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Jungkook shouldn’t be here.
No one should be here, really - not at this time of night anyway.
It’s only the risktakers now, the daredevils and rushseekers.
And the cops, of course. The cops are always prowling to ruin an orgasm. Jungkook has heard more than one story of a guy pulling down his pants only to be met with a set handcuffs around their wrists (and not in a good way.) You’ve got to be careful around here.
Jungkook comes to the park whenever he feels ready to implode. The world tends to sit heavy on his skin.
It’s because people expect so much of him, each of them putting Jungkook in a neat little box that threatens to cave in on top of him when he moves one inch out of line.
He is not like them and it’s straining to pretend that he is, or that he wants the life they follow with their connect-the-dots images.
There’s only so many times he can hear “and do you have a girlfriend, Jungkook-ah?” from his colleagues at work without wanting to ram a knife into his ear canal rather than listening to them droning on. And when he comes home, there’s his brother, groping his girlfriend on the couch with wet smacks of their lips that make Jungkook’s skin crawl.
The park at the northern border of the city is a subway and two bus rides away. This is where he seeks release and a little bit of pain. He sheds here, he unfolds.
It’s secluded and far away enough to avoid randoms strolling around that might end up receiving an unintended immoral offer. Still, it’s known well enough through the grapevine that the right kind of people know where to find what they want, what they can’t get anywhere else. Knowledge of this place, of the sins in the bushes, on park benches or against the trees, travels in a mouth-to-mouth word-of-mouth kind of way.
There are no street lamps in the park - another reason why it’s a favoured location, perfect for clandestine pleasures.
Funnily enough, Jungkook has been here a sufficient amount of time to have a spot. He takes the first loop of the trail and diverts into the middle track of the unofficial paths leading off of the proper way. These are the traces of others like him who have gone out looking, well-trodden tracks that only those take who are led astray from the appropriate direction. When he first came here, he was just like that too. Like Little Red Riding Hood being seduced to follow the big, bad wolf into the woods. Only the big bad wolf was a hunk of a man that pushed him on his knees, came on his face, and returned the favor.
One guy that fucked him here told Jungkook that those tracks are called desire paths; the ones people take to make short cuts, to get them where they really want to be. Almost too fitting. “Isn’t that something?” the guy had breathed greasily into Jungkook’s ear, while he fingered him open behind some shrubbery.
He takes his desire path to find his spot. A massive oak tree marks the location. One side of it is lined with some bushes and on the other side a trail from the opposite direction curls around. Another seeker might walk past, ready to be invited. Or someone else might stroll around, watching him be had. He doesn’t mind that part.
With a start, he realises there already is someone in his spot, leaning against the tree as if waiting. Jungkook stocks for a second, takes in the shape of the stranger, and keeps going. It’s a good shape, from what he can see in the night. Tall, broad. It might just be Jungkook’s lucky night.
Jungkook approaches the man, and he must hear him rustling through the grass because his eyes snap up to meet him. And then his gaze wanders, up and down Jungkook’s figure, burning holes into his grey, oversized sweater and skinny black jeans.
The other man looks equally casual, denim jeans and a dark hoodie. They’d be inconspicuous if it wasn’t for what they are about to do.
“Looking for someone in particular?” Jungkook asks when he reaches his tree.
The man turns his head towards him, still leaning. “Nah,” he responds, eyes locking on Jungkook’s. “Just a nice night to be out, isn’t it?”
He’s taller than Jungkook, only by a little, not quite towering over him. He could be stronger than him, Jungkook thinks with simmering excitement. Could be a cop, too, to be fair. He seems the right built for it, tall and muscular. But in the dark, his hair doesn’t look black enough, like he might have dyed it. Jungkook’s willing to chance it.
“Totally,” he agrees mindlessly, while his eyes travel along the man’s torso down towards his hands. They’re big; long fingers that could hold him well, could sink into his flesh and leave red and blue marks.
Meeting men here isn’t about saying the right words, nor codes to identify willing participants. The difference between an accidental stray who’s just hanging out for a smoke and a degenerate criminal looking for a fuck is always in the looks. Right now, Jungkook’s gaze hooks on the stranger’s belt and he imagines his hand sliding into the buckle and opening it. When he glances back up, he finds the other man’s eyes on himself likewise: on Jungkook’s neck, on his mouth, maybe on his lip piercing.
