Chapter Text
Taehyung checks his phone for the fifth time in the last two minutes. It’s 4pm sharp now, and the last text Jimin sent him was at 3.59, saying Be there soon! He replied with an okay - can’t wait - heart emoji as soon as he’d gotten it, and Jimin hasn’t texted him back since.
Standing idly for six minutes in an alley filled with motels, dressed so obviously like a college student--hoodie, skinny jeans, and a pair of beat up sneakers--isn’t the way Taehyung had imagined this afternoon would pan out. The plan was to go home for a quick shower first, tell some bullshit lie to his mother (bless her heart) about working on a group project in the campus library, then go and meet Jimin in the motel to get, uh, deflowered.
He’s 21. Deflowering is due, and he’s got a hot, capable boyfriend to do it with now. They’d been sexting. Or, Taehyung shamelessly teasing but immediately backtracking once Jimin threw him a bone and sent something racy, to be precise. Their first one went something like this:
jiminie<3
00.00
jimin-ah
baby
yes babe
what’s up
what are you wearing?
00.01
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
why’d you wanna know
just curious
wanna know what you wear to bed
oh
you see
i don’t wear much
oh
neither do i
show me?
how much?
surprise me
[image attached]
00.07
taetae
say something
00.12
hello?
😳
sorry
i
baby
you
???!??!?!? you’re shirtless
i told you
i don’t wear much
Taehyung liked to think he’d gotten better at sexting and therefore closer to...doing it, but Jimin hadn’t been getting the hint, laughing off Taehyung’s advances. Stroked his hair, pinched his cheek. Called him cute. But Taehyung kept trying. He stole innocent kisses by the bookshelves in the campus library so often it turned to lingering, less innocent ones at the park near his apartment well into midnight--which had Jimin so flustered that he told Taehyung aegi, I can’t go home like this. Taehyung asked what he meant by that, and Jimin had said wanting you. To which Taehyung replied: but I want you too.
“You’re serious?” There was that hand again, short fingers through Taehyung’s hair; but it slid all the way down to Taehyung’s nape.
Taehyung’s yes was implied in him leaning into the touch, his quiet hum.
It’s only right.
So they made plans last week. Their rooms are out of the question, that’s for sure. Even though they can pass their rendezvous off as a group project, the walls are too thin, and their mothers would be in the other room. A love motel is their best bet: they charge hourly, and the motel strip is conveniently tucked several gu away from their neighborhood and their fathers’ offices. As for the day, they decided on Tuesday where their last classes end at the same time, 3 p.m. There should be ample time for both of them to go home, shower, and meet up in front of the motel at four.
It should’ve been easy. Taehyung should’ve had time to freshen up, he’d planned this, dammit, and he doesn’t really plan things—ever. That’s Jimin’s thing. But alas: His last class ran 30 minutes late and ate away all the spare time he had to shower beforehand. Jimin’s last class also suffered from the same fate, like it’s some cosmic retribution for Taehyung’s horny crimes, and he’s running even later.
The turn of events brought Taehyung here, in front of Motel Is Love (seriously, what a name), waiting by himself, melting under Seoul’s scorching summer sun. Which is just...Great. He’s been collecting a day’s worth of grime on his skin and this isn’t making that any better. How is he supposed to feel confident taking his clothes off in front of Jimin? He feels dirty, and not in the way he would want himself to.
Taehyung looks around, lingers at the intersection where the alley meets the main road, biting his lip as he cranes his head and searches the crowd for blonde hair and full lips. Just when Taehyung is about to whip out his phone from his pocket, there’s a light tugging on his backpack that almost topples him over. The force shouldn’t be enough to do so, but he’s been putting his weight on one leg while the other incessantly taps on the pavement, spurred on by unease.
“Taetae!”
He turns around to find Jimin, incriminating hand still curled around the air where one of his backpack straps was, lips stretched in a wide grin.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung clutches his chest. “You startled me.”
“Sorry, babe. Have you been waiting a while?” Jimin looks exactly like the startled face emoji. It pairs well with the little ponytail he’d bunched up his hair into--super cute--but contrasts the tight black long sleeve and jeans he’s wearing. Jimin is whiplash personified; kind eyes and soft round cheeks, but also plush lips and lithe, sculpted body. Granted, Taehyung’s only seen that body through grainy shirtless selfies taken under dim lighting, but sometimes he wears a shirt that’s tight enough for anyone to make out the soft lines of his biceps and pecs, not leaving much to imagination.
Taehyung clears his suddenly parched throat. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Let’s just go.”
“Oh, someone’s excited,” Jimin teases Taehyung’s chin. He’s grinning from ear to ear, blinding like the sun itself, and Taehyung can’t reconcile the crescent moon eyes with the dark sultry gaze on the suggestive selca Jimin sent him last night. He’s a bit dizzy now. It could be low blood sugar, since he hasn't had anything but a small bottle of strawberry milk since morning, or realization dawning on him that he’s about to lose his virginity in a love motel to this bombshell he calls his boyfriend. Holy shit.
“Taetae?” Jimin’s voice is softer than a fleece blanket, fit for a late night conversation at a park instead of a motel strip in broad daylight. He links his hand with Taehyung’s. “We don’t have to do this now, it’s okay. Let’s just get something to eat instead, how’s that sound?”
