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One more round of the same

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There is only one thing Seokjin hates more than wearing formal clothes, and it’s going to formal parties in those clothes. Especially when those formal parties happen at the house of a snooty rich lady which is filled with kitschy antiques, thick red carpets and ugly golden chandeliers. He’d much rather be at home, playing some game on his own couch in his pyjama bottoms.

But sometimes duty calls, and duty demands him to straighten his tie and put on his nicest jacket and his best smile, to pose for some pictures and shake some hands and make some small talk with people who are all wearing the same sort of formal clothes, but are probably much more important than he is. That’s how it goes when you’re the eldest son of Korea’s biggest business man, and plan to join the firm as soon as you graduate. Gotta shake some hands and kiss some butts, as his father so eloquently puts it.

And that’s what Seokjin does. Shake hands, tell the ladies how wonderful they look and congratulate a bunch of important people on their profits, their investments, their new partnerships. Because Kim Seokjin is good at a lot of things, and one of them is looking good and pretending to be interested.

Nevertheless, he can use some of that ridiculously expensive champagne. Dom Pérignon, the two hundred and a half million won per bottle merit of every formal upper-class party, brought around on shiny trays by good-looking waiters with the logo of a fancy catering business on the back of their vests.

It doesn’t take long before Seokjin stops one of them, touching his arm lightly to get his attention and one of the glasses on his tray, determined to not make it out of this party sober. It’s a boy with bright orange hair and an even brighter smile, slightly shorter than Seokjin, probably a bit younger too. Jimin, his name tag reads. Seokjin smiles back at the boy, his first honest smile this evening, equal parts because he’s cute and because of the tray full of champagne in his hand. He picks up one of the glasses and thanks Jimin, giving his backside an appreciative one-over when he walks away. Nice.

There’s more handshakes, and more talk about company numbers and shares and more uninteresting things he already knows everything about, made only marginally more bearable by the alcohol. God, he hopes not all lawyers he’ll have to work with when he takes over the firm are this boring. His thoughts trail off while someone talks to him about his dad’s profits this quartile (why are they telling him about this? It’s his dad’s company, soon to be his own, he knows about the profits. He’s been trained to interpret these numbers his entire life). He kind of wants to talk to that cute waiter boy a lot more than he wants to continue this conversation.

He downs the last drop of champagne in his glass, and as if on cue, Jimin appears next to him again. Seokjin exchanges his empty glass for a full one, chugging down half of it at once.

Jimin quirks his eyebrow, a wordless question, and Seokjin gives an equally wordless answer by rolling his eyes ever so slightly. I hate this. Jimin seems to understand, giving him a smirk and a little nod before twirling around to serve the other guests.

It’s not until the next glass he picks off Jimin’s tray and the next empty conversation that Seokjin feels the light buzz of a little tipsy in his head, and finds his eyes wandering through the room in search of a head full of orange hair. His eyes catch the hair first before they catch the eyes underneath it. Seokjin smiles and Jimin holds his gaze just slightly too long before sending him a wink. Oh.

In no time, the boy is standing next to him again, but to Seokjin’s dismay his tray seems to be filled with only empty glasses. As he reaches to set his own glass down with them, he leans in just far enough to reach Jimin’s ear.

‘Save me,’ he whispers, before straightening up again. He nods a little at the lady who’s currently blabbing to him about her daughter graduating from law school, before sending Jimin one last desperate look. Please.

Jimin’s eyes twinkle a bit mischievously, and nods almost invisibly before walking away with his tray. Seokjin can’t help but give his backside another glance, because damn, that boy has got an ass.

No more than five minutes later, there’s a light tap on Seokjin’s shoulder. It’s Jimin, without a tray this time, but with a serious expression on his face. He scrapes his throat, straightening his back.

‘Kim Seokjin?’ he asks.

‘Yes?’

‘There’s a phone call for you, if you’d like to come with me, please.’

Jimin tugs at his sleeve a little before bowing politely. Seokjin excuses himself to his conversational partners before following Jimin in the direction of the kitchen.

‘Thanks,’ Seokjin mutters once they’re out of hearing distance, ‘I don’t think I would’ve survived ten more minutes of that.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Jimin grins. ‘Boring evening?’

‘You have no idea,’ Seokjin sighs.

Jimin smiles over his shoulder as he turns left, into one of the many hallways of the mansion.

‘I can help you with that,’ Jimin says, slowing his step. He turns around, halting fully in front of Seokjin, and his lip curl up into a smirk. ‘You know, if you want.’

‘What did you have in mind?’ Seokjin almost whispers, though from the look in Jimin’s eyes he can definitely tell where this is going.

Jimin moves into his space, backing him up against the nearest wall, hands coming up to tug on Seokjin’s tie softly to make him bend down, bringing his lips near Seokjin’s ear.

‘I think you know what I mean,’ Jimin whispers. ‘Don’t you?’

One of Seokjin’s hands instinctively drops down to Jimin’s side, rubbing his thumb against the jut of his hipbone. Jimin’s breath is warm against his neck, lips coming down lightly right underneath Seokjin’s ear, drawing a low sound from the back of his throat.

‘Y-yeah, I think so,’ Seokjin stutters out.

Jimin smirks before tugging on Seokjin’s tie a little harder, pulling him down into a messy kiss, lips hot and soft and slick against Seokjin’s.

Seokjin’s skin tingles, arousal pooling low in his stomach, and it takes a swipe of Jimin’s tongue over his bottom lip to make him realize they’re still in a quite visible place, and he can’t really afford to be caught making out with one of the waiters. He pulls away to drag Jimin into the nearest room, from what he can make out in the semi-darkness it’s some kind of walk-in closet, a cloakroom, something in that area, he doesn’t really care at this point. It smells a bit dusty.

Jimin definitely doesn’t waste any time, pushing Seokjin against the door as soon as it clicks in the lock, hands deftly undoing his tie, hips grinding against his own. Seokjin can feel himself growing hard, and he leans in for another kiss, licking into Jimin’s mouth as his hands find Jimin’s hips again, trailing down to his ass to give it an appreciative squeeze. The faintest little sound escapes Jimin’s throat, somewhere between a moan and a whine, and Seokjin only thinks he needs more of it, more, more. He lets his hands slide up over Jimin’s back and curls one into the bright orange locks, tilting Jimin’s head back to deepen the kiss, greedily swallowing every little sound he makes.

‘Oh God,’ Seokjin breathes out when Jimin pulls away from his lips to leave a wet trail of kisses down Seokjin’s neck. His hands fumble with the buttons on Seokjin’s shirt, undoing them one by one before pushing it to the side, letting his hands roam over Seokjin’s bare sides while he sucks at Seokjin’s collarbones.

Seokjin’s breath hitches in his throat when Jimin drags his index finger over the bulge in Seokjin’s pants, slow and deliberate, and Seokjin can feel Jimin smirking into the crook of his neck.

‘Come on,’ Seokjin hisses, ‘I don’t have all night – they’ll notice when I’m gone too long.’

Jimin grins at him, looking positively sinful, eyes dark, pupils blown, lips slick and swollen.

‘Alright,’ he purrs, almost too sweetly. The next moment he’s on his knees, yanking down Seokjin’s pants and boxers in one smooth motion, wrapping his lips around Seokjin’s cock like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He sucks lightly at the tip, running his tongue along the slit. Seokjin lets his head fall back against the door when Jimin takes him deeper, letting a low groan escape him. His nails claw uselessly at the door behind him and it takes every single ounce of willpower he has to not buck his hips up into the heat of Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin takes his sweet time, adjusting, taking Seokjin just a bit further into his mouth every time he sinks down in a steady rhythm, until Seokjin hits the back of his throat. If that startles Jimin at all, he hides it incredibly well. His rhythm doesn’t falter, instead he only picks it up a little, making a satisfied little sound around Seokjin’s cock.

Seokjin looks down to Jimin under hooded eyes, reaching down to stroke his bangs away from his forehead. It’s a sight he wants to remember, even in the dim light of the room; Jimin on his knees, lips stretched around his girth, slick with spit and precum. He bites down on his lip when Jimin sucks harder, hollowing out his cheeks.

‘C-close, Jimin,’ Seokjin manages to breathe out, grip tightening on Jimin’s hair. Jimin hums, placing his arm against Seokjin’s hip to steady him against the door.

One more drag of Jimin’s tongue and Seokjin feels his knees give out, pleasure shooting through him. The built up tension in his stomach releases in waves as he comes into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin eases him through it, sucking gently, swallowing around Seokjin’s sensitive head. He licks off every last drop of cum before pulling off and sitting back on his heels. Seokjin sags back against the door, coming down from his high, trying to catch his breath.

‘Well, that was, uh,’ Seokjin mumbles.

‘Interesting?’ Jimin suggests, grinning up at him.

Seokjin smiles. ‘Definitely interesting.’

 

 

(Later, after they’ve straightened themselves up the best they could and exchanged business cards (or in Jimin’s case, jotted down his number on the back of a flyer for the catering company), Seokjin is back out half listening to business partners and investors, when he spots Jimin from the corner of his eye. He’s talking to one of the other waiters, a skinny boy with dark brown hair, a sharp jaw, and a wide smile. Jimin’s eyes flick towards Seokjin and Seokjin raises his glass at him.

The dark-haired boy looks at Seokjin and back to Jimin with wide-open eyes, and his expression changes as if utter shock is washing over him. Seokjin didn’t hear any of the conversation, but he can damn sure hear it when the boy nearly shouts –

‘You did WHAT?’

Jimin slaps his hand over the boy’s mouth, pushing him out of the room as fast as possible, cheeks flushing the deepest shade of pink. Seokjin has to pretend he’s having a coughing fit to hide his laughter.)