Really, that’s enough said. Jungkook tongues at his piercing for good measure and presses his back against the wide tree, waiting for the stranger to crowd him, devour him, tear at his clothes and bite his skin. He raises his chin at him to get his message across, and the man takes the bait.
He turns toward Jungkook, merely a few inches away now, and his eyes shine in the dark. He smiles, almost kindly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook feels open, and a little bit raw, as if his skin is burning. He has this gnawing urge to be reshaped, like his flesh is hot iron in the stove, ready to be moulded by these new, strange hands on him. He’d be good for this man, pliable for whatever he asks.
He’s about to finally pull the stranger against him, when he says, “My name’s Namjoon by the way.”
Jungkook pauses. Who in the hell would share their name like that. Maybe this guy is a dumbass cop after all.
“For real?” he asks. He’s never told anyone his name, and he’s not about to start now. No need for someone to start asking around for him.
“For real.” The man who shared his name so freely grins down at him, half-crooked, half-dimpled. It makes him look handsome and reckless - but that’s why they’re both here like this, Jungkook supposes. “I’m just telling you because I like to hear it moaned,” he adds.
“Fair enough.” Jungkook shrugs. “You can call me whatever.” A made-up name, an ex’s name - he could call him a slur for all Jungkook cares. He might even get off on it too.
“How about baby?” the man - Namjoon - asks, inching closer now.
“Fine,” Jungkook says, casually as if the pet name doesn’t set a spring loose inside his stomach.
“You kiss?”
Not always. Sometimes the need spills out of him and he is desperate to cling onto a pair of lips, sometimes he likes to taste himself in another man’s mouth. But often guys stink of cheap beer and he just wants to get off and be done with it.
This guy here has pretty lips, full and plump, making even his smirks look a little soft. He smells good too, dark and luxurious, like he made an effort for a random hole in the park.
Jungkook shrugs again. “Sure.”
It’s the magical word that sets the stranger off. He pushes against Jungkook, presses him right into the knots of the tree bark and gets his hands on his waist. Then, he kisses him too. It’s eager and rough, and Jungkook wonders if the need and lust and the tinge of anger is pent up in Namjoon too.
His mouth opens a valve in Jungkook, releasing the steam and the pressure of how to be Jungkook in front of everyone who doesn’t know him like this, all of them who don’t have a clue where he is right now, or that his hands are feeling up another man’s torso in this very moment, sliding down towards his dick.
Funny how a horny queer in the dark knows him better than his entire family. Isn’t that something.
He moans when the stranger’s tongue glides against his, and gets rewarded with a knee pushing up between his thighs. He grinds down against it, finally feeling the spark that he came here for.
Jungkook wraps his fingers around that belt buckle now. With his eyes closed into the kiss, he opens the clasps and loosens the belt. It can all happen so fast, that’s another reason he likes this place. One minute he’s fantasising about sticking his hand down a hot guy’s pants, and a couple glances and few exchanged words later, he can feel him get hard underneath his touch.
He pumps Namjoon a couple of times, sizes him up quite literally, already shuddering at the idea of his length fucking into him in no time
Namjoon breaks the kiss and moves to kiss Jungkook’s neck, his breathing heavier now. But Jungkook is impatient, burning and greedy for the main act. He turns around in Namjoon’s hold and ends up tight against the tree, his fingers slotting into its winding shapes. He drags one hand lower to fumble at his zipper - but is stopped by a larger hand enveloping his own.
“I’ll do it,” Namjoon whispers to him, lips against his ear made wet by Jungkook.
Namjoon waits an excruciating beat, cupping Jungkook through his pants, and then he twists open the button and wraps around Jungkook’s cock. He tends to forego underwear on a night like this.
Jungkook hisses with relief at the touch. He swallows, and breathes, “I’m prepped already. Don’t need much.” He did the legwork locked into the bathroom at home, sliding a couple of fingers inside of himself and imagining them to be someone else, someone who might be broad and tall and press him against a tree as he jerks him off.
“I’ve got lube too,” Namjoon rumbles against his neck.
Jungkook snorts. “A gentleman.”
“Well, I’m big, so.”
Jungkook has only known his partner of the night for a few minutes, but now he knows how his voice changes when he grins, even though he can’t see it. He sounds playful and confident, almost charming if he weren’t bragging about the size of his cock.
Does fucking in the woods make you friends?
“Lucky me then,” Jungkook says. He braces one hand against the tree, hooks his other into the band of his jeans and shimmies them down.
