a smile he couldn’t shake if he tried, Taehyung enters Jimin’s number into his phone. 

Thinks he’ll text Jimin later, maybe take him up on his breakfast offer. But that just means they’re going to have to have another night like last night again. Just the thought of it has Taehyung’s heart racing. 

It’s true; sometimes, the best things happen when they’re least expected. Jimin might be one of those things.