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Can You Trust Me?

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“I don’t- I’ve never done this before.”

In the spur of the moment, Taehyung doesn’t process that his best friend of two years has his hand sliding up his shirt and lips latched onto his neck, making sure to keep the marks within t-shirt boundary because rumors in high school are hardest to deal with. All he knows is that Jimin’s mouth tastes like chocolate against his own and that the taste lingers at the tip of his tongue even as Jimin pulls away shyly, admitting to this being his first with a boy.

He doesn’t know how they managed to climb the stairs all the way to his bedroom or when they kicked their shoes (and socks) off, but he does recall Jimin accidentally slamming him against the railing at the bottom of the stairs and the bruise beginning to bloom on his lower back under Jimin’s apologetic palm. He’d been much gentler when he lowered Taehyung onto his bed only minutes later, but Taehyung has already forgotten the sting of the bruise over Jimin’s lips on his collarbones.

“It’s okay, just follow me.”

It’s only been a few weeks since they started experimenting beyond the realms of friendship, make-out sessions in empty classrooms after school and hand holding under the tables at lunch, but Taehyung knows he doesn’t want to go back. Not now when he’s experienced Jimin’s gentle hands in a way he never thought he would.

Jimin had been bright smiles and soft words the moment they first met, offering him a handshake even after he’d just scored the winning shot for the school’s basketball team in the midst of the cheering students and parents surrounding them. Taehyung had compared the moment to meeting some kind of a celebrity, but Jimin had been far too genuine in his expression to do that comparison justice. Meeting Jimin was an entity of its own.

He’d known about a Park Jimin even before then, infamous for being the one keen on adopting Jeongguk as his own, or so Jeongguk complained on the daily, taking into account that they were teammates on the same basketball team. But being able to put a face to his name, Taehyung had thought, was like capturing beauty on camera or finding light in the darkest of rooms. He was Park Jimin, the guy that was always surrounded by girls and only hung out with the seniors on his team (with the exception of Jeongguk), the one with the kind eyes that always smiled at him whenever they passed each other in the hallway. By instinct, Taehyung had assumed they’d never end up as friends. 

And now, he was Park Jimin, the best friend he’d fallen in love with.

“Take off your shirt,” Taehyung says, tugging at the hem of Jimin’s basketball jersey, still damp with sweat from the basketball game they’d escaped only an hour ago after Jimin had, once again, scored the winning points for the school’s team. Taehyung had felt no shame in dragging him away by the wrist into the empty locker room and letting Jimin press him into the lockers to smash their lips together, congratulating him in the quiet space with needy kisses.

“You too,” Jimin responds, sitting back on the balls of his feet between Taehyung’s leg. “You take yours off too.” Taehyung bites his bottom lip and watches with hungry eyes as Jimin pulls the jersey off over his head and tosses it to the side of the bed, nervous in the way his eyes don’t quite settle, how he bites the inside of his cheek like he’s made of glass. Taehyung knows this look all too well and could identify it with his eyes closed, the look Jimin has when he feels insecure and belittles himself until he’s convinced he’s not good enough. 

“Beautiful,” Taehyung whispers, sitting up and running flat palms down the expanse of Jimin’s chest, over the toned muscles of his shoulders and down the divots of his defined abs. He’s always wanted to do this, run his hands along Jimin’s naked torso without the fabric of shirts separating his hands from doing so, knowing full well just how toned Jimin was beneath his clothing. But actually doing it is entirely different from what he imagined it to be like, the skin of Jimin’s chest much warmer and softer than he envisioned in his dreams, the way his palms practically melt away the tension in his muscles. Taehyung trails his hands down until his fingers hook into the waistband of his basketball shorts.

“Shirt first,” Jimin urges, grabbing Taehyung’s hands to halt his movements. He slides his hands firmly along Taehyung’s sides, tugging the shirt up as he goes and pulling it over his head before leaning forward to press a kiss to Taehyung’s lips the second the shirt is gone. He knows Jimin likes to kiss him, stealing every chance he could get to mesh their lips together, and Taehyung gets dizzy every time.

Taehyung exhales from his nose as Jimin licks his way into his mouth, eagerly melding their tongues together like a battle for dominance and tasting every inch of him like he’s afraid he’ll forget. Jimin had only ever been with two girls before, already having lost his virginity in the backseat of his car, but Taehyung is the first male he’d ever kissed, something Taehyung secretly takes pride in but never mentions. He’s careful because he’s afraid that any second now, their friendship could dissolve into nothing.