Chapter Text

Jimin didn’t plan any of this.

Not that he’s complaining, not at all. But he didn’t plan it, no matter what Hoseok says.

Jimin can honestly say he didn’t think Seokjin would text him again – he was Kim Seokjin of all people. Kim Seokjin, the heir to Bangtan Pharma, recently discovered model, Korea’s favourite boy next door, ideal son in law, with his face on the cover of local and international magazines alike. And Jimin is a student slash waiter, who sleeps in the guest bed in someone else’s dorm, saved from being homeless by Jeongguk and Hoseok, who can’t even bring up the courage to go to class most mornings. Jimin isn’t exactly good at math, but he knows the chance of them meeting was probably closer to zero than the number of fucks he gives about Statistics.

He also didn’t plan on dragging Seokjin out of the party and sucking him off in some unknown little room in someone else’s house, but in a funny turn of events, Jimin was feeling rather adventurous that night – if not to say horny – and Seokjin was staring at his ass. Plus Seokjin was attractive, all soft features and narrow hips and broad shoulders, and he was obviously interested – who was Jimin to say no to an opportunity like that?

When Jimin had given him his phone number, scribbled down quickly on the back of a flyer, he assumed – no, he was sure – it would end up somewhere in a trash bin. Maybe Seokjin would glance over it with a fond little smirk, thinking about his slip-up with the waiter boy, before throwing it away and moving on. Kim Seokjin had no business being with someone like him. He’d never text Jimin.

But then he did.

Jimin had stared at the text blankly for a solid four minutes. After that, somehow, his first thought was how Kim Seokjin doesn’t use periods when texting.

His second thought was how ridiculous his first thought was, because holy shit, Kim Seokjin texted him. Punctuation should be the last thing on his mind.

That was four weeks ago now, they’d arranged to meet, and then again, and a few more times after that. Always the same. Seokjin would let him know a time, and Jimin would go to his penthouse in Gangnam. A change of scenery was pretty risky, Seokjin had explained, since he hasn’t come out to the general public and he’d probably lose a whole lot of business partners if it came out. They couldn’t risk getting caught.

But Jimin likes it. He likes the slight thrill of secrecy when he punches in Seokjin’s code on the elevator, only heightening his excitement, his excitement for being pulled inside and pushed against the door as soon as he knocks, the prospect of being dragged to the bedroom in a rush of kisses and clothes being pushed off, of Seokjin’s lips on his neck and hands on his hips, of being wrecked and spent and satisfied. It gives him a rush seeing Seokjin in magazines the next day, wearing designer suits that cost more than Jimin’s rent, knowing that the marks on Seokjin’s back made by his own nails are hidden underneath.

(No hickies, Seokjin had warned him the first time, softly pushing Jimin away from his neck. They’re a bitch to cover up, and I don’t want rumours. Jimin had agreed, a bit reluctantly, but he definitely made up for it by dragging his nails over Seokjin’s impressive shoulders and sucking extra marks into the skin of his thighs, where they could be easily hidden.)

Sometimes Jimin wonders what exactly this is to Seokjin. He’s not sure he even wants to know, because he doesn’t think any label would fit. It’s not like they’re boyfriends, but it doesn’t feel like it’s just about sex either. If it was, Seokjin wouldn’t ask him to stay and have dinner together, wouldn’t ask him how his day was, wouldn’t ask him about his favourite movie and remember the name of his roommates. Jimin had fuckbuddies before – they were never that interested in the rest of his life.

Seokjin had smiled when Jimin asked him, in a spur of curiosity, whether he did this with anyone else. Whatever this was. No, he said softly, burying his face in Jimin’s neck. Only with you. Jimin would be lying if he said that didn’t flatter him, since Seokjin could probably get it on with anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers.

That’s probably why Jimin’s heart still flutters a little when he sees Seokjin’s name pop up on his phone – who else can say they sleep with someone who has his own Wikipedia page? It feels like an accomplishment.

‘Stop smiling at your phone.’

Jimin glances up from his screen briefly to see Jeongguk glaring at him from across the table.

‘I’m not smiling at my phone,’ Jimin mutters.

‘You were, Jiminnie,’ Hoseok drawls, ‘Oh wait, is it him?’

‘Him? Who’s him?’ Jeongguk asks, eyes flicking from Hoseok to Jimin and back. ‘Is Jimin hyung seeing someone?’

Hoseok nods and Jimin kicks his shin under the table, but the boy either doesn’t feel it or pretends he doesn’t, a smirk creeping on his face.

‘Kim Seokjin.’

‘Who’s Kim Seok – ‘

Jeongguk pauses in realisation. ‘Wait, you mean the Kim Seokjin?’

‘Yup,’ Hoseok says, popping the ‘p’.

‘The Bangtan Pharma guy?’ Jeongguk asks. ‘H-he’s gay?’

Jimin only gives an affirmative hum.

‘They’re fuckbuddies,’ Hoseok adds casually. Jeongguk nearly chokes on his food. Jimin slaps his back and waits until he’s done coughing before mumbling, ‘We’re not fuckbuddies.’

Hoseok grins. ‘Well you sure do a whole lot of fucking to not be fuckbuddies.’

Jimin gives him a death glare. Or at least he tries - it’s hard to do with a mouth full of noodles. He goes back to his phone, not really doing anything but mindlessly opening and closing the menu, hoping his roommates would just drop the issue. Also, fully knowing that they would definitely not drop it – Jeongguk being Jeongguk, always curious about every little thing, and Hoseok having too much of a big mouth and too little of a filter to shut up about anything, ever. The two were perfect roommates for each other. Unfortunately Jimin somehow got stuck in between when he got kicked out of his own dorm, and somehow still hasn’t moved out yet even though he can probably afford his own place now.

Although, in his defence, Hoseok and Jeongguk’s dorm is really close to campus, and their guest bed is comfortable. They seem to have no problem with it either, and to be really honest, it’s been a lot more fun to live with them than to come home to an empty apartment every day.

‘How do you even know him?’ Jeongguk asks.

‘Remember that party we waitered at about a month ago?’

‘Yeah.’

‘He was there,’ Hoseok informs him, ‘Jimin sucked him off in a walk-in closet.’

Jimin rolls his eyes as far as his face muscles allow him to. Jeongguk gives him some kind of grimace that should express either surprise or disgust, or something in between.

‘How did that happen?’

‘Well I wasn’t there but it usually goes something like – ‘

Hoseok makes a pumping gesture with his hand, pushing his tongue into his cheek, making Jeongguk snort rather ungracefully. Jimin punches Hoseok in the arm. He retracts his earlier thoughts about how he likes living with these two in favour of wondering why he ever became friends with them.

‘Thanks, hyung - I know how a blowjob goes, I mean,’ Jeongguk gestures with his chopsticks, ‘What’s the causal link between being a waiter at a party and blowing Korea’s most famous twenty-something?’

‘In a closet,’ Hoseok adds.

Jeongguk turns to look at Jimin expectantly but Jimin only raises an eyebrow at him.

‘It was a boring party?’ he offers. Honestly, he’s not particularly eager to share every detail of his sexual endeavours with his roommates during lunch. However, as usual, Hoseok seems to have no problem with sharing details of Jimin’s sexual endeavours, and grinning widely as he does.

‘I think it was the tight pants.’

‘Typical,’ Jeongguk snorts, ‘I should’ve known all it takes for Park Jimin is to wiggle his butt and he gets everything he wants.’

Jimin gives him an incredulous look.

‘Not that it’s any of your business, punk, but he actually started flirting with me.’

‘Bet you showed off your ass first, though,’ Jeongguk smirks, and Hoseok bursts into laughter before giving the younger a high-five.

‘Not my fault I have a nice ass,’ Jimin retorts. ‘Don’t tell people about this though. Wouldn’t want my face in every tabloid.’

‘What about your ass in every tabloid, then?’ Hoseok suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘I bet you could one-up Kim Kardashian, if you get a pearl necklace and a bottle of champagne.’

Jimin gives him the best impression of a stern look he can manage. He really, really doesn’t feel like being the cause of a media shitstorm, and getting Seokjin and his company in trouble.

‘I’m serious, hyung.’

‘I promise I won’t tell, Jiminnie.’

‘You too, Jeongguk.’

‘Pwomise,’ the younger mumbles with his mouth full. ‘But in return you’re paying for our lunch today’

Jimin squints at him. Incredible.

‘Are you fucking blackmailing me now, Jeon Jeongguk?’

‘Nah, I’m just mooching some lunch off you,’ Jeongguk grins smugly. Hoseok cackles louder than he should and the two fist-bump. Jimin feels the sudden urge to repeatedly bang his head against the nearest wall, wondering what the hell he did in a past life to deserve being stuck with these two.

Then again, they did kind of save him from being homeless.

‘Fine,’ he concedes with a sigh.

Jimin can’t help but wonder if Seokjin tells his friends about him. And if they’re equally ridiculous about it.

 

 

--

 

 

Jimin glances at his watch as he steps out of the elevator; he’s a few minutes early, but he considers that a good habit. He pushes his hair backwards and knocks on Seokjin’s door.

There’s some shuffling behind the door, and the boy who opens is not Seokjin, Jimin realises with a hint of panic. It’s a tall boy with very straight brown hair and a small, silver piercing through his eyebrow. He stares at Jimin through the thick frame of his glasses, slightly tilting his head.

‘Yes?’

His voice is deeper than Jimin expected, and his face is serious, almost stoic. His shirt seems to miss a few patches along the arm, showing off inked patterns on the skin beneath it. Jimin straightens himself up, but he still feels small and rather intimidated.

‘Is- I’m- Is Seokjin here?’

He silently curses his own nervous stutter.