“No, I want to. It’s just…” Taehyung trails off. His cheeks burn as his eyes scan Jimin from head to toe on their own volition. Traitors. He can’t blame his impulse, though, because Jimin looks nothing like a college kid straight out of three back-to-back classes; model, actor, idol—any kind of celebrity would be more fitting. He’s one of those people who looks like he’s fresh out of the shower at all times, while Taehyung thinks he’s quite the opposite. He gives Jimin’s outfit another once over, then examines his own.
He realizes he’s had this hoodie since high school. It was oversized and pitch black then but now he’s filled it out around the shoulders and the color has faded into gray. The pair of jeans also show signs of wear--frayed edges, washed out in places--but he doesn’t think he managed to make that look remotely good. It just looks like he put no thought into his outfit, while Jimin is standing there with his perfectly fitted shirt and jeans and a matching messenger bag, which strap dips right in the valley of his pecs.
“Nothing,” Taehyung continues, dejected. He feels underdressed and sticky. Gross. “You’re just so...”
“What?”
Taehyung fixes his gaze on the tips of his sneakers. “Sexy,” he mumbles, hoping Jimin didn’t catch it. But of course Jimin did, eyes twinkling with mirth as he teases him back with a playful come again? and that’s all it takes for Taehyung to backtrack. “Cute,” he amends, bashful in a way he himself never thought could ever be. Jimin has that effect on people. Here Taehyung thought he was quite shameless…
“No take backsies,” Jimin taps Taehyung’s nose, face teeming with fondness, and Taehyung simply can’t look away. “You said I’m sexy.” There’s a satisfied smile playing on his lips along with a nearly imperceptible puff of his chest—compliments are the sun to Jimin’s sunflower. It’s something Taehyung had picked up on a few months ago, early in their relationship.
So he concurs, nodding. “Let’s go?”
Jimin squeezes his hand and Taehyung lets him lead the way, his heart floating up to his throat.
“Let’s go.”
--
The motel interior is surprisingly decent.
The outside of the building would’ve looked like a regular apartment that has seen better days had it not been for the flashy neon sign—which, if they were going for an unassuming facade, would be defeating that very purpose. However, it seems like the motel had gone through complete remodeling inside. The hallways are covered in colorful geometric wallpapers and the air has a crisp tinge to it, a mix of newly cleaned aircon smell and citrusy air freshener.
It’s much more pleasant than Taehyung had expected and it makes him feel even more gross and sticky.
“This is us,” Jimin says as he matches the number etched on the door with the ones on their key. They enter the room unceremoniously, completely silent save for the sound of the key clicking into the slot on the wall.
“It’s not bad,” Taehyung notes, wincing at how his voice falters at the end. He distracts himself with the interior of the room; a lime green wall contrasting the other three plain ones, stark white bedding, a vanity stocked with travel sized hair products and lotion next to a door that he deduces would lead to the bathroom. There’s a TV in front of the bed and a small built-in wardrobe at the entryway. Not bad at all.
“Yeah,” Jimin replies. He sits on the small vanity bench with his back to the mirror, delight obvious in the way his eyes crinkle. “Not bad at all.”
This is awkward. Isn’t it? The air stills for a moment as Taehyung being alone in a motel room with his boyfriend registers in his brain. He’s suddenly all too aware of the low ceiling, the space he takes in the modest room, and the white noise from the street outside layered behind the low whirring of the aircon. He’s standing in the middle of the room scratching a phantom itch on his neck, unsure of how he should proceed.
“I should— can I shower first?” The purpose is twofold: to wash the day off and to buy him some time that, he hopes, would make him less worried about how he pales in comparison to the gorgeous and sexy Park Jimin. Even though Jimin repeatedly assured him they don’t have to do anything he’s not comfortable with, Taehyung had wanted this. Planned this. He just needs to look more presentable for it.
“Sure. Just…we only have two hours.”
“I’ll be quick, promise.”
The shower itself takes no longer than 10 minutes, as Taehyung promised to Jimin. He takes another 5 to make sure his damp hair--which he realized had grown longer than he’d usually have it--doesn’t look like a total disaster. His reflection looks...normal now. Nowhere near Park Jimin’s level of pretty, but this...inky wavy hair on freshly cleaned tan skin doesn’t look half bad. Ready to be alone in a private room with Jimin and, depending on how he’ll fare later, have sex with him.
Taehyung weighs his clothes on his hands, feeling the residual warmth and stickiness from himself and the sun earlier, then mentally curses himself for not having the foresight to pack at least a fresh t-shirt with him. His only other option is the motel bathrobe, which looks so short it likely won't go past his knees. That should be…sexy? Too bold? What if Jimin doesn’t like it? His legs are hairy--he would’ve shaved had he been given time to. Will that disgust Jimin?
Well, fuck it. What option does Taehyung have? He feels the material of the robe between his fingers. It’s clean and soft, nice, if a little bit thinner than it looks. Definitely better than slipping back into his dirty clothes. He decides to save that for the commute home and wear the robe—it skims just above his knees. It’s fine. Jimin wouldn’t mind. Taehyung holds on to the possibility that his boyfriend could be into it.
With that, he opens the door and leaves the bathroom.