Taehyung resumes his movements and trails his fingers lightly down Jimin’s firm stomach, biting down on Jimin’s tongue when he feels the stomach muscles twitch in anticipation. When he finally reaches between Jimin’s legs and palms at the growing bulge in his shorts, a moan bubbles from his lips as he breaks the kiss and breathes shakily against Taehyung’s chin, vulnerable like he’s wanted this for so long, just as much as Taehyung. Taehyung watches through lidded eyes as his face contorts into something of pleasure and rubs him slowly through the fabric, biting the flesh of Jimin’s lower lip when another hand covers his own to press the palm harder against the heat, holding onto this moment with his all.

Taehyung pulls his hand back after a few minutes to dip his fingers into the waistband of Jimin’s shorts, impatiently pushing them down past his sharp hips, but Jimin grabs his wrist and stops his movements for the second time that night, opening his eyes to look at Taehyung with the insecurity back in his eyes like ghosts.

“Wait,” he says quietly. “I don’t-“

“Trust me,” Taehyung breathes, pressing their foreheads together and nudging his nose against Jimin’s. He closes his eyes and fills his lungs with the sound of Jimin’s racing heartbeat. “Just trust me, babe.” 

“I know, it’s just,” Jimin starts, loosening his grip on Taehyung’s wrist. “I want- I just want to make you feel good, not the other way around.”

“I’ll feel good if you do, too,” Taehyung replies, kissing Jimin twice, the second as reassurance that this is real, that Jimin is warm beneath his hands and winded up like the knots in his stomach. He opens his eyes and stares into Jimin’s with nothing but adoration, pushing at his shorts again, slower this time because he won’t ever do anything Jimin isn’t comfortable with. Because he knows Jimin would do the same for him. “I want to do this. God, you have no idea how much I want to do this.”

When Jimin finally nods and lifts his hips off the bed, letting Taehyung pull his shorts and boxers off in one swift movement, Taehyung wastes no time in kneeling between his legs and wetting his palm with his tongue before wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock. The sound Jimin makes when his hand comes in contact with him makes his hips jerk forward, and he works up a leisure pace along his length, his hand doing most of the work as he watches Jimin through his lashes. 

From his experience with his past boyfriend of almost two years, Taehyung had learned that he always liked to start with his hand, teasing with a hand job before he used his tongue and mouth to do anything else. He figures the habit stems from how he pleases himself when no ones around, starting off with a dry palm before using lube to make the jerking easier and smoother. But right now, with Jimin making small noises above him and staring down at him with his eyebrows furrowed, he wants nothing more than to pull Jimin into the heat of his mouth and taste him in the most intimate of ways. 

Taehyung lurches forward and flattens his tongue at the base of Jimin’s cock, licking up the side before swallowing him down into the heat of his mouth, exhaling through his nose and taking more of him in with each breath. Jimin threads his hand through his hair, tugging gently at the strands as Taehyung works up a rhythm on his cock, the wet sound of his mouth sliding up and down filling the room with Jimin’s breathy groans. 

When Taehyung finally sucks down far enough for the tip to hit the back of his throat, Jimin grips his shoulder and pushes him off so suddenly Taehyung feels saliva escape his mouth and slide down his chin, breath coming out ragged and curling at the end with a small whimper. He knows he must be quite a sight by the way Jimin’s cock twitches without needing to be touched.

“Fuck,” Jimin whines, throwing his head back to catch his breath.  “Sorry.” He swipes his thumb along Taehyung’s chin and kisses him. “Sorry, I almost came just now.”

“I want you to come,” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s soft lips, like tulip petals in summer. He brushes his fingers along the side of his face. 

“Not yet,” Jimin says, shaking his head and dropping a kiss to his neck, to the spot just below his jaw. “Not until I’m inside of you.”

Taehyung ends up on his back with his legs fallen open as Jimin crawls between them, hands sluggishly sliding his boxers down his thighs and past his ankles. 

“Fuck me with your fingers,” Taehyung whispers desperately, guiding Jimin’s hand between his legs as he sits up on one arm. “Stretch me open for your cock. Please, I want it so bad.”

Jimin nods and bites down on his lip, hovering over him on all fours when Taehyung grips his wrist and presses the lubricated finger to his entrance, pausing slightly before pushing past the tight muscle and sliding him in to the knuckle. The way Jimin watches him as he works the finger in and out of his body makes him weak to the bone, and Taehyung pulls his hand back after awhile, giving Jimin full reign to do whatever.

“Does this feel good, baby?” Jimin asks, unsure and hesitant in his movements. He curls the finger inside him, knocking a moan out of Taehyung’s mouth. “Does it make you feel good, Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Taehyung whimpers, nodding fervently and holding onto the back of Jimin’s neck to pull him close. “God yes. It feels amazing, Jimin.”

