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“He’s not a dog, you know,” is what Taehyung tells him when Jimin spends another weekly coffee meeting complaining about his love life.

Jimin scowls in his direction. Taehyung was so supportive of Namjoon. Taehyung was the one chatting on the phone with Jimin at 2 a.m. and listening to him talk about how badly he wanted Namjoon’s dick in his throat and dragged him out to parties he knew their hyung was at. Taehyung was the one who introduced Jimin to his cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s hairstylist’s incredibly attractive roommate in the first place, and Jimin had spent months pining over him before getting that phone number; that first date, the first kiss and the first hazy night at Namjoon’s apartment. Now Jimin has Namjoon wrapped around his finger, title and everything. He and Namjoon had even discussed moving in together at length, Namjoon’s lease with his roommate running out in a matter of months.

That being said, Jimin didn’t pursue a relationship with this man without knowing that his sexual preferences were… less than on par with his own. In fact, in the five months they’ve been polishing each other’s dolphins, Namjoon’s dick hasn’t been anywhere near Jimin’s throat; Namjoon always easing him off with a reassuring hand on the crook of his shoulder and an apology on the gentle curve of his mouth the moment Jimin’s throat begins to contract around the head of his cock, and it’s Jimin’s own fault that he clams up every time, as Taehyung never hesitates to tell him.

Namjoon is a steady 4 on the Kinsey scale, which is great, and a ‘vanilla ice cream with a possible cherry on top, but only if he’s feeling really wild’ on Cosmopolitan’s ‘How Kinky Are You?’ online quiz, which is, honestly, so much less than ideal. 6 months ago Jimin was wet dreaming of getting his mouth on Namjoon’s cute little ass and edging him until he cried and now, all those 6 months later, that fantasy is still merely a concoction of his own mind. Of course, as Tae reminds him more than weekly, now, it’s Jimin’s own damn fault for falling head over heels for a someone with the sexual adventurousness of a sea sponge. Jimin knew sexual compatibility was a make or break element in most relationships, but Taehyung didn’t need to be doling out the Facts of Life by the tablespoon every time they met up for coffee, fucking christ. “I know he’s not a dog,” Jimin says, scowling again into his cappuccino.

“You can’t just teach him new tricks, or train him to respond to whatever you like,” Taehyung continues, as though he hadn’t even heard Jimin speak. “Or you could, I guess. Most personality traits and preferences are a result of societal brainwash; I suppose anyone could… respond to anything with enough exposure to it, but relationships are built on mutual trust and not ulterior agendas to normalize omorashi, so. It wouldn’t exactly be ethical.”

“Omorashi isn’t unethical, okay,” Jimin bites, but Taehyung just looks amused. The fuck does he think he is, spouting off about societal brainwashing and ethical responsibility. Like he’s… Namjoon, or something. Jimin’s scowl deepens and Taehyung’s smirk widens and he knows he’s won. Jimin growls in the back of his throat. “I will talk to him, I just-”

“This week.”

“Tae-” Jimin whines, but Taehyung arches a thick brow at him.

“Before I see you again.”

“I will. Fine.”

Taehyung sits back in his chair, raising his cup to his lips. “Good, because I’m tired of fucking hearing about it.”

 

 

Namjoon has taken a recent liking to crossword puzzles.

Jimin busies himself with other things; housework, laundry, scrubbing the shower, fixing the cabinet door next to the dishwasher that swings open unprovoked at the most inconvenient times like a kitchen poltergeist and bruises Namjoon’s shins when he gets up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. The Conversation was an easy one to put off considering Namjoon’s hellish work schedule; a 10-7 daily that ended 4-5 hours late on the 3 nights a week Jimin didn’t physically drive over to his studio with a warm meal to drag him back home and into bed. It’s easy to avoid a Talk with someone who’s half asleep or full-on sleeping beauty whenever he’s at home (which is Jimin’s apartment more often than not, these days. Jimin’s heart still does exclamation marks in his chest when Namjoon calls Jimin’s place ‘home’.) and Jimin had fully intended to take advantage of his unfortunate circumstances. That is, until Namjoon took a two week leave off work for a trip down to Busan to visit Jimin’s family that ended up not panning out. Now, Namjoon hangs around Jimin’s apartment all day. Doing crossword puzzles.

Jimin watches him from the kitchen table to the living room couch, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. It’s not like he hasn’t tiptoed around the subject before, dropped hints. He and Namjoon have a great relationship, they really do; but it’s not quite… what Jimin wants. What he craves.

Taehyung was right, sexual incompatibility can shatter relationships, build walls, cause resentment. Namjoon is his everything, his rock, his partner. Namjoon opens up the curtains at night so Jimin can see the stars and blinks awake at dawn to shut them so the sun streaming in doesn’t wake him; writes him love notes and poems and entire mixtapes; lulls him to sleep on rough nights with deft hands playing through his hair and his deep voice rumbling against Jimin’s cheek. Namjoon looks up from his puzzle book to catch Jimin staring, wiggling his fingers at him. Jimin doesn’t look away, just sighs softly, smiles gently. He loves Namjoon too much to let him slip away because of a lapse in communication.

“Hi,” Jimin says quietly, letting his legs carry him over the couch where Namjoon is before his brain can cause any more self-sabotage, sinking into the cushions inches away from the older. “Can we talk about something?”

Namjoon’s fond expression instantly drops a little, and he closes his puzzle book, dropping it off the edge of the couch at his feet. “Is everything alright? Are you okay- are we okay?”

Jimin crawls half onto Namjoon’s lap before he can stop himself, pressing kisses into the worried pout of Namjoon’s mouth. “Yeah, of course,” Jimin chirps, and he removes himself after a moment, folding his hands neatly in his lap. Conversations about sex and kink negotiations should be held in nonsexual situations, according to what Jimin saw on Reddit. “I just.” He takes a deep breath. “I wanna talk about sex.”

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes, his lips quirking, his cheeks turning red. He always gets this way about sex, blushing cutely. It’s definitely not a bad thing, but right now Jimin needs them both to focus.

“We have such a great relationship, we’re so- we’re so good together, and we talk so well and we fit so well, and I love-”

“Is it bad?” Namjoon interjects. Jimin glances down from the spot behind his boyfriend’s head on the wall that he had been focusing on, to see that Namjoon is a wreck; wringing his hands in his lap and biting the inside of his lip. (Jimin used to scold him for always gnawing on his lips, chewing on them until they bled. Namjoon’s lips would constantly be chapped and torn up, and Jimin had tried to train it out of him, applying lipstick to Namjoon’s mouth so Jimin could always see when it stained his teeth. Now, Namjoon is 90% over it, but he still bites at the inside of his lip when he’s worried, subtly enough that Jimin can barely tell unless he’s looking for it. It’s sweet, that Namjoon has made the effort to keep his boyfriend from worrying about him, but Jimin can always tell when he’s distressed.) “Sex with me, is it bad?”

“No,” Jimin exclaims, brows furrowed in confusion. God no. Sex with Namjoon- making love with Namjoon is just that; it’s sweet and gentle and passionate. If Namjoon didn’t tell Jimin every day, Jimin would still know Namjoon loves him from the way he touches his body, the reverent kisses he leaves on his skin; the way he looks at him alone. And god, the way Namjoon makes him cum. Namjoon fucks him slow and deep and cradles his head in his hands and stares at him with something like awe in his eyes; he’s so open and honest, so pliant under Jimin’s touch and always so eager; and fuck if Jimin isn’t always thinking about how those traits would translate to Namjoon being submissive for him. “No, Jesus, no, definitely not. I just- there’s things that I want to try- things that I really like that I, I want to do with you.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, most of the worry leaving his expression, replaced with something close to relief and genuine interest. “Oh. Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I wanna experiment with… power dynamics.”

Namjoon takes a moment to process this. “So… you want to top me?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. But there are other ways that I could, um, dominate you.”

“Oh.” Jimin can already see the gears turning in his head; the rational side of his brain processing the information, making lists, making plans. “Like with handcuffs? Should we buy a pair of handcuffs?”

Jimin exhale shakes a little more than it should. “I- I already own a pair.”

Namjoon nods, his movements a little jerky, a little flustered. “Okay, w-what else? What other things are you into?”

Jimin takes a deep breath, running his hand back through his hair and quickly combing it forward into his eyes again. He suddenly feels vulnerable. “Um, well, god, uh, or-orgasm control, and desperation, uh, restraints, and- oh god, I really like overstimula-”

“Maybe you can make me a list?” Namjoon suggests, smiling softly, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “A list of everything you like, and maybe even, just, anything you’d want to try, and we can look over it together later.”

Jimin exhales, relief flooding him like a broken dam, and leans forward to kiss Namjoon. He’s being so reasonable and understanding and not making Jimin feels gross about all of this, about wanting this, and it means the world. He feels stupid for not being more honest about the topic months ago. “And this isn’t weirding you out?”

“No, I- um, not really, I just… never thought about it before. But I want to try things for you,” Namjoon says, his eyes so honest and eager, and Jimin melts a little more. “I’m willing to- I want to go out of my comfort zone to make you happy.”

Jimin presses forward to kiss him again, smoothing his hair back to press his lips to his forehead. “I really appreciate you, Joon.”

 

 

“So what’s your absolute favorite thing?” Namjoon asks him later, sprawled out on their bed with a piece of paper in hand as Jimin sits, straddled across his ass, massaging his back. “Like if you had to choose just one.”

“Making you cum,” Jimin says, pleased with the way it makes Namjoon blush underneath him.

“Really?”

“Mmm, even just watching you cum,” Jimin purrs, sidling down lower to murmur against the shell of Namjoon’s ear. “You’re so fucking hot, hyung.”

Namjoon coughs, the muscles in his back flexing as he adjusts, and he shifts his attention back to the paper in his hand. “So, um, there are some things on this list,” He begins, shamelessly changing the subject, and Jimin chuckles under his breath. “That we should definitely research a-and discuss before playing around with, but do you think there’s anything on here that would be, like… entry level? Something low-maintenance that we could just ease into.”

Jimin hums, taking the list from him. Entry level BDSM could be a laundry list of things, from a shift in attitude to and edge of roughness to the love they already make; but Namjoon is so eager to please, ready to dive in, and asked for something specifically from Jimin’s hand-selected list, and Jimin looks it over, finding the most cliche BDSM gateway of all time. “We could start with the handcuffs, maybe?”

“Handcuffs could be good. You’d cuff me to the headboard, right?” Jimin nods. Namjoon exhales, his back trembling under Jimin’s hands, but he doesn’t seem as nervous as Jimin thought he would be. Maybe he’s just excited. “Do you wanna fool around now? Or tonight?”

“Let’s finish your massage first,” Jimin chirps, and Namjoon nods agreeably. Jimin makes a point to do this at least weekly, getting Namjoon stripped down and rubbing out all the knots in his back he gets from sitting hunched over a desk all day. It makes him feel good to make Namjoon feel good, but what he loves more than anything is just getting to touch him; getting him so boneless and blissed out that all the tension drains out of his body and leaves him limp underneath Jimin. Sometimes, after rubbing into the muscles of his hips and thighs, he can get him to stretch, pressing his knees to his chest and straightening out his legs as far as they’ll go; making Namjoon pant and whine, but never complain. He’s so good for Jimin, could be so obedient if he knew how badly Jimin wanted him to be. “Can you choose a safeword for me? Just in case.”

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. “We could do the, uh, the red-yellow-green system?”

“Hey,” Jimin says, beaming. He gives Namjoon’s hair a ruffle.”Look at you, you’re getting the hang of it already, what a good boy.”

Namjoon turns his face into the sheets and Jimin scoots back to sit across his thighs, not seeing the way Namjoon’s face turns red. “So, let’s review,” Jimin says, kneading into Namjoon’s lower back, thumbs playing at the dimples of venus at the base of his spine. “If we’re doing a scene, and I ask you your color, what do you say?”

“Green.”

“And what does that mean?”

“That I’m alright, and- and I want to keep going.”

“What about yellow, what does yellow mean?”

“That I need you to stop what you’re doing, or slow down.”

“And red?”

“That I need to stop the scene.”

Jimin hums, satisfied. “Good boy.” He climbs off the bed then, telling Namjoon to flip onto his back as he digs around in his closet for his toy box, coming back with his handcuffs to see Namjoon laying back, propped up on some pillows with his arms already raised up over his head.

“Oh, god, I was kind of expecting, like, prison handcuffs,” Namjoon chuckles, gesturing with his head to the cuffs in Jimin’s hands; sturdy, padded cuffs with soft pink fabric and velcro straps, a buckle between them to be unlatched quickly whenever it’s needed. Jimin smiles gently, unstrapping them and holding them up for Namjoon’s to see.

“They’re gonna be comfortable, see?” Jimin says, turning the cuffs in his hand. “Metal cuffs combine elements of pain and restraint, but we’re gonna focus on one thing at a time. I want you to feel safe.”

Namjoon’s expression is unreadable as Jimin straps up each of his wrists individually, securing the velcro, and he leans down to kiss him, pressing into Namjoon’s full lips and breathing in deep through his nose. “Thank you,” Jimin breathes, and the buckle snaps in place with a loud ‘click’, the younger leaning back to see Namjoon’s eyes flutter open, hands bound securely to the bedpost.

Namjoon is bare against the sheets except for his shorts; those tiny sky blue running shorts Namjoon likes to wear in place of boxers, likes the silky fabric against his bare cock and likes the way Jimin admires his tight little ass when he meanders around the house in them like it’s nothing. They do nothing to hide his arousal, hard cock pressed against the thin fabric so urgently you can see the vein running up the underside, the outline of his foreskin pushed down around the fat head and the blurb of precum soaking through.

Jimin loves getting Namjoon excited, loves seeing Namjoon’s hands shake when he pulls off his clothes and the flush of exertion on his cheeks when he fucks him, but Jimin gets a different thrill from the absent erections Namjoon gets; the cuddling-watching-TV boners and the Jimin-is-sitting-on-my-lap-and-it’s-comfortable boners and the erections Namjoon gets when his boyfriend has been rubbing his back for the past 45 minutes. Jimin knows erections are caused by the relaxing of a certain muscle, allowing blood to flow freely to his dick, and Jimin secretly likes thinking that Namjoon, at least subconsciously, is comfortable enough around him, that Jimin gets him relaxed enough, makes him feel safe and loved enough to let his cock fatten up, pressing shamelessly against the front of those goddamn shorts.

He’s gonna start slow; wants more than anything for Namjoon not to feel rushed or panicked, and he continues massaging his chest, pumping more lotion onto his hands and rubbing it on from his shoulders down to the V of his hips, pressing his lips into the soft swell of his tummy. Jimin can feel the shuddering exhales and the kick of his hips each time he dips his thumbs past the waistband of his shorts, soft little gasps falling past Namjoon’s parted lips. He realizes now that he doesn’t have a plan, has Namjoon bound beneath him, laying himself bare and willing to take anything he’ll give him and Jimin doesn’t even know what yet. Namjoon lets out a soft ‘please’ when Jimin brushes against the tent in his shorts, though, and Jimin smiles coyly, sliding his hands along Namjoon’s sides and up to his arms, rubbing his biceps.

“What’s wrong?” he simpers, sticky sweet, and Namjoon groans, shaking his head.

“S’nothing,” he mumbles, and Jimin flashes another smile, swinging his leg off of Namjoon’s hip to scoot down the bed, tugging at the hem of his shorts.

“Let’s get these off of you, yeah?” Jimin says, and Namjoon groans his approval, lifting his hips up off the bed. Jimin takes his time, slipping his fingers underneath the waistband and pulling it away from his skin, careful not to catch the head of his cock on the elastic as he drags it down, fingers skimming his strong thighs as he slips them off his long legs completely. Jimin himself is still clothed; just in a cotton t-shirt and black sweatpants, but it feels powerful anyway, makes him feel in control, and he knows Namjoon can tell, suddenly squirming under Jimin’s gaze. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon murmurs. His thighs lay open on the bed, spread apart just enough for his soft inner thighs to face up towards the ceiling, his cock lying heavy over his balls. Jimin reaches back up, strokes his thighs, feather light, tracing patterns up along the seam where his thigh meets his groin. Namjoon lays there, mouth open, taking it for a couple moments before Jimin hears his handcuffs scraping against the headboard, and Namjoon squeezes his thighs shut; back arched, finally reacting.

Jimin smiles softly, out of Namjoon’s line of sight. He pushes his thighs back apart, spreading them wider this time, pressing his fingers harder into the flesh. He’s spread open enough now, head thrown back toward the ceiling, that Jimin can see his asshole, clenching with each spasm of his neglected cock. He won’t, god, he won’t touch him there until the two of them have discussed it outside of a sexual context, until after Jimin knows for sure what Namjoon is and isn’t comfortable with, but it doesn’t make his mouth water any less; thinking about the fucking look on Namjoon’s face when Jimin laves his tongue over his asshole for the first time, maybe pushes it inside. Maybe Namjoon likes it enough to rock his hips back, maybe he fucks himself back like a whore when Jimin pushes some fingers inside him, wiggles and bucks his hips and cries about how he can’t stop cumming. God. Another day, maybe.

Jimin’s thumb presses in dangerously close to his perineum and Namjoon’s hips jump a foot off the bed, groaning as he tries desperately to aim his groin into Jimin’s hands.

“What are you doing?” He whines, finally, and Jimin doesn’t stop, smiling sweetly as he moves to scratch his fingers through Namjoon’s pubic hair, his other hand still holding his thighs open.

“I’m just playing with you, hyung,” Jimin purrs, voice as smooth as silk. “Aren’t I allowed to play with you? You’re so pretty down here, you can’t expect me to not want to touch.”

Namjoon looks away, obviously uncomfortable, but his body language says otherwise; shifting his hips so his thighs fall open further and Jimin’s knuckles brush against his balls, making him jolt. “I’m just playing, that’s all this is; it’s just a game, right, hyung?” And any time you want to stop playing you just have to tell me.” Jimin pauses here, looking up through the hair fallen into his eyes, the pads of his fingers brushing, just barely, over his balls, gliding over the seam down the middle and squeezing gently, gently. Namjoon nods, trembling, and Jimin’s lips quirk up into a grin. Permission. He’s granted Jimin permission.

“Yeah?” Jimin coos, condescendingly, like he already knows the answer, like he’s talking to a dog.

Namjoon nods again, more fervently. “Yeah,” he croaks.

Jimin finally wraps a hand around the base of his cock, holding it up and ducking down to lick a stripe up Namjoon’s balls, coddling one of them into mouth and sucking gently and Namjoon moans, taken aback and so aroused he could burst. Jimin’s other hand comes underneath, cradling the sack in his hand, rolling and squeezing them in the warmth of his palm. He wants both of them in his mouth, wants to lave his tongue over his balls and suck on them and taste the sweat on Namjoon’s skin like he knows he likes, but god, Namjoon would be so embarrassed, blushing and squirming and Jimin, beginning to get just as caught up, squeezes his eyes shut at the mental image of Namjoon accidentally cumming himself, making a mess on his tummy from having his sensitive balls sucked on. Jimin pulls off with a disgusting wet sound, his own cock tenting in his sweatpants.

“You want me to suck your cock?” He asks, wiping the spit rolling down his chin with the back of his hand. Namjoon sputters, his hips jumping off the bed, and he nods, murmuring a quiet ‘please’, uncharacteristically high.

Jimin keeps a bottle of lube under his pillow- or Namjoon’s pillow, scrambling to look for it with as much grace as he can manage, and, drizzling it generously on all four of his fingers, reaches behind himself to slip his hand underneath the waistband of his sweats; pressing two into his own asshole just as his lips sink down around Namjoon’s cock. The stretch is just enough to burn the way he likes, just enough to force a dirty sound out of his mouth, muffled around Namjoon’s aching dick, leaking onto his tongue like a faucet.

“Jimin, take your clothes off,” Namjoon whispers, and Jimin looks up, makes Namjoon make a sound like he’s in physical pain when he pulls back up off his dick.

“Why?”

Namjoon flushes. “I- I want to see you.”

“How bad do you want it?” Jimin asks, and Namjoon begins to gnaw on his lower lip.

“Jimin, please,” He says, softer, voice dripping with shame and confusion. Jimin gives it to him, pulling his shirt off and pushing his sweatpants down just far enough to let his balls rest comfortably on the waistband, pulled tight around his thighs. Namjoon isn’t ready to beg, and Jimin isn’t going to push him, not yet. The real satisfaction will be watching him get to the point where the only thing he can do is beg.

Namjoon holds still just long enough for Jimin to get his mouth back on him before rocking his hips delicately, only able to fuck so far into his mouth without the leverage his hands would provide. Jimin lets him, gives him some semblance of control; that’s what this is about, anyway. Jimin doesn’t want to hurt Namjoon or humiliate him; just wants to take away what control Namjoon does have until he’s desperate enough to drop everything: his inhibitions, his shame, his embarrassment; desperate enough to reach out and try to take back what he wants. Jimin is almost proud of Namjoon for letting himself get this lost in his own pleasure already.

“Your cock tastes so good, Namjoon-ah,” Jimin praises, a line of spit connecting Jimin’s swollen lower lip and the slit of Namjoon’s cock, bouncing and straining as Jimin slaps it against his mouth. “Does it feel good in my mouth?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon whines, bucking his hips, and this time the movements are jerky enough that his cock slips out of Jimin’s hold, bouncing between his thighs, smearing his own wetness on his skin.

Namjoon makes like he’s going to speak again, but his voice dies in his throat as Jimin hollows his cheeks around him. Namjoon really does taste gorgeous, like soft clean skin and salt and the fact that it’s Namjoon, his beautiful boy, makes Jimin’s cock throb between his legs. He pushes a third finger into himself, the angle too awkward to push all the way in. It’s better like this, though, with his fingers getting his rim stretched out enough that he rest of him feels everything when Namjoon pushes in deep that first time.

Jimin’s other hand rests around the girth of his cock, scratching absently through the wiry hair growing there, but Namjoon thrusts upwards, rough, and Jimin presses down just below his stomach, where his bladder should be, making Namjoon groan, shrinking in on himself. Jimin pulls off slowly, slowly, sucking hard on the length of his cock as he goes, making a satisfying ‘pop’ when his mouth finally detaches from Namjoon’s erection.

He goes again, and again, and again, sucking wetly around the head for seconds at a time, and Namjoon shakes, his breathing erratic.

“Jimin,” he sobs, his voice on the edge of breaking. Jimin moans, withdrawing his fingers from himself.

“What’s wrong, babydoll?” Jimin pouts, digging his tongue into the slit of Namjoon’s cock one last time before sitting up on his knees, ass propped on his heels.

Namjoon’s legs tangle in the sheets, trying to find leverage, or friction or something, his lower lip worrying between his teeth. “What do you need, honey?” Jimin coos, wrapping his hand loosely around the head and pumping vigorously; just until Namjoon’s hips kick up to follow the warmth of his hand, and Jimin pulls away. “Hm?” He repeats the process, this time rubbing his thumb insistently over the swollen head, and Namjoon’s stomach muscles begin to convulse, threatening to spill over. A tear runs down his cheek when Jimin start up and pulls away, again, a frustrated growl tearing from his throat.

“Jimin, please touch my cock,” he sobs, and Jimin stops, considering, sucking the precum off his thumb.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks again, and it’s a prompting, an invitation. Namjoon takes it.

“Need you to touch me so bad, Jimin, please, I promise I’ll be for good for you,” Namjoon cries, bucking his hips up shamelessly again, his swollen cock bobbing in the air, spilling cum on the soft swell on his stomach. Jimin shifts, falls onto his ass on the bed and pulls his sweatpants off completely, his wet hole visible to Namjoon, who moans.

“Do you want to put your cock in here?” Jimin asks coyly, pointing down between his legs, and Namjoon makes a noise of consent, watching hungrily as Jimin grabs the bottle of lube, slinging his leg back over Namjoon’s hip like before. The bottle is slick and Jimin’s hands shake a little, struggling to get the cap off, but when he does he positions it under himself, pressing the top into his body and squeezing out the contents, grabbing Namjoon’s cock and pressing it into his asshole before the lube has the chance to drip back out of his body. “Watch Jiminie’s hole open up for your cock, baby,” Jimin moans, struggling to keep his voice steady as the head of Namjoon’s cock pushes past his rim. “I opened myself up ‘n made room just for you.”

Namjoon’s reaction is instant, his handcuffs rattling against the headboard as he tugs helplessly, moaning loudly. “Jimin, Jimin, oh my god,” he groans, and Jimin can’t string together a dignified response until he’s fully seated on his lap, clenching experimentally around Namjoon’s girth.

“There we go,” He pants, smiling. “My baby has such a good cock, doesn’t he? Such a good boy, got so hard ‘n wet for me, filling me up just how I need.” Namjoon nods vigorously, rocking his hips up slowly, experimentally. “Can you fuck up into me, baby? Make it feel good, you can do it.”

Namjoon’s biceps flex as he tries in vain to tug his hands down to wrap around Jimin’s hips, curling them into fists and using the leverage to thrust upwards, moaning at the tight, wet slide. It’s soaking, lube drenching his cock and oozing down the length with every drive in, coating his balls and dripping down into his crack, making him jump at the foreign feeling. Jimin is barely, barely opened up enough for him, just how he likes it, and most nights Namjoon can’t enjoy the tightness Jimin insists upon for worry that he’s hurting him, but god is he too far gone to think of anything now, ramming his cock up into that tight space Jimin created for him.

“That’s my boy, my little fucking machine, huh?” Jimin moans, and Namjoon nearly sobs, the sounds ripped from his lungs like he’s surprised even himself.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Namjoon cries, his hips hammering up into Jimin’s body, wet and hot and eager.

“Yeah? My slut? Letting me use this pretty cock?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

Jimin is gorgeous, strong thighs flexing as he holds himself up for Namjoon, dark hair falling into those dark eyes and his mouth swollen and wet and open; that crooked tooth Namjoon loves so much visible from where he lay. Jimin is authoritative and strong, mentally as well as physically; He’s rational, nearly as much so as Namjoon, and makes up for the rest with a daring personality and lightning fast wit. He’s loving and affectionate and always looks out for Namjoon where he fails to himself; Jimin makes him feel safe and loved and valued and Namjoon can’t keep his little whimper to himself, his orgasm beginning to coil tight in his gut.

“I think I’m gonna be close, I’m gonna cum soon Jimin, I- I- oh god.”

Jimin pulls off, holding the base steady as he goes, and wiggles down, presses his cheeks up against the wet length like wasn’t just inside him. Namjoon is so close, so close, at that point of nirvana at the brink of cumming where everything is nasty and filthy and a good idea, his train of thought spiraling out of control at an unreasonable pace. He wants to cum, to- to rut up against Jimin’s face and rub himself against those wet lips and- and hump into his throat like a dog- god, he wants to blow his load on Jimin’s fucking face, his cum dripping across his cheeks and hanging off his eyelashes like lace, and, and-

“Namjoonie.”

Yes,” Namjoon gasps, humping his hips up in these delicate motions he couldn’t stop even if Jimin wanted him to, and the thought rips a sob out of his throat; Jimin’s hands leaving his body because he was disappointed that Namjoon couldn’t fucking control himself enough to obey a command. Namjoon’s voice shakes but he can’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. “Yes, Jimin, yes, yes.”

Jimin’s voice remains calm, hands slow, smile soft. “Look at your cock, baby,” he says, gently, conversationally, and Namjoon can’t do anything else, can’t stop, the swollen length brushing against Jimin’s soft cheeks. “It’s so cute, hm? Is your pretty little baby cock gonna cum?”

Namjoon can’t answer, only tenses, first in his toes, his thighs, his ass clenching as his body shakes. So close, so close.

“If you can make me cum with your cock, baby, I’ll let you cum inside me, mm?”

“Can’t wait,” Namjoon rasps, urgency rising in his tone, and Jimin quirks his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t wait-”

Jimin crowds over him, one hand reaching up out of Namjoon’s line of sight and Namjoon doesn’t notice, doesn’t care and doesn’t even have coherency to be embarrassed about the noises spilling out of his mouth as Jimin’s other hand tugs at his cock, squeezing up fast and filthy, lingering at the head and Namjoon’s cock has never been this wet before.

“Gonna cum now?” Jimin purrs, his other hand dropping down to his face, rubbing at the lobes of his ears and the base of his neck, and Namjoon is absently aware of his own hands hitting the pillow above his head before realizing that that means they’re free.

“Jimin, Jimin,” he mutters, but Jimin is pulling away, the warmth of his body leaving him, and Jimin’s sweet voice calls out to him before he can begin to panic.

“C’mere big boy, you can cum, you can cum,” Jimin beckons to him, turning around and bending horizontally forward until his face is pressed into the mattress, his back arched and wet thighs spread and Namjoon scrambles over on his knees, leaning over his lover’s body braced on his arms- until his arms stop working, shaking under his own weight and he’s collapsed on top of Jimin, draped across his back with his arms fumbling in the sheets until he can wrap them, as tight as he can, around Jimin’s torso. All his weight drapes over Jimin’s body, and his rational mind would be terrified that he’s crushing his smaller partner, hyperaware of every ounce of his body; but Jimin has taken his rational, beautiful mind and placed it in his own safekeeping and right now, Namjoon’s mouth on his sweet skin and hips humping helplessly against the swell of his ass, his cock sliding through the slick mess between Jimin’s cheeks; Namjoon is in heaven.

He mumbles something into a mouthful of Jimin’s hair, and he doesn’t even know what until Jimin pants out a response, his small hand reaching back behind his ass to wrap around Namjoon’s drooling cock.

“Yes, Joonie, yes, baby, you’re my good boy.”

Namjoon cums, moaning into the nape of Jimin’s neck, spilling onto the backs of his thighs. Wave after wave crashes over him; drunk off the scent of Jimin’s sweat and the softness of his skin and how much Namjoon loves him, the declaration spilling desperately past his lips as Jimin wraps his hand around him and arches, wiggling his hips and pushing back just right. Namjoon gets to spend the second half of his orgasm inside Jimin, that beautiful warmth wrapped around him, and he tries to steady his breathing, pumping his hips forward just enough to get as deep in Jimin as he can. “I love you, I love you, I- I love you, Jimin, love you s’much,” he pants, pressing his lips everywhere he can reach on Jimin’s skin, and Jimin, who he loves more than life itself, reaches back, cradles his hand over the back of Namjoon’s thigh and brushes his thumb gently over the skin.

Namjoon tumbles off eventually, falling onto his side, and Jimin crawls out from underneath him, collapsing onto his back on the pillows and struggling to get his elbow propped underneath him. “That was so hot, fuck,” Jimin groans, his hand snaking down between his thighs to jerk himself off. He lets his legs fall open, spread wide, for Namjoon to watch, watch his foreskin drag up and over that pretty swollen head before tugging it back down, wetness pooling on the tip every time he pulls his foreskin back up.

Namjoon scoots in closer, rest his head on Jimin’s thigh and opens his mouth in wait, and Jimin gives him what he wants gratefully, whimpering as Namjoon closes his lips around the length, sucking wet and sloppy and eager. He keeps the suction loose enough for Jimin to rock into, fucking his hips forward shallowly until he spills into his mouth, gasping out little whimpers as his whole body trembles. “Oh, that’s a good boy, that’s my good boy,” Jimin murmurs, petting one hand through Namjoon’s hair and cupping the other around his cheek, catching the cum spilling out of Namjoon’s mouth with his thumb. Namjoon stares up at him with wide eyes, swallowing carefully around Jimin until he looks back down at him, easing out of his mouth and letting his oversensitive dick lay, wet, on his thigh.

Jimin takes a deep breath. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thinking rational thoughts,” Namjoon replies, making Jimin chuckle.

 

“I wanted to,” Namjoon begins to tell him, a couple minutes later, when Jimin has cleaned up and brought hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies to their bedside and snuggled up into the warmth of Namjoon’s bare skin. “Push my cock into your throat when we were fucking; god, wanted t’make you choke on it.”

Jimin snorts in the crook of his neck, holding back a whine, and Namjoon laughs, combing his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “It’s your fault, you made me like this. We can never go back,” he says, and Jimin throws his head back, laughing unabashedly. “I’m always gonna be this way from now on, Jimin, what are you gonna do with me?”

Jimin smiles, humming as he tips his head up for a kiss. “I guess I’ll just have to love you anyway.”

Namjoon lets his eyes close, head tipping back at that. That pleases him. “It was with love, though.”

“Hm?”

“When I wanted you to choke on my dick,” Namjoon clarifies. “It was with love.”

Jimin laughs.