There’s a sudden chill against his skin as he is exposed, but Namjoon crowds him and breathes warm against his skin. The denim fabric of his jeans is rough against Jungkook’s ass, he feels the metal belt digging against him, but there’s the shape of Namjoon’s cock too and Jungkook eagerly presses against it.
“Me too. You’re pretty,” Namjoon hums and runs a hand from his lower back across his cheek. In response, Jungkook arches his back, as if to soak up the compliment.
Men tend to say that. You’re pretty, you’re cute, your eyes are adorable - and Jungkook eats it up every time. They have no reason to schmooze him, not when he’s already getting his knees dirty in the mildew of the grass or when someone he’s never seen before is balls deep inside of him. They just say it to say it, exposed and honest.
He hears some rustling, a new tell-tale sound, and then there’s a cold squirt above his hole. He flinches briefly and sighs, readying himself.
“Sorry. You mind it messy?”
“No.” Jungkook shudders as he feels one of Namjoon’s wet fingers sliding between his cheeks. He doesn’t mind it messy, or rough or fast - as long as he is made undone in the process.
Namjoon starts slow, circling his rim with the tip of two fingers as if he knows it's gnawing at Jungkook’s patience. His cock twitches, still contained inside his jeans and he moves against Namjoon’s hand to ask for more.
He gasps quietly when Namjoon does slide into him. He knows there’s a chance someone might hear him, and really someone could walk past on the trail any moment. He gasps again as Namjoon’s fingers move inside of him, just a little louder, like a siren’s call to other deviants.
“Can you take another?” Namjoon asks in a low voice. He almost sounds soft in Jungkook’s swimming head, and Jungkook pushes against the third finger positioned at his entrance.
“I can take your dick, too.” Jungkook’s voice sounds rougher than he expected. It strains with the pressure inside of him, breathless when Namjoon angles his fingers to brush against his prostate.
Namjoon chuckles and says, “Alright, alright, just hold on.” He still gets three of his fingers inside of Jungkook, twists and scissors them to feel him out. Jungkook doesn’t feel the cold night air anymore, only the heat needling down his spine.
Then, he’s empty again, and it’s almost enough to draw a whine from him. He breathes through it, turns it into a moan.
“Condom?” Namjoon asks. Jungkook knows he’s not asking whether he has one; he’s asking if he wants to use one. Still, a gentleman.
“‘m good.” Jungkook says, huffing against the tree bark.
Technically, he knows that that’s stupid and reckless. But he’s already in a dark park, meeting strangers for a quick fuck. Plus, if he ends up getting caught, he might as well get caught with some cum dribbling down his thighs.
“Okay.”
Another sound of a plastic cap, another squirt, and Jungkook hears Namjoon lubing himself up with slick sounds. It makes his skin tingle in the best ways, hearing his hand move faster and his breath quicken. He could probably stand against a bush and have someone jerk off behind him to cum on his back and he’d call it a good night. Maybe he could cruise for a married guy who’d be into that.
The shame and secrecy are a nice part of this - perhaps ironically, considering they could get caught at any moment, but he probably gets off on the forbidden aspect of it all. It proves him. When his cum dribbles into the grass, when he snaps the twigs of some shrubbery while trying to get into position, that means he’s real and raw here, doing things those closest to him could probably never imagine him doing. But he gets to be real and raw in this hidden spot, containing a lustful secret about himself and about whichever body is making him feel alive that night.
Now he’s set alight by Namjoon who pushes inside of him, not making him wait any longer.
He really is big.
“Fuck.”
This, exactly this. Getting his mind fucked quiet, being filled by a stranger without strings or preamble. This is why he comes here.
He arches his back further to take Namjoon deeper and puts the weight of his torso against the tree bark in turn. Even through his sweatshirt he feels the nobs and knots of the bark digging into him. They might bruise him if Namjoon is a bit more forceful, and he’d be able to feel it for days.
“Shit, baby, you feel so good,” Namjoon murmurs behind him and thrusts into him again. Jungkook tightens around him just to make his rhythm stutter a little. It earns him a huff from Namjoon and a squeeze around his waist. Namjoon slips his hands underneath Jungkook’s sweater and squeezes once more, right at the heated skin of his hips.
He could move Jungkook however he’d like, bend him or crowd him, Jungkook would take it.
Ruin me, Jungkook thinks. Open me up and mould me around you.