The way Jimin handles him like he’s so, so fragile, looks into his eyes like he’s looking at gold, touches him like he’ll break, makes Taehyung’s heart bloom in his chest all the way to his toes, and he sobs when he urges Jimin to add the second finger then the third, thrusting in at just the right spot each time. 

This is the Jimin he’d watched for so long, smiling eyes and calloused hands, wanting to understand the feeling of their knees knocking under the covers, the feeling of his staggered breath all across his collarbones. He’d realized Jimin was nothing short of special the night he fell asleep on Jimin’s shoulder in the subway last fall to the sound of his breathing near his ear. They’d been waiting under the fluorescent glow of the station, talking about movies and music, everything but nothing all at once when Jimin paused in the middle of speaking to reach forward and pluck something out of his hair before resuming his story. That was when he realized Jimin’s gentle hands and warm voice were a blessing. 

And now, as he watches Jimin above him, staring down at him like he’s beautiful, he thinks, this is the only Park Jimin he’ll ever want to know.

After Jimin pulls his fingers out, Taehyung helps him roll the condom on and slicks him up with a deliberate amount of lube, a shiver running down his spine when Jimin’s hips buck forward at the feeling of Taehyung’s hand sliding up and down his cock. Jimin kisses him breathless when Taehyung pulls back, holding him still, and Taehyung doesn’t move to rush him as he feels the minute trembling of Jimin’s underlip.

“Slowly, okay?” Taehyung says softly, crawling onto all fours and opening wide to welcome Jimin’s pulsing cock.

“Yeah,” Jimin responds, guiding his cock to Taehyung’s entrance. “Don’t worry, babe, I won’t hurt you.” 

Taehyung doesn’t doubt it one bit.

When Taehyung finally lets him thrust in from behind, it’s perfect and everything he’d expected and more. Jimin moans wantonly between the skin of his shoulder blades, flattening a palm to the small of his back and pushing deep within him with each thrust. Taehyung fucks down against him, the sound of their wet skin slapping against each other filling his ears with the delicious sounds of Jimin’s groans.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jimin whispers against him, moving his hands to the curve of Taehyung’s ass and spreading him wide open. “So, so pretty.”

At one point, they switch positions, and Taehyung pushes Jimin back onto the bed and crawls into his lap with his back facing him to ride him backwards, rolling his hips sensually and swiveling them in circles on his cock to give Jimin his own private show, because Taehyung wanted nothing more than to make Jimin feel good, make his mind reel until he was scrabbling for purchase against Taehyung’s thighs. The bed creaks from their quickened pace, and Jimin slides his hands up to grip his hips firmly to thrust up into him, meeting each of Taehyung’s downward rolls with his own. The way Jimin is filling him up makes his heart threaten to burst at the seams, but he needs this, so much, and he takes everything Jimin has to offer with open arms. 

Taehyung is the first to come, which doesn’t surprise him considering Jimin had more stamina than he did. He comes so hard his body falls forward, but Jimin catches him before he does, wrapping a strong arm around his torso as Taehyung rides out his orgasm through white vision, mouth open in a silent cry as his body shakes from the force of it. He pulls off slowly with shaky legs and gets on his knees in front of Jimin, sliding off the condom and goes down on him, eager to bring him to the edge. He tongues at the slit, moaning at the taste of his pre-come.

“Come for me,” Taehyung coaxes, sucking on the tip. “Come for me, Jimin.”

And Jimin does, releasing his seed down Taehyung’s throat and watching as Taehyung sucks him through his orgasm, making sure to swallow every drop. When he pulls off with a pop, Jimin leans down and kisses Taehyung until his heart calms to a steady pace.

As they lay side by side in Jimin’s bed, Taehyung closes his eyes and gets lost in the feeling of Jimin’s fingertips trailing along the skin of his forearm, the rise and fall of his chest like a calm summer evening where he wants nothing but to surround himself in warmth.

Taehyung moves to grab tissues from the nightstand, but Jimin stops him, pulling him back down by the shoulders to lay in the pillows with him.

“Let’s just stay like this for awhile,” Jimin whispers against his mouth lazily, eyes closed as he drifts to sleep with arms wrapped around Taehyung securely. “This feels nice.”

And Taehyung smiles, reaching down to fill the spaces of Jimin’s hand with his own. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, it does.”

It’s the perfect moment to breath I love you like a cool breeze against his lips, but Taehyung thinks it can wait until the sun rises. 

Taehyung loves first-times, but this is one he wants to save for last.