‘Who wants to know?’ the boy asks, furrowing his brow.

‘I’m Park Jimin. I’m Seokjin’s, uh, friend.’

He smiles nervously, it’s probably incredibly see-through, Jimin was never a good liar. Various disastrous scenarios shoot through his head. He might be on the verge of ruining Seokjin’s entire career.

‘Friend, huh,’ the boy frowns. ‘Hm, I don’t think Seokjin hyung had any appointments today, Park Jimin.’

Well, shit.

The boy stares at him, still pretty much expressionless, and Jimin feels his face heat up and every hint of courage he had left sink to his shoes. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

‘I’m just- just coming over to, uh,’ Jimin stammers, unable to think of any good excuse why he would be at Seokjin’s door besides I’m actually here to have sex with him.

‘To.. what?’ The boy leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

‘Alright, Tae,’ a voice comes from behind the tall boy. ‘You can stop now, before you scar the poor boy for life.’

Jimin watches in confusion as a smaller boy with mint green hair comes out from behind him, wrapping his arms around the other and pushing him to the side.

‘You’ll have to excuse him, Jimin. He likes messing with Seokjin’s dates,’ the smaller boy smiles, and “Tae” cracks a ridiculously wide, weirdly rectangular grin. It takes Jimin a moment to process what’s going on.

‘Totally worth it. You should’ve seen his face.’

Jimin lets out a deep breath – he suspects his face must be the darkest shade of red by now. He must’ve looked ridiculous.

‘I’m Yoongi, and this is my idiot boyfriend, and also Seokjin’s brother, Taehyung,’ the smaller boy clarifies.

‘I’m not an idiot,’ Taehyung pouts, squirming out of Yoongi’s hold.

Yoongi scrunches his nose. ‘You are a little bit.’

Taehyung pulls a face of mock offence, crossing his arms and raising himself on his toes to tower over Yoongi even more than he already does.

‘Fuckin' fight me, Min Yoongi.’

Yoongi only raises a sceptical eyebrow. Grinning, Taehyung sinks back down, leaning in to give Yoongi a playful kiss on the cheek. Yoongi scoffs and pushes him away.

‘Hey, are you guys going to let him come in, or what?’ Jimin hears Seokjin yell from somewhere inside.

‘Alright!’ Taehyung yells over his shoulder. ‘Come in, Jimin. Sorry about that - though actually I’m not that sorry, really, you should’ve seen your face. It was hilarious.’

He slings his arm over Jimin’s shoulder and pulls him inside the apartment, grin still plastered on his face. Jimin is about three hundred percent sure he’s still blushing, not really sure what to say, but Taehyung seems to have no problem holding a conversation on his own.

‘So I hear you’re dating Jin hyung? And you’re my age, that’s awesome. Yoongi is twenty-four, so I guess you should call him hyung.’

‘Maybe you should call me hyung when we’re around other people,’ Yoongi mutters behind them.

‘Sorry, hyung, force of habit,’ Taehyung chuckles, giving Yoongi a faux innocent look.

‘Honorifics are dumb,’ Taehyung whispers to Jimin. ‘Like, I think as soon as you’ve seen each other naked you should just be on the same level, you know? What’s the point in that whole honour thing if you’ve literally had someone’s dick in your – ’

‘Taehyung,’ Seokjin cuts in, coming out of the kitchen. ‘For the love of all that is good and holy, please don't finish that sentence.’

‘I didn’t know you were so biblical, hyung,’ Taehyung says.

‘It’s to balance out for you being the literal spawn of Satan,’ Seokjin deadpans without missing a beat, pushing a grinning Taehyung away to pull Jimin in for a kiss.

‘Aw, you guys are cute,’ Taehyung says, plopping down next to Yoongi on Seokjin’s couch.

‘Yeah, it’s gross,’ Yoongi weighs in.

‘Says the greasiest couple on the northern hemisphere,’ Seokjin retorts, but he lets go of Jimin anyway, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.

‘Excuse you, we’re not greasy,’ Yoongi frowns.

‘Yes you are,’ Seokjin says.

‘Yes we are,’ Taehyung says simultaneously, and as if he wants to prove that, he presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi shoves him off the couch.

 

Several hours, a few beers, and one unfortunate red sauce stain on Jimin’s shirt later (thanks, Taehyung), Jimin realizes two things.

Realisation number one is that Seokjin’s hand hasn’t left his thigh since they finished eating. He’s softly rubbing circles over the fabric of Jimin’s jeans with his thumb, just too high to be innocent.

Jimin is trying really hard to not focus on it as Taehyung tells the story of how he and Yoongi met. It’s quite adorable and Jimin doesn’t want to be distracted listening to it, but Seokjin’s hand is driving him crazy.

‘I accompanied Jin hyung to this magazine photoshoot because we were gonna go out for dinner afterwards,’ Taehyung tells him. ‘He took more pictures of me than of Seokjin hyung.’

‘I was fascinated by his eyes,’ Yoongi recalls, and Seokjin’s hand is still on Jimin’s thigh, doing the exact same thing in the exact same place.

‘He asked for my number to send me the pictures,’ Taehyung says. ‘But really he just asked me on a date.’

‘To be fair, I did send you the pictures as well.’ Yoongi grins and Jimin laughs, but Seokjin is frustrating him, still rubbing that one spot, not moving an inch. Jimin barely stops himself from squirming, but he can feel his thigh muscle quiver and he’s sure Seokjin felt it too, if the smirk creeping around the corner of his mouth is any indication.

And that’s when the second realisation hits him; Seokjin knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how sensitive Jimin’s inner thighs are. He knows he’s getting Jimin incredibly riled up.

The asshole.

Seokjin’s hand stays on his thigh for the remainder of the evening, and Jimin makes a mental note to get back at him the next opportunity he gets just as Taehyung and Yoongi decide they’re going home. Jimin nearly whimpers when Seokjin squeezes his thigh before getting up to accompany them to the door.

Jimin trails after them to say goodbye, watching as Taehyung envelops Seokjin in a hug. He’s a little surprised when Taehyung comes up to hug him as well, remembering just in time to turn his pelvis away. He’s not about to press his half-hard dick against Seokjin’s brother, that would be way too weird.

As soon as Seokjin closes the door, Jimin’s hands are in his sweater, pushing him against the door. He stands on his tip-toes to stare Seokjin down, and to his frustration, Seokjin’s smirk only grows wider.

‘You incredible fucking tease,’ he hisses, his face mere centimetres away from Seokjin’s, breath ghosting over his skin. Seokjin laughs breathlessly, ducking down to nip at the juncture of Jimin’s shoulder.

‘You’re cute when you’re all worked up,’ he muses, sucking lightly at the base of Jimin’s neck, hands trailing down to cup Jimin’s ass. His breath hitches when Jimin brings one of his hands down to palm his dick through his pants, and Jimin is pleased to find he’s not the only one with a bit of a space problem in his jeans. Jimin drags his hand up and down, drawing a choked moan from Seokjin.

‘I should just leave you here like this, really,’ Jimin whispers, pulling his hand away, smirking when Seokjin’s hips jerk up in search of friction. ‘As payback for being mean.’

‘Now that would be too bad,’ Seokjin pouts, pulling Jimin closer until their hips meet, pressing kisses to Jimin’s jawline, hands slipping underneath Jimin’s shirt. ‘I was really looking forward to fucking you senseless.’

‘Shit, okay,’ Jimin groans, the strain of his clothes becoming almost unbearable. ‘Okay,’ he repeats, tilting his head to let Seokjin suck bruises into the skin of his neck, knowing full well he won't be able to cover them up tomorrow and they'd probably become a source of relentless teasing from Jungkook and Hoseok, but at the moment his raging hard-on is winning from the rational side of his brain. When Seokjin is satisfied with the number of bruises on Jimin’s neck, he kisses Jimin properly, tongue flicking out to lick at Jimin’s lips.

‘Bedroom,’ he growls, and Jimin can’t really tell if that’s a question or a command, but either way, he’s not about to disagree.

 

Their sweaters and shirts are off before they even reach the bedroom, chests flush and hot against each other when Seokjin lays Jimin down on the bed. Seokjin works Jimin’s jeans off, hands smoothing over his thighs for a moment, pressing a trail of kisses down his stomach. He noses at the waistband of Jimin’s boxers before pulling them off too and sucking a bruise right next to his hipbone.

Jimin tugs lightly at his hair, bringing him up to kiss his lips, hot and soft and messy. Jimin thinks he could do this all night, just kiss Seokjin until they’re both light-headed and out of breath. But right now there are more pressing matters at hand – literally – as Seokjin reaches down to stroke Jimin’s cock, thumbing over the tip to spread the precum that’s already leaked out of him, and starts to jerk him off in long, almost lazy strokes.

It’s not enough, nowhere even near enough, and Jimin very nearly tells Seokjin to just fucking get on with it¸ but he restrains himself just in time. Instead he digs his fingers into Seokjin’s back and sinks his teeth into Seokjin’s lower lip. It seems to get the message across just as well, and Seokjin pulls away to grab a condom and a bottle of lube from the drawer in his nightstand. Jimin takes the time to ogle over him, his hair mussed from Jimin’s hands and lips pink and swollen from kissing and God, he looks good. Jimin wonders why that catches him by surprise every time, the guy’s a model for a reason. Maybe it’s because Jimin expects to see this kind of beauty in glossy magazines and billboard advertisements, but it’s a whole other experience to see it right in front of his eyes. Maybe it’s just more impressive to be able to look this good without professional lighting and Photoshop.