“Harder,” he presses, and Namjoon listens.
It’s messy, yes, but he still feels every thrust sharp into him, each time Namjoon’s hips slap against his ass he has a moan pushed out of him too.
One more thrust and he folds open, another one and he becomes whole again.
The muscles Jungkook suspected on his new acquaintance don’t betray him. He feels his strength with each of his movements. Namjoon drives into him faster and harder, pushing him more against their tree. At that angle, he slams against Jungkook’s prostate without fail. It makes him light-headed and heavy in his limbs, slugging along a pleasurable climb that he knows is going to unfurl into an explosion in no time.
He manages to slide one hand up to rest under his forehead, but the other grabs frantically behind himself and finds Namjoon’s on his waist. Jungkook claws into the back of his hand, holding on and digging his nails into the flesh and bones there.
He’d feel the aftermath of Namjoon’s cock inside of him tomorrow. The other party might as well get a souvenir too.
“Touch yourself,” Namjoon grits out behind him, and slides his free hand to Jungkook’s torso to hold him up.
Jungkook sticks a shaky hand where he's already hard and leaking and wraps it around himself. He keens at the two-fold pleasure; Namjoon persistently driving into him without letting up, and his own fingers circling his cockhead, catching his pre-cum to jerk down the length of it. He tries to match Namjoon’s speed to, fast and ruthless so that it’s just on the edge of too much, looking over a jagged, painful cliff that tempts his desire to get hurt.
He thinks someone moans in the distance, some other bush getting defiled, and somewhere through the fog in his blissed out brain, it dawns on Jungkook that they must hear him too. There’s enough pleasure to go around for everyone here.
Nothing indicates that Namjoon heard it too, he doesn’t slow down, never shushes Jungkook, but he moans too and says, “God, shit, I’m close.”
He crowds against Jungkook’s back once more and fits his mouth right at the sensitive spot behind his ear.
“Remember what I said?” he asks breathily, “I like to hear my name.”
Between strokes, Jungkook chuckles - as much as he can muster anyway. He speeds up his movements, listens to the slick sound of his hand on his dick, the wet noises of Namjoon fucking lube inside of him, and his ragged breathing at Jungkook’s ear.
Almost there - he’s almost there.
“Namjoon.” He moans it like a secret between them.
It’s over too fast, but Jungkook came here too willing and too needy to be able to hold on any longer. With a stuttered breath, he spills warm into his fingers, clouded by the soft sparks in his gut and the pleasurable burning on the border of overstimulation.
Namjoon isn’t far behind. He squeezes Jungkook’s waist again and pulls him back harshly on his cock. Jungkook has barely ridden out his high when he feels Namjoon’s cum fill him up. He clenches for him, milking him through his orgasm and feels the stammer of his hips push raggedly against him.
Then, Namjoon stills and heaves a big breath. He’s still inside of him, might soften any minute but he doesn’t pull out yet. He’s back to kissing Jungkook, behind his ear, his neck, the slope of his shoulder that vanishes underneath his sweater.
The spots that catch his kisses melt on Jungkook’s skin. He might as well dissolve now, wholly spent.
Against the back of his throat, Namjoon laughs low and breathy. “That was fucking amazing. You good?”
Jungkook swallows and nods weakly. “Yeah, fucking amazing is about right.” He drags his soiled hands out of his pants and wipes them against his thigh. With a murmured “sorry”, Namjoon pulls out, and Jungkook revels in that sensation too.
Just like that, the deed is done, the act is over. If someone came upon them now, with their dicks put away and their zippers pulled back together, they might just look like regular people, meeting up for a friendly stroll in the park. No one would guess the trickle of cum leaking out of Jungkook’s hole and between his cheeks.
But the marks will be on Jungkook’s body now, the finger imprints on his hip, and he will think of the phantom feeling of a strong pelvis slapping against him hard and steady the next time he comes to his spot. And maybe he’ll see crooked dimple-grin then too, and hear that smooth voice, almost cocky, almost charming.
“So,” Namjoon starts, snapping his belt back together, “you hang around on Jack’d too?”
“Nope, just here.” He can’t risk having apps on his phone, but he almost mentions his go-to club to Namjoon. He likes it there once in a while when it’s too cold outside and he needs to get hammered. But he leaves it there.
“Fair. I’ll be around here too,” he smirks. “Might run into you.”
And Jungkook finds that he wouldn’t mind it at all.
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