Jimin keeps on watching him as he slicks up his fingers and nudges Jimin’s legs apart, settling in between them. Seokjin catches his eyes and smiles, a smile much too pretty and innocent for a guy who’s currently tracing his finger around Jimin’s asshole. Seokjin turns his head and kisses Jimin’s leg, a little above his knee because it happens to be the closest to Seokjin’s mouth, and he keeps on littering hot, wet kisses all over Jimin’s thigh as he pushes his finger inside.

One finger becomes two, two becomes three and in no time Jimin is panting, pushing back against Seokjin’s hand as Seokjin works him open. He must look like a mess right now, but he can’t find himself to care, lost in the way Seokjin's fingers are brushing over his prostate.

Gasping for breath, Jimin curls his hands into the bedsheets and Seokjin must feel he’s getting close, because the next moment his fingers are gone. Jimin barely gets the time to whine about the loss before Seokjin already has the condom on and lubed up and finally, finally slides into him with a gentle roll of his hips, hand rubbing soothing circles into Jimin’s side.

‘Fuck, Jimin’ Seokjin mutters, burying his head in Jimin’s neck as he slides out and thrusts back in. Jimin’s head falls back on the pillow with a low groan, hands scrambling for purchase on Seokjin’s back and in his hair as Seokjin works up a rhythm, and Seokjin takes the advantage to litter Jimin’s exposed neck with kisses, sucking his earlobe into his mouth, dragging his teeth along Jimin’s jaw.

It doesn’t take too long before Jimin feels a familiar heat curling in his stomach, heart pounding in his ears and head spinning with intense pleasure. He brings a hand down to get himself off, desperate to come, but Seokjin grabs his wrist and pins it above his head.

‘Think you could come like this?’ he asks, pressing his forehead to Jimin’s, and Jimin keens at how wrecked his voice sounds.

‘I don’t – God – I don’t know,’ Jimin pants, broken moans spilling over his lips every time Seokjin hits his prostate. He feels himself getting closer with every one of Seokjin’s calculated thrusts, heels digging into the mattress.

‘Do you want to try?’ Seokjin asks, gaze still fixed on Jimin, and Jimin can’t bring himself to look away. He nods slowly, biting his lip, head falling to the side when Seokjin grabs his other wrist as well and brings it up over his head with the other, pinning both of Jimin’s arms together with one hand. His other hand moves up the back of Jimin’s thigh to his knee, propping Jimin’s leg up to his side, and Jimin nearly sobs at the new, deeper angle.

‘Okay?’ Seokjin whispers again, ever considerate, and Jimin can barely bring himself to nod. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, skin tingling, heat licking up his spine.

‘More than o-okay,’ Jimin breathes out. ‘Fuck, don’t – ah, don’t stop.’

‘Wouldn’t think of it,’ Seokjin pants, mouthing at Jimin’s neck, tongue laving over the marks he made earlier, trailing down to Jimin’s collarbones. Every one of his thrusts sends a new surge of heat through Jimin’s body and Jimin is moaning helplessly, he’s so close, too close, every muscle in his body wound up tight, burning. It’s then Seokjin thrusts particularly deep and that’s all it takes – Jimin’s back arches off the bed as Seokjin sends him over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him like nothing he’s ever felt before. Waves of white hot pleasure wash over him, making him shudder and he swears he sees stars for a moment before slumping back on the mattress. Seokjin curses through his teeth, hips stuttering as he reaches his own high only a few moments after Jimin, collapsing on top of him right after.

They lay like that for a moment, chests heaving, neither of them having enough energy or coherence left to move, until Jimin nudges at Seokjin’s shoulder.

‘You’re crushing me,’ he chokes out.

‘Are you calling me fat?’ Seokjin gasps. ‘Rude.’

Jimin giggles, nuzzling into Seokjin’s side as soon as he rolls over. They’re both sticky and gross but he can’t find himself to care, too engrossed in post-sex bliss and the warmth radiating off Seokjin’s skin. Seokjin shifts, stretching out his arm to throw the condom in the trash before pressing a kiss into Jimin’s hair.

‘We need to clean up,’ Seokjin mumbles.

‘Don’t wanna,’ Jimin groans. ‘ ’m comfortable.’

He can feel his eyelids getting heavy with sleep, but Seokjin is already pushing himself up on his elbow to roll Jimin on his back, pecking his lips before he disappears into the bathroom to get a washcloth. Jimin lets Seokjin clean the mess off his stomach, wriggling when the fabric brushes over his sides.

‘Tickles.’

Seokjin smiles, throwing the washcloth somewhere on the floor. ‘You’re so sensitive.’

‘Mhmm. Just come back here,’ Jimin mutters, reaching out to pull Seokjin back in the bed. He immediately curls back into Seokjin’s side.

‘Your shoulders make good pillows,’ he decides, letting his eyes fall shut and sleep take over. He can worry about what that swirly feeling in his stomach is tomorrow.

Chapter Text

‘I think these will suffice for the outside shots,’ the photographer announces, scrolling through the freshly uploaded pictures on the computer screen. From what Seokjin can see from leaning over his shoulder, they look good. Not to sound immodest, but this sporty look suits him.

The area around them is buzzing with activity, managers and stylists and other staff with other models and other photographers running around, the tell-tale clicks of cameras and instructions for the models resounding through the air. One glance around tells Seokjin this should be a fairly big campaign.

‘Alright, Seokjin, the next shots are inside the studio. We’ll take about fifteen minutes to move the equipment there. The outfits should be in your dressing room,’ one of the female staff tells him. Seokjin can’t tell if her smile is friendly or flirty. ‘Give me a shout if you need a hand,’ she adds, and her smile grows a bit wider. Okay, definitely flirty.

Seokjin hums an acknowledgement to her (he’s flattered, really, but she’s a little too tall and too female for his taste). He bows his head to the photographer before he trails off to the dressing room, takes a sip of his water bottle and puts on outfit number 4, a pair of navy shorts and a white pullover with a big logo spread over the front. He’s about to leave when he remembers where he’s going and turns around to grab his phone, to entertain himself while the stylists work on his hair.

He doesn’t notice the LED blinking until he’s already halfway down the corridor, making the mistake of halting his step and unlocking it right there to check the notification. There’s two Snapchat messages from Jimin, which he taps before he even thinks about it, and –

I miss you, hyung

Oh.

Oh, shit.

That’s – that’s Jimin in sweatpants. Christ, that’s Jimin in nothing but sweatpants and that’s also definitely Jimin’s tummy and Jimin’s soft little trail of hair leading down underneath the waistband, and that’s without question Jimin’s dick tenting underneath the light grey fabric. Seokjin’s brain shuts down until the timer runs out, probably because all his blood is occupied with rushing to his ears and his cheeks and his own dick, and god – he’s hard almost embarrassingly fast. The timer was on eight seconds. What is he now, fourteen?

He hesitates for a second before opening the next picture. He’s in a fairly public hallway, but most people are around the corner of the styling area, and there’s no one really paying attention to him here. He still shouldn’t, really – what if someone comes out of one the other dressing rooms? What if this one is worse? What if this one is without sweatpants? – but curiosity gets the best of him. His finger trembles slightly when he taps the next notification.

Jimin’s not naked (thank God) but this time it’s from a higher angle, allowing Jimin’s face to be in the picture too. Seokjin can’t decide if that’s better or worse, but either way it’s too much, everything from Jimin’s lewd look into the camera, teeth snagged into his lower lip, and his hand palming the bulge in his pants. And a little part of the bed underneath him to make Seokjin realise that yes, those are definitely his own sheets.

Come home soon. I’m waiting ~

Seokjin swallows, hard. Jimin is in his apartment, on his bed, wearing nothing but sweatpants. Waiting.

 

 

The next one hundred and thirty-three minutes are the longest and most embarrassing ones of Seokjin’s entire life.

Hair and make-up isn’t too bad, at least he’s sitting down, he can keep his hands in his lap to hide most of the rather embarrassing bulge in his shorts (and isn’t it just wonderful that these are made of some kind of extremely thin running material?)

The shoot itself, on the other hand, is torture. They make him stand up the entire time (since when is that a problem? he wonders for a split second, before he realises it’s since Park fucking Jimin decided to be an even bigger tease than he usually is, and a long-distance tease at that). He tries to contain himself, he really does, but his thoughts keep going back to that picture, to Jimin, Jimin who’s in his apartment, Jimin who did God knows what to get himself hard. Jimin with his legs spread lightly, stroking himself, stuttered breaths spilling out of his mouth, thighs trembling under his own touch.

Fuck.

To make matters worse, Seokjin is pretty sure the photographer knows. And if the way two of his stylists are giggling the next time Seokjin comes out after changing outfits is anything to go by, he’s not the only one. That’s just wonderful. Now there’s a bunch of people who now know that Kim Seokjin, known for his perpetual professional attitude, is popping a boner in the middle of a rather important photoshoot. For a big label. To be used all around Korea. Fantastic.

As dying of shame is unfortunately not an option, Seokjin does the only thing he can do, which is to do everything in his power to ignore the elephant (ha, ha) in the room and to finish the shoot with as much grace as a man with an obvious erection in thin shorts can possibly have left. Still, he’s relieved when the photographer tells him they’re done (adding in a sympathetic smile and mumbling something about ‘it happens’ and ‘nothing Photoshop can’t fix’, thank you very much). Seokjin would be fully ready to be engulfed by a black hole if he didn’t have important stuff to do.

Like high-tailing home and making Park Jimin pay for this.

 

 

---

 

 

‘Haven’t you - ah - haven’t you given me enough hickeys, hyung?’

Jimin’s caged in between Seokjin’s arms and the mattress, squirming as Seokjin sucks yet another mark into his neck. Jimin seems to be torn between giggling and gasping, between amusement and arousal, a pinkish blush resting high on his cheekbones.

‘No. You gave me - a god damn boner - in the middle - of a photoshoot,’ Seokjin groans between harsh sucks just below Jimin’s ear. Jimin bursts into giggles again and Seokjin pulls away from his neck, briefly pausing to admire his own handiwork on Jimin’s skin, eyeing the spots ranging from light pink to dark red that are blooming under the surface. His eyes flick up to give Jimin an unamused look.

‘It’s not funny.’

‘No, it’s hilarious.’

‘It was a shoot for Puma,’ Seokjin mutters. ‘That’s sweatpants and tight shorts, you little shit.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jimin’s head falls backwards, eyes closing and shoulders shaking in an attempt to hold in his laughter. He’s enjoying this way too much for Seokjin’s liking. ‘Look, I didn’t know it was Puma, I was just – ow!’

Jimin jerks at the feeling of Seokjin’s teeth sinking into his shoulder, eyes screwing shut, and his laughter dies down into a few heavy breaths. Seokjin runs his tongue over the marks his teeth made, relishing the way Jimin shivers ever so slightly.

‘You were what?’ Seokjin asks, placing a soft kiss on the corner of Jimin’s mouth.

‘I was thinking of you and I –,’ Jimin pants, but the rest of the sentence gets lost in a groan.

‘You..?’

‘I was – thinking and – and you weren’t home, I, I wanted –,’ Jimin exhales sharply, the blush on his cheeks becoming a bit more apparent. Seokjin smirks, wondering if Jimin has always been this easy to read, or if it’s something he picked up on underway. Jimin can’t hide emotions; his face, his eyes are too expressive to be hiding anything. When he’s happy, he laughs, his eyes laugh, creating perfect little crinkles around the edges. When he’s curious, his eyes widen almost impossibly.

And when he’s turned on, his cheeks flush and his pupils go wide. Just as they do now.

‘Did you touch yourself?’ Seokjin asks. He’s painfully aware of how low his own voice is coming out and a part in the back of his brain can’t even believe he’s actually saying this sort of thing, but then Jimin moans and his dick twitches in interest against Seokjin’s hip, and it’s enough (so much more than enough) to keep him going. ‘Did you get off, thinking of me?’

The groan that leaves Jimin’s throat is so deep and wrecked and perfect that Seokjin can feel it beneath his own skin, tingling from his head to his fingertips as they dip under the waistband of Jimin’s sweatpants, grazing over the lithe muscles of his abdomen. ‘Tell me,’ he whispers, kissing Jimin’s temple reassuringly.

‘Yeah,’ Jimin breathes out. ‘God, yes, hyung.’

Another hot shiver runs down Seokjin’s spine. He leans down to kiss Jimin, lips colliding messily and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders how he’s still able to hold himself back, because god, Jimin just admitted to jerking off to the thought of him. He basically confirmed every image that went through Seokjin’s mind after that picture and fuck, Seokjin wants to see it. He never pinned himself down as some kind of voyeur, but right now all he wants is to see Jimin fall apart under his own touch, wants to hear every little mewl and whimper, wants to watch him arch his spine and bite his lip the way he does when he’s close.

‘Show me,’ he whispers against Jimin’s lips.

‘You - you want to watch me?’

‘Yeah,’ Seokjin groans, low and soft. ‘Wasn’t that the point of those pictures anyway?’

The smirk that spreads on Jimin’s face tells Seokjin everything he needs to know. He rolls to Jimin’s side to get his sweatpants off, and stays there to press a few kisses against his shoulder as Jimin pushes himself up to lean against the headboard. Seokjin watches, breathless, as he spreads his legs comfortably and curls his fingers around the shaft of his cock, the dark red flush of the head a beautiful contrast with the skin of his hand. He gives it a few slow strokes and his eyes flutter closed with pleasure, lips opening around a soft whimper, chest rising and falling quickly.

Jimin quickens his pace and his breath hitches in his throat and Seokjin can’t help but touch him, tracing his fingers over Jimin’s beautiful golden skin. He can feel the little contractions of Jimin’s muscles as he starts bucking his hips up into his own fist.

‘Slowly,’ Seokjin hushes, laying his hand over Jimin’s wrist. ‘I don’t want you to come like this.’

A moan comes from somewhere deep within Jimin’s chest, but his hand slows down. Seokjin lets his fingers glide down Jimin’s thigh, god those thighs, rubbing meaningless patterns into the soft skin as he watches Jimin jerk off in languid strokes.

‘Fuck,’ Seokjin murmurs, ‘You’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Jimin’s hand stills, the muscle under Seokjin’s hand tensing up just the slightest bit. Seokjin hears him take a sharp breath and wonders if he’s gone too far, got too caught up in the moment. But he doesn’t get the time to contemplate that, much less to look at Jimin for signs that he might’ve crossed a line, because the next moment he’s being pinned down against the bed, with Jimin straddling him, face mere centimetres away from his own.

‘That’s new,’ Jimin says, pupils blown wide. There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, but as far as Seokjin can see, he doesn’t think it’s the bad kind of surprise.

‘Is – is that okay?’ Seokjin asks.

‘Say it again,’ Jimin whispers.

Oh.

Seokjin smirks. Definitely not the bad kind of surprise, then.

‘What, baby?’

Jimin bites his lip and nods slowly, face still flushed a deep pink.

‘God, you’re so cute, baby, c’mere,’ Seokjin mutters, running his hands up Jimin’s back to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the shorter hairs there. He pulls Jimin down into another kiss, lips colliding messily.

Jimin rolls his hips down against Seokjin’s, groaning against his lips, a drip of precum smearing into the dip of Seokjin’s hipbone. It’s only when he does it again, an involuntary moan making its way out of Seokjin’s throat, that Seokjin realises how close he is already.

With one hand, Seokjin pushes himself upright, guiding Jimin up along with the other. Jimin pulls him into another kiss, shifting to lock his ankles behind Seokjin’s back and Seokjin indulges him, presses a few kisses to his jawline, bringing his hand down between them to fit both their dicks into his palm. He’s moving cautious and slow at first – sweat and precum making the slide just barely slick enough, but he can’t be bothered to reach for the lube right now – but Jimin buries his head into the crook of Seokjin’s neck and makes a low sound that sounds a lot like hyung, please and it makes Seokjin tighten his grip and speed up, twisting his wrist a little on the upstroke. He can feel Jimin’s nails digging into his shoulder blades, Jimin’s breath hot and wet against his neck, Jimin’s heels digging into the small of his back, Jimin’s cock throbbing against his own in the palm of his hand. Jimin is all he feels, every bit of him. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting the feeling take over completely.

It doesn’t take much more before he’s coming, orgasm hitting him without much warning, spilling cum over both their stomachs and his own hand. His fingers lose their rhythm for just a second and he knows it won’t take long before he becomes too sensitive to continue, but he can feel Jimin is so close from the noises he makes, the tensing of his muscles, the way he pushes even closer to Seokjin’s chest.

‘C-Come on, Jimin,’ Seokjin pants, voice barely more than a rough whisper. ‘Come on, baby, come for me.’

The nickname doesn’t miss its effect and the younger comes with a muffled curse, shuddering. Seokjin huffs out a tiny breath of laughter as Jimin slumps into him, breathing rapidly. He releases his hold, his hand sticky with the mixture of cum, and it’s some kind of wicked curiosity that makes him lick some of it off his finger.

Jimin grimaces. ‘Gross.’

Seokjin nods in agreement, the taste bitter and salty on his tongue. ‘Yeah, it really is.’

He wipes the rest of it on his bedsheets (he’s a bit disgusted at himself, but he needs to wash them anyway and there’s nothing else within reach) before bracing his arms around Jimin’s back and pulling him close against his chest. He turns them both around and swings his legs off the bed, placing his feet on the floor.

‘Hyung, what are you – wait, nononono –’ Jimin mutters as he’s lifted off the bed, arms and legs still wrapped around Seokjin’s frame like some sort of overgrown koala bear.

‘Shower time,’ Seokjin grins, carrying him in the direction of the bathroom. Jimin laughs, but he holds on until Seokjin puts him down on the cool tiles of the bathroom. ‘You’re crazy,’ he says, but his voice is soft, a wide smile on his face.

‘Maybe. But you’re dirty, and I wasn’t gonna let you drip cum over my carpet. That thing’s expensive.’

‘Fair enough,’ Jimin says, turning on his heels to face the mirror above the sink, and –

‘Holy crap,’ he blurts out, inspecting the countless marks on his neck and down his chest, blooming angry red, some even turning faintly purple. Seokjin watches as Jimin runs his finger over them, and he hums appreciatively. He would say he made a masterpiece.

‘Don’t you like them?’ Seokjin asks, amused, stepping behind Jimin and wrapping his arms around his middle. Jimin looks at Seokjin’s reflection through the mirror.

‘Do you?’ he retorts.

‘Of course,’ Seokjin smiles. ‘They’re mine.’

You’re mine, he almost says. Almost. The implication is there, though, and he’s quite sure Jimin gets it, judging from the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘Alright,’ Jimin says. ‘But I’m stealing one of your turtlenecks anyway.’

 

 

---

 

 

(‘Wow, nice turtleneck, hyung.’

‘Yeah, very unsuspicious, Jiminnie.’

‘Totally doesn’t make us think you just had some kind of extremely kinky sex with Korea’s Next Top Model.’

‘Except it absolutely does.’

‘What’s under there, hickies?’

‘Choke bruises?’

‘Rope burn?’

‘And that’s not even one of your sweaters.’

‘You’re like half a meter too tiny to wear that. I can’t see your hands!’

‘Must be bad if you have to steal his clothes to cover it up.’

‘Show us, hyung!’

‘Yeah, show us!’

Jimin groans, kicking off his shoes to leave them with the ever growing stack near the door, only to turn around and find both his roommates have gotten up from the couch. It’s too late that Jimin realises what they’re doing, and he finds his arms trapped behind his back by Jeongguk the next moment.

‘Holy shit,’ Hoseok says as he pulls Jimin’s collar down.

‘Jesus on a fucking bicycle,’ Jeongguk butts in, ‘Are those teeth marks? Why would you let a person bite you?’

‘Is Kim Seokjin part bear?’

‘Man, some of these are going to be visible for weeks.

Jimin yelps as Hoseok pokes one of the darker marks with his index finger, grin spreading over his face. Jeongguk lets him go and trails off to the kitchen, mumbling something about ordering pizza.

‘Well, someone’s making sure everyone knows who you belong to,’ Hoseok grins.

Jimin rolls his eyes. ‘You make it sound like he peed on me to spread his scent.’

‘Hey, what you two do on your own time is your business.’

‘Shut up, oh my God.’

He ignores the laughter coming from the kitchen and walks over to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him. Jeongguk and Hoseok would never let him off if they saw how wide he was smiling)

 

Chapter Text

It’s half past seven on a Friday evening when Jimin’s phone buzzes.

He’s currently sprawled out on the worn-out recliner in their living room, partly watching Hoseok play Halo 2 on their Xbox, partly wondering if they should clean the ceiling. It looks a bit dirty. Do people even clean ceilings?

And then suddenly someone’s calling him, which is weird, because what self-respecting twenty-year-old calls people when texting is a thing? No one ever calls him except his mother and unrequited telemarketers, but his mother called yesterday and it’s too late for sad attempts at reeling him in for another phone payment plan, or whatever it is they want from him. He stares at his phone in confusion before he picks it up from the side table, eyeing the screen with a frown on his face.

It’s a number he hasn’t got saved in his phone. Maybe someone dialled a wrong number. Or there’s an off chance that it’s one of those phone calls like in horror movies, where a low, distorted voice tells him he’s going to die in twelve hours. But he decides to take that risk, and picks up the call.

‘Hello?’

‘Jiminnie!’ A voice he recognises sounds through the speaker. Okay, so not a wrong number or an ominous phone call, but Seokjin’s little brother. ‘Am I interrupting?’

‘No, you’re not interrupting anything,’ Jimin answers, swinging his legs back over the armrest of his chair. Hoseok curses as his character dies on the screen. ‘What’s up?’

‘Well..,’ Taehyung starts with a sigh. ‘Have you guys eaten yet?’

‘No,’ Jimin says, confused. ‘Are you calling because you’re worried about my eating habits?’

‘No, I’m calling because we’re at hyung’s place and we have too much food and even with Seokjin hyung here we’re never gonna eat it all,’ Taehyung says, and Jimin hears some unintelligible yelling from the background. ‘So we thought maybe you and your roommates could come over,’ Taehyung continues.

We?’ Jimin asks.

‘Yeah. Me, Yoongi, uh-Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung,’ Taehyung informs him. ‘Anyway, we ordered pizza online, and I may have misclicked or something. I just wanted to order three pizzas.’

‘And how many did you order?’

It’s silent on the other end of the line for two seconds before the answer comes.

‘…Eight.’

Jimin bursts out laughing, making Hoseok quirk an eyebrow at him. Jimin flaps his hand at him in an attempt to convey something like I’ll tell you later.

‘Oh God, okay. We’ll come over and help you out,’ Jimin manages in between giggles.

‘Awesome,’ Taehyung says. ‘Oh, and Jimin?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Hyung says he doesn’t have anything to do tomorrow morning, so you’re welcome to stay over.’

Jimin pretends his heart doesn’t jump a little at that, but he can’t stop himself from grinning. ‘Great.’

‘See you in a bit, then. Taetae out.’

Jimin hears the click of the line being broken and looks at his phone a little bewildered – did this guy really just say Taetae out and then hang up the phone? What the fuck?

It takes him a second to snap out of his confusion and realise Hoseok paused his game and is looking at Jimin expectantly, eyebrow raised.

‘Where’s Jeongguk?’ Jimin asks. Hoseok cocks his chin towards Jeongguk’s bedroom door.

‘His room,’ Hoseok says. ‘He locked the door, which means he’s either working on that term paper or masturbating to mediocre porn.’

‘I thought he said he handed in that paper yesterday,’ Jimin frowns.

‘Exactly,’ Hoseok says, grinning widely. Just then there’s a clicking sound from Jeongguk’s room and the door swings open.

‘You do know our walls are thin, right? I can hear you. And if I was doing that, you’d hear me too’ Jeongguk snarls, rolling his eyes at Hoseok while making his way over to the sofa. ‘And that would be disgusting. Also, my porn is not mediocre, you just have poor taste. Move,’ he mutters, and Hoseok makes place for him to plop down on the cushions. ‘Anyway, did you need me?’

‘Yeah,’ Jimin confirms with a nod of his head. ‘Are you guys in the mood for pizza?’

 

 

After Jimin explains the situation, Hoseok and Jeongguk agree to come along to Seokjin’s apartment, but it’s not until they’re stepping out of the car that Jimin realises he’s nervous. As they step into the building, Jimin imagines this must feel like having a boyfriend meet his parents for the first time – not that he knows what that feels like, or that Hoseok and Jeongguk are his parents, or that Seokjin is his boyfriend, but Hoseok and Jeongguk are his best friends and Seokjin is –

Seokjin is Seokjin. Seokjin is something he still doesn’t have a name for. Is there a word for people who occasionally get together and have mind-blowing sex and sometimes get takeout and watch movies and cuddle a little bit? Something in the grey zone between ‘date’ and ‘hook-up’ and ‘celebrity who has a straight image to uphold’. He’s been pointedly ignoring every one of Hoseok’s attempts at getting more information out of him and Jeongguk’s wide-eyed looks whenever he mentions Seokjin, telling them to mind their own business.

Not that he’s actually withholding anything. It’s simply easier to tell them to fuck off than to try and explain what exactly he’s feeling. The only thing he knows is that what he has with Seokjin is nice, it’s casual and fun and it’s nothing serious. It can’t be serious. It’s not allowed to be serious, because at some point, it’s gonna have to end. He tries not to think too hard about that.

Nevertheless, it’s nice while it lasts, and he’d like it if his roommates behaved for the night, so that at least he doesn’t have to deal with his best friends and Seokjin disliking each other. So when they step out of the elevator and halt in front of Seokjin’s door, he can’t help himself.

‘Okay, so, can you guys please –’

‘– behave?’ Hoseok finishes for him, with a quirk of his eyebrow. ‘Yes. You’ve already asked us that back home’

‘And when we were walking down the stairs,’ Jeongguk chimes in.

‘And in the car. Three times.’

‘And on the sidewalk, and in the elevator, and –’

‘See, this,’ Jimin gives them both a look. ‘Is exactly why I’m asking again.’

‘We both already agreed, right?’

‘In fact, we already agreed at least seven times, so would you kindly calm your fucking tits, hyung?’

‘I am calm,’ Jimin mutters. He can practically feel how much his roommates don’t believe him, but at least it makes them both shut up.

Good enough, he guesses.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door – not that he doesn’t have Seokjin’s code, but he doesn’t want to barge in with his roommates like that – and it’s Seokjin himself who opens after a second.

‘Hello,’ Seokjin says, and bows politely towards Hoseok and Jeongguk, who return the gesture. ‘Hoseok and Jeongguk, right? Come in.’

Seokjin steps aside to let them go through the door first before he curls his hand around Jimin’s waist. He’s wearing a hoodie that’s slightly to big on him, a stark contrast against the neatly tailored clothes he usually wears, but it makes him look homely and warm and definitely not less attractive, so Jimin can’t say he minds.

‘Hey,’ Seokjin whispers with a smile, ducking down to peck Jimin on the lips.

‘Hey,’ Jimin repeats, grabbing his hoodie to prevent him from pulling back so quickly, and kisses him again. ‘You look good today.’

‘You say that as if I don’t always look good,’ Seokjin says, feigning offence. Jimin chuckles and slaps his chest lightly before linking his fingers with Seokjin’s and turns around to follow his roommates through the hallway, only to find Hoseok staring at them from about two metres further. His eyes are a bit wider than usual and one of his eyebrows is slightly raised and Jimin can tell that he’s trying to convey something, but he isn’t entirely sure what. He figures it has something to do with Seokjin, though, so he decides to ignore it and shove him in the direction of the living room, where he hears Taehyung and Yoongi introducing themselves to Jeongguk. There’s an entire tower of stacked pizza boxes on top of Seokjin’s coffee table, along with a few bottles of soju.

‘So,’ Seokjin starts after everyone’s done with introductions and greetings, dropping down on the couch. ‘Pizza. We have two Hawaiian, one Meat lovers, and six Chicken-barbecue ones.’

‘How,’ Jeongguk brings out, eyebrows scrunched in disbelief.

‘Well, see, I wanted to order one Hawaiian, one Meat Lovers, and one Chicken-barbecue, but I probably pressed the ‘six’ key instead of the ‘one’ key, y’know,’ Taehyung mumbles, reaching for one of the boxes and setting it down next to the stack with the lid open. Seokjin does the same with the second and the third boxes, and that’s about all the space he has on his coffee table.

‘Those keys aren’t even close to each other,’ Hoseok remarks as he settles himself cross-legged on the floor. ‘Even on a numpad, they’re sort of, like, diagonal’

‘It happens,’ Taehyung shrugs, going for a slice of the Meat lovers pizza and stuffing half of it in his mouth at once. Jimin can’t help but think that eating habits apparently run in the family.

‘Here, eat,’ Taehyung mumbles around his mouthful of pizza, nudging one of the boxes towards Hoseok.

 

 

Jimin is relieved to find that conversation comes easy during dinner. Relieved, but not actually surprised, because it’s Hoseok; he never needs more than 0.2 seconds to get comfortable with just about anyone. Jeongguk always takes a bit longer to loosen up, but when Taehyung starts talking about superheroes after the second slice of pizza, Jimin swears he sees Jeongguk’s eyes fucking sparkle and he knows the boy is gone for the rest of the evening.

It takes about 45 minutes before everyone has eaten enough, or in some cases, too much. There’s still two and a half pizzas left over, but Jimin doesn’t think he could take another bite without literally exploding, and judging from the way everyone is leaning back looking almost exhausted from eating, they probably feel the same way. Hoseok gave up on sitting, laying sprawled out like a starfish on Seokjin’s floor, occasionally groaning softly. Jeongguk has enough energy left to sit up but he looks a little green around the edges. Jimin warned him that an eating contest with Taehyung was a bad idea, but there’s nothing to do about how competitive Jeongguk gets. Taehyung, who won by two slices, looks surprisingly fine, leaning against Yoongi while he’s staring intently at his phone.

‘Yoongi,’ Taehyung says, grinning at his screen. ‘Namjoon says he’s performing at that club tonight, look, he’s sending me snaps.’

Yoongi snorts at whatever Taehyung is showing him on his phone.

‘Namjoon’s our cousin,’ Seokjin clarifies. ‘He produces in his free time, performs at clubs sometimes. Is it that club in Itaewon, Tae?’

‘Yup. Let me snap him back. C’mere, smile,’ Taehyung swings his arm around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him closer, and lifts his phone to snap a picture. And it would be a good picture, Jimin imagines, if Jeongguk didn’t decide to pull his face into a semi-psychotic grimace and lean over in front of Taehyung.

‘Nice,’ Jeongguk grins when he sees the picture. Jimin leans against Seokjin’s side to get a glance at the picture, and decides to stay there (possibly forever) when Seokjin starts fidgeting with his hair.

‘Yeah, very nice,’ Taehyung agrees, voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘You know I’m sending it like this, right? Give a complete stranger a nice look up your nostrils.’

Jeongguk snorts at that. ‘He should feel honoured. It’s a privilege to see up these –’ he taps the side of his nose twice with his index finger ‘- first class nostrils.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ Taehyung smiles, typing something over the picture. Not even five seconds pass before his notification sound goes off.

‘Mm. He’s asking who the fuck you are, and if we want to come watch the performance.’

‘Ah. When’s he on?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Around eleven,’ Taehyung says, eyes fixed on the screen while he types. Jimin assumes he’s responding to Namjoon.

Yoongi glares at the clock above Seokjin’s tv. It reads half past 9 now.

‘We could go check it out,’ he shrugs. ‘You two wanna come? You can tag along if you want.’ He gestures towards Hoseok with his bottle of soju before taking a sip.

‘Us?’ Hoseok lifts his head with a groan, as if it’s the hardest physical thing he’s ever had to do. He waves his arm noncommittally and lets his head fall back down on the carpet with a dull thud. ‘Sure. Sounds cool.’

Taehyung laughs at him before he goes back to typing.

‘Say hi from me,’ Seokjin says.

‘Me too,’ Jimin says. ‘I mean, not that he knows me, but say hi anyway.’

‘He’s my cousin. He knows who you are,’ Seokjin laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. Hoseok coos. Jeongguk pretends to gag, and Jimin chucks one of Seokjin’s couch pillows at his head, giggling. Unfortunately his aim is slightly off, and it misses Jeongguk by about twenty centimetres.

‘Oh my God,’ Taehyung says, pushing his phone in Seokjin’s face. ‘I was just about to snap him a pic of you two, but look how cute.’

‘Ah – that’s actually a really good picture,’ Seokjin says.

‘I’m saving it,’ Taehyung announces to no one in particular. ‘It looks like something straight out of a romantic drama.’

‘Alright, let me see that.’

Jimin takes the phone out of his hands to get a better look, and okay, yes, that’s a nice picture. Taehyung’s timing accidentally worked out great, capturing the exact moment when Seokjin kissed him. Jimin’s smiling widely, Seokjin’s arm around him, he can see where Taehyung is coming from.

‘See? It’s like a promotional poster. Put a title here..,’ he points at the top of the picture, ‘You know. Starring Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin. Starting soon on MBC.’

‘Rated R,’ Hoseok adds with a shit-eating grin.

Jimin’s aim is a lot better this time.

 

 

---

 

 

The clock reads 10:15 when Taehyung announces they should leave to catch a metro to Namjoon’s club, and everyone scrambles to their feet.

‘I’ll let you out,’ Seokjin says, but Yoongi stops him with a hand gesture.

‘We know the way out, hyung. You look comfortable, just stay here.’

‘Mhmm. Yep. I think that’s a really good plan, hyung. A+ on that plan,’ Jimin smirks, adjusting the position of his head on Seokjin’s thigh. He nudges his head against Seokjin’s hand, and Seokjin takes the hint, continuing his earlier motions through Jimin’s hair, curling a few strands around his fingers. Hoseok gives him the same wide-eyed look he gave Jimin before, but Jimin decides he doesn’t care enough to figure it out. Let him think whatever he wants. It’s not stopping Jimin from leaning back into Seokjin’s touch with a little contented sigh.

Taehyung swings his arm around Jeongguk’s back to push him towards the door, and Jimin half expects him to jump, not really being into physical contact and definitely not with people he barely knows. But Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch and lets Taehyung steer him towards the hallway, with Yoongi and Hoseok right behind them. There’s a chorus of goodbyes from everyone as they step outside.

‘You two behave!’ Hoseok yells from the hallway.

‘And if you don’t behave, do it safely!’ Jeongguk shouts after him right before the door closes, and with that, it’s suddenly quiet in Seokjin’s apartment. Jimin slings his forearm over his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, they’re so embarrassing, oh god,’ he mutters.

‘They’re fun,’ Seokjin responds, wrapping a hand around Jimin’s wrist to take his arm away from his face. ‘And they seem like good friends.’

‘They are,’ Jimin says truthfully. ‘I hope Jeongguk doesn’t get too drunk tonight though, he’s insufferable when he has a hangover.’

‘So just stay here tomorrow,’ Seokjin smiles, bending down to kiss him softly. Jimin laughs into the kiss, more because the angle is awkward like this than because of Jeongguk’s mean hangover. Seokjin must be bending his back nearly in two, and their lips don’t fit together quite well, but Seokjin tastes like that peachy lip balm he always wears with a hint of soju behind it, mixed with a taste he only associates with Seokjin, and god damn if that isn’t addicting. It’s only when he reaches up to touch Seokjin and can’t quite figure out how to bend his arms to do that that he decides this position isn’t going to work. He gently pushes Seokjin back up and straddles his lap instead, leaning down to kiss him properly, softly biting at his lower lip before he slowly grinds his hips against Seokjin’s. A soft little sigh falls from Seokjin’s lips, hands sliding up Jimin’s thighs, coming to rest on the swell of his ass before he tilts his head backwards and parts his lips, an invitation for Jimin to slip his tongue in between them, licking into the heat of Seokjin’s mouth.

Jimin’s hands find the hem of Seokjin’s hoodie, tugging at it until Seokjin pulls away to let him take it off and throw it on the other end of the couch. The shirt he’s wearing underneath ends up in the same place mere moments later, leaving Seokjin’s chest bare and Jimin sits back to wonder exactly how smooth skin can actually be. It’s almost as if Seokjin’s skin is glowing under the dim light of the lamp on the side table. His lips look slick and soft and pliant, eyelashes throwing fluttering little shadows over his cheekbones.

It’s a sight. Seokjin is a beautiful, beautiful sight beneath him.

‘Jimin-ah,’ Seokjin breathes out, making him snap out of his thoughts. His eyes flick up from Seokjin’s lips to meet his eyes, noticing how something dark glistens beneath the surface. The corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. ‘You were staring.’

‘Yeah,’ Jimin smiles back. ‘I was. Have you seen yourself? You’d be staring too.’

‘In fact, I have, and you’re not wrong,’ Seokjin says matter-of-factly, tugging Jimin’s shirt up and off. Jimin leans down for another kiss, smoothing his hands over the planes of Seokjin’s chest, kissing more insistent this time, the hot feeling of skin on skin making his stomach twist with anticipation.

‘Hyung,’ Jimin whispers against Seokjin’s lips. ‘Hyung, I was thinking.’

‘Yeah?’ Seokjin urges him on.

‘I was thinking,’ Jimin mutters, kissing him again. ‘Maybe I could, uhm. Maybe I could top this time.’

Seokjin’s body tenses for a brief second, making Jimin pull away a little bit to look him in the eyes. ‘You,’ Seokjin breathes, ‘you want to fuck me?’

Jimin nods slowly. ‘Yeah. Can I?’

‘Jimin, oh my God,’ Seokjin squeaks out, blush creeping up his cheeks. ‘Yeah. Yes, god, you can.’

‘Good,’ Jimin mutters, running his fingers over Seokjin’s stomach, dipping under the waistband of his pants for a moment. ‘That’s good. Let’s move to the bedroom, yeah?’

Seokjin quirks an eyebrow at him. ‘Someone’s eager.’

‘Well, maybe I’ve been thinking about this for a while,’ Jimin mumbles as he gets to his feet and links his fingers with Seokjin’s to pull him into the hallway, heat coursing through his veins.

‘At least you didn’t send me pictures this time,’ Seokjin laughs. ‘Would’ve looked bad in the middle of a meeting with our newest business partners.’

‘Don’t give me ideas,’ Jimin smirks, pushing Seokjin past the open door of the bedroom.

The thrumming feeling beneath the surface of Jimin’s skin only heightens when Seokjin squirms out of his pants and lays down on the bed, leaving his boxers for Jimin to pull off. Jimin kicks off his own jeans and gathers the bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand, laying them down on the edge of the bed before crawling over Seokjin, hooking his fingers on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. He licks his lips at the sight of Seokjin’s cock laying hot and heavy against his stomach, tip flushed pink. Everything about Seokjin is pretty, and his cock is no exception.

Later, Jimin thinks, crawling forward to kiss Seokjin again. He wants to take his time, do this right, make it good. He rolls his hips down slowly, catching the moan that falls from Seokjin’s lips with his own, before moving to kiss his neck. Softly. He scrunches his nose, knowing he’s still not allowed to make marks. He noses over the clear, smooth skin, thinking about how nice it would be to suck red and purple marks into it for the world to see. For everyone to know that they can look at him in magazines and pictures, but he’s the only one who gets to see Seokjin like this, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed on his forehead, which is impossibly more beautiful.

‘So, uh-’ Seokjin starts, tipping his head to the side to give Jimin more space. ‘I should probably tell you it’s been a while since I’ve, uhm. You know.’

That, Jimin had pretty much guessed, based on the fact that Seokjin had been on the giving end for at least the past two months. Jimin cups his cheek with a hand, kisses the corner of his mouth. ‘I get it,’ he says, pressing kisses down to his jaw, his neck, his collarbones. ‘I’ll be gentle,’ he adds with a wink.

He moves further down Seokjin’s torso, pausing for a moment to swirl his tongue around his nipple, feeling the sharp rise of Seokjin’s chest as he gasps for breath. He moves his hands down to Seokjin’s side, dragging his fingers over his stomach to the dip of his hipbones, littering kisses from his chest to his abdomen to around his hips. It has Seokjin panting, his hips jerking, bringing up one hand to curl into Jimin’s hair.

‘Jimin,’ Seokjin groans, his voice low and thick in his throat. ‘Stop teasing.’

‘Alright, alright. Impatient,’ Jimin clicks his tongue, but he pushes himself up to reach for the lube and the spare pillow on the other side of the bed, planting a kiss on Seokjin’s lips before leaning back on his heels. Seokjin gives him a questioning look.

‘Lift your hips,’ Jimin says, kissing the inside of Seokjin’s thigh. ‘Makes things easier.’

Seokjin complies, and Jimin props the pillow underneath him before uncapping the bottle of lube and squirting a generous amount of it on his fingers. He looks at the blob of substance in his hand for a second, letting it warm in his hands. Seokjin wiggles his hips on the pillow, spreading his legs a bit further.

‘You okay?’ Jimin asks.

Seokjin nods quickly. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good – oh, shit –

He bites down on his lip as Jimin pushes a first slick finger into him, eyebrows scrunching together. Jimin feels his entire body tense and he looks… well, honestly, he looks slightly pained.

‘Should I stop?’ Jimin asks. ‘We don’t have to do this, ‘s okay, we can do anything else.’

Seokjin shakes his head, breathing out heavily. ‘No,’ he mutters, ‘It’s just – wow. It’s been a while.’

Jimin hums. ‘Relax, hyung,’ he whispers, leaning down to kiss his stomach, lightly sucking at his skin. He brings his other hand up to steady the base of Seokjin’s cock and licks around the head to distract him from the possible discomfort of his finger pushing deeper. Seokjin moans lowly and twists his hands into the bedsheets, chokes out a gasp when Jimin sucks the head of his cock into his mouth, whimpers when Jimin sinks down on his cock and crooks his finger slightly, experimentally, slowly moving in and out. Jimin already learned a while ago that Seokjin isn’t the most vocal in bed, but he thinks he could get high on the sounds Seokjin does make; the soft sighs, stuttered breaths, the low grunts and hums and whispered curses falling from his lips.

The second finger goes a bit smoother than the first, with Seokjin either getting used to the stretch or being distracted enough by the drag of Jimin’s tongue over his cock not to care about it, and by the time Jimin works in a third finger, Seokjin is pushing back against his hand.

‘Good?’ Jimin asks, smiling up at him.

And maybe Jimin is dragging this out just a tiny bit longer than strictly necessary, mesmerised by the complete mess that is Kim Seokjin at the moment, by the way his eyes flutter and his hips jerk with every drag of Jimin’s fingers over his prostate, the way his hands grasp desperately at the bedsheets.

‘Jimin, h-holy shit,’ Seokjin manages. Jimin gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, kissing up his chest to his ear, slipping his fingers out slowly.

‘Can I fuck you now, hyung?’

‘Yes,’ Seokjin pants, hands coming up to grab Jimin’s shoulders, smoothing down his back. ‘Please.’

Jimin smirks, leaning back to tear open the condom wrapper, roll it on and lube it up before bending over Seokjin again, pressing the tip of his dick against Seokjin’s entrance.

‘Please what?’

‘Jimin, I swear to God –’

Jimin never gets to find out what Seokjin swears to God, because the next moment he’s pressing past Seokjin’s rim, slowly but steadily pushing forward until his hips are flush against Seokjin’s ass, and shit–

‘Hyung,’ Jimin murmurs into the skin of his neck. ‘Hyung, god damn.

Because with his mind being mostly preoccupied with Seokjin’s pleasure, he forgot that Seokjin isn’t the only one who hasn’t been on the other side of things for a while. And this – the insane heat, the unimaginable tightness around his length knocking the air right out of his lungs, Jesus Christ, he almost forgot what it felt like.

For a few seconds that feel more like a few centuries, their ragged breathing is the only sound in the room as Jimin tries to compose himself, but then Seokjin wraps his arms around Jimin’s neck and drags him down into a kiss and Jimin feels like he might burst into approximately seven million pieces right there.

‘Alright,’ Seokjin whispers against his lips. ‘Alright, it’s— okay, I’m okay. You can, you can move.’

Jimin licks his lips. Presses a kiss to Seokjin’s mouth. Lifts himself up and slowly moves his hips, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, falling into a steady rhythm that has them both gasping for air within seconds. The pillow underneath Seokjin’s back is doing a good job at angling his hips in such a way that Jimin doesn’t need much searching to find his prostate and keep hitting it with every thrust. Seokjin’s entire vocabulary seems to be reduced to yes and fuck and Jimin and more, and Jimin decides he’d be alright with hearing nothing except those four words for his entire life if they sound like that. He picks up his pace, fucking into Seokjin roughly now, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer; not when Seokjin sounds so absolutely wrecked and looks so deliciously fucked out underneath him.

‘You look so good,’ he mutters, kissing along Seokjin’s jawline. ‘Feel so good.’

He wraps his hand around Seokjin’s neglected cock between them, pumping it in time with his thrusts, pressing his thumb into the slit and Seokjin arches off the bed so hard it looks almost painful. Jimin feels Seokjin’s cock pulsing in his hand and as he comes with a long, drawn-out groan and Jimin fucks him through it, feels him clench around his length. It only takes a few more stuttering thrusts before he’s coming too, spilling into the condom.

‘Wow,’ Seokjin breathes out.

‘Yeah,’ Jimin confirms, failing to suppress a grin as he curls up beside him. ‘Wow.

 

 

---


 

Jimin wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing insistently.

He decides to ignore it and opts instead to snuggle closer to Seokjin, the warmth of his skin giving Jimin a sort of sleepy contentment as he lays his head on Seokjin’s chest. Jimin doesn’t know if Seokjin is fully awake, if the arm that curls around Jimin and starts rubbing lazily up and down his back is intentional or just an instinct. Either way it’s nice, and the slow rhythm of Seokjin’s breathing and the warm hand on his back makes Jimin sink back into a light slumber. Lazy mornings might just be his favourite thing, and as it turns out they’re even better with Seokjin next to him.

To his dismay, it doesn’t last very long before his phone buzzes again, and he really wants to ignore it again, but Seokjin nudges him with his shoulder and makes a sleepy sound in the back of this throat, which Jimin takes to mean something like go see why they’re disturbing us. A few rays of early sunlight are peeking through Seokjin’s curtains, providing enough light for Jimin to locate his jeans and his phone in the back pocket. He hears Seokjin shift in the bed, probably turning around to see what’s going on.

When Jimin finally gets his phone out, all he can do is frown at the screen. First of all, it’s barely 8 AM. Hoseok shouldn’t even be awake on a regular day, let alone on a Saturday after he went out. Secondly, Hoseok shouldn’t be calling him. He wouldn’t be calling if everything was okay, which can only mean that everything is not okay, and Jimin can suddenly feel his heartbeat in his throat.

He drags his thumb over the screen and picks up, bringing the phone to his ear. He presses the palm of his other hand into his eye, rubbing out the remains of sleep.

‘Hello?’

‘Jimin,’ Hoseok’s voice sounds through the speaker, a little squeaky. Something’s wrong, Jimin can feel it, he can hear it in the way Hoseok doesn’t sound like he’s supposed to sound. ‘Jimin, holy shit, were you still asleep just now?’

‘Yeah,’ Jimin nods, still frowning. Seokjin pushes himself up on his elbow to watch him, curiously. ‘Hyung, what’s wrong?’

‘Jiminnie, I don’t- I don’t know what happened, or, who, you know– I mean it can’t have been– it wouldn’t be–’

‘Hyung,’ Jimin cuts in, trying to sound calm, collected, which takes every fiber of his self-control because every single one of his natural instincts is going right into panic mode. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Hoseok squeaks. ‘The picture. Taehyung- Taehyung’s picture of you and Seokjin hyung, it got— shit, I don’t know what the hell happened, Jimin, oh God. Your face is all over the god damn